She looked up quickly, angry for a moment; but his tone was entirely matter-of-fact and there was no mockery in his eyes.
"Yes, I would."
"Natural enough, wouldn't you say, for someone who's lonely and anxious in a strange place? Who likes being alone in the dark?"
"I never thought of it that way, U-Nasada: I just like- oh, well, I just enjoy basting, I suppose."
"Great Shakkarn!" he said. "Any reason why you
shouldn't? People do, or none of us would be here, if you come to think of it."
"Well, that's one thing, U-Nasada, but-" She stopped.
"Well, what's another thing?" He sat down beside the bed. She pondered, and as she did so realized with delight that he was in no hurry and glad for her, too, to take her time.
"Well," she said at length, "I suppose I meant that in Bekla men just used me, really, same as they might use a hawk or a dog, for sport; and I enjoyed it-or a lot of it I did-'cos it meant they admired me and wanted me. It was a sight better 'n working in a kitchen, too, wasn't it? But some of them despise you as well-for what you are, I mean-even though it's none of your own choosing; and that just about makes me mad. It's crazy, really, U-Nasada. You're supposed to like it, because that's what they want-to think they've made the girl enjoy it: but then there's some people, if you act natural they just despise you, like Lenkrit and the others that night when I took my clothes off to cross the river."
"Well, I don't despise you," he said. "In fact, if you want to know, I very much admire the way you seem to be able to stand up to anything and still keep your spirits up. But Lenkrit, yes; I'm glad you reminded me of him. Can you remember what Lenkrit said when he first saw you? I'd be interested to know."
"Let me think. Only I was that frightened that morning- Far as I can remember, Bayub-Otal said to Lenkrit as he must be forgetful-something like that-and to look at me again. And then Lenkrit said something about he wondered he hadn't seen it before, only the light was that bad."
"And that's all?"
"Far's I can recollect. No, wait! I remember now, he asked Bayub-Otal whether I was his sister; that's right."
"But you don't look much like him, do you?"
She laughed. "I don't reckon old Sencho'd have given fifteen thousand meld for me at that rate, do you?"
"You're proud of that, aren't you?"
She nodded.
"I'm not surprised. Why shouldn't you be? And Bayub-Otal?"
"Well, then he kind of cut Lenkrit off short. But I was that upset and moithered with everything-you ever had
a knife held at
"What do you know about Bayub-Otal? Do you know about his father and mother, and how he grew up?"
"Oh, he told me all about that, yes: how his mother was sent to Urtah as a dancing-girl, and how the King-High Baron-whatever 'twas-fell in love with her and hid her away in Suba to save her from his wife. And about the fire-why, Whatever's the matter, U-Nasada?"
To her horror, she saw tears running down his rough, wrinkled cheeks. For an instant he actually sobbed.
"You're very young, Maia: young people are often unfeeling-until they've learned through suffering themselves. It wasn't really so very long ago. Nokomis-she was like moonlight on a lake! No one who saw her dance ever forgot her for the rest of his life. All Suba worshipped her, even those who never actually saw her. When she died, the luck ran out of Suba like sand out of a broken hour-glass. You never saw Nokomis-"
"Well, how could I?" she answered petulantly. "I wasn't even born when she died."
"As far as any of us here can make out, you were born more or less
Maia stared. "What do you mean, my lord? Why do you say it like that?"
He drank off his wine and put the cup down on the table. "And then," he said, as if continuing, "last night I asked you whether you were sure about your father. You were." He paused. "So that just leaves us with the will and power of the gods, doesn't it?"
"The gods? I don't know what you're on about, U-Nasada, honest I don't."
"Arid you say Sencho paid fifteen thousand meld?" he went on. "Well, for what it's worth, that's what Nor-Zavin, the Baron of southern Suba, paid her parents for the daughter they'd called Astara. I happen to know that. I'm not sure who first nicknamed her Nokomis, but I suppose that doesn't really matter."
It may seem incredible that no inkling had dawned earlier in Maia's mind. Yet just so will a person often fail to perceive-resist, even, and set aside-the personal implications of a dream plain enough to friends to whom it is told.
"U-Nasada, are you saying that I look tike Nokomis?"
He paused, choosing his words. At length he answered, "To someone like myself, who remembers her well, it would be quite unbelievable-" he smiled-"if it weren't here before my eyes."
She reflected. "Then why doesn't everybody see it? Tes-con, say, or Luma?"
