Niall shook his head. “What purpose would that serve?”
“But the Lord Qisib said you would be making a perilous journey.”
This was a point Niall had already considered. “That is true. But I have already made a perilous journey — out of the sacred cave.”
But Grel was still unsatisfied. “The Lord Cheb also wished you a safe voyage.”
Niall had noticed that, but assumed that it was simply a form of polite leave-taking. He said firmly: “It is not my intention to seek out this magician. That would be foolish and very dangerous. It is obvious that he wants to be left alone.”
“Then why does he not leave us alone?”
Because Grel was so young and so obviously curious, Niall felt an impulse to take him into his confidence. “I believe the enemy has been sending out spies since the days of Cheb the Mighty. He wants to know what is happening in the spider city. But when Skorbo captured two of his spies, and carried them off to his larder, he decided that Skorbo had to die.”
Grel asked: “But why? What good could it do?”
This was a point that Niall himself had puzzled about during the past two days. If his spies were captured, surely it would be better for the enemy to send more spies, rather than alerting the spiders to his presence? Was it stupidity or miscalculation? Niall found that hard to believe.
“One reason could be that Skorbo himself was a spy.”
“What!” Grel was so staggered that the exclamation was a shriek of protest. “Skorbo a spy? How is that possible?”
His amazement made Niall feel guilty; he had simply failed to see the implications of what he had just said. For a spider, nothing could be more shocking, more horrifying, than the thought of the treachery of one of their own kind. Human beings are accustomed to being unable to see into one another’s minds — even those we love best. But all spiders experience a sense of mutual interaction that is inconceivable to human beings. So the thought of treachery was far worse than the shock a man might feel if he discovered that the wife he adored had been unfaithful or was planning to murder him. Grel was shaken to his depths.
Niall said gently: “There is evidence that Skorbo fell into the hands of the enemy and was enrolled as a spy.”
“But how could he be so wicked?” Grel was almost in tears. “How could he betray his fellow creatures?”
“I do not know. But the magician can be very persuasive.”
Grel dissented passionately. “No. Skorbo could only be overcome by a will stronger than his own.”
“Perhaps the magician’s will was stronger than Skorbo’s.”
“I cannot believe that.”
Asmak would have been horrified to hear his son contradicting the emissary of the goddess; but Niall was flattered at this evidence of the young spider’s trust. “Then what do you believe?”
“Perhaps that Skorbo was tortured into submission. It is evident that the enemy is a man of extreme cruelty.”
“He is cunning, certainly. But why do you say he is cruel?”
Grel seemed puzzled by Niall’s question. “Does a benevolent ruler cut out the tongues of his subjects?”
“Who told you that?”
“Why, the lord Qisib himself.”
The mental image of Qisib was followed immediately by an image of Madig being washed and combed in his prison cell. And now Niall could see that, as the girl was trimming his beard, Madig caught a glimpse inside her mouth, and saw that she had no tongue.
Suddenly he understood why they had been speaking at cross-purposes. Qisib had told his story in a series of images. At the time, Niall has felt pleased with himself because he understood so well. Now he realized that his understanding had been crude and imperfect, like someone trying to understand a foreign language. Qisib’s “conversation” had been full of details that Niall had simply failed to notice. Madig’s glimpse into the girl’s mouth had been only one of these. And as Grel recreated the image of Madig’s cell, Niall became aware of many others. He could now sense the atmosphere of suspicion, mistrust, and anxiety that reigned in the city of the enemy, and the fear and misery that it created. And as Madig was led, blindfolded, through the streets of the city, Niall realized that the silence was the silence of dread.
He also understood many other things: how, when the magician had told Madig that his companions would die if he failed to bring back a satisfactory answer, he meant that they would die slowly and painfully. Now it was clear that, from the beginning of the interview, the magician had set out to instill a feeling of terror and of danger, so that Madig would convey this to the Spider Lord.
Grel added with satisfaction: “But he made one mistake. He failed to understand that no Spider Lord would give way to threats.”
Niall was about to reply when he was struck by the import of Grel’s words. The insight that followed was accompanied by an odd sense of breathlessness, and a tingling of the hairs of the scalp. “Perhaps it was not a mistake. Perhaps the enemy intended to anger the Spider Lord.”
“But why?”
Niall was suddenly astonished that it had taken him so long to grasp anything so obvious. “Why do you think the attacks ceased as soon as the Lord Qisib began building the wall?”
Grel said hesitantly: “Perhaps because it was too well guarded.”
“So was the town of Cibilla, yet they attacked it.”
“Then what do you believe was the reason?”
“Could it have been because they wanted the wall to be built?”
Grel was obviously puzzled by Niall’s line of reasoning. “But the wall was built to keep them out.”
“But it also served the purpose of keeping your people in.”
It took several moments for Grel to grasp the point. When he did so, he gazed at Mall with an air of almost reverential astonishment. “Truly, you have more discernment than Qisib the Wise.” Then his mind was beset by doubts: “Yet how can we be certain of something that happened so long ago?”
“We cannot be certain. But consider what the Lord Qisib told us. First: that Cheb the Mighty sent an expedition to the lands of the north, and learned that the ice had retreated, and that the marshes were full of birds and other wild game. Then Kasib the Warrior sent Madig to select a site for the new city. Was it by chance, do you think, that Madig’s party was waylaid and carried into captivity? Or was it because the magician was keeping watch for any sign that the Death Lord was extending his territory, and was determined to prevent him from establishing a new capital in the northlands?”
“But the northlands were the home of Cheb the Mighty. Why should he not return home?”
“Because the ice had retreated. The Death Lord himself told me that when he was born, the world was suffering from a great ice age when the snow fell day and night, and the sky was always dark. In such an age, there would be no temptation to explore. But when the ice melted, the northern lands ceased to be cold and forbidding. And if Kasib the Warrior had established a capital in the wastes of Kend, would he have been contented to rest there? Would he not have turned his attention to the Gray Mountains in the west, with their wide valleys?”
Grel listened with a mixture of astonishment and incredulity. Niall continued: “The Lord Qisib also told us that when Tubin went in search of Madig, he found only his dagger, which was pointing toward the Gray Mountains. Were his captors so stupid that they failed to notice a dagger driven into the ground? Is it not more probable that they themselves set the dagger there?”
Grel was troubled. “But why should the enemy tell us where he could be found?”
“As a warning and a message. He was telling the Death Lord: the Gray Mountains are my territory — keep away. But the Death Lord sent hundreds of spider balloons to search the Gray Mountains and the wastes of Kend, making it clear that he regarded them as his territory.”
“Then what purpose was served by harassing the city of Cibilla?”
“He knew that this would enrage the Death Lord into launching an attack.”
As Grel grasped the implications of these words, he reacted with shock. “You are saying that the Death Lord and his army marched into a trap?”
“That would explain many things.”
Grel seemed stunned. “But how could the enemy cause the great storm?”
“I do not know. But I know that all magicians believe they can control the weather.”
As if in answer to this remark, a low roll of thunder echoed across the city. Niall had been so absorbed in the conversation that he had not even noticed the dark clouds that had drifted across the sun. Now he realized they were close to the main square, and the clouds were reflected in the milky surface of the white tower as if in a mirror. A few moments later, the first light drops of rain spotted the pavement; within seconds, it had turned into a heavy downpour. All over the square, humans and spiders ran for shelter as the hammering of rain turned the pavement into a white mist. When the rain began, they had been within a few yards of the palace; yet by the time they stood under its portico, both were drenched. Water drops ran like pearls from Grel’s shiny black coat; some of them also gathered on his many-faceted eyes, so that he was forced to shake his head.