"Yes; he got her after Meris was sold."

Nennaunir waited, clearly expecting more. After a few moments, as Maia added nothing, she said, "She's no peasant: anyone can see that. Father ruined, or something?"

"I'm not just too sure about the rights of it, tell you the

truth." Maia had no intention of risking the punishment which Terebinthia had threatened.

"Aren't you?" replied Nennaunir rather curtly. "Oh, well, if you don't- Anyway, she's evidently made a great impression on Elvair. They've been together all the evening. Sarget brought a girl for Elvair but in fact he's hardly spoken to her. Never mind-I hope it does your friend some good, the poor banzi. She's lost more than most, if I'm any judge."

There was a tap at the door. Maia, a slave with no claim to privacy and in any case unaccustomed to such niceties, made no response, but Nennaunir called "Come in!"

Bayub-Otal entered, followed by a servant with wine, fruit and biscuits. Maia, rather taken aback, was slower than she should have been to look delighted, but her lapse was expertly covered by the more experienced Nennaunir, who was on her feet in a moment, all smiles.

"Come to congratulate her, my lord, or to get ahead of the others-or both? U-Sarget told me it was your idea for her to dance. You knew then, did you, how good she was?"

"She may become very good, I think," replied Bayub-Otal composedly, "in time." He crossed over to the table, poured some of the wine and handed a goblet to each girl. "And with more practice."

Nennaunir was far too adept to be provoked or to take up cudgels. "Well, if you think that, my lord, I'm sure she can feel really proud. There's plenty of girls who'd like to have been standing on that table tonight, but none I know who'd have got the acclaim she did."

Bayub-Otal made no reply and after a moment Nennaunir, murmuring something about needing to have a word with U-Sarget, slipped out of the room.

Maia went on combing her hair, which crackled and floated above her bare shoulders. She wondered in what manner this strange man would embark on the business of expressing his desire-for this was obviously what he must have come for. In a way, she reflected, he had already begun to do so, by compelling her to perform the senguela. He had clearly been determined to see her dance again. He had placed confidence in her. However slight her natural inclination towards him, she could only feel deeply grateful for that. It was entirely to him that she owed this outstanding success, which might very possibly lead on

to-who could tell what? Well, she would certainly pay her debt to him, and warmly and bountifully at that, even though he might not be exactly her idea of Shakkarn incarnate. Her beauty, her body, was all she had to give him, and her gratitude was as sincere as it could be. Indeed, at this moment Maia had quite fogotten her ulterior, secret purpose-Kembri's purpose. Why, now she came to think about it, she would positively enjoy giving herself to him- yes, really! She'd no doubt be able to help him-teach him a thing or two. Oh, yes, he had a funny way with him, but then he'd had a funny life-and his poor hand and all. After this evening she really couldn't find it in her heart to deny him. He deserved a nice time, he really did.

He had still done nothing to break the silence. Why not a hand on her shoulder? Or better still, his lips to her shoulder; then her cheek could turn just a little and touch his. What a pity he seemed never to have learned any such ways! Well, but even so, he could at least speak, surely? He'd had time enough now, in all conscience, to think of something to say.

She turned round on her stool. Bayub-Otal was sitting on a bench, his back against the table, gazing absently down into his wine-cup with the air of one waiting without impatience. He certainly didn't look nervous or tense; not in the least like a man wondering what best to say or how to say it. Glancing up, his eye met hers, whereupon he smiled slightly, nodded and sipped his wine.

"Nearly ready?"

Perplexed, she frowned a moment. "Oh, yes, I'm quite done, my lord."

She stood up, turning one way and the other to make sure her skirt swung freely. "Were you waiting for me? I'm ready all right!"

She crossed over and sat beside him on the bench. "My lord-I can't thank you enough for making me dance tonight. I was nervous-I was real scared-when you first told me; but you knew better than I did, didn't you?"

"I thought you ought to have the opportunity. One can't always expect to have Fordil, you see."

"Oh, he was wonderful! I never knew-I couldn't have imagined-and the drummers, too-I mean, I couldn't have gone wrong if I'd tried."

"I've paid him for you, by the way. I gave him what he'd have got from a shearna."

This was her cue-all the cue she seemed likely to get, anyway. She flung her arms round his neck, and would have kissed him; but he turned his face aside.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, my lord! And did you like it? Did I do as well as you'd hoped?"

"You weren't bad as Shakkarn." He paused, considering. "And you were most resourceful, I admit. It hadn't occurred to me-it should have, of course-that without a costume or a dresser you'd be in difficulties over the old woman. I blame myself for that. But you certainly got over it very neatly."

"You've been marvelously good to me, my lord, really you have. I'm so grateful! What can I do to show it to you?"

He shrugged. "Practice, I suppose."

She waited for him to go on, but he was silent. Elated and full of her triumph, she was now consumed with sheer, raw desire. For him? she wondered. For a man, anyway. Then, Yes! yes! certainly for him! Yes, of course, for him! Come on, then!

She rose, put her wine-cup on the table and sat down on his knee. After a moment, since he made no move to support or embrace her, she once more put her arm round his neck. Her other hand, finding his, drew it up to her bosom and fondled it back and forth.

"You're the kindest man I've ever known. I mean it, truly. Oh-" She looked impatiently about the room- "isn't there somewhere we can go-?"

Rather absently, he drew his hand away. "Well, I came to take you-I can't call it 'home,' unfortunately for you- but to where you live, anyway."

"To take me home, my lord?"

"Well, you see, there are a great many people in the hall who want to-well, give you money and so on. Here's Sarget's lygol, by the way. I asked him to give it to me, so that you wouldn't have to go back. That'll keep your saiyett happy, I suppose. And Elvair-ka-Virrion will be seeing to your friend, I'm told."

Maia stood up, and at once he did so too.

"What do you mean, my lord, 'I won't have to go back'?"

"There's a jekzha waiting for you in the courtyard," replied Bayub-Otal, "just along the corridor."

Before she could control herself, Maia had hurled her

bronze wine-cup across the room. Dented on one side, it leapt, rolled a few feet and came to rest in a corner.

"And suppose I happen to want to stay here, my lord?"

Bayub-Otal picked up the goblet and put it back on the table.

"There seems little point in staying in this room."

"I mean, suppose I happen to want to go back into the hall?"

"I'm afraid you can't: I don't wish it."

"And I do!"

"As I've already told you once before this evening, Maia, you were brought here at my request. It would be a pity if Elvair-ka-Virrion had to tell your saiyett that you wouldn't do what you were told."

Maia walked over to the window and stood staring out into the moonlight. Tears' of mortification filled her eyes. Yet there was no point in saying more: Bayub-Otal, she knew, would be immutable. But what could he want? What did he mean by subjecting her to this motiveless, pointless humiliation, involving no gain to himself?