He was aware that the watcher was exerting all his force to make him lose control. If all this had happened a year ago, it would have succeeded. But contact with the spiders had taught Niall something of the use of his own will power, and of the hidden force in the depths of his being. Now, as he braced himself to resist, the danger of panic receded, as if the watcher recognized that his self-control refused to be undermined.
He hurried on down the stairs to the basement. This was a great stone-flagged room that had once been a wine cellar; a few months ago it had been full of rusty wine racks and broken bottles. Now it was used as a storeroom for food; it smelled of preserved smoked meat and spices. Along the rear wall stood six black stone jars, each about three feet tall, and carved out of a veined stone whose surface showed brown streaks of rust. Niall placed the glass and the lamp on the ground, then used both hands to lift the cone-shaped plug in the neck of the nearest jar; it was so heavy that it made him gasp. He placed this on the floor, then, gritting his teeth, raised the glass and inverted its neck over the jar. The pendants fell into its depths with a faint metallic clink.
The gray light immediately vanished, and he experienced a curious inner-shift of focus. At the same time, the numb sensation left his hand and forearm — not slowly, like a limb to which circulation had been restored, but instantaneously, as if the numbness was some kind of delusion. The tension that had made his teeth chatter dissolved away, to be replaced by a relief that was so powerful that it seemed to drain him of strength. As he walked back upstairs, his legs ached as if he had walked to the point of exhaustion, and he had to hold on to the marble banister to support himself. By the time he was back in his room, waves of fatigue were making him walk like a drunken man. But as he threw himself into bed, he noticed that the sensation of being watched had disappeared; even the howling of the wind seemed friendly. As soon as he closed his eyes, he fell into a heavy sleep.
He woke up with a start, to find Jarita standing by the bed; sunlight slanted through the window. “What time is it?”
“Two hours after dawn.”
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so late.” He threw back the bedclothes.
“I looked in twice but you were sleeping deeply. And you have no Council meeting this morning.”
“Thank you, Jarita.”
He was hoping she would go, but she continued to stand by the bed. She wanted, he realized, to help him bathe and dress. This was one of the problems of getting up late. The underground cave in which Niall had spent his childhood and youth had been extremely cramped; nevertheless, the men and women went to considerable lengths to preserve their modesty. Here in the Spider City, the female servants expected to help their masters to dress and undress; they enjoyed anointing his body with scented oils, and even climbing into the bath with him and administering a massage in the warm water. Veig openly reveled in all this attention, surrounding himself with attractive slaves. Niall also enjoyed being pampered, but he found that he preferred to be alone when he dressed; it seemed oddly pointless to allow someone else to help him put his clothes on. This is why he liked to rise with the dawn. Now he realized that Jarita would regard it as a rejection if he declined her services. So he stood there passively, and allowed her to remove the knee-length tunic that he wore in bed, then fetch a bowl of warm water and sponge down his body. She did this with such obvious pride and pleasure that he found himself feeling guilty about his impatience.
There was a knock at the door, and Nephtys looked in. Niall could tell she was surprised to find Jarita there, and that Jarita herself was pleased to be found kneeling at his feet.
“What is it?” His embarrassment made him speak abruptly.
“The doctor is here, my lord.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.”
Simeon was already seated at table, drinking herb tea, when Niall came in; Niall made a gesture to prevent him from rising. “What brings you here so early?”
“Your brother. His cut has been bleeding all night — the comfrey poultice didn’t work. I’ve had to put in a couple of stitches.”
“But it was only a small cut.”
“That’s what’s so odd. There must have been a strong anticoagulant on the blade of that ax. But even that shouldn’t stop it from healing after twelve hours. Could I see the ax?”
Nephtys, who overheard the request, left the room, and returned a moment later, carrying the bundle wrapped in sacking.
“For heaven’s sake be careful. It’s very sharp.”
“I can see that.” Simeon studied the blade at close quarters, but made no attempt to touch it. “No wonder it killed Skorbo. How do they make a blade as sharp as that? And such superb metal. . .”
“They obviously have a high level of culture.”
Simeon looked at him from under his bushy eyebrows. “And do you have any idea who ‘they’ are?”
“Only what I can guess. Have you?”
“I noticed one rather strange thing — the skin of those dead men. It was too pale. I’ve only once seen skin as pale as that — it was an old man who went mad and locked himself in his room for twenty years.”
Niall said: “As if they lived underground.”
“That’s right.” Simeon glanced at him sharply. “So you do know something about it?”
Niall shrugged. “The Steegmaster told me of a legend of a race of men who came to Earth from the stars, and who lived underground because the sunlight was deadly to them.”
“Did he say where they lived?”
“No. He thought it was just a story.”
Simeon shook his head. “I’d swear that those men had lived underground, or been kept in a dungeon.”
Jarita brought in another pot of herb tea; it was made from the leaves of a plant called delium, and diffused a delicate and delicious odor. The tea had a faintly astringent quality that seemed to sharpen the senses. As Jarita poured, she said: “My lord, forgive me for interrupting, but the Lord Dravig is waiting to see you.”
“But why is he waiting? Ask him to come in.”
“I told him you were eating breakfast, and he said he would wait.”
Simeon looked uncomfortable. “I’d better go.”
“There would be no point. Dravig prefers to wait. Spiders have infinite patience. He would only feel embarrassed if we allowed him to interrupt our meal.”
Simeon looked at him curiously. “You seem to understand spiders very well.”
“No. I understand a little. But I think it would be impossible for a human being to understand all the subtleties of the spider mind. In some ways they know far more than human beings.”
Simeon spread honey on a piece of hot crust. “Do you suppose Dravig might know where these people come from?”
“I doubt it. He told me he had no idea of their identity.”
“Yet it seems incredible that no one should know who they are or where they live.”
Niall asked: “What do you know of the land to the north of this city?”
“Not much. It’s said to be extremely dangerous. But, as you know, the servants of the beetles were only recently granted freedom to go where they liked. And very few of them have been far from the city.”
“What kinds of dangers?”
“I’ve heard of a beetle that has a shell so tough that no weapon can penetrate it, and jaws that can bite through a steel spear. But I must admit I’ve never met anyone who’s seen one.”
“Not even the bombardier beetles?”
“Oh no. They hate travel. They say that some of them have never even ventured outside the city.” He emptied his cup and replaced it on the table. “I’d better go. Tell Veig to come and see me if he has any more problems.”
He and Niall clasped forearms; the old man’s forearm was stringy and muscular. At the door, Simeon paused with one hand on the latch. “There is one more thing I meant to ask you. Why do you think that creature chopped off the head, then took it away?”
Niall smiled. “For the same reason he took his own head away.”
Simeon frowned. “His own head? But that was on his shoulders.”
“Quite.”
“Yes, but why did he want the head?”
Niall said: “He didn’t want it. He only wanted to get rid of it, so we couldn’t find it. And if we hadn’t caught him, both heads would now be at the bottom of the river.”