Maia, who was on the side nearest to the three men, followed the jekzha without daring even to glance in their direction, expecting at any moment to feel a blow on her neck or a hand clutching her shoulder. Even Occula was breathing hard. But nothing happened; and when at length they plucked up courage to look behind, the men had disappeared.

"I'd never have thought I could feel grateful to a man, banzi, let alone to a wafter," whispered the black girl, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "You've got to admit he's got his wits about him. 'Course, it was us they were after; you realize that, doan' you? Did you see the way they were lookin' at you? Cran and Airtha, I'm glad we didn' have to settle for a jolly-baste with that lot, aren't you?"

"You mean we'd-?" Maia stared.

"Well, better than gettin' our throats cut, perhaps," said Occula cheerfully. "But we'd never have got to Bekla, would we? Flat on our backs in some damned cave. I'll do him a good turn, this boy, if ever I get the chance, damned if I doan'."

About noon they turned off the road and halted in the shade of a grove of ilex trees, where a little stream wound among clumps of rushes and purple-flowering water-thelm. There was a glitter of flies and a warm, herbal smell of peppermint. Zuno, after feeding the cat, gave the girls some bread and cheese and waved them away, spreading his cloak on the grass and settling himself for a nap. When they had gone about twenty or thirty yards, however, he raised himself on one elbow and called, "You are not to go out of earshot. I don't want to have to call you twice."

"We shall be ready whenever it may suit you, sir," replied Occula.

The girls wandered down to the stream. Shrunken by summer drought, it was hardly more than a chain of pools- the biggest barely four feet deep-divided by narrow bars of gravel, through and over which the water trickled in glistening films. Dragonflies hovered and darted over the reeds, and from somewhere among the trees a damazin was calling. The heat was intense.

"Come on, let's go in the water," said Maia. "We can eat later."

"Yes, you go on in, banzi," said Occula. "I'll come and join you a bit later. The Deelguy woan' come peepin'; they wouldn' dare. But if anyone else comes-like those bastards this mornin'-doan' try to hide or anythin' like that. Make as much noise as you can and run back to Lord Pussy-cat like shit from a goose. Understand?"

Kissing Maia on both cheeks, she strolled away along the bank and was lost to sight among the reeds.

Maia, comforted by the familiarity of solitude and clear water, slipped out of her clothes and into the deepest of the pools. Although there was barely depth to swim, she made a stroke or two across and then drew herself up onto the opposite bank. For some time she lay prone, easy and almost content-for Maia was a girl who lived, if not from moment to moment, yet certainly from hour to hour- simply to listen for the call of the damazin and to feel the flow of the calid water round her body.

"They think I'm beautiful!" she murmured aloud. "Well, happen I might just be lucky an' all." And for the moment it really did seem to her that she was lucky, and that her future, dark, uncertain and inauspicious as it must have appeared to anyone else, could not but turn out right in the end.

After a little it occurred to her to wonder what had become of Occula. "Whatever she wanted to do, she's had time enough to do it," she thought. Idly, she splashed some" of the water up between her breasts, pressing them together to hold it in a miniature pool and bending her head to sip. "I'll go and look for her. I must get her to come in too." She waded out through the reeds, slipped on her clothes and walked upstream in the direction which the black girl had taken.

After a minute or two she stopped, for a moment alarmed, then merely puzzled. Although she could recognize Oc-cula's voice a little way off, it did not sound as though she

were in conversation with anybody. Not only was there no other voice to be heard, but there was a certain evenness of flow and cadence, unquestioning and unhesitating, rather as though Occula might be telling a story or delivering a speech. Clearly she was not in danger or even in haste.

Maia stole closer. It seemed strange that she could not see Occula, for wherever she might be concealed her voice was quite near-by. And now Maia could catch words, uttered in a rhythmic, liturgical measure.

"Then, as she entered the fifth gate, The gold rings were taken from her fingers. 'Pray what is this that now you do to me?' 'Most strangely, Kantza-Merada, are the laws of

the dark world effected. O Kantza-Merada, do not question the laws of the

nether world.' "

As she uttered the last two lines Occula rose suddenly into view, standing, with outspread, open arms, among the bushes. She was facing away from Maia and so did not see her. After a moment or two of silence she knelt again, prostrating herself in an obeisance with palms and forehead low among the clumps of grass.

"Then, as she entered the sixth gate, The jewelled breastplate was taken from her

bosom. 'Pray what is this that now you do to me?' "

Once more Occula rose and stood, gazing sternly into the trees as though answering a living questioner hidden among them.

" 'Most strangely, Kantza-Merada, are the laws of

the dark world effected. O Kantza-Merada, do not question the laws of the nether world.' "

Despite the harsh voice in which she was speaking- evidently in a role-Maia could see that her face was wet with tears, and as she knelt yet again there came the sound of a sob, cut short as she spoke the next words.

"Then, as she entered the seventh gate, All the fine garments of her body were taken from her.

'Pray what is this that now you do to me?' "

Occula stood again, her whole body shaken with weeping.

" 'Most strangely, Kantza-Merada, are the laws of

the dark world effected. O Kantza-Merada, do not question the laws of the

nether world.' At the word of the dark judges, that word which

tortures the spirit, Kantza-Merada, even the goddess, was turned to a

dead body, Defiled, polluted, a corpse hangin' from a stake-"

Real or not, Occula's grief now appeared so extreme that Maia could no longer bear to stand by and do nothing. Hastening forward as though she had only that moment come upon her friend by chance, she took her hand.

Occula turned upon her with blazing eyes.

"What the bastin' hell are you doin' here? Didn' I say I'd come back when I was ready?"

"Oh, Occula, don't be angry! I didn't mean any harm, honest I never! I came to look for you and you seemed so unhappy. Is it real trouble, or-or some kind of prayer, is it? I heard you say 'Kantza-Merada-' "

For some moments Occula made no reply, only looking round her as though returning slowly from some inward country of trance. At length she said, "I'm sorry, banzi. It's no fault of yours. Anyway, I'm not alone, am I, as long as I've got you to look after? So the goddess must have sent you, mustn' she?"

Maia burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm not laughing at you, Occula. Only it just seems so funny, the idea of your goddess sending me."

Occula said nothing, and Maia went on quickly, "What was it, then, that happened to Kantza-Merada-what you were saying about the-the dark world? It sounded-well, very sad, like."

"It's the wrong time of year, really," replied Occula rather absently. "That-what you heard me sayin'-that's part of the midwinter ritual. I ought to be sayin' it in Tedzheki, of course, but after all these years I've forgotten a lot of the words; it comes easier in Beklan nowadays.

"Kantza-Merada, from the great above she

descended to the great below. The goddess abandoned heaven, abandoned earth, Abandoned dominion, abandoned ladyship, To the nether world of darkness she descended."