Shadowland. Spider World 06 by Colin Wilson

The Magician crossed to the glass cylinder and held the globe close to it. His expression made it plain that he was baffled by Niall’s disappearance, and again his thoughts were as clear as if spoken aloud. He asked the boca: “Is there someone else in this room?”

Niall’s heart seemed to stop. Without raising its eyes, the boca said: “Yes.”

“Who?”

The boca said: “The dead.” Its voice had an unreal, rustling quality, as if made by dry leaves rather than vocal cords.

“Where?”

The boca pointed at the troglas, which were still hovering around the cabinet.

The Magician held out the globe and made an obvious effort of will that caused it to shine with something like its former brightness, but the light seemed to drive the troglas before it like a strong breeze, so they ceased to be in the place where he was looking. Almost immediately, the globe became dull again.

The Magician held it between his palms, a few inches from his face, and his expression showed he had grasped the extent of the disaster. Suddenly looking tired, he went went back to the chair. He said to the boca: “You must make me another.”

The boca made no reply, and its face remained expressionless.

The Magician said: “Do you hear me?”

“Yes.” It spoke with its eyes on the ground, but from where he was standing, Niall could see they were full of hatred.

The Magician’s eyes came to rest on a dark patch on the floor: the place where Jelko’s blood had spilled. He sent out a powerful telepathic signal that was the equivalent of an angry shout, and a guard immediately appeared in the doorway. The Magician pointed to the ground.

“Clean this up before it stains.”

The man saluted, and appeared moments later with the mop and bucket. Niall watched with a touch of amusement as he scrubbed frantically at the brown patch which, under a film of water, became darker than ever. Finally, he went out and returned with a scrubbing brush, which also made no difference.

The Magician said wearily: “Go away, you fool. Didn’t you know blood has to be washed away while it is wet?”

Hardly able to believe his good fortune, the guard picked up the mop and bucket.

The Magician said: “When the prisoners arrive, I want the mayor and mayoress brought here.”

The man saluted and hurried out.

As the Magician sat in his chair, his mind was again easy to read, and Niall could see that he was again brooding on the problem of Niall’s disappearance. He blamed the protesting mob for interrupting at the crucial moment. Thoughts of revenge and cruelty seemed to fill the room with a sense of violence that was like the smell of a slaughterhouse.

This glimpse into sadism was a new experience for Niall. When he had first come to the spider city he had believed that the spiders took pleasure in cruelty; now he knew that it was only a form of the satisfaction predators take in disabling their prey. But in this Magician he could sense a murderous sickness that went beyond anything he had ever encountered. The Magician had fed on power until it had turned him into a monster.

This monomaniac had indulged his whims until he had come to believe that his will was a law of nature. To Niall’s astonished perceptions, he seemed to have lost all contact with reality and gone insane.

Something caused the Magician to start and look toward the window. A moment later, Niall also heard the popping sounds that the Magician’s acute hearing had detected first. Never having heard gunfire, Niall was at first baffled by the series of bangs that sounded like bursting balloons.

By the time he reached the window, the Magician was already there. From this point on the central tower, it was possible to look downhill to the bridge, which was partly obscured by the kalinda tree. From there, they could see the crowd that was pouring onto the bridge, and soldiers who were firing their rifles into the air.

The telepathic shout of rage was so loud that Niall winced. As both guards rushed into the room, the Magician pointed out of the window with a hand that shook. “What’s that?” They clearly had no idea what he meant, and one of them hurried to the window. What he saw obviously bewildered him, and he shook his head dumbly. The other guard succeeded in looking past him by standing on tiptoe.

“Well?”

The guard stammered: “I don’t know, sir.”

Niall knew beyond all doubt that if the Magician’s globe had been operating at full strength, both soldiers would have been struck dead.

His voice shook as he said: “Send for Captain Zadin.”

When the men were gone, the Magician sat in his chair and gazed straight in front of him. His face left no doubt of what he was thinking: that his powers were fading and he was suddenly in actual physical danger. Niall was surprised that he was not feeling triumphant about his enemy’s undoing. He even found room for regret that he had been its cause. Nevertheless, his chief emotion was intense curiosity. What did such a man do when he knew his power was gone, and that he might end in one of his own dungeons?

Niall was also interested to note that the troglas no longer seemed to be wandering aimlessly. They were watching the Magician, as if waiting for something to happen.

There were sounds in the corridor, and a knock on the door. The Magician shouted angrily: “Come in.”

The red-haired captain was looking apologetic, yet there was something about his manner that Niall found hard to place.

“I’m sorry sir — I’ve only just come back.”

The Magician snapped impatiently: “But what’s happening?” He gestured at the window. “What’s all this?”

Zadin said: “We tried to arrest them, sir, but they resisted. Then a soldier got shot. . .”

“One of ours or theirs?”

“Theirs. Then it all flared up, and turned into a riot.”

“How many men did you take?”

“Twenty, sir.”

“And didn’t they open fire?”

Zadin was looking strangely embarrassed, and avoided the Magician’s eye.

“Well?”

Zadin said: “They joined them, sir.”

Niall knew what was odd about the captain’s manner. In spite of his deference and servility, he was enjoying being the bearer of bad news.

Niall expected the Magician to explode with his usual uncontrolled rage, and was surprised when he asked in a calm voice: “What do they want?”

Sensing danger, the captain redoubled his deference.

“To rescue the two envoys from Korsh.”

The Magician went to the window. The sound of firing was closer. Niall was puzzled by his calm. “And how many do you think are loyal?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

The Magician said ironically, “So perhaps just you and me?”

Suspecting a trap Zadin said: “I don’t know, sir.”

“No? Then I’m going to give you a chance to prove your loyalty. That boy from Korsh. I want you to go down to the dungeons and kill him.”

Niall knew this was intended to test Zadin’s loyalty, and that he should have the sense to salute and withdraw.

But the captain failed to recognize his danger, and said with shocked sincerity: “Is that a good idea, sir? These people are coming to rescue him, and. . .”

“And when they arrive, they’ll find him dead, won’t they?”

Zadin said: “Yes, sir, if that’s what you want.”

The Magician shouted: “What I want is loyalty!”

Niall knew what was about to happen, and braced himself. The globe in the Magician’s hand shone with a brilliant light. But the bolt of energy that struck the captain was not strong enough to destroy him outright. Instead, his mouth opened wide with pain, and his clothes burst into flame. His scream made the Magician wince and cover his ears.

In the same moment, Niall directed the energy of his own globe at the Magician’s hand. The Magician’s globe went out like a light that has been extinguished. He gaped in astonishment at the crystal in Niall’s hand, which now filled the room with light, and looked with astonishment into Niall’s eyes. Then there was a blur of movement, and the boca was holding the Magician by the throat. For a moment the creature looked like a giant grasshopper that has seized some smaller insect. Then Niall watched at close quarters what had happened to Jelko. The huge left hand gripped the throat, while the right covered the lower half of the face completely, and twisted the Magician’s head around to face the other way. For a moment there was no sound; then the neck snapped. The boca’s teeth were bared in a smile that made it look demonic.

Niall preferred not to stay and watch what was going to happen next. He stepped over the captain’s body, with its smoldering clothes, and through the door, walking straight through both guards, who were listening with their ears pressed against it. Then he remembered that he could be wherever he liked by using the power of thought, and envisaged his cell.