Doggins said impatiently: “We’re ready now. I’ve been ready all my life.”
Niall shook his head. “The old man said there were some things he couldn’t tell me — things I had to find out for myself. . .”
“What kind of things?”
“For example, how to defeat the spiders. . .”
“We already know that.” Doggins was in the full flood of excitement. “What else?”
Niall shook his head. “I can’t remember. But he seemed to feel that there were certain things I had to learn for myself. . .”
“Of course!” Doggins was now walking up and down the room, and the lamp gave his black shadow a life of its own. “It’s the same with everything — we don’t appreciate anything we get too easily. But I’ve been waiting for this all my life. . .” There was a knock at the door, and he said: “Damn!”
Selima looked into the room; she was obviously wondering what all the shouting was about.
“The members of the stadion have arrived — they’re in the dining room.”
Doggins groaned. “What a moment to interrupt us!” He made an effort of control. “All right, tell them we’ll be there in a few minutes.” As Selima went out, he pulled open a drawer. “Here, wear this.” It was a yellow tunic of the beetle-servants.
Niall dressed quickly, and hung the thought mirror round his neck. As he did so, he noticed the cord around Doggins’ throat.
“What’s that?”
Doggins gave him an odd, twisted grin. From inside his tunic, he pulled a thought mirror. It was almost identical to the one Niall was wearing, except that it was silver in colour. Suddenly, Niall understood.
“That’s why I could tell what you were feeling. You’d got that thing pointing at me.”
Doggins weighed it in his hand.
“I borrowed it from the museum. Tell me something. Do you find it makes you tired?”
“At first. You get used to it.”
“Thank God for that. I’ve been feeling worn out all day. Did you get yours from the tower?” Niall nodded. “Let me try it, would you?”
Niall handed over his thought mirror, and accepted the other in return. As soon as he hung it round his neck, he sensed the difference. At first, this one seemed far more powerful; then he realised that it was not simply a question of power. Like his own thought mirror, it could concentrate the will into a beam of intensity when turned inward; turned the other way, it broadcast the intensity outward. But there was something coarse and brutal in its power, like someone screaming a command. He found that wearing it for only a few moments made his head throb with exhaustion.
Doggins said, “This one doesn’t seem as strong.” He tossed it back. But instead of hanging it round his neck, Niall dropped it into the pocket of his tunic. An instinct told him that, while he was in this condition of weakness, the thought mirror would be an obstacle to his recovery.
As he followed Doggins down the corridor, children peered at him out of doorways, and made him conscious that he was an object of intense curiosity.
They entered a large room, whose main item of furniture was a polished oval table. It was large enough to seat about twenty people, and most of the chairs around it were occupied. Niall recognised only three of the faces — Milo, Ulic, and the doctor who had treated him, Simeon.
Everyone stood up as Doggins entered the room; but Niall could sense that it was a purely formal gesture. Doggins took his seat at the end of the table, and indicated that Niall should sit next to him. A small, grey-bearded man sitting at the other end cleared his throat.
“Pardon me, but are strangers permitted at official council meetings?”
Doggins said: “Glorfin himself said he wanted to question our guest. That would hardly be possible if he was not present.”
The little man flushed. “Is there any reason why he should not wait outside until we are ready to question him?”
Doggins coloured, and glowered angrily. “Yes, Pybus, there is a reason. He is a free man, and he does not have to submit to our questions. He can walk out and tell us all to go to the devil. Apart from that, he is a guest in my house. . .”
The little man had become red with embarrassment; he dropped his eyes before Doggins’ angry glare. The man who sat next to him — a tall, bald-headed man with a cadaverous face and lantern jaw — cleared his throat and said shortly: “The point is taken. Let us proceed.” But he was obviously displeased.
Doggins lowered his eyes to the table top, as if he was accepting the rebuke; but the lines of his mouth made it clear that he was in an unconciliatory mood.
The bald-headed man said: “Before we begin, perhaps you would introduce your guest?”
Doggins said: “His name is Niall, and he comes from the desert region of North Khaybad.”
“Am I correct in assuming he is the runaway slave the spiders were searching for?” The speaker was a fat man whose head was covered with tight blond curls.
Doggins gave him a hard stare. “Wrong on both counts, Corbin. He is not a slave because he was born free. And he is not a runaway, because he was brought here against his will, and therefore had every right to escape.”
Corbin gave a faint smile.
“Is that not prejudging the issue?”
Doggins shook his head. “No. It is you who are prejudging the issue.”
The bald-headed man interrupted impatiently: “Let us stop wrangling. The question we have to decide is perfectly simple — whether you have broken the law. Do you answer yes or no?”
Doggins looked at him steadily for a moment before answering: “No, Glorfin, I haven’t.”
Glorfin stared at him reprovingly; it was obvious that he disliked his tone.
“It is hard to see how you can maintain that position. Did you not lead an expedition to the city of the spiders?”
Doggins nodded. “Yes.”
“Did you have the permission of this council, or of the council of our masters?”
“No.”
“In that case, you broke the law.”
Doggins shook his head firmly. “I cannot agree. Two hours before we set out for the slave quarter, the deputy chief minister placed his hand on my head and told me that he now regarded me as one of themselves. That means that he had raised me to the rank of honorary Saarleb. And that meant I had a right to make my own decision without consulting this council.”
Pybus interrupted: “Did that mean you had a right to commit an act of war against our allies?”
“There was no act of war — only an act of self defence. Milo and Ulic can tell you what happened.”
Glorfin said: “Milo and Ulic have told us their story. It is your story we now wish to hear and judge.”
Doggins said: “Very well. You are all aware that my entire stock of explosives was destroyed by an accident?”
A little, sharp-faced man interrupted to ask:
“This was the accident that led to your promotion?”
“Yes.”
“So your promotion was obtained on false pretences?”
Doggins seemed completely unperturbed. “If you wish to put it that way, Zorab, yes.”
The little man nodded. “Very well. Please go on.”
“Thank you. I found myself in the position of Blaster-in-Chief without any explosives to maintain it. And at that point I made my decision to explore the barracks in the slave quarter, because I knew that where there is a barracks there is usually an armoury.” He looked blandly around the table. “And that was my sole motive in leading the expedition to the slave quarter. It was, I agree, an impulsive decision, but I felt I had the right to make it. I didn’t believe there was any danger. If we were caught, we would reveal ourselves as servants of the beetles, and accept any punishment that they decided to impose. Everyone who came with me accepted that before we set out.
“It went seriously wrong, and I am willing to take the blame for that. And in order to escape, we had to defend ourselves against the spiders. I regret that, but it was necessary. It was my job to make sure that no more of our own people were killed. We’d lost three, and I didn’t intend to lose any more.” He sat back in his chair, and again lowered his eyes. There was a long silence. The others looked impressed. Even Niall felt convinced, although he was aware that the force of the argument was due to the thought mirror rather than to the words that conveyed it.
Glorfin sighed.
“Then it seems that our chief problem is to decide how to convince the spiders that it was not a deliberate act of war.”