As they walked back towards the town, Doggins was silent and thoughtful. He asked Niall finally:
“You say you noticed this force when that fungus was eating Cyprian?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I could feel it.”
“And can you feel it now?”
“I could if I made myself relax deeply enough.”
“Is it some kind of will-power?”
“I don’t think so. Not exactly.”
“Could it be due to the Spider Lord?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s too strong.”
“But suppose the spiders did it with MRI?” Niall looked at him blankly. “You don’t know about MRI? Multiple reinforcement interaction? That’s how the beetles kept the spiders from invading the town. They can lock their wills together to form a kind of barrier.”
“And can the spiders do it, too?”
“Of course. But the defenders have the advantage. The only way to break the barrier is to break the will of the defenders.”
“You mean that a group of spiders — or beetles — could exert more will-power than one alone?”
“Oh yes, far more — a hundred times more.” He took out the thought mirror and held it in the palm of his hand. “Men could do the same if they had enough of these.”
They were now passing the house that was being constructed by the glue flies. Their bright gold bodies, tinged with a faint sheen of pink, covered its upper half with a dazzling cloud. At close quarters, their buzzing was almost deafening. They halted inside the earth bank, and Doggins stared at the flies, his forehead wrinkling in a frown of concentration. The effect was startling. The buzzing ceased immediately, bringing a strange silence. Then the golden bodies of the glue flies began to rain down like hail at the foot of the half-built wall. Others settled on the walls, then fell off, or blundered into one another. Doggins stared with astonishment.
“This thing’s more powerful than I thought.” They hurried across the grass. At close quarters it was clear that the flies were only stunned; they were already moving groggily. Doggins stirred some of them with his foot. Niall said: “Why don’t you see if you can wake them up?”
“All right.” Doggins concentrated, wrinkling his nose and forehead. Then he leapt backwards as a swarm of glue flies buzzed up from the ground, some of them flying under the skirts of his tunic. Doggins began slapping his legs and cursing. Niall found it hard to control his laughter.
“Don’t kill them. Order them to go away.”
Doggins concentrated again, and half a dozen bewildered flies blundered out from under his garments. He grinned at Niall, looking like a delighted schoolboy.
“This thing’s amazing. And to think it’s been sitting in the museum for all these years. . .”
He made the flies return to the top of the building, and hover round it in a dense but silent cloud. His power obviously astonished him. He made them settle on the walls, then vanish inside the half-built house. Then, becoming more ambitious, he made the flies form into a swarm like a comet’s tail and circle around the house in a glittering spiral.
Watching him, Niall was again aware that he was failing to make full use of the thought mirror. He held it in his hand, and turned it from side to side, as if directing its energy beam. And instead of using its concave surface to concentrate his inner powers, he was using a crude, aggressive will-force that came from the head. The power he was able to exert by this method was impressive, but the effort was obviously exhausting; Doggins’ face was soon covered with a film of sweat. Niall’s impulse to explain all this was checked by an instinctive realisation that it would be a mistake; Doggins would feel he was being patronising. There was something else that intrigued Niall. In spite of the direct contact between his own will and that of the glue flies, Doggins seemed unaware that he was driving them to exhaustion. Entranced by his power to control them, he was making them fly faster and faster, until they looked like a ring of gold-coloured smoke, circling the house in complex gyrations like some aerial ballet. At any moment, Niall expected him to stop, and allow the flies to resettle on the walls; instead, like a man in the grip of some intense pleasure, Doggins continued to concentrate, increasing his own effort as the flies became exhausted. As Niall was about to interrupt, he was checked by the light of sheer joy in Doggins’ eyes.
Quite suddenly the golden spiral dissolved; once again bodies rained down on the ground. Doggins looked puzzled and hurt, like a child whose toy has broken. He went over to the flies and stirred them with his foot.
Niall said: “I’m afraid they’re dead.”
Doggins muttered: “Damn.”
“Can you get more flies?”
“Of course. We breed them.” He shrugged and turned away. “But what we really need are more of these.” He gave the thought mirror an affectionate pat and dropped it back inside his shirt.
They were half-way back to the town when they both saw the spider balloons. There were two of them, and they were approaching fast from the direction of the spider city. For a moment Niall experienced panic and a desire to hide.
Doggins said: “I was afraid of that.”
“What?”
Doggins made no reply; he stood and stared at the balloons with an expression of brooding hostility. Within less than a minute they were over the spire of the town hall, descending at a steep angle. Then they vanished from sight.
“You think it’s the ambassadors?”
Doggins took a deep breath. “It couldn’t be anybody else. I’d like to know why they’re in such a hurry.”
“I suppose they want to reach an agreement.”
“That’s what worries me.” He touched Niall’s elbow. “We’d better get back.”
The half-collapsed balloons were lying on the lawn in front of the town hall. They were surrounded by a crowd of children, who watched with fascination as the balloons slowly deflated, and were obviously totally unconcerned at the presence of the brown wolf spider who stood on guard. A girl in the yellow tunic of a beetle servant hurried towards them; at close quarters, Niall recognized Dona. Doggins asked her: “What’s happening?”
She looked in the direction of the town hall.
“She’s there.”
“Who?”
Dona lowered her voice. “Princess Merlew.”
Doggins asked: “How many spiders?”
“Just one.”
Niall and Doggins looked at one another. Doggins said: “That means she’s one of the ambassadors. Cunning.”
At the mention of Merlew’s name, Niall had experienced a mixture of excitement and foreboding. Dona was looking at him with troubled eyes.
“You won’t let her persuade you to go back?”
He stared at her in astonishment. “Of course not.” He was about to add, “Do you think I’m mad?” but felt this might hurt her feelings.
A beetle guard came towards them from the town hall; Dona watched with apprehension as it addressed Doggins with movements of its feelers and with curious rustling sounds. Doggins turned to Niall.
“He says we’re to follow him. We’ve been summoned by the council.”
Dona touched Niall’s hand. “Please be careful.”
“Don’t worry.” He squeezed her hand. But his smile expressed more confidence than he felt.
They followed the guard into the entrance hall; here the bustling activity seemed so normal that his tension began to subside; the cool semi-darkness exerted a curiously soothing influence. He even began to experience a pleasant anticipation at the thought of seeing the Master again. But at the head of the ramp that led to the underground chambers, their guide halted and made more signals. Doggins pointed to the door. “He says you’re to wait in there.”
Niall pushed it open and found himself in an empty room. The light was brighter than in the hall, and a faint breeze came through the open window. The room was furnished with a few simple chairs, and a divan in the shape of a crouching beetle. Niall sat down and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. The couch was covered with a smooth, silky material that was cool against his skin.
It was pleasant to be alone. Niall liked Doggins, but there was something oddly exhausting about his company. All his thoughts, all his feelings, seemed to be directed towards completely practical ends. For Doggins, the world was not a place that existed in its own right; it was there to be used and manipulated. After an hour in his company, Niall felt a powerful need to forget the outside world and sink inside himself.
The room was pleasantly cool; through the window came the distant splashing of a fountain, and children’s voices; a fly buzzed drowsily overhead. He took a deep breath, and relaxed as if sinking into a couch of fragrant leaves. He resisted the urge to sleep, concentrating his mind enough to become keenly aware of the depths of silence inside him. The point of light glowed momentarily inside his skull, and as he relaxed beyond it, he became aware of the rippling flow of the force, beating gently like wavelets on a beach.