Shadowland. Spider World 06 by Colin Wilson

The market was crowded, as he had expected; yet there was none of the gaiety and bustle he had noticed on his previous visit. Now there was a feeling of tension; it was as if everyone was waiting for something to happen.

Walking through the market gave him one of the strangest sensations Niall had ever experienced. It was unnecessary to push his way through the crowd, since he was able to walk straight through people. But as he stepped in and out of someone’s body, he felt a slight frisson, a tingle like an almost imperceptible electric current.

He was interested to note that there was a quite clear and distinct difference between men and women. Female energy created a sense of warmth and attraction — sometimes so strong that he occasionally turned to look at the woman he had just walked through. He absorbed this energy like food, and observed that it produced an effect akin to sweetness. Male energy, on the other hand, seemed somehow “dry” and nonabsorbent, sometimes even with a touch of bitterness, like the smell of wood smoke.

He also observed that every individual had a different “flavor,” which was the essence of each personality. This difference would have been impossible to put into words, but was like a series of differing tastes or smells, each one defying description. Niall realized suddenly how much we miss when we know people only from the outside.

Sometimes the contact was minimal, as when his shoulder passed through someone else’s. But if his body corresponded for a moment with another body, he received the full “flavor” of the personality. And if he spent more than a few seconds in someone’s body — which happened if they were walking in the same direction — he became aware of what they were thinking and feeling, and something of their history.

Without exception, everyone was thinking the same treasonable thoughts about the karvasid.

Under different circumstances he would have enjoyed spending hours wandering in and out of so many individuals — particularly since this involved a continual shock of surprise to realize that other people were as real as he was. But for the moment, he shared their feverish curiosity to know what was happening in the Town Hall, and what conclusions the Citizens’ Committee had reached.

He recognized the man standing at the top of the Town Hall steps as Vasco. He was staring anxiously into the distance and tugging his mustache. The mayoress was standing beside him, her round blue eyes making her look permanently astonished. She was saying: “Shall we send a messenger to his house?”

“I’ve already done it. The doorkeeper says he’s not home yet.”

“I wonder what can be keeping him?”

Niall guessed they were speaking about Typhon, but to confirm it, he walked behind her and stepped into her body. The sensation was pleasantly erotic, both for her and for him. She had been suffering from a headache, but his masculine energy immediately caused it to disappear. He also knew that her name was Selena, that she was thirty-nine years old, and that she and Vasco were lovers. This, of course, was perfectly normal in Shadowland society. What was not permissible was that they spent far more time together than the law allowed; both would be sentenced to the mines or flogging if they were found out. This, Niall realized, was why they were so anxious for a peace treaty with the spiders; they intended to seize the first opportunity to leave Shadowland and marry.

Niall’s access to her memory also gave him instant knowledge of the history, geography, and social organization of Shadowland. There was far too much to absorb at once — he would have had to spend a morning inside her to grasp it. At least he now understood the many dissatisfactions that seethed beneath the surface of this isolated society.

Even so, her memory provided no answer to the question that puzzled him most: why the Magician refused to permit marriage.

Since he knew that they were wasting their time waiting for Typhon, Niall placed into her head the thought that they should go inside. Unaware that it was not her own idea, she touched Vasco’s arm and said: “Let’s go inside. He’s sure to come soon.” They climbed a marble staircase to the council chamber used by the Citizens’ Committee.

The place was crowded, and dozens of heads turned as they opened the door; Niall could sense their disappointment that Typhon was not with them. Selena and Vasco took their places on the platform, where Baltiger and a dozen other men and women were seated around a table covered with a green baize cloth. Selena sat down beside the mayor and whispered in his ear. He nodded, then stood up, clearing his throat.

“A messenger has been sent to the prefect’s house, but he is not at home.”

He sat down, and the members of the Committee began talking to one another in low voices. There was a general air of uncertainty and indecision. Without Typhon’s advice, no one knew what to do next. Yet all had a feeling that some change was at hand.

Vasco coughed and stood up.

“I have a proposal to make. I suggest that I and a few more senior members of the Committee should go to Typhon’s house and wait until he returns.” He looked around hesitantly. “Perhaps it would be better if everyone else went home. Will anyone second that?”

There was a silence. Everyone knew that if they all went home, the moment of rebellion would be over, and tomorrow would once again be like yesterday and the day before.

Niall realized it was time for him to act.

As Selena said hesitantly: “I wonder. . .” everyone looked at her. She was not a self-assertive person, and the thoughts that now came into her head frightened her. But since she was accustomed to speaking in public, Niall’s suggestion that she should stand up made her rise automatically to her feet. And suddenly, to her own surprise, she knew precisely what she wanted to say.

“Is there really anyone in this room who wants to go home?” She looked around at their faces, and the answer was obvious. “I certainly don’t.” There was a murmur of approval. Encouraged by their support, her voice grew stronger. “There are certain matters that this Committee would like to put to the prefect, and that we would like the prefect to put to the karvasid on our behalf. To begin with, we would like to tell him that every citizen of Shadowland wishes to offer full support for the idea of a peace treaty with Korsh. Is there anyone here who disagrees?” There was silence. “In that case, and since the prefect is not here to take our message, I suggest that we take it ourselves. Are you willing to follow me?”

From any other audience there would have been a roar of approval, but Shadowlanders had been disciplined to observe restraint. Nevertheless, the spontaneity with which the audience rose to its feet made their answer clear. Vasco had caught Selena’s eye. He looked stunned. He had never seen her like this. In effect, he was asking her: Do you know what you’re doing? And in effect, she was replying: It makes no difference — it’s too late to change our minds.

Niall also knew what Vasco was thinking: that to march on the palace was futile because it could achieve no result. The Magician held all the cards and they held none.

Yet like Selena, Niall knew that it had to be done; it was time to show the Magician that all his subjects disagreed with him. After all, he could not have them all flogged or sent to the mines. This rebellion was not a rational conviction, merely an instinct.

As she descended from the platform, the audience opened up a passage to allow Selena and the Committee access to the door. Then everyone followed her down the stairs and out into the street.

Niall was fascinated by what now happened. Unlike the spiders, Shadowlanders had no collective awareness; their telepathic abilities were restricted to individual communication. Yet as the audience from the Town Hall overflowed into the marketplace, every one of the waiting crowd already knew what had happened, and was ready to accept Selena and the unwilling Vasco as their leaders. Niall estimated the total number at five hundred, of which half were women. Many men were dressed in their military uniforms, although none were carrying weapons.

As they reached the end of the bridge, it became clear that the road to the palace was blocked by soldiers carrying Reapers. Behind them, up the hill that led up to the kalinda tree, were perhaps a hundred more, spaced at regular intervals.

Without hesitation, Selena led the way across the bridge. The soldiers, Niall observed, were looking nervous as the crowd drew closer.