It was an hour after noon, still and humid among the overhanging trees and beds of reeds. There was not the least breeze. The only sound near at hand was the hollow slop-slop under the rectangular, flat-bottomed boat as it made its way over tangles of weed, muddy shallows and deeper places. One could more or less tell the depth of the water, thought Maia, by the sound it made under the planking. It was like one of Fordil's zhuas, rim and center-above deep water the boat made a more cavernous sound. One might make a dance out of it. She and Fordil might devise a dance about the swamps and their miles of shady, watery waste. What would the story be? What stories did these people tell among themselves? Anyway, when would she ever see Fordil again?

She was sweating all over, and although she was trying to cool her face with a cloth dipped in the water, the water

itself was lukewarm. She felt dirty and untidy. What on earth would they say in Bekla to see her now, the High Counselor's fifteen-thousand-meld bed-girl, with black finger-nails, her golden hair full of dust of ashes, a torn smock and hairy armpits? O Cran! she thought, and what are they going to think when we arrive at this Melvda place and maybe that king's going to be there an' all? Likely they'll put me on scrubbing floors-that's if there are any to scrub.

They had left the village in the boat-a kilyett, as they called it-a little before noon-U-Nasada, Tescon, herself and Luma. All three of the others appeared equally at home when it came to paddling and steering what seemed to her a heavy, clumsy craft, not even quite regular in shape. Tescon had explained to her that Subans, as marsh-dwellers, used two or three different kinds of boat, according to the particular need. For fishing and for short trips-which might be no more than a couple of hundred yards-they used either rafts or else what they called dords- light, oval coracles with a kind of well or hollow keel for carrying gear. For longer journeys, however-especially such as might involve moving through tracts of swamp between villages-the proper craft was the flat-bottomed kilyett, fourteen or fifteen feet long, which drew no more than a few inches and in which one could sleep at a pinch. Unless it was actually stuck on mud, a kilyett could be forced through almost anything in the way of reeds or undergrowth, while if everyone got out it could even be dragged for short distances overland.

The village, she had discovered when they came to leave it, lay on a kind of spit or neck of firm ground between the Valderra to the east and a wide expanse of marsh on the west. It was through this marsh that their journey had at first lain; though how anyone could tell the way was past her comprehension. In and out of the mournful swamps they had wandered, under and between trees festooned with pendent moss and shaggy creepers; over shallow mud beds where the boat had skirred, slowed and grated, until she felt sure they were going to stick fast: across pools and small lakes, heading straight for what looked like impenetrable banks of reeds on the further side, through which, at the last moment, they pushed and crushed their way into the next pool; down corridors of water flanked by boggy thickets, out of which, at their approach, flew great flocks of long-billed waders. Once or twice Maia ventured

questions or offered help, but although the Subans always answered her courteously, she soon grasped that she was more hindrance than use and might as well accept that she was about as valuable as a tailor in a smithy.

Together with her anxiety about the future, she was now beginning to feel, more acutely than at any time since leaving Bekla, two further deprivations. One was of the luxury and comfort of the High Counselor's household, which had softened her and to which, she now realized, she had become more accustomed than she had supposed. During the first two or three days she had enjoyed standing up to the journey, never envisaging that anything could go wrong with Kembri's plan. Now, however, it was no longer a matter of bearing hardship with the prospect of reward. Gone forever were the delicious meals, the soft bed, the clothes and jewels, the ready availability of Ogma to do whatever was wanted, the admiration of the Leopards and her own future as a dancer. Oh, and above all, she had lost Occula! "Kantza-Merada blast this damned, dirty sink of web-footed bastards!" she whispered under her breath.

Her other need was simpler and deeper. She wanted a man. Ever since Tharrin, she had hardly been without one for more than a few days. She remembered how once she had been cross with Occula for taking her up short when she had talked about randy goats in the upper city who couldn't go without. "Banzi, you think men are randy and you're not? Doan' you know it goes far deeper with girls? Men-they talk and boast about it and we doan': and you take all that at face value. But men have a sort of silly notion there's somethin' clever about doin' without. Food, drink, sleep, women-oh, doan' they just love to boast that they're brave, brave soldiers who can go without if they're put to it? So can we. But when did you ever hear a girl boastin' about goin' without? Girls who have to go without bastin' just feel sorry, not proud. One day you'll find out that I'm right."

She'd found out now, she thought. On and off for hours she'd been tormented, not by any longing for this man or that-not for the devouring potency of Kembri, the elegant style of Elvair-ka-Virrion, the lewdness of Sencho-but simply for the thing itself. Her mind kept dwelling on the actual physical sensations, like that of a near-starving person obsessed with food; and the recollection of her suf-

ferings-the river crossing, her wounded shin, the leeches- only seemed to sharpen it, as Sencho had once told her that girls were often sharpened by a good whipping. Oh, I'd take just about any man! she thought; that I would!

Lying prone on the raised, flat stern and trying to turn her mind to something else, she began considering the strangeness of coming, in this wilderness, upon so unexpected a person as Nasada. He puzzled her. It was nothing to do with his having no sexual interest in her. After all, neither had Zuno; nor had Sarget on the night of the senguela, whatever might have been his private feelings. Maia had no general objection to men not showing desire for her. Her dislike of Bayub-Otal stemmed not from this, but from his actual rejection of her advances-that and the contemptuous way in which he had spoken of what he regarded as her degradation in the High Counselor's household. Nasada, on the other hand, she not only liked-and wanted him to like her-but also intuitively trusted as she had never trusted anyone else. This was not simply a matter of his being a doctor and having taken the trouble to come to see her last night. No, it was an attraction the nature of which she could not really explain to herself. He was wise, yet he didn't talk down to her. He made her feel secure. She wanted to get to know him better, to talk to him, to tell him more about herself, ask him all manner of questions and hear what he had to say in reply; to be-well, to be his friend. He made her feel she was valuable as a person, not just as an expensive and beautiful concubine. She didn't desire him-oh, no, the very idea was out of the question; that would spoil it all; nor did she entertain any hope that he would help her to escape from Suba. Yet he had put new heart into her, and a feeling that she could face the future. If he had not been with her now-if there had been no one but Luma and Tescon-she was not sure but what she mightn't have been driven to some desperate turn.

She came out of these reflections as Tescon spoke.

"Well, Shakkarn be thanked, that's the worst of it, U-Nasada. Here's Dark Entry at last."