“Why?”
She said patiently: “Because it doesn’t do servants any good to read. You can’t read, and it hasn’t done you any harm, has it?”
“But I can read.”
“Can you?” For a moment her eyes reflected alarm. “Oh well, I don’t suppose it matters, so long as the spiders don’t find out.”
Niall said: “That’s why I don’t want to be a servant. I want to be allowed to make up my own mind about these things.”
“Yes, I know.” Her eyes were abstracted; she was evidently thinking of something else. “I don’t suppose they’ll really care. In any case, there won’t be any books left when they’ve finished.”
They had halted in front of the headquarters of the Spider Lord; two wolf spiders stood on guard under the portico. Merlew suddenly realised where she was: she leaned forward and tapped the nearest charioteer angrily on the shoulder.
“I thought I told you to go to my palace.”
Niall said: “No. I must see the Spider Lord first.”
“They should still do as they’re told!” She glared angrily at the charioteers. Once again, Niall caught a glimpse of the spoilt child, and felt saddened.
The bombardier beetle hurried forward towards the main doors. As he did so, they opened, and a black death spider came out. It was short and squat, and its crooked legs gave an impression of great strength. As it stared at Niall, he experienced a powerful sense of danger. Merlew said in his ear:
“That’s Skorbo, the captain of the guard.”
The sense of hostility that emanated from the spider was almost suffocating. Niall was tempted to use the thought mirror to express his defiance, but dismissed the idea immediately; it would be pointless to provoke it further.
The spider and the bombardier beetle conversed for a moment; then the beetle turned and beckoned to him. As he started to climb out of the cart, three more spiders emerged from the building, and surrounded him. To Niall, this seemed pointless; he had no intention of trying to escape. Then he understood: their purpose was to make him feel that he was a prisoner, and that he would be lucky to escape with his life. He could feel their hostile will-power beating down on him, like some intolerable pressure.
Merlew climbed out behind him. The spider-guards tried to stand in front of her, but she pushed her way firmly to Niall’s side.
Niall said: “You can’t go in there with me.”
“I can go where I like. I am the princess.” She glared haughtily at the nearest spider-guard. Its reaction was one of fury: it was being defied by a mere human being. But the presence of the captain of the guard forced it to restrain its anger. Niall, who was aware of all this, and who was afraid of his own reaction if the spiders harmed Merlew, took her by the hand.
“Please go now. I have to deal with this alone.”
Her mouth set in a stubborn line. “I’ll go when I’m ready.”
One of the spiders prodded Niall on the shoulder, and urged him towards the door. Merlew walked beside him as they entered the dark interior, oblivious of the detestation of the spider-guards. The captain of the guard stood on one side, and watched them with a curiously speculative gaze; Niall felt instinctively that it was far more dangerous than the other spiders. This mindless, brutal hostility was making him angry; but he knew it was important to keep his emotions under control.
He could also sense that the bombardier beetle was unhappy and unsure of itself. According to protocol, it should have been treated with respect and consideration; in fact, the spiders made it obvious that it was regarded as an unwelcome intruder. This, in turn, was a gesture of disrespect towards the Master. Yet there had been no open discourtesy, and it was not sure whether it should show its resentment or remain tactfully silent. As he sensed its bewilderment, Niall again experienced a surge of fierce hatred towards the spiders.
He had expected to be escorted up the stairs; instead, they were made to stand in a dark corner of the hall. The three guards stood close around them; their bodies gave off a peculiar acrid smell which Niall found disgusting. Physically speaking, they looked less menacing than the hairy wolf spiders; yet they seemed to exude their own peculiar air of violence.
Merlew was becoming impatient. Daily familiarity with the spiders had made her bold. She pushed imperiously past the guards, and confronted the captain.
“Why are we being kept waiting?”
The spider merely stared back at her, pretending not to understand; this was its own way of showing contempt. Merlew flushed angrily and came back to Niall. “I shall complain to the Spider Lord. They have no right to treat us like servants.”
Niall said gently: “No one likes to be treated like a servant.”
The doors opened, and another spider entered. Now his eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, Niall could see that this spider was old, and that its long, thin legs had some difficulty supporting its large body. Merlew stared at it with newly awakened interest. As it mounted the stairway and vanished round the corner, she whispered in Niall’s ear: “That’s Dravig, the Spider Lord’s chief adviser. They must think you very important.” With sudden wry amusement, Niall realised that she was impressed.
The captain now made a gesture to the guards; the nearest guard gave Niall a gentle nudge in the back, to indicate that he was to move; it made him stumble. Merlew turned furiously on the spider.
“Don’t you dare to touch me!”
Then she realised that the captain was standing in front of her, barring her way. She stared back defiantly:
“I’m going with him.”
She tried to move forward, but seemed to be held back by some invisible barrier. The captain was exerting just enough will-power to prevent her from moving. Her eyes became bright with anger. Niall laid his hand on her arm.
“Please wait here. I’d rather go alone.”
She made an effort of self-control.
“Very well.”
She glared at the captain, then turned and walked out of the half-open door. Niall sighed with relief. He felt he had problems enough without having to worry about Merlew’s impulsiveness.
They mounted the stairs. The last time Niall had been in this building, it had seemed full of activity; he recalled that some kind of drill sergeant had been shouting orders at the wolf spiders. Now the place seemed strangely silent. Niall closed his eyes, and made an effort to relax. As soon as he did so, he understood the silence. The whole city was in mourning for the hundreds of dead spiders, and for the many spiders who, at this moment, were dying of severe burns. It had never struck Niall that the spiders could mourn one another like human beings, and for a moment he experienced a wave of sympathy. Then he stumbled, and the spider behind him prodded him in the back of the neck. The sympathy evaporated and was replaced by disgust; yet the disgust was less intense than before.
As they crossed towards the black-studded door, it swung open, revealing the dark hall with its network of cobwebs. Niall reminded himself that he was here as an ambassador, not as a prisoner, but it was difficult to control the sudden feeling of panic that squeezed his heart. For the first time, the three guards stood aside, and allowed Niall to enter alone. The captain of the guard walked in front of him, the beetle-ambassador behind. The captain halted, then moved aside, standing a few feet away. Niall and the bombardier beetle stood there side by side, staring into the shadows. Niall tried to pierce the darkness with his double vision, but it was as if some kind of curtain was obstructing his gaze.
Then the familiar soft voice sounded inside Niall’s chest. It said mockingly: “Now you are able to hear me.”
Niall said: “Yes.” He used only his mind to convey the word, directing it at the invisible presence in the darkness.
There was a pause. The voice said softly: “And this time you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand you.” His inner-voice was calm and assured as he spoke the words, and he sensed that the Spider Lord was surprised.
The Spider Lord addressed the captain of the guard. “He is wearing something round his neck. Take it from him.”
Niall had no desire to feel the spider’s claw fumbling around his neck. He reached up, removed the thought mirror, and handed it to the captain. But he experienced a twinge of regret to lose it.
The beetle-ambassador spoke.
“May I deliver the message with which I am entrusted?”
The Spider Lord sent an impulse that signalled his permission. The ambassador said:
“The Master wishes me to say that this human being is under his protection, and that he knows you will treat him with courtesy.”