"So the rains are here at last, Ashaktis," said Durakkon, by way of greeting.

"Yes, my lord, Cran be blest for them! The Sacred Queen commends herself to you, my lord. She is unwell-"

"I am sorry to hear it," said Durakkon perfunctorily.

"It is not serious, my lord, but she thinks it best not to leave her house for the time being. She has asked me to say that nevertheless, she needs to speak with you and accordingly begs that you will be so good as to visit her this evening. Naturally, she hopes that her request will not put you to inconvenience and that you will be at liberty to have supper with her."

He had better go, thought Durakkon. It was quite probable that Fornis had in all earnest come across something of which he ought to learn without delay. Calling in Harpax, he ordered an armed bodyguard to be ready in half an hour. Seven years ago, he reflected, he could have

walked alone and unarmed through any part of the upper and most parts of the lower city.

Before the rain began to fall that evening and washed on through the night, drumming on roofs and shutters, running in brown rivulets down the steep streets below the central walk-the Street of the Armorers, Storks Hill and the Street of Leaves-turning the outfall of the Barb to a chattering torrent racing past the Tamarrik Gate through all three open sluices, calling a two months' halt to trade and war alike, not only the powerful and wealthy but also those who catered for or pandered to them had already been preparing for the weeks ahead. In many respects life in Bekla during the rains was anything but inactive. In Beklan idiom the season was called "Melekril"; a word meaning, literally, the disappearance into cover of a hunted animal. Although supplies of fresh food were diminished, a certain amount still reached the markets and was bought by the rich, who traditionally passed the time in entertaining one another, often on a lavish scale. Vintners, grocers and bakers commonly laid in large stocks well before the onset of the rains, while herds of cattle were driven into the covered pounds outside the Gate of Lilies, there to be fed on roots and hay, for slaughter as required. The well-paved and -drained stone streets of the city made social intercourse easy enough for ladies carried in their utters. Among men, the customary practice was to walk through the warm rain with a stout cloak and overshoes.

The household of Kembri-B'sai had for some days past been fettled against the coming of the rains, for the Lord General customarily entertained freely during Melekril, partly because, like many successful soldiers of fortune, he enjoyed the display of wealth and the flattery and admiration of lesser personages; but also because he found this an excellent way of keeping his ear to the ground, of hearing rumors and assessing the undercurrents running through the life of the city.

For several years past he had given a banquet on the evening after the rains began, and this had now become something of an institution. Even as Durakkon was setting out for the house of the Sacred Queen, Kembri's servants were already on errands about the upper city, carrying his invitations for the following night. Meanwhile, slaves were

preparing the great hall, polishing, sweeping, filling and trimming lamps, ensuring the flow of water to the pools and fountains and setting up the extra benches, couches and tables necessary for so large a number of guests. Several smaller rooms off the hall were also made ready, some for privacy and conversation, others for gambling or for still more pleasant diversion. The housekeeper, plate-master, chief cook and butler, themselves dignitaries in their own right in a household numbering over two hundred servants and slaves, held last-minute conferences and issued final instructions to their underlings. Great masses of fresh flowers from the gardens, kept shaded and watered for cutting at the last possible moment, were brought in and banked in the pools, ready to be made next day into wreaths, garlands and decorations. Kembri, as was his custom, had already instructed two of his army doctors to be in attendance; for experience had taught him that it would be unusual if the night's entertainment did not give rise to some illnesses, to say nothing of quarrels and injuries. Then, having supped, he betook himself-again by custom-to sleep at the house of one of his senior officers, for his own would be full of disturbance throughout the night.

"Banzi, have you used that stuff Terebinthia gave you?"

"Oh, Cran, yes! It felt horrible. I couldn't hardly do it!"

"But you did do it? Properly? You stuffed it right up?"

"Yes. Well, she saw to that."

"Good! Only whatever happens you must not go and let some bastin' idiot make you pregnant. That'd ruin ev-erythin', that would."

"Oh, Occula, I wish you were coming too! I feel so nervous-"

"Well, it's bad luck in a way, but it can' be helped. Old Piggy-wig wants you and Meris and that's the end of it. Cran knows why! A big feast like this, he'd do much better to take two reliable, experienced girls like me and Dyphna, but there you are. Let's have a look at you. Oh, my goodness, banzi, it's lucky all the girls doan' look like you! There'd be rape every day!"

In spite of her agitation Maia could not help smiling. One glance in the wall-mirror had already been enough to tell her that no barefoot, hungry, cow-herding lass on the

shores of Lake Serrelind had ever looked like this. The toes of her white leather slippers were stitched with crimson beads which matched the pleats of her full, Yeldashay-style skirt. A close-fitting, ribbed but flexible silk bodice both supported her bosom and left it almost completely uncovered, except by the tumble of well-brushed, golden hair falling two-thirds of the way to her waist. On one side of her head was fastened a spray of crimson keranda, the tiny, nacreous blooms of which gave off a fragrance perceptible five feet away. After much consultation, Terebin-thia and Occula had agreed that she should wear no jewels at all, but that her eyelids and nipples should be gilded. The effect was startling and even Terebinthia, by glances if not in so many words, had shown herself not unimpressed.

"Now you listen to me carefully, banzi," said Occula, drawing her down to sit beside her on a bench by the pool. "You look good enough to eat-every lustful Leopard's little lump of loveliness. A few jaded palates are goin' to be tickled up no end, I wouldn' wonder. You look exactly what you are, my dearest-the pretty peasant-girl the goddess took a fancy to immortalize. Now for Cran's sake- no, for Kantza-Merada's sake, for I'm serious-remember this and doan' forget it! You're not goin' to a country dance or a festival in Meerzat to find yourself a nice boy. You're workin'l You're Piggy-wig's personal property, got it? You're there to do whatever he wants, and so that he can show you off same as that damn' fountain of his. If you forget that and let some rich man take you off into a corner without his permission-in fact, if you treat your master disrespectfully in any way at all-he can have you whipped or sold or anything he likes. And from what I've seen of this fat brute he'd be quite likely to. Now, do you understand?"

"Yes, Occula. But what do I do if another man-some powerful man-comes and asks-well, you know-"

"You answer, "That's for my master to say." No one's more powerful than Sencho, anyway. Now this is the other thing. If you get any chance to oblige him or please him or do somethin' of your own accord before he tells you, take it. Whatever you think he wants, do it. Now you do see, banzi, do you?"

"What does she see?" asked Meris, coming into the room in a cloud of lime perfume. "Her deldas sticking

out? Occula, can you fix these blasted earrings for me? I can't get the pins out on the other side of the lobes."