There did not seem to be many butchers or meat-merchants at work as her jekzha came up through the Shilth; though she had to wait some minutes-her jekzha-man taking care to keep well back-while a herd of bullocks were driven past on their way to the shambles. Getting down at the gate of the jail, she gave the man ten meld and told him to wait, saying that she did not expect to be more than a few minutes.

The mucous-eyed gatekeeper looked her over as listlessly as before.

"The governor, saiyett? Can't say, I'm sure. Only it's an execution morning, see? and that always means extras-"

She felt too light-hearted to be angry. Smiling, she gave him five meld.

"We've had all this before, haven't we? Just take me to U-Pokada's room, and then go and tell him as I want to see him very urgently."

In the little, bare room she sat down and waited, impatient for nothing, fretting for nothing, as content with the present moment as someone who has just completed a long journey or finished reaping a field. She held the parchment in her hands, turning it this way and that and admiring the clear impress of the seal. Well, Cran and Airtha had been good to her, she thought. Perhaps, after all, even the Sacred Queen might not be without her good side. Nine thousand meld! Had any girl ever gone for as much, she wondered, in all the yesterdays of Bekla?

When Pokada came in she almost ran forward to take his hands before recalling the proper dignity of the Ser-relinda. He had halted just inside the doorway, staring at her unsmilingty, his mouth drawn down in a startled, grotesque expression of dismay. He was roughly dressed-as roughly as any laborer-in an old, stained leather jerkin, sacking breeches and a torn woolen cap. His arms were bare to the elbow and down one forearm ran a long scratch, still bleeding, which he kept wiping with a dirty cloth.

"Saiyett-you must understand-I can't-not now-"

She held up one hand to silence him. Then, bowing triumphantly-making a little pantomime of it-she gave him the sheet of parchment.

"Read that, U-Pokada, please. Oblige me, U-Pokada, by reading that!"

Peering, he held it up to the light, saw the seal and started. Maia watched as his eyes traveled back and forth, slowly making out the few lines. Like enough, she thought, he wasn't much more used to reading than what she was. When he had finished he said nothing, only laying the parchment down on the table and staring at the floor without moving.

"Well, come on, U-Pokada," said Maia at length. "It's plain enough, surely? Only I got a jekzha waiting, see?"

"Saiyett," said Pokada, still avoiding her eyes, "the man is dead."

"Whan" cried Maia. "What the hell do you mean, dead?"

"He hanged himself in his cell this morning."

"I don't believe you! This is some trick to try to get money out of me or something! You just take me to him, now, and hurry up about it!"

As he said no more, she ran to him and beat her fists on his chest. "It's not true! Not true! Come on, say it!"

"I think you'd better come and see for yourself, saiyett. I'm sorry."

Bewildered, still disbelieving him because she was unable to take it in rather than because she thought he was lying, Maia followed the governor out of the room and then walked beside him down a stone-walled passage of which she noticed little or nothing. They came to a heavy, iron-bound door, and this he opened with a key at his belt. Beyond was a dimmer light, doors with grilles and an all-pervading, foul smell. A man appeared and spoke to Pokada, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"U-Pokada, this Urtan woman-"

"Not now," answered Pokada, brushing him aside. "Ask Tortil or someone; I'm busy."

At the end of the passage they reached a row of eight or nine doors, all standing open. An old man was sweeping with a broom. As Pokada came up he moved aside and stood respectfully against the wall.

"Have they all gone?" asked Pokada.

"Yes, U-Pokada. Oh, yes, some time ago now: I'm just

getting straight. That one who went for you, we had to break his-"

"All right, never mind," replied Pokada. "Go and get on with something else: I'll tell you when to come back. Well, go on!" he said, as the old man hesitated. He pointed to one of the open doors. "He's still there, is he?"

"Well, that's it, U-Pokada, yes. Only there hasn't been time, you see-"

"Never mind. Do as I say: go on up the other end."

In the doorway of the cell Pokada faced about, momentarily preventing Maia from entering.

"Saiyett, this isn't a pretty sight. All my men have had their hands full this morning, getting the queen's prisoners out to the temple. There's been no time to do more than take him down and lay him on the bed."

She answered nothing. She believed him now; her mouth was dry; she felt sick. A moment later he had stepped inside the cell and she followed him.

Tharrin's body was lying on a narrow plank bed in the further corner. The clothes were those she had seen the day before and he still looked, as he had then, tidy and clean. Yet in the horror of recognition she noticed nothing of this. His head was twisted to one side, the neck distorted and encircled by a livid ring of bruised flesh. In places blood, now darkly clotted, had oozed from the chafed skin. The tongue protruded and the eyes were wide and fixed. One or two flies were walking on the face, which had already assumed a rigid, waxen quality. One arm hung down, the backs of the clenched fingers touching the floor. As she looked away, moaning and holding her hands to her mouth, Maia noticed a length of rope, one end of which was knotted round a bar of the high window. The lower end was still tied in a running noose.

Half-fainting, she fell on her knees beside the bed, took the cold hand in her own and tried to lay it across the body; but the arm was stiff and resistant.

She began to cry, stroking his other hand and kissing the mutilated neck and bared shoulders. He was cool and smooth as the parchment and stiff as a frosted branch. As the reality came flooding more deeply into her she wept passionately, on and on because it was easier than stopping, because she was afraid to think what would happen when she stopped. She felt consumed with pity for poor, shiftless Tharnn and the ugly squalor of his end. As she

remembered his arms around her in pleasure, his easy laughter and the game of the golden fish in the net, her grief burst out yet more intensely, prostrating her so that she laid her head on his chest, grasping his shoulders and crying as though to sob the breath out of her body.

At last Pokada, putting his hands under her armpits, pulled her, still weeping, to her feet. As he made to wipe her face with the cloth at his belt she flung away from him, setting her back against the wall of the cell and glaring at him from reddened eyes that still poured tears.

"You killed him! You killed him! I'll see you hang upside-down for this!"

She was shouting hysterically, and he took a step towards her.

"Don't think you can kill me too! There's them as knows I'm here!"

"Saiyett, I give you my word I didn't kill him and nor did any of my men. He killed himself."

"But he knew I was coming! He knew I was coming today to get him out! He couldn't have killed himself!"

Pokada hesitated. After a few moments he said, "Saiyett, you'd better come back to my room. This is no place for us to talk."

"Talk? You think I want to talk to you? I want to see you dead and damned, you bastard, and I will, if it's the last thing I do!"

Now he suddenly assumed a kind of stilted, homespun dignity and authority, like that of a gate-porter or a domestic steward. Perhaps, after all, he had not been made governor of the prison for nothing.

"Saiyett, little as you may wish it, I must request you to come back to my room, for I have something to say to you of a private nature. I regret to inform you that you have no choice, for the gates are locked and I can't let you leave until you've heard me. I've no wish to hurry you, however. You can either come with me now or stay here and come as soon as you feel ready."