Shadowland. Spider World 06 by Colin Wilson

Gerek interrupted: “Even fall in love.”

This caught Niall’s interest. “Fall in love?”

“Indeed. When Rufio reached puberty, the usual sexual hormones were administered, then the image of a pretty girl was fed into his circuits. He not only fell in love, but the brain began to grow at an amazing rate. In a year it had almost doubled its size. You see the implication? Unrestricted by a human skull, it simply went on growing! The karvasid had created a superbrain which lived entirely on illusions!”

Niall was impressed. “What happened to him in the end?”

“Oh, he went insane.”

Niall asked: “Boredom?”

“Oh, no. Boredom depends on the physical body. It is an appetite for stimulation. But Rufus got all the stimulation he needed.”

Gerek said: “Except sex.”

“Oh, he had that too, in the form of electrical stimuli.”

Gerek said: “It can’t have been as much fun as a real girl.”

“How can we tell? It may have been more.” But Gerek’s interruption obviously had broken his train of thought; he looked at his watch. “It’s time we joined the others.”

Niall asked: “Will the karvasid be waiting?”

“No. He will be in his own apartments. At this age, he finds people very tiring.”

Niall could understand. He remembered how his own grandfather, Jomar, had lost all interest in life a few months before he died. And the karvasid was many times his age.

As they approached the reception room, Niall was surprised to hear the sound of music. It was not until they were about to pass through the wide-open doors that he realized that the music was not physically audible, but was sounding inside his head. It was marvelously infectious, creating a bubbling sense of gaiety.

The room was crowded; Niall estimated there must be three hundred guests. On a platform in the center of the ballroom, an orchestra was playing — a dozen men dressed in silver and blue uniforms. But the platform was covered with a transparent dome, on top of which there was a device consisting of circular metal plates connected in parallel; this was obviously transforming the music into a telepathic wavelength that was audible to everyone in the room. And since everyone was engaged in telepathic conversations on the same wavelength, the effect was exactly like a normal party with chattering guests.

When Niall made a mental effort to block out this sound, he was astonished to realize that the room was silent except for the shuffling feet of the dancing couples and the distant lilt of a waltz through the dome. The sense of gaiety also vanished — only to return as soon as Niall tuned in to the music. It was an odd sensation — like stepping out of brilliant sunshine into a rainstorm, then back into sunlight again.

Typhon placed his mouth close to Niall’s ear. “If you don’t mind, I’ll introduce you as Colonel Niall. Most of the men here have a military rank.”

“Of course. Whatever you think best.”

“And I’ll describe you simply as an envoy from the spider city. Telling them the truth would make everyone ask you how it came about. Or would you prefer that?”

“Of course not.” Niall was only too glad to avoid attention.

Typhon asked the captain: “Do you have a name we could use?”

“Among my own people I was known as Makanda.”

“Then let it be Captain Makanda.”

As they entered the ballroom, Niall paid special attention to see whether the spider’s presence would arouse interest; if not, it would support the captain’s suspicion that they were expected. But what happened was much like their earlier experience in the Hall of Entertainment. Eyes turned on them as they entered, and people stared with open curiosity; but it lasted only a few moments, and normal conversation resumed. Once more, Niall’s impression was that Shadowlanders were too polite to stare.

Typhon said: “Let me introduce you to our mayor, Major Baltiger.”

The mayor was a tall, thin man with a snub nose and a white scar on his cheek; he beamed at Niall and said cordially: “My dear sir!” Instead of clasping forearms, he shook hands in an odd, jerky manner. “We don’t see many outlanders here.” Niall guessed that outlanders meant strangers.

Typhon said: “Colonel Niall is an envoy from the spider city.”

The mayor said heartily: “Wonderful!” He obviously was sincere, but Niall suspected that his cordiality was connected to the huge glass of wine he was holding.

Looking around the room at the dancing couples, Niall was struck by the high level of beauty in the women, and masculinity in the men. There was not a corpulent figure among them. It seemed that the guests at the karvasid’s reception were chosen for a certain distinction.

A moment later, Typhon introduced Niall to a tall, pretty woman whose fine blond hair stood out from her head like a ball of cotton wool. Her circular blue eyes reminded Niall of pools of water. At a distance she looked as if she was in her late twenties, but at close quarters, the fine lines on her skin made it clear that she must be twice that age. Nevertheless, Niall noted that she was radiating the same curious sexual attraction as the old woman he had seen in Typhon’s garden. Her pretty, bow-shaped mouth seemed to be inviting a kiss.

When she told him she was the mayoress, Niall said that he had just met her husband. A look of alarm crossed her face.

“Major Baltiger is not my husband. In this city. . .” She blushed as if unable to continue.

Niall, feeling he had embarrassed her, hastened to interpose: “Of course, I forgot.”

She said nervously, her face still pink: “He has been my lover many times, but we are not married.” Her huge blue eyes looked as if they were about to overflow with tears. Niall observed that at close quarters, circular eyes looked as if they were bulging.

The odd thing, Niall noticed as she turned to be introduced to the captain, was that she had the figure of a young girl. So did many women in the room. He made a mental note to ask Typhon how the women of Shadowland kept their bodies so shapely and athletic.

He watched her talking to the captain with fascination. Most women who were talking to a giant spider for the first time in their lives would look nervous, or at least self-conscious. Yet she was talking to the captain as if he was simply another male, and continued to exude the same slightly helpless sexual attraction.

Of course, they were speaking telepathically, and therefore she was more aware of the captain’s mind than of his appearance. Yet as Niall observed her attitude, her unconscious movements, he could see that she was responding to the captain simply as a female responds to a desirable male. The captain was aware of this, and Niall could see he enjoyed it.

Typhon was already introducing Niall to another woman he called Herlint. She was plump, had brown eyes of the normal shape, and was probably in her twenties. But for the sallow complexion, she might have been considered pretty.

She asked Niall: “Are you staying here long?”

“Only a day or two. Then I have to return.”

“You’re so lucky!” She glanced round to make sure Typhon was not listening, then said in the telepathic equivalent of a low whisper: “I’d love to come with you.” As she said it, she suddenly exuded the same sexual attraction as the mayoress. It was as if she had turned it on by pushing a button.

Niall felt flattered. “You’d like to travel?”

“Of course! Everyone would like to travel.” Her face became sad. “But I don’t suppose I shall ever get the chance.”

Out of a desire to give pleasure, Niall said: “You may.”

She gazed into his eyes with an intensity that embarrassed him.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m here to discuss a peace treaty.”

Her eyes widened. “With the spiders?” He nodded. “Oh, that would be wonderful! Wonderful!” He realized that if they had been alone, she would have flung her arms round him.

Now worried in case he had been indiscreet, he said quickly: “It’s still supposed to be a secret, so please don’t tell anyone.”

She gazed at him reproachfully. “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

At that moment, to Niall’s relief, Typhon interrupted them. He wanted to introduce Niall to a big man wearing a red uniform with gold brushes on the shoulders. He was introduced as Lieutenant Vasco, head of the fire-fighting service. Vasco had a magnificent blond mustache, a deep scar across his forehead, and when he smiled, he showed excellent white teeth.

For a few minutes their talk progressed along predictable lines — how long Niall had taken to reach Shadowland, how long he intended to stay, how he liked their city. Niall tried to change the direction of the conversation by inquiring about his scar. Vasco’s smile clouded over, and for a moment, Niall was concerned in case his curiosity might seem discourteous. Vasco smiled with his magnificent teeth and said casually: “Dueling with our best swordsman.” The offhand tone concealed a certain pride.