This was too much for her; she collapsed on the ground, sobbing hysterically. Ulf made no attempt to comfort her; he knew that it was the quickest way of exorcising her disgust.
A few minutes later, the bore worms had gone, vanishing into the bushes on the other side of the road. They went back to collect their weapons and baggage but all the food was ruined. It had not been eaten, but the maize bread, meat and cactus fruit was covered with a slimy excretion that had a bitter, sickening smell. Reluctantly, they emptied their baskets onto the road. At least it lightened their burden. Then, their baskets now containing only the water gourds, they tramped on. But as the sun rose, the slimy substance that covered the baskets like the trail of a slug began to decay, producing a pungent, rotting stench. Finally, they decided to abandon the baskets. The smell was now so nauseating that they did this without regret.
Half an hour later, Niall heard a sound that made his heart lift with joy: the gurgle of running water. They parted the bushes at the side of the road and found a small stream. The clear water flowed over smooth white pebbles. They plunged in, dropping on all fours to drink. Then Niall sat down in the water and washed himself all over. When they left the stream half an hour later, they no longer smelt of decay.
A few miles farther on, their route took them through boulder-strewn slopes of white scree; the road had been carved out of the limestone. Now they could see clearly the shimmering expanse of the salt lake. The sight of the water produced in Niall an almost choking feeling of breathless excitement. The road descended into a valley between walls of rock; high up on one of these were a number of immense carvings: men wearing strange head-dresses, with rectangular beards and long garments.
“Who are they?” Niall asked.
Ulf said: “No one knows.”
Ingeld said: “I know. They are my ancestors.” She glanced at them contemptuously.
At that moment, there came a sound that made Niall’s heart stand still with astonishment. It was a human shout. At the next bend of the road, half a mile ahead, men were coming towards them and waving.
“You see — my people are coming to meet me,” Ingeld said proudly.
Niall said incredulously: “How did they know you were coming?”
She smiled disdainfully. “They know many things that are beyond your understanding.”
Ulf glanced at her mockingly, but said nothing.
A few minutes later, they could see the men clearly. There were about a dozen and the one who walked in front was tall and wore some kind of white garment. He raised his hand in salute and, when they were within hailing distance, called: “Welcome to the land of Dira.”
His voice echoed beween the cliffs. This in itself astonished Niall. Since childhood, he had been taught never to shout, except in cases of absolute necessity: survival depended upon being unheard and unseen. But this tall man behaved as if he didn’t care if he alerted all the predators for miles around.
A moment later, he and Ulf had locked forearms in a clasp of friendship.
“My name is Hamna,” the young man said, “the son of Kazak. These are my kinsmen. We have been sent to greet you and bid you welcome.”
Niall asked: “How did you know we were coming?”
“My mother Sefna received a message from her sister to say that you had arrived in our land.”
Ulf smiled at Ingeld with a trace of satire. “So it’s not beyond our understanding after all. Siris said she was going to try to contact her sister.”
Ingeld ignored him as she stepped forward and embraced Hamna, “I am your cousin Ingeld.” With a glance at Ulf she added: “I am glad to be back among my own people.”
Hamna said formally: “You are welcome.”
Ulf said drily: “We are also glad she is back among her own people.”
Fortunately, the ambiguity of this comment seemed to be lost on the newcomers.
Introductions followed; Niall was fascinated and impressed by everyone he met. They all seemed so much bigger and stronger than the males of his own family; it was obvious they were better fed. Instead of garments of caterpillar skin or spider silk, they wore a woven cloth; but what astonished Niall was that their clothes were of different colours; he had never heard of dye. The stout sandals on their feet were all of the same design.
Hamna and his companions had set out at dawn, so there was still a long way to go. But now he was among other men, Niall’s fatigue had vanished in eager expectancy and he was indifferent to the heat.
The youngest of Hamna’s companions was a youth named Massig, who was apparently about Niall’s age; but he was at least six inches taller and had a broad, powerful chest. His hair fascinated Niall, for it seemed strangely tidy, all its strands running parallel; it was held around the forehead by a white band of cloth. Massig seemed an amiable, good natured youth, and he asked Niall all kinds of questions about the journey. It was some time before Niall realised, to his astonishment, that Massig envied him for having travelled so far from home. Niall also observed that Massig cast admiring glances towards Ingeld; it had never struck Niall that anyone might regard her as attractive. Ingeld herself was so intoxicated at being surrounded by strong males that her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed; Niall had never seen her look so happy. The only thing that troubled him was that his father was limping badly, and was obviously tired; this journey had drained his resources.
Niall asked Massig about the great carvings on the cliff-walls but Massig knew little about them. “They were made by men of a remote age — so long ago that no one knows when it was. In the face of the cliff, there are also tombs where ancient men are buried.”
“Have you been there?”
“No. They say they are haunted.”
“Haunted?” Massig explained about the spirits of the dead, and Niall shuddered; no one in his family had ever mentioned ghosts.
The welcoming party were carrying food and drink, and they ate as they walked in the midday heat. The drink was water flavoured with a fruit Niall had never tasted; it was, in fact, lemon. The sharp flavour made it marvellously refreshing. The dried meat was of the same kind they had been forced to throw away, but more abundant and of a better flavour. There were also cactus fruit, persimmons and oranges — the latter again a new sensation for Niall.
The scenery became less barren; palm trees and flowering bushes reminded Niall of the country of the ants. The lake shimmered ahead and a stream ran parallel to the road. Niall suddenly experienced keen regret that his mother and sisters were not here to see all this: it would have made it somehow more real if they had shared his sense of wonder.
Then, to Niall’s surprise, they turned away from the lake and took a path that led into the desert again. The road began to ascend; the landscape became barren. He asked Massig: “Why do you not live near the water?”
“Because of the spiders. They expect men to live near water, so we live in the desert. There was a time when our people lived close to the water, but the spiders found us and took away many captives.”
It saddened Niall to think that even here, in this land of plenty, no one could afford to forget the spiders.
His eyes scanned the distance; he was looking for any sign of the habitations that Veig had described. But there was nothing — only the rocks and the sand stretching towards the distant plateau. He began to wonder how much further he had to walk.
The question was answered immediately. Hamna came to a halt in the midst of a patch of rock-covered sand that looked indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape. He picked up a heavy stone and, dropping on to one knee, gave several hard bangs on the ground. There was a hollow sound. A few moments later, an irregular patch of desert rose upward and a man’s head emerged. Hamna turned and beckoned the guests to follow him. Niall found himself looking down at a flight of narrow steps only a few feet wide. He also noticed with interest that the sand and rocks on the upper surface of the trapdoor were stuck fast, and did not slide off even when it was turned upside down.
Hamna went first. The steps led into darkness, so they had to feel their way with their hands. A narrow corridor, not unlike that which led to the lower depths of their own burrow, sloped downward at such a steep angle that it was necessary to press both hands against the walls. These seemed to be made of stone. In the air, Niall noticed the distinctive smell of burning beetle oil, although he could see nothing in the pitch darkness.