There were, he counted, fifteen beetles facing him in a semi-oval. Their blank faces reminded him of toads. The beetle at the centre of the arc was obviously older than the others, and its horny skin looked cracked and mottled. One of its goggling black eyes was flecked with white. Yet Niall sensed immediately that this was the Master.
Doggins took his arm and led him to the central point of the arc. They stood side by side. Niall was glad of Doggins’ moral support. The gaze of the beetles produced in him a peculiar and uncomfortable sensation. It was completely unlike the physical coldness produced by the spiders, which seemed to be some physical expression of hostility. Yet he felt, nevertheless, as if their eyes were penetrating the surface of his skin and seeing into his body. They gave him the impression that they were ignoring his physical appearance and somehow looking directly into his feelings and emotions. It was an uncomfortable sensation, like being naked. He felt that it would be pointless to try to lie or deceive; they would sense the lie even before he spoke.
The beetle sitting to the right of the ruler raised its feelers and made rapid signs.
“Saarleb asks how old you are,” Doggins interpreted.
Niall replied: “I am not sure. Perhaps some seventeen summers.”
The beetle on the other side of the ruler asked a question, which Doggins translated as: “Saarleb asks why did you come to this country?” Saarleb was clearly a title, not a name.
Niall replied: “I was taken prisoner. My father was killed by the spiders.”
When Doggins, translated this reply, there was a long pause; then a beetle to his right asked:
“Do you want revenge on the spider who killed your father?”
Niall answered truthfully: “No.”
Another beetle asked: “Do you want revenge on all spiders?”
Niall thought about this before he answered: “I do not want revenge. But I want to be free.”
There was another silence. Then, for the first time, the Master spoke:
“If the spiders would allow you to leave in peace, would you be contented?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Niall was thinking of how to phrase his reply when, to his astonishment, he heard Doggins repeating the question and realised that the Master had addressed him directly. It was quite unlike the sensation he had experienced when the Spider Lord or the Steegmaster had addressed him telepathically; in that case he had experienced the voice inside his chest or his head. But the Master had seemed to address him as if speaking aloud.
Niall looked into the blank, worn face and answered: “Because even in my own country, we are not free. We have to spend our lives hiding from the spiders.”
As Doggins started to translate this reply, the Master made a sign to him to be silent. Doggins looked surprised. Then, once again, Niall picked up the thought of the Master as naturally as if they were holding a normal conversation.
“If your people were permitted to live unhindered, would you be content?”
This time, the Master made no accompanying gestures, and it was obvious from Doggins’ baffled expression that he could hear nothing. Niall thought for a long time before he answered:
“No. I have seen the way the spiders treat their servants and their slaves, and I regard them as my enemies. I could not be happy in my own land.”
These words caused a buzz of conversation to break out among the beetles; they began addressing one another in their strange sibilant language and waving their feelers. Only the Master continued to look at Niall with his mask-like face. Niall glanced sideways at Doggins and saw immediately that he was worried.
It was several minutes before silence was restored. Then the Master said:
“What you have said places us in a difficult position. We have no quarrel with the spiders. Can you give us any reason why we should not hand you over to them?”
Niall made an intense effort of concentration, using the thought mirror to clarify his intuitions. He was aware that the Master was not asking him to excuse or justify himself; he was not asking for argument or persuasion. Behind his question lay his own objective assessment of the situation. They wanted peace with the spiders, and the key to peace was to hand Niall over to the Spider Lord. They were asking Niall, in an equally objective spirit, whether he did not agree that this was the most sensible thing to do. And suddenly, Niall understood what form his reply should take. He stared at the floor and placed his hands behind him in an attempt to clarify his thoughts. It was vital not to lose the thread.
“My people were once lords of the earth. Now we are either servants or fugitives. That is perhaps as it should be: we lost our position through weakness. Many of our people are content to be servants, and that is also as it should be; it is their own choice. But I was also offered a position as a servant of the spiders and I knew that it was impossible. And that is not simply because the spiders killed my father.” He looked up, and stared directly at the Master. “It is because I have no wish to be a servant. My strongest desire is to be free.”
The Master interrupted: “But you are free. To be alive is to be free.”
Niall shook his head. “That may be true for beetles and spiders, but it is not true for human beings. We seem to have a kind of. . . of freedom function.” He could sense the bewilderment of the Beetle Lord. “It is a feeling that our minds can be free as well as our bodies.” He was feeling confused by their lack of understanding, and found it difficult to explain what he meant. He finished lamely: “For human beings, it is not true that to be alive is to be free.”
There was a long silence. Finally, the Master said: “What you have just said is either very profound or very stupid. I do not profess to understand it. I am free. You are free. There is no other kind of freedom.”
Niall asked: “Do you mean I am free to go now?”
“No. That is still for us to decide. We must consult with the Spider Lord.” He beckoned to the beetle who was guarding the door. “Fetch the Spider Lord.”
Niall was struck dumb with astonishment, and felt the muscles of his scalp contracting. Niall glanced at Doggins as the beetle went out and was puzzled that he showed no sign of surprise; Doggins was staring at the floor and looked only nervous and depressed.
With an immense effort, Niall controlled the pounding of his heart, but could still feel the blood throbbing in his toes and finger-ends. The minutes seemed to drag by. It seemed to him that his last hope had gone. If the beetles had permitted the Spider Lord to enter their city, then they were anxious for peace at any price, and it was merely a matter of time before they acceded to his demands.
The door opened. Niall experienced a wave of surprise and relief when the guard stood aside to permit Odina to enter the room. But as she came closer, he saw she was wearing the same stunned, blank expression that he had seen in the entrance hall. Her eyes met his without recognition; she looked as if she was in a trance. She came and stood beside him, standing to attention like a soldier. As Niall glanced sideways at her bare breasts and sunburnt arms, he experienced a flood of misery, the sense of having lost her.
The Master made a sign to the guard. “Bring the Death Lord a seat.”
“I prefer to stand.”
Niall stared at Odina with amazement. The voice had issued from her lips; yet it was the distinctive voice of the Spider Lord. At the same time, Odina’s face changed. It had become older and stronger, the face of a stern old woman.
The Master spoke in the strange, hissing language of the beetles; yet Niall could understand the words as clearly as before.
“Greetings again to the Death Lord.”
“Greetings.” The voice was impatient.
“We have spoken to our servant Bildo, and he confirms what you have told us.” It took Niall a moment to realise that Bildo referred to Doggins. “He agrees that he entered your city without permission. But he claims that his only purpose was to find explosives.”
The Spider Lord said: “A servant has no business to do things without permission.”
“He points out that he had been promoted to the rank of Saarleb only that afternoon, and that therefore he had the right to make that decision. But that, of course, is no excuse. He should have raised the matter in council first. And the council would have refused permission.”