Shadowland. Spider World 06 by Colin Wilson

Crestia raised her lamp to reveal a chamber that obviously had been a stable at some remote time in its history, and still had horse stalls; harnesses of old, cracked leather hung on the walls, which were built of unplaned wood. The single window was broken, and the floor was made of trampled earth. The stable obviously had been added to the outer wall of the building, and from its floor, roughly six feet apart, grew two trees, each about two feet thick, whose upper halves vanished through holes in the ceiling.

The door was made of rough planks, and when Niall raised the wooden latch, he found himself looking into a small courtyard of whose existence he had been unaware.

Leda was caressing the rough gray bark of one of the trees. She said: “These are abolia trees, whose wood is as hard as oak or mahogany. They grow in the Delta. I would advise you to move your brother’s bed between them.”

Niall accepted her advice without question. Sidonia was dispatched to the hospital to commandeer two porters with a stretcher, and Veig was transferred to it. Niall directed two of the house servants to dismantle Veig’s bed, which was held together by wooden pegs, and it was carried down to the stable and reassembled. Veig was sleeping so deeply that even the hammering when the pegs were loosened failed to wake him.

Niall’s mother, Siris, had been awakened by all the activity, and she watched as Veig was replaced in his bed between the two trees. She bent over her son and placed her hands on his forehead. Like Niall, she possessed certain telepathic abilities, particularly where her children were concerned. Her face broke into a smile of relief.

“His fever is almost gone.”

As Niall sat on a stool on the other side of the bed and placed his hands on Veig’s forehead, he was immediately aware that his mother’s diagnosis was too optimistic. Veig’s blood still burned with a fever that was like poison. But at least his condition now seemed stable. And as he focused his attention to a deeper level, he became aware that the trees at either end of the bed were, in fact, exercising a soothing influence. They were like a cool breeze blowing through a window. This breeze was a form of vitality, the distinctive vibration of the goddess. On a spider, the effect would have been a slow trickle of energy that would have cured sickness. The flesh of humans was on too high a level to be recharged by this vitality, yet its effect was nevertheless restorative, like soft music. When the dawn came, with its surge of energy, the effect would be even stronger.

At least it was a relief that Veig was in good hands. It meant that Niall could set out on his journey without the same burden of tension and anxiety.

He looked at Sidonia and Crestia, who were standing side by side.

“You must take special care of my brother. And if you become overtired, then try to find others who can help.”

They understood what he meant — that there must be at least half a dozen other young women who had shared Veig’s favors.

Crestia asked timidly: “Does my lord intend to. . .”

Before she could finish, Niall raised his finger to his lips. It was important that as few as possible knew about his intended journey. Crestia blushed as she realized how close she had come to committing an indiscretion — the servants and stretcher bearers were still in the room — and Niall observed with interest that Sidonia also blushed. This meant that they had established a community of sensation that could only benefit their patient.

Niall turned to the serving men.

“Thank you for your help. You can go.” The men shuffled off awkwardly, unaccustomed to being treated with courtesy. Niall beckoned to Simeon as he followed them.

“I need your advice.”

“Gladly.”

Niall was silent until they were crossing the main hallway. When he was sure they could not be overheard he said: “You see the problem? As soon as I leave the city, the news will spread, until it is overheard by the spies of the Magician. What can we do?”

Simeon shrugged. “If you think it’s all that dangerous, then don’t go alone.”

“We’ve been through all that.” Niall made an effort to keep the impatience out of his voice. “I have to travel alone.” Earlier in the evening, Simeon had tried hard to persuade Niall to allow him to go with him. “But how do you think I can I make people think I’m still in the city?”

“We could say that you have to stay in your apartments. You could be suffering from some fever that you caught in the Delta.”

Niall thought about it. “Yes, I suppose that might work.” He shook his head. “But I’d need to be seen now and then. Suppose we could find someone who looked like me, and who could wear my clothes. . .”

They had arrived outside Niall’s apartment. The door opened; Jarita, his personal servant, had heard them coming.

Niall said: “I told you to go to bed.”

“I thought you might need something.”

“No thank you, Jarita.” From the main room, he could see through his open bedroom door, and that a gray pack lay on his bed. “What is that?”

“Your mother brought it. It is for your journey.”

Niall exchanged glances with Simeon.

“How did you know I was going on a journey?”

“Your mother said so.”

Simeon took her chin between his forefinger and thumb and looked into her eyes.

“No one else must know about this. It is a secret.”

She nodded. Niall was glad Simeon had spoken; she regarded him with a kind of awe — since his injections had revived the paralyzed victims of spider venom, word had spread around the city that he was a sorcerer.

Niall examined the pack on his bed. It was made of a thick cloth that was surprisingly stiff to the fingers, and had shoulder straps and a leather drawstring; it contained food in a waterproof cloth coated with spider silk, and a flask of drink, as well as a folding knife and matches. In a side pocket there was a small wooden box, which he recognized; it contained food tablets, which had been given to him on his first visit to the white tower, in the days when he had been a fugitive. There was also a silvery metal tube, about six inches long and an inch wide; this, he knew, held a lightweight garment, developed by men of the twenty-first century for space travelers. His mother evidently had kept these relics of former days. A waterproof pouch with a drawstring contained a watch manufactured in the city of the bombardier beetles, and a smaller pouch contained a compass.

On the back of his bedside chair was a gray cloak of a silky, waterproof material, lined with the soft wool of dwarf mountain sheep.

Simeon stood beside him.

“So your mother knew you were going on a journey?”

Niall nodded. “She can read my thoughts — Veig’s too. If we want to communicate with her when we are traveling, we think of her at sunset or sunrise, and it is as if she is there with us.”

“Have you ever tried to see her?”

“No. What would be the point? It is enough know she can hear us.”

Simeon led the way into the dining room; Jarita had left out food and drink on the table, and Simeon helped himself to a glass of a light golden mead that sparkled in the lamplight.

“When my daughter is away from me, she can make me see her.”

“How?”

“Have you ever heard of making the spirit walk?”

“No.”

“It is the power to appear to someone when you are not present.”

“Ah, yes.” Niall suddenly understood. “I have done that.”

Simeon looked at him in surprise. “You’ve done it?”

“It was when I first went into the white tower.” Simeon was one of the few people to whom Niall had described his experiences in the white tower. “I had run away from Kazak’s palace. The old man told me to close my eyes, and suddenly I was back in the palace with Kazak and my mother.”

“And what happened?”

“I tried to speak, and suddenly I was back in the white tower.”

“So you wouldn’t know how to do it again?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t do it. The old man did it. But I don’t know how.”

Simeon said: “My daughter knows how.”

“Has she told you how to do it?”

“No. But she can explain it to you. I have sent Jarita to fetch her.”

Niall poured himself some of the mead, then changed his mind; it would only make him sleepy.

“Can you do it?”

“No.”

“Then I certainly can’t.”