Odina came alone. As soon as he saw her, Niall knew she would do whatever he asked. He reached out to take her hands; then her arms were round his neck.
“Listen, we are going to stay here tonight,” he said. “Are you allowed to do that?” She nodded. “Good. I’ve promised Doggins, and I don’t want to break my word.” But he could see that explanations were unnecessary; she would accept whatever he said. “Will the other commanders wonder where you are?”
“No. We are allowed to stay where we like.” As she kissed him repeatedly, with tiny, nibbling kisses, he was struck by an oddly inappropriate image: he was reminded of the tiny grey pseudopodia reaching out to grip his finger. Then he dismissed the notion and gave himself up to the physical relief of feeling her pressed against him.
Doggins appeared round the end of the platform, making them both start. “Sorry about that.” He smiled apologetically. “It’s time we got moving.”
There was a light silver mist on the road when they set out, so the rising moon made their shadows seem alive. The air was damp and chilly, and Niall was glad of the inner glow left by the bowl of mulled wine they had shared before they left. He marched in front, while the others followed in two straggling lines. They wore shabby grey smocks, and anyone who passed them on the road would have taken them for an utterly weary band of slaves returning from a long day’s work. In fact, the man who marched behind Niall, and who carried his left shoulder higher than his right, was the actor who had played the pirate captain, while the humpbacked youth who shambled beside him was Mostig’s assistant, wearing a cushion sewn inside his smock. Most of them were young, having been chosen for smallness of stature.
Progress was slow, for Doggins — who brought up the rear — would not allow them to cover the distance to the spider city at their normal brisk pace; he insisted they should try to think of themselves as tired slaves, and march accordingly. They followed his instructions so conscientiously that it took them almost two hours to cover the distance to the northern outskirts.
Niall, who had at first been doubtful about this venture, began to feel increasingly confident as they approached the city. His main fear had been that these inexperienced youths might betray themselves through anxiety or nervous tension, but he soon realised his mistake. The servants of the beetles had never had reason to be afraid of the spiders, so they regarded this invasion of their stronghold as an amusing adventure. This was why, as he marched through the cold moonlight breathing in the fragrance of leaves and damp earth, Niall experienced the joy that comes from launching into action and knowing that there can be no return.
In fact, the main avenue seemed strangely deserted; the white, broken buildings looked as empty as a desert landscape. This time, Niall experienced no sense of being observed by unseen eyes. If the spiders were watching them it was without curiosity.
Niall and Doggins had already agreed on their plan. Niall would lead them to the small square in which the slaves had gathered that morning. There they would disband and make their way in groups of twos or threes to the barracks, which was only three blocks away to the north-east. They would take refuge in the nearest inhabited house and wait there until all were gathered together. Then, in the early hours of the morning, they would make their attempt. Niall reasoned that when the whole slave quarter was asleep, the spiders would have no reason for vigilance.
It was as they began to approach the river that he experienced his first misgivings. Although oil lamps gleamed from behind the cracked window panes, and cooking smells drifted from open doorways, the streets themselves remained deserted. Niall had taken it for granted that the slave quarter would be as crowded during the evening as it had been at dawn. This silence filled him with foreboding. If the slaves were unafraid of the spiders, why were they all indoors?
Niall turned left off the main avenue and a few minutes later brought his squad to a halt in the square. Although this was deserted, the surrounding houses were full of activity; he could hear babies crying and women and children shouting. For the sake of appearances, Niall called out: “Squad halt! Dismiss!”
Doggins sauntered over, hands in his pockets, and indicated the nearest open doorway with a jerk of his head: “That’ll do. Let’s find something to eat.” The march had made them all hungry.
But as Niall attempted to walk into the house a pregnant woman came rushing towards them, waving her arms and shouting: “No room, no room!” She advanced determinedly and forced them to retreat. The door slammed behind them. Niall and Doggins looked at each other in amused astonishment as Niall said: “What now?”
“Let’s try next door.”
But the same thing happened there. A pale, hollow-chested man with a goitre was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, eating a bowl of soup; as soon as Niall pushed open the front door, he shouted: “Sorry, no room. Try somewhere else.” As Niall tried to advance, he jumped up and firmly blocked the passageway. For a moment, Niall was tempted to push him aside, then decided it would be dangerous to attract attention. Besides, it was clear that the man was telling the truth; he could see that the front room was crowded to overflowing.
Outside, Doggins was becoming anxious. In the deserted square, a group of twenty slaves was conspicuous; it was obviously important to find shelter as soon as possible. But a glance through some of the other lighted windows showed that most of the houses in the square were equally crowded.
The house on the corner bore a rough handpainted sign with the inscription: “K.2.” It sounded familiar; then he remembered. This was where he had been told to look for Morlag, the black-bearded overseer. He pushed open the door and was relieved when no one came rushing towards him. But when he stepped into the passageway, a voice from the top of the stairs shouted: “Get out!” A face peered down over the banisters. It was the man called Lorris.
“We’ve only just got back. Where can we go?”
Lorris recognised him. “Oh, it’s you. You can come in. I thought it was a slave.”
“But I’ve got twenty slaves outside. Where can we go?”
Lorris shrugged. “They can go anywhere they like — so long as it’s not the same place as last night.”
Niall was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“That’s the rule. They’re not allowed to spend two nights in the same place.”
“Why not?”
Lorris threw up his hands irritably. “How do I know? I didn’t make the rule.”
“Thanks.”
Outside, Niall said: “We’d better move. Let’s try the next street.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to get closer to the barracks?”
“Do you want to risk it?”
“It’s better than standing out here.” Doggins pointed to an alley at the north-east corner of the square. “Let’s go that way.”
“It might be better to stick to the main streets.”
Doggins shook his head. “Let’s take the shortest way. You’d better go first.”
Niall decided not to argue. He led them across the square and into the alleyway. But within a dozen yards, the darkness was so complete that they were forced to halt. It was like being surrounded by black velvet curtains. Doggins said:
“Hold on a minute while I strike a light.”
Another voice, which Niall recognised as that of Mostig’s assistant, said: “What’s happening?” Niall thought he detected a note of panic.
Then, quite abruptly, he was gripped by a sense of danger so acute that it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. It was a sense that they were close to some terrible disaster. He gripped Doggins’ wrist. “I think we’d better go back.”
“What for?”
“Do as I ask.”
They obeyed the urgency in his voice. A moment later, they were back in the square. Mostig’s assistant said: “Where’s Marcus?”
Doggins said: “Marcus?”
There was no reply. It was then that Niall knew the disaster had already happened.
Doggins went back towards the alleyway, calling: “Marcus.” Before he could advance into the darkness, Niall seized his arm and held it tight.
“Don’t.”
Doggins tried to shake himself free. “For God’s sake, I can’t leave him to die.”
Niall leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “He’s already dead.” In his mind’s eye, he could see the blackened body of his father.
“Oh Christ!”
Niall could sense his rising panic and grasped the extent of their danger. His own response was to become increasingly focused and controlled. Deliberately using the thought mirror to project the full force of his will, he leaned forward and whispered in Doggins’ ear: