As the warmth of spring draws a butterfly from its crevice-that is to say, without will or decision on its part-so Maia was affected by the spontaneous excitement of those gathering along the shore. To act on the inspiration of the moment-whether it was a matter of putting on the slave-traders' decoy gown, of gratifying the High Counselor at the Rains banquet or of responding to the inner certainty that Lespa was with her as she began the sen-guela-this was her nature. Even when, as now, she felt full of uncertainty and was far from clear what was required of her, still her instinct was to respond rather than to hang back.
She went forward to the raised, square bow-one corner was daubed with soft earth from the bank into which Tescon had driven it, but there was no time to bother with
that now-and took up what she hoped was a gracious, courtly stance, her bare feet several inches above the gently rippling water, the flying cranes round the hem of her new, linen shift twirling slightly in the breeze of the boat's movement, the stems of the water-lilies cool and smooth round her wrists, her brow and neck.
In after years the tale of her arrival at Melvda was often told, both in Suba and in Terekenalt; how King Karnat, at the Star Court, upon hearing news of her approach, came down with his captains to the waterside to greet the miraculous girl who had crossed the Valderra by night with Lenkrit and Anda-Nokomis. True, not many people were actually in the courtyard at the time-perhaps fifty-though later, many more claimed that they had been. The tale grew in the telling, and some, as they grew older, would weave into it all manner of fancies born of later musings.
"What was she like?" younger men would ask some graybeard, when enough sour Suban wine had loosened tongues. "Tell us what you saw that day."
"Why, she was-well, d'ye see, she wasn't just like any lass that you'd catch sight of in the market, nor yet at a festival, and think "That's a pretty one: I wouldn't mind her.' Oh, no! She looked-well, I'll tell you now, she looked as though she'd come from some other world to put this one to rights for good and all. She looked like someone who could never grow old or die."
"But was she really as beautiful as they say?"
"She was more beautiful than I care to remember now, for when you're old it hurts, and that's the truth. But what I most recollect-there was a kind of a brightness about her, like. It was as though light was actually shining from her-or at least, that's just how it struck my fancy at the time, you know. It was mid-day, to be sure, but all the same she seemed brighter than anything round about her."
"But what was she wearing, granddad-how did she look?"
"Well, that's just it. She'd got no jewels nor nothing of that, but you felt you'd as soon go putting jewels on a rose or a goldfish. Her arms and legs were bare-I remember that-and her hair over her shoulders was all gold-shining in the sun, it was. She was wearing a kind of a short, white dress all embroidered with birds, and those golden lilies- real lilies, they were-round her neck and her head. They'd left drops of water on her arms and I remember as the
boat tipped a bit, one of them twinkled a moment, you know, in my eyes."
"But wasn't there any show to it, then-no music or flags-nothing of that?"
"Well, I suppose it seems strange-yes, it would-if you weren't there-but no, there was nothing of that at all. It was really more the kind of startling of it, you see; unexpected, like waking up to snow. It was like you'd be out in the woods and then suddenly, before you've had time to think, there's some bird or creature you've never seen in your life-never knew there was such a thing. That's the part that's hardest to describe. In one way she was just like that-a flesh-and-blood creature, what you'd call arresting, like it might be a leopard or a humming-bird. But in another way there was something about her you couldn't pin down-as though we'd all been blest; and as though she could never be harmed or hurt. But the exact look of it all-in my mind's eye, you know-that's gone: that's like a tune that's vanished away out of my head. I wish it hadn't. All I know now is, it was the best one I've ever heard. I'd like to hear it just once again-ay, that I would."
"What did the king do?"
