“Does it give him the right to kill spiders?”
“Of course not. That is the law. No human creature is permitted to raise his hand against a beetle or any of their allies.”
The Death Lord said: “And the penalty for breaking that law?”
“Death.”
“Do you propose to carry out that penalty?”
“If you insist, yes.”
Niall glanced at Doggins; he was looking at the floor, his face emotionless.
“Will you carry it out yourself, or will you hand him over to us?”
The Master said: “We will hand him over to you.”
“That is as it should be.” The Death Lord was obviously mollified. “And what of the other prisoner?”
The Master hesitated. “That is a more difficult case. He is not a servant but a prisoner. Therefore he has every right to try to escape.”
“Has he also the right to kill spiders?”
“He points out that the spiders killed his father, and that he regards them as his enemies. That seems to me a reasonable attitude.”
“But he is an enemy of the spiders. And you are our ally. Therefore it is your duty to hand him over to us.”
“I agree with you. But there seems to be some doubt among my council members. They point out that we only have a non-aggression treaty. That does not involve us in your quarrels.”
“That is an unfriendly attitude.”
“It is neither friendly nor unfriendly. We only wish to do what is right according to the law.”
“So you propose to let him go?” The Death Lord was beginning to lose his temper, and Niall was interested in this sign of weakness; it was evidence of vulnerability.
“We have not yet decided. The council has expressed a wish to hear what you have to say on the matter.”
There was a long silence. Then the Death Lord said:
“Very well. If what I have to say carries any weight, I advise you to listen to me very carefully.”
“We shall always be willing to do that.”
“Good.” The Death Lord was obviously impatient of interruption. “Then listen. You know, as we do, that these human creatures were once the masters of the earth. That was because my ancestors and yours were small enough to be ignored. But we also know that they spent all their time quarrelling and killing one another. They were incapable of living in peace. Finally, the gods grew tired of them, and made us the masters. And ever since then, the earth has been at peace.
“You beetles have treated your servants with indulgence, and this was the cause of the quarrel between us. That quarrel ended in the Great Treaty, under which you agreed that your servants should never be allowed to gain their independence. Ever since then, you and I have been allies. Is that not true?”
“It is true.” The Master spoke as if making a ritual response.
“Good.” The Death Lord was obviously pleased. “Bear that in mind, and we shall have no cause for quarrel. It is in your interest, as well as in ours, to keep these creatures in their place. You may feel that it would make no difference to let one of our enemies go free. But if human beings ever cease to be our servants you would soon learn the difference. These creatures are not capable of living in peace. They would not be content until they were the masters and you and I the servants. Is that what you want?”
“The answer to that question is obvious.” Niall could detect a note of impatience in the Master’s voice. “But I am unable to follow your reasoning. Why should the release of one young male creature bring about this catastrophe? He does not look particularly dangerous.”
“I agree. But that is your mistake. It was he who persuaded your servant Bildo to enter the spider city without permission.”
The Master turned his eyes on Doggins. “Is this true?”
Doggins cleared his throat and said uncertainly: “Not as far as I know.”
The Master asked Niall: “Is it true?”
Niall shook his head in bewilderment. “No.”
The Death Lord said: “Ask him to show you what he is wearing next to his heart.”
The Master looked at Niall.
“What are you wearing next to your heart?”
Niall’s hand crept inside his tunic and clutched the thought mirror. The idea of being parted from it filled him with alarm and dread. But as he felt the eyes of the Master staring into his own, he took hold of the cord and allowed the thought mirror to hang outside his tunic.
“Give it to me,” the Master said.
And although Niall wanted to keep the thought mirror more than anything in the world, he knew there was no question of refusal; the authority of the Master made him feel like a child. He took the cord from around his neck and handed it to the Master, who took it in his claw. Then he looked at the Death Lord.
“It is a simple thought amplifier. We have one in our history museum.” To Niall’s immense relief, he handed it back to him. “Did you use it to influence our servant Bildo?”
As Niall opened his mouth to reply, he suddenly knew that it would be impossible to answer with a simple No. He recognised that the Death Lord could be correct. Doggins had changed his mind — just as Niall had wanted him to. His voice reflected his uncertainty as he answered: “I don’t think so. But I’m not sure.”
The Master turned his eyes on the Death Lord. “Are you saying that he did it deliberately?”
“I am saying that he did it. That is why he is dangerous.” As Niall moved back to take his place beside the Death Lord, he saw something that astonished him. For a brief moment his eyes met those of the Death Lord, and in that moment, he found himself looking at Odina. She was still there inside her body, listening to all that was going on. And as he again took his place beside her, it seemed to Niall that he had glimpsed a look of warning and of anguish. For a moment, he found this revelation so disturbing that he ceased to pay attention to what was being said. When he again became aware of their voices, the Death Lord was saying:
“How long will it take your council to decide this matter?”
The Master replied: “I cannot tell you. But it will be soon.”
“Good.” The Spider Lord seemed about to take his leave. “But let me tell you once again what I have said before. If you decide to release our enemy, it will be a declaration of war.
The tone contained an unmistakable threat. As the Master and the Death Lord stared at each other, Niall became aware that two powerful wills were locked in conflict. He knew — as did everybody else in the room — that the Master was outraged by this attempt to intimidate his council. Yet when the Master spoke, his voice was calm and controlled.
“You are saying that the spiders will declare war on the beetles?”
“I am saying that it is time for the wise to take action.”
There was something in the tone of this last word that stirred Niall to alertness, and he started to turn. As he did so, the hands of the Death Lord closed round his throat, and the fingers sank like steel into his flesh. But the moment of alertness had allowed him to move so the hands missed their intended grip; instead of crushing his windpipe, the thumbs were pressing into the flesh below the angle of the jaw. Yet the force was so immense that he felt himself being bent over backwards as if his muscles were paralysed. At the same time, he found himself looking into the eyes of the Death Lord. Once again, he became aware of Odina’s presence. And he realised with amazement that she was resisting the will of the Death Lord, and trying to prevent her muscles from obeying his orders to kill.
Then, over her shoulder, he saw the face of the beetle guard. There was a violent jerk, and he felt his feet leave the ground. The choking grip was suddenly relaxed and he was on his knees, trying to crawl and feeling as if he were swimming. His cheek was pressed to the floor. As his vision cleared, Doggins began helping him into a sitting position.
The first thing he saw was Odina, lying close to the door. She was obviously dead. The body was grotesquely curved, the knees spread out at an angle and one arm twisted underneath her. As Niall flung himself beside her, he saw that her neck was broken; when he took hold of the head and tried to hold it between his hands, it was as loose as if it was no longer attached to the body. The right side of her head had obviously struck the door-with enormous force; the right cheek was cut open, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. The beetle guard, who had torn her free, was looking bewildered, as if astonished by his own strength.