silver-tasselled abshay, Nennaunir's night-blue robe and Bayub-Otal's unique silver chain.

Even more strongly than the decoration of the hall, however, the music made Maia aware of a difference in quality between Sencho's pleasures and those of Sarget and his friends. The very notion of music was so alien to the atmosphere of the High Counselor's household that it had never before even entered Maia's head to think of it as a deficiency. She would as readily have thought of missing the stars from a cellar. Yet it now struck her that obviously Sencho, if he wished, could well afford musicians as good as.these; and thereupon she realized also, not only that he did not want them-that music meant nothing to him- but also that this insensitivity could not really be attributed solely to the poverty and hardship of his origins; for Thar-rin, if he were somehow or other to become rich, would certainly take pleasure in having his own musicians: so, probably, would Zuno. She began to perceive more clearly why so many of these people despised Sencho even while they feared him and perforce afforded him the show of respect.

Smiling and conversing with Bayub-Otal, teasingly or otherwise as the mood took her (for Maia's conversational style knew little of reserve or convention), she was nevertheless almost continuously aware of the softly plangent, bitter-sweet tone of the hinnaris interweaving, darting here and there like swallows, back and forth in a patterned harmony above the dark water of the drums. In her fancy the intermittent flutes became gleams of light, the soft crescendos of the zerda and derlanzel a distant rustling of leaves. The minor, repeated phrases of the Paltesthi rogan which they were playing seemed infinitely vivid and compelling, moving her almost to tears. Bayub-Otal, she sensed, felt this also, and was aware that she felt it too; for gradually his conversation ceased and he sat unspeaking, gazing into his wine-cup and silently-almost imperceptibly-following the rhythm of the drums with his finger-tips. Once, turning his head, he caught Maia's eye with a half-smile and she, her task of pleasing him become that much easier, smiled back and for an instant rubbed her shoulder against his.

At this moment, once more catching sight of Milvushina, she was surprised to find herself thinking how beautiful she looked. Her great, dark eyes and delicate, olive-skinned

features, which to Maia had always seemed so lacking in vitality and warmth, were now turned towards Elvair-ka-Virrion, if not with animation, at least with alert attention. After a few moments, as he ceased speaking, she smiled and replied a few words, upon which he at once resumed, nodding in corroboration of what she had said. Maia had always thought Milvushina naturally aloof. Now she began to wonder whether the truth might not be that in the women's quarters at Sencho's she had merely been unable to feel interest in anyone or anything around her: whether, even setting aside the natural effect of her misery, she had found no one capable of making her feel inclined to say much more than she had to. Tonight it seemed as though some hitherto-withheld part of her was hesitantly re-emerging. Either Elvair-ka-Virrion had been able to make her-at least to some extent-genuinely forget her grief, or else self-respect was impelling her to assume, for his benefit, some semblance of the one-time baron's daughter of Chalcon.

Without going so far as actually to feel selflessly happy on Milvushina's account (bearing in mind her disappointment over Elvair-ka-Virrion, this would scarcely have been natural), Maia, to her credit, was genuinely pleased to see that her frozen grief was apparently capable of being melted, and hoped that more might come of it. To see Milvushina at last showing a little-however little-warmth made her feel that after all they might yet find that they had something in common.

Once more drawn by the music into a delicious oblivion of her surroundings, she closed her eyes, listening with parted lips and even holding her breath in the intensity of her pleasure. With Maia, delight in music had always involved a physical response, at least with her body if not with her voice as well. Now, without reflection or self-consciousness, she began to sway gently where she sat. Once or twice she nodded her head, as though with inward corroboration that the music had indeed taken that delightful turn which she had expected; and once she spread her hands, as though to represent the gesture of the goddess by whose liberality such beauty was vouchsafed to humankind. Two or three men sitting near-by caught each other's eyes, smiling at the naivete of the pretty child, while one made a facetious pantomime of craning his neck and shaking his head as he looked into her wine-cup.

Supper was nearly at an end. In accordance with Beklan custom some of the guests, in twos and threes, were beginning to get up and stroll out of the hall, either into the corridors or as far as the westward-facing portico of the palace, whence they could look out across the city walls towards the afterglow beyond the far-off Palteshi hills. The rest, either still inclined for eating, or simply for remaining where they were to converse or to listen to the music, relaxed luxuriously, while their shearnas fanned them and the slaves carried round trays of sweetmeats.

Throughout the whole of this gentle disturbance, Elvair-ka-Virrion still sat absorbed in talk with Mirvushina. One or two of his friends, having failed to distract him, gathered about Sarget on their own account, inquiring banter-ingly-for they knew his somewhat staid reputation-what he had in mind for their entertainment and whether he had ever composed any music for a kura. The fastidious Sarget, though on the one hand wishing to continue to stand well with these young men, on the other hoped to avoid seeing his supper-party take on the tone of the Rains banquet and such-like functions governed by the tastes of men like Kembri or Sencho. As he sat smilingly temporizing and assuring a young man named Shend-Lador, the son of the citadel castellan, that he knew Nennaunir was anxious to get to know him better, Bayub-Ortal, appearing quietly at his shoulder, stooped and whispered a few words in his ear.

Sarget, rising, at once took the Urtan's arm and led him out into the corridor, leaving the young Leopards to mutter and shrug their shoulders over what they regarded as an intrusion. A minute or two later, however, the two returned and walked over to where the musicians were squatting together near the center of the hall. The music died away, and as it did so Maia looked up, opening her eyes and giving a little shake to her head, as though awakening.

Fordil, the elder of the two hinnarists, a musician whose name and skill were known from Kabin to Ikat, nodded as he listened to U-Sarget, from time to time looking round at his drummers to make sure that they too had understood the patron. Maia, watching them and wondering what was in preparation-some kind of Urtan music, presumably (why should that wretched Bayub-Otal have gone and interrupted her enjoyment?)-was suddenly puzzled and confused to see them all looking round in her direction.

She dropped her eyes and reddened, wondering what might have been said. The next moment Bayub-Otal was standing beside her.

"Maia," said Bayub-Otal-and now, or so it seemed to the disconcerted Maia, everyone was listening-"U-Sarget wishes you to dance for us."

Maia, a clutch in her stomach, stared at him speechlessly.

"I've told Fordil," added Bayub-Otal, smiling; in earnest or in mockery? she wondered, "that you'd probably like to dance the senguela. I assure you that you'll find him an accompanist of very different quality from that man at "The Green Grove'; and the floor's all that even my mother could have wished. They're sweeping it now, as you can see."