"We never knew when he was goin' to get home again. Sometimes he was away for months and months. Once Ekundayo-that was mother's maid-came and said there was a pedlar at the door sellin' shells and carved toys, and did mother want to see what he'd got or should she send him away. But it was Zai come back: he hadn' let on, for a joke, and Ekundayo hadn' recognized him. But I did. I did!

"Oh, banzi, I could tell you all night, but I'd only be cryin' my eyes out. What's the good? I must have been nine-yes, it was nine-when Zai made his first crossin' of the Govig. I remember mother beggin' him not to try it. No one had ever done it, you see, and no one knew how far it was or what was on the other side. All we knew was that people had died tryin' to cross the Govig-or at any rate they'd never been heard of again.

"But Zai came back-he always came back. He'd taken sixty-two days to cross the Govig and he'd discovered the

Beklan Empire. He'd sold his opals and emeralds and sapphires in Bekla for really big money-more than he'd ever made in his life-even though he'd had to give a lot of it to the High Baron in return for protection. That was Lord Senda-na-Say-him whose stables we were in last night. He had a great house in Bekla, of course, in the upper city, and that was where Zai put himself under his protection. A foreigner on his own's not safe, you see, offerin' jewels for sale. How Zai learned Beklan to begin with I never knew. Our tongue's quite different-well, you've heard me speak it, haven' you? So you know.

"Zai hadn' been back long before he began plannin' to go again. "There's a fortune there, just waitin' to be picked up,' he told mother. 'Now I know what they want to buy and who to go to, I can come back with twice as much. Risk? Yes, of course there's risk. Life's a risk, come to that.' That was Zai all over-I believe he did it for the risk-the sport-not just the money-"

"Strikes me as I know his daughter," whispered Maia.

"Oh, yes? Well, he reckoned one more trip to Bekla would set us all up for the rest of our lives. He planned to take four or five stout lads along with him, then he wouldn' need to buy so much protection-"

"All black people?"

"Of course. In my country, banzi, you'd be the queer one. In the real world, proper people are black: got it? Only he had the devil's own job findin' them, you see. The Govig-it was a name of terror. He had a job to convince anyone that he'd really crossed it twice, there and back.

"After nearly a year he was ready to go-provisions, stock, stout fellows, everythin'. I was gettin' on for eleven by then. I remember it all so well.

"And then the sickness came to Tedzhek. O Kantza-Merada, didn' they die? No one could bury them all-they threw the bodies out on the spits for the wild dogs and the birds. I wasn' allowed out of the house for weeks on end.

"After two months mother took the sickness. I remember her sayin' to Zai, 'Oh, Baru, the air-how sweet it smells!' He burst into tears. He knew what that meant."

"And she died?" Maia shivered, and drew up the blanket.

"She died. We watched her die. Ekundayo-she died, too. Pray-only pray you never see the sickness, banzi. There was a song-how did it go?" Occula paused a few

moments, then sang, very low, in her own tongue. "Oh, I forget it. It means

" 'My mother sleeps for ever, My father weeps for ever, And still the goddess reaps for ever.'

"When it ended-after six months, it must have been- there was no one left at home but Zai and me. AH the servants who weren' dead had run away. And one night he took me on his knee-we were all alone and I remember the wind blowin' outside-and said he was still goin' to cross the Govig.

" 'It's not the money, 'Cula,' he said. 'What does that matter to me, now? Though it might be some use to you one day, I suppose. But I can' stay here. What's a man to do while he walks under the sun? There's three of my lads left and they'll come, I know. But what am I to do with you, my beautiful girl? Where do you want to live till I come back?'

" 'I'm goin' with you,' I said.

"He laughed. "That you aren't. You'd only die.'

" 'If you doan' take me, Zai,' I said, 'I'll drown myself in the river.'

"And the long and short of it was that he did take me. Everyone said his grief must've turned his wits, to take an eleven-year-old girl into the Govig. And I dare say he wasn' himself, come to that. He'd loved mother very deeply, you see, and he was all to pieces-desperate, really. That was why he was determined to go. He felt it was the only thing that could make him forget.

"When we set out I was proud as a pheasant. He'd rigged me out as well as any of the men. I even had my own knife, and he made me learn how to use it, too. 'You never know what might happen,' he said. I was absolutely determined that no one was goin' to be put to extra trouble or hardship on my account. I could keep up all right if I held on to Zai's hand; and I carried my own gear. At least it was soft goin'-most of it, anyway-and walkin's like anythin' else-you get better by doin' it. Sometimes Zai carried me on his shoulders for a bit, but no one else ever did. And I could cook and mend, and I could catch insects and lizards. You eat them in the Govig, you see. You eat anythin' you can get.

"We walked by night-always by night. In that heat

there's no movin' by day. We went by the stars. That was one of the tricks Zai had taught himself that no one before him had ever properly understood. Most people doan' take enough trouble. They think they're goin' in one direction, but really they're goin' in circles, so they die. We were goin' east. You picked a star as it rose and then went on it for a little while before pickin' another one risin' from the same place. Whatever star we were goin' on, one or other of us watched it all the time-never took his eyes off it. You might not be able to pick it out again, you see. As soon as daylight began to show at all, Zai used to stop us. We had to make a thorn fire and cook (while we had anythin' left to cook, that was) and then be in shelter before the sun hit us.

"Sometimes there might be natural shelter from the sun- a cave, or a dry cleft-tibas, they call them. Sometimes, banzi, we used to hold our water for hours, and then piss on skins, wrap up in them and bury ourselves in the sand. Anythin' to keep moisture in the body.

"That was Zai's other trick-he'd found out how to spot water. There are a few-a very few-holes and wells out there, and those you can spot by the scrub-by the plants; and sometimes by birds. But then-and this was the trick- there are patches of water-or sometimes just patches of moisture-underground: and those you have to tell by insects, or by huntin' with a forked stick in your two hands. That's a kind of witchcraft, though-I can't explain. There were times when we had to scoop up mud and suck it. And I never complained, not once.

"I doan' know how far we went every night. Usually about ten miles, I should guess. The ground-it's soft goin', but it's very difficult and slow. Zai used to mark the days on a notched stick. We crossed the Govig in fifty-five days; quicker than either of his other two crossin's. He'd learned the tricks, you see, and learned the way, too. Some of the places we came to he recognized. And he was always cheerful: he kept us all in heart. I knew he'd get us through. I suffered-oh, yes!-and often I was frightened half crazy- the drums!-but I never once thought really I was goin' to die. Not with Zai there."

"The drums?" said Maia.

"You hear things that aren't real, banzi, and sometimes you even see things that aren't real. I've lain petrified with fear and listened to the drums; and not by night, either-

in broad, still daylight. There's a power out there that wants to kill you-doesn' want you to cross the Govig- and we'd challenged that power. It was Kantza-Merada that saved us. I saw her once, walkin' in a great, whirlin' column of sand, taller than the Red Tower in Tedzhek, and that was the most frightenin' thing of all. Only her face was turned away; else we'd all have died, Zai said.