They had now left the huts and were walking between clumps of grass and rushes, on a path that wound between shallow pools and mud that was half water. Here the marshy smell was mingled with the scent of some kind of wild herb, peppery and sharp, and now and then with a sweeter fragrance, as though somewhere near there must be a bed of marsh lily or roseweed. In places, split logs had been laid together, flat side up, to pave the path, and over these Luma led the way, her bare feet pressing down the wood so that now and then the warm, stagnant water rose nearly to her ankles. The light was fading and as they went on the croaking of frogs, which at first had been intermittent, became continuous, spreading round them on every side.
Passing through a thicket of plumed reeds and club-rushes taller than themselves, the two girls came to a still, open pool about thirty yards broad-some backwater of the Valderra, Maia supposed, for it did not seem to be flowing. In several places here the short-turfed, level bank had been cut into, to form a succession of regular inlets, each a few yards long and about three feet deep. In four or five of these, girls, either naked or stripped to the waist, were splashing and washing themselves. One, looking up, called a greeting to Luma.
Even on the Tonildan Waste Maia had possessed a towel of sorts and (as will be remembered) Morca used to make soap from tallow and ashes. Such refinements, however, seemed unknown here. Luma, pointing and smiling, became unexpectedly articulate.
"This is a good place. Not many others-" (Here Maia lost her drift.) "You needn't worry; none of the men come here. Have their own place."
Stooping, she pulled off her dull-gray, curiously supple smock (Maia could still form no idea from what it could
be made), stepped into one of the inlets and began sluicing her head and shoulders with her hands. Maia, strolling a little way along the bank, looked down into the dark, smooth water. She could not see the bottom: it must be all of eight or ten feet deep and it was weedless. She dipped one hand in. It felt pleasant-somewhere between cool and lukewarm; if anything, a shade warmer than Serrelind at this time of year. In fact, it was just what she needed. She undressed and, kneeling above the water, became conscious once again of the beauty of her own body. She bent over the calm surface. It was not a perfect reflection- since leaving Fornis's house she had had no sight of a mirror-but as near as she could tell, neither her black eye nor her bruised lip were still noticeable. Looking at her breasts, she smiled to remember how Meris, on the night of the Rains banquet, had shown her jealousy of their firm prominence.
"Ah!" she whispered. "I've still got myself: that ought to be good for something, even in Suba."
Rising quickly to her feet, she plunged into the water and struck out, delighted to be swimming once again. Any road, she thought, this is something that hasn't changed. Water's where I'm at home. Water loves me.
She duck-dived a foot or two into the green gloom, swam on until she was breathless and came up through a surface glowing and reddened by the setting sun.
The splash and smack of the water filled her ears: there was no other sound. It was close, protective, a helmet of sound!-only herself and the water-like old days on Serrelind, with the evening light fading before supper-time. She swam a dozen strokes, then turned on her back and floated, looking up at the pink-tinged clouds.
Suddenly she became aware of a turmoil of high-pitched screeching coming from the bank. Luma and the other girls were gathered in a cluster, some clothed, some still undressed, but all waving at her, gesturing and calling shrilly. Since they were all shouting together-and in their Suban dialect, at that-she could make out very little, but what was clear enough was that they wanted her to come back at once. Whatever it was all about, it was evidently urgent and important to them. What a pity, she thought, just as she was enjoying herself. Still, she was in their hands: it wouldn't do to upset them.
She struck out for the bank and as she did so felt a sharp
little stab at the back of one knee, like a needle or the bite of a horsefly. This was followed, a moment later, by a similar pain in her ankle. Each, if there had not been two at once, might almost have been-ow! there was another, in her thigh-one of those little pangs that everybody feels at times, but which seem to have no perceptible cause. Reaching the bank, she stretched up her arms to pull herself out, but before she could do so two of the girls had caught her hands and hauled her bodily on to the grass. They were all chattering together.
"Why didn't you tell her?"
"How could I have known?"
"She's a foreigner, she wasn't to know-"
"Stupid thing to do-"
"Take her back quickly, Luma!"
