“Do you expect me to take revenge?”
“Yes.” She answered without flinching.
He turned to Dravig.
“And you?”
Dravig hesitated, then, to Niall’s surprise, answered: “No.”
“Why not?”
Dravig said drily: “Because you would not ask the question if you intended to take revenge.”
Niall laughed, and his respect for Dravig increased. It was true that his hatred of the spiders had almost vanished since he was no longer at their mercy.
“You are right. Revenge would be pointless.” He could sense their relief; they made no attempt to close themselves to his scrutiny, as if they regarded it as his right to probe their minds. “It is true that I am responsible for the deaths of many of your people. But you are responsible for the deaths of many of my people. Now the time has come for peace. There must be no more deaths, and oppression must cease. You must learn that man has an appetite for knowledge that is as strong as his appetite for food. His deepest and strongest desire is to be free to use his mind, for he knows instinctively that all power comes from the mind, and that he must learn to explore its possibilities. It is because you have tried to prevent him from satisfying this appetite that he regards you as his enemy.”
He waited for them to speak; when they remained silent, he said:
“Please speak your minds freely.”
It was Dravig who answered.
“The spiders have always wanted peace. It was man who forced us to become the masters, because he gave us no peace. While man was free, he spent all his time making war on us and trying to destroy us. That is why we were forced to enslave him.”
The Spider Lord added:
“And for the past two centuries, there has been no war.”
Niall was silent; he knew that what they said was true. He said finally:
“But now it is the will of the goddess that men and spiders should learn to work together. If we can do this, we shall have lasting peace under the protection of the goddess.” As he spoke, he felt that the words carried an authority that was greater than his own.
Again the spiders made the strange and slightly absurd ritual movement of homage.
Niall sensed that he had said enough. He turned to the door. “Now I must go to my own people. But be prepared for my return. Then I shall bring a council of free men to draw up the terms of the peace treaty; for the treaty must be as fair to your people as to mine. From now on, men and spiders shall be equal.”
The Spider Lord said: “So be it.”
Dravig threw open the door for him. As Niall stepped into the hall, he was startled when the two spider guards sank to the floor, their legs bunched underneath them; the movement was as abrupt as if they had fainted. Niall turned to Dravig.
“What is wrong with them?”
“They are showing veneration for the envoy of the goddess.”
As he descended the stairs, preceded by Dravig, Niall had to struggle with a sense of unreality. On each landing, spider guards lay in the same attitude; down in the main hall, dozens of them were collapsed on the floor, giving it the appearance of an improvised mortuary. If he accidentally brushed against them, they made no movement; even their minds seemed passive and immobile, as if all life had been suspended.
It was a relief to step out into the sunlight; after the cold darkness of the building its warmth was like a benediction. The square in front of the building was crowded with people; as he emerged, there was a murmur of excitement. Then, at a gesture of command from Dravig, all fell to their knees and made a movement of obeisance. Even Merlew, who was standing halfway down the steps, knelt and bowed her head.
Niall felt himself blushing with embarrassment. He turned to Dravig. “Please tell them to stand up.”
Dravig said respectfully: “That would be unlawful. As the ruler of the city, you must be treated with the same veneration as the Spider Lord.”
Niall looked at him incredulously.
“The ruler?”
“Of course. As the envoy of the goddess, you command the lives of all who depend on her.”
Niall looked at the kneeling crowd, whose bodies were as rigid as those of the spiders, and was overcome by a sense of absurdity. Then he looked at Dravig, and abandoned the idea of ordering them to stand up; instead, he hurried down the steps towards the waiting charioteers. But as he passed Merlew, she raised her head, and he caught her glance of ironic amusement. He was grateful to her for that.
Six weeks after the signing of the peace treaty, Niall embarked from the harbour in a vessel captained by Manetho; he was also accompanied by Simeon and his brother Veig. His purpose was to fulfil the vow he had made on the day he had sealed up the burrow: to return to the desert and give his father a warrior’s burial. When he had announced his intention to the Council of Free Men, they had immediately voted that Ulf’s bones should be interred in a marble tomb in the city’s main square. But Niall had resisted their suggestion that he should sail with a flotilla of ships, and that their return to the city should be accompanied by a torchlight procession. So, to avoid argument, he had slipped away at dawn, informing only his mother of his destination.
The morning was bright and cloudless, but the north-westerly breeze had the indefinable scent of autumn. The adjustable lateen sail enabled them to sail due south — a course that, according to Manetho, should carry them directly to the beach from which Niall had embarked three months ago.
Niall stood with his arms resting on the gunwale, staring out across the sea, whose choppy wavelets reflected the sunlight. He was experiencing again the strange feeling of delight that was always induced in him by sheets of water, as if water was, in itself, a magical substance that concealed in its depths the secret of happiness. As he gazed at the reading coastline, his whole being seemed to relax with a sigh of deep contentment, and he was flooded with a delightful certainty that life is infinitely rich and rewarding.
But it was the first time in many weeks that he had experienced this sensation, or even had the opportunity to think his own thoughts. Life as a ruler had proved to be more exacting than he had anticipated. For three days after the signing of the peace treaty, the people of the spider city had indulged in a riot of celebration, with carnivals that lasted all night and an orgy of feasting. For the first time in two centuries, men and women had been able to mingle freely, and the children had been released from the nurseries to join in the festivities. Runa, Mara and Dona had been missing for twenty-four hours, and had returned to the palace with their faces painted in bright colours and garlands of flowers round their necks. Veig had been so drunk that he had slept throughout the third day, and had awakened the following morning with a headache that convinced him he was dying. But Niall had taken no part in the celebrations; he had spent most of the three days closeted with the Council of Free Men, trying to devise a working routine to replace the compulsory labour of his fellow citizens.
At first, it had seemed simple enough: now men were free, everybody should be allowed to do whatever he liked. But someone pointed out that, in that case, there would be no one to do the unpleasant jobs, like operating the sewage farms or disposing of rubbish. So it was finally agreed that, for the moment, everyone should stick to his present job, and that any change should be made at the discretion of a tribunal. But it was unanimously agreed that the men should make their own way to work, instead of marching in squads under the command of wolf spiders or female overseers.
This debate was followed by a discussion about the future of the slaves — were they also to be regarded as free men and allowed to live where they liked? After all, it was not their fault that they were mentally subnormal. But it was finally decided that the slaves would be happier in their present area of the city, and that it would only confuse the issue if they were offered a free choice of jobs. The only difference was that, from now on, they would not be referred to as slaves, but as “non-voting citizens.”
On most other issues — the status of commanders, the right to travel, the creation of a public transport system — it was also decided to leave things as they were. The only major innovation was that couples should now be allowed to marry and set up home together, and that the nursery system should be abolished. When Niall communicated these designs to Dravig, the chief adviser was clearly relieved, and congratulated Niall on his wisdom and moderation.