As they reached the center of the bridge, Niall noticed the kalinda tree. The air around it was illuminated by a shimmering light that flowed in waves, and reminded him of the sun trying to break through on a misty morning. Its branches looked as if it was illuminated by pale blue flames. For reasons he could not understand, the sight filled Niall with a strange sense of vitality and happiness.
In front of the soldiers, Jelko, the guard commander, was staring impassively at the advancing crowd, his Reaper pointing at the ground. On either side of him stood the two seven-foot giants who had directed traffic at the Magician’s reception. Jelko was a big man with square shoulders and a commanding presence. Since his face conveyed no hint of what he was thinking, Niall chose the simplest way to find out. He stood behind Jelko, then took a step forward into his body.
The “flavor” of masculine energy was overwhelming, and this, he recognized, was because Jelko was so concentrated on the crisis at hand. The crowd, although peaceable, stretched beyond the other end of the bridge, and although they were unarmed, they had an air of quiet determination that was as intimidating as open rebellion. Although Niall’s knowledge of the spiders should have prepared him for it, he was once again astonished at the extent to which a crowd could behave like a single individual.
It came as a pleasant surprise to discover that Jelko felt no hostility toward these marchers, and that this was due to the fact that he and Selena were lovers. Now, as she strode toward him, the captain of the Guard was feeling she was looking particularly attractive. Niall had to agree that, with her bow-shaped mouth and bright eyes and halo of blond hair, the mayoress looked like a romantic heroine.
She halted ten feet in front of Jelko, and the crowd behind her came to a halt as if someone had shouted an order.
Jelko asked stiffly: “What is happening?”
Selena said: “The Citizens’ Committee would like to see the karvasid.”
“Have you spoken to the prefect about it?”
“No. We think he is in the palace.”
Jelko shook his head. “He left hours ago.”
She looked him in the eyes.
“In that case, perhaps you could take the message?”
“What is it?”
“That the Citizens’ Committee, with the full support of our fellow citizens, wishes to recommend that the idea of a peace treaty should be actively explored.”
The mayor added: “And that an ambassador should be sent to Korsh as soon as possible.”
Although his face showed no sign of it, Jelko was uncertain how to proceed. His inclination was to order the crowd to disperse, but since it was led by the mayor and mayoress, he wondered whether it was within his authority. Niall did his best to reinforce his doubts by suggesting that Jelko should simply obey orders. But it was Selena who added the final touch of persuasion by saying: “The Citizen’s Committee will take full responsibility.”
Jelko said: “Very well, I will take the message.” He turned to one of the red-haired giants. “Captain Zadin, I’m leaving you in charge. If anyone tries to advance beyond this point, order the guards to fire.” And having once more asserted his authority, he turned and strode up the hill.
Niall, still seeing the world through Jelko’s eyes, found his reactions surprising. Jelko was aware that what he was doing amounted to an act of insubordination that might cost him a flogging and demotion. He knew that he should have ordered the crowd to disperse, and advised the Citizens’ Committee to go and find Typhon.
Why had he not done so? Because, Niall realized, like everyone else in Shadowland, Jelko was hoping to see the downfall of the karvasid, or at least some erosion of his authority. This act of defiance was his own attempt to bring it closer.
Yet twenty-four hours earlier, such an idea could not even have entered his head.
It was, Niall realized, he himself who was responsible for all this. His act of saying no to the Magician had made the citizens of Shadowland realize something they had so far not even dared to think: that life would be easier without this tyrant they had always regarded as their benefactor. What they really wanted was change.
Niall could see that, in a sense, this was unfair. In his own irritable and self-centered way, the Magician did have the interests of his subjects at heart. He spent a great deal of his time thinking of ways of keeping them occupied and amused. Compared to the slaves in the spider city, his subjects were very well treated. He was not wantonly cruel and sadistic — merely an obsessive egotist who lacked self-control. Power had turned him into a monster. Niall was not sure whether, under similar circumstances, he would not be the same.
Jelko was approaching the kalinda tree. From behind his eyes it looked normal. But as soon as Niall stepped out of Jelko’s body, it turned into the surging mass of pale blue flame he had seen from the bridge. Once again, he was filled with happiness and vitality.
This lasted for only as long as it took him to realize that some invisible force was pulling him toward the tree. He grabbed at a bush at the edge of the path, but his hand went through it. In that moment he felt as helpless as when he was being swept along the underground river. As he found himself rushing toward the tree, he flung both hands in front of his face to protect it.
There was no impact, and what happened next was too fast to understand. He seemed to be sucked into the tree, as if into the center of a whirlwind, and hurled upward like a leaf. After that he was catapulted out of the top of the tree in a shower of energy like sparkling beads of light, and swept toward the palace. The pale brown road flashed underneath him, and he glimpsed Jelko walking uphill. After that he was flying toward the top of the central tower, in a roaring vortex of energy that made his head spin.
Suddenly the energy turned blue, and he was looking out through a wall of glass, and staring into a face that filled him with dread.
He was standing inside the glass cylinder that stretched from floor to ceiling, and waves of darkness rose around him like bubbles in a liquid. The glass, about an inch thick, was as clear as water.
The face that stared into his own was not, as he had feared in his first wave of panic, the Magician, but an enormous crouching creature with yellow eyes and blue-black lips, which were drawn back in a snarl. That it could see him was apparent, for it was obviously as startled as he was. It had no nose — only two holes — and the jaw was flat and shallow like a beast’s. The yellow canine teeth looked like curved needles.
Then he knew he had seen it before — not in actuality, but in the mental picture conveyed to him by the troll. This, he realized, was the boca, the demonic entity enslaved by the will of the Magician. And this room he recognized as the Magician’s laboratory, which he had glimpsed through the eyes of the raven. To his relief, there was no sign of the Magician.
The face of the boca resembled a skull covered in a thin layer of dark flesh; its scrawny body must have been eight feet tall, so that even in its crouching position it looked down on Niall. The huge hands had black, swollen knuckles and claws instead of nails. Over the hips and belly the taut skin was almost concave. As it stared at him, the yellow eyes, with their black pupils, were intelligent, but their expression made Niall feel glad there was a sheet of glass between them. He felt like a mouse being watched by a hungry cat.
He pressed his hands against the glass, to reassure himself it was solid; it felt quite firm and unyielding. In his state of invisibility, this seemed odd, since in the past hour it had begun to seem natural to be able to walk through obstacles. Then the answer came to him. This tube had been built to contain living energy, vibrations that had passed straight through the walls of this room. It therefore had to be of some special substance that was impermeable to living energy.
Next he tried the method that had worked for him so far — envisaging himself elsewhere. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself back in Typhon’s house. But when he opened them again, he was still inside the tube. He tried envisaging himself back in his cell. That also failed to work. With rising apprehension, he tried conjuring up the smell of the earthy water and imagining himself in the cave of the chameleon men. But even as he did it, he was aware that his inner tension made it impossible to achieve the necessary state of relaxation. There was a distinct feeling of resistance.