Then the charioteers reached the top of the hill that marked the outer limit of the spider city, and once again Niall experienced a feeling of awe as he looked down on this vast collection of human dwellings. It seemed almost unbelievable: that this great city had once been occupied by hundreds of thousands of human beings who were their own masters, and who owed no allegiance either to spiders or to beetles. Now they were once again travelling downhill, the charioteers moved at a brisk trot; over their heads, the empty spider webs vibrated gently in the warm breeze. As the cart rattled on down the broad avenue, with its distant glimpse of the river, Niall tried to calculate how long it had been since he first saw the city of the spiders. This time yesterday they had been struggling through the marshes of the Delta; the day before that, he and Doggins had been returning from the banks of the great river; the day before that. . . When he had finished his calculation, Niall realised with astonishment that it had been a mere two weeks since he had landed in the harbour. And only three days before that, his father had been alive and they were still living in the burrow. It seemed incredible: in a mere seventeen days he had lived through enough experience to last most men a lifetime.
It was then, as they entered the slave quarter, that he suddenly knew the answer to the question that had troubled him so much. That was why men craved freedom more than security and comfort: because freedom meant a certain richness of experience, and experience in turn meant discovery of their own possibilities. Without richness of experience, there could be no discovery of their inner powers. That was why man hated slavery; because it meant inner stagnation. . .
The familiar smells of the slave quarter, and the sight of tattered garments hanging on lines, and of rats scavenging for food in alleyways, brought a sudden feeling of nostalgia; once again, he had to remind himself that it had been less than two weeks since he had first set eyes on these untidy streets. Again, he was astonished at the changes that had taken place in himself in such a short period.
They were approaching the bridge over the river. At the end of the avenue beyond it, he could see the white tower, and beyond that, the headquarters of the Spider Lord. He observed with grim satisfaction that his involuntary twinge of alarm was controlled and arrested before it could flood his nervous system. A moment later, he noticed the cart that was waiting in the middle of the road, at the other end of the bridge. The shafts were held by two charioteers who stood to attention: the red-clad figure who sat inside it was unmistakable. As Niall approached, she waved and climbed out of the cart. Niall’s charioteers halted of their own accord, and bowed their heads respectfully. Under the impassive gaze of the two wolf spiders who guarded the bridge, she came over to Niall’s cart, made him move over with a small imperious gesture, then climbed in beside him. She leaned over and tapped the nearest charioteer on the shoulder. “Go on, but slowly.” She had completely ignored the beetle, whose bulging black eyes seemed to express amazement.
Niall said: “How did you know I was coming?”
“We women have our secrets.” Merlew flashed him a charming smile. “Have you decided to take my advice?” She made it sound as if they were resuming a business discussion.
“You mean about marrying you?”
“No, silly!” She coloured, and glanced quickly at the charioteers, hoping they had not overheard. “About coming to terms with the Spider Lord.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Her eyes widened with astonishment. “Then why. . .” She made an effort and lowered her voice. “Then why have you come here?”
“To try to bargain with the Spider Lord.”
“That’s absurd!” Her cheeks had flushed with the effort of keeping her voice low, and her eyes had become very bright. The wind was tugging aside the thin material of the red dress, revealing her shapely bronzed legs. A part of Niall responded with dazzled admiration to her beauty; another part looked on with ironical calm. Seen through the eyes of his emotions, she was maddeningly desirable. But with his second pair of eyes, he saw a spoilt schoolgirl, accustomed to having whatever she wanted, and determined to annex him for herself. Even the thin dress was being worn for his benefit; she knew that, in this bright sunlight, it made her virtually naked, and that no man could resist her when she put forth all her attractions. He was intrigued to notice that she seemed to be exuding some electrical force that made his heart beat faster. But while his emotions found her adorable, another part of him regarded her with almost cynical detachment. This other person, who looked through his second pair of eyes, saw her as a delightful but wilful child, and knew that any long-term emotional involvement with her would end in disaster.
She leaned forward and called to the charioteers: “Take us to my palace.”
Niall shook his head. “No. I have to see the Spider Lord.”
“I know that.” Her voice became coaxing. “But come and talk to me first.”
“I’m sorry. I must see the Spider Lord.” He knew she would use all her arts of persuasion, and did not relish the thought of having to resist them.
“All right.” Her submission almost made him relent. “But please listen to what I have to say.” She caressed his hand with her slim fingers, looking into his eyes. Her breath smelt sweet. “You know the Spider Lord has reached an agreement with the beetles?” He said with surprise:
“No, I didn’t.”
“They made an agreement as soon as you left — you shouldn’t have left, by the way. That made the beetles very angry, and it was stupid to make them angry when you were trying to get them on your side.” He asked patiently:
“What was this agreement?”
“They agreed that they allowed their servants far too much freedom, and that this only made them ungrateful and disobedient. They agreed to take charge of those horrible guns, and promised that they wouldn’t, under any circumstances, give them back.”
Niall asked: “How do you know all this?”
“I know everything that goes on.”
He asked: “What would happen if the servants decided they didn’t want to be servants any more?”
She shrugged. “That’s stupid.” It was evident that the idea struck her as absurd.
“Why?”
“Surely I don’t have to tell you that?”
They had reached the far side of the square, facing the white tower and the headquarters of the Spider Lord. Black smoke was rising from a bonfire on the far side of the tower: a crowd of slaves were standing around it, throwing things into the flames. Other slaves were pulling carts across the grass. A number of overseers and servants looked on from a distance.
Niall asked: “What are they burning?”
“Just books.” She gestured at the crowd. “Look at them. What would they do if they weren’t servants? They’re perfectly happy. Even Massig and the others are enjoying themselves now they’re settling down. I’m sure your people are exactly the same.”
Niall said: “I don’t want to be a servant.”
“You don’t have to be!” She squeezed his hand fiercely. “You’re like me. We are natural rulers.” She lowered her voice, and her lips came close to his. “That’s why we belong together.” Then she remembered that they were in a public place, and withdrew her face. She squeezed his hand again. “Do be sensible.”
“If what you say is true, I don’t seem to have any alternative.”
“That’s right.” She smiled at him. “No one could blame you.”
He asked: “Why are they burning the books?”
She shrugged. “It’s the latest idea of the Spider Lord. He suddenly realised that this place is full of books, hidden away in old houses.”
“But his servants can’t read.”
“Of course not. But they might be tempted to learn.” Their charioteers had been forced to halt to make way for a cartload of books; they were all in blue leather bindings, with gilt lettering, and were evidently from some library. Merlew said: “The beetles have promised to do the same over in Crashville. Their servants have been disobeying the law for generations. Now they’re going to be made to hand over their books. I think that would probably be a good thing.”
“Why?”
“I wish you wouldn’t keep asking me why! Isn’t it obvious? It’s part of the peace treaty that human beings shouldn’t be allowed to read. The beetles have been allowing their servants to break the treaty. Now they’ve agreed it’s got to stop. I think it’s rather a good thing.”