As they came closer, it became clear that the scent of the plants was as delightful as their appearance, a blend of honeysuckle, lilac, roses, gorse, and hyacinth, all overlaid by a rich odor resembling new-mown hay. The last time Niall had encountered such a complexity of sweet scents was in the Delta, and the recollection made him nervous. But when Sidonia strolled among the bushes and creepers, burying her face in the flowers with obvious pleasure, Niall also succumbed to the temptation, and found the odors delicious. He asked Sidonia: “Have you been here before?”
“Yes.” He thought she cast a nervous glance at Dravig.
“And is it always like this?”
She hesitated. “I think so.”
“Then why doesn’t everyone come here? It’s beautiful.”
“Because. . .” She was taking a deep breath of one of the scarlet trumpets: “Because it is not good to have too much pleasure.”
As he looked at her with astonishment, she blushed. But her reaction brought understanding. She was a soldier who took pride in discipline and self-control. These scents aroused a disturbing desire to surrender. And such an attitude would have been regarded with displeasure by the spiders.
Simeon was also studying the plants, but with the detached eye of an herbalist. Niall asked: “Why do they grow like this in midwinter? Does the sunshine make them think that it’s spring?”
Simeon made a gesture of bewilderment. “I don’t know. I’ve never come across anything like it before.”
“Not even in the Delta?”
“That’s different. Most of the plants in the Delta contained some kind of trap.”
“And you’re sure these don’t?”
“Oh no.” It was Sidonia who spoke; her voice had a dreamy tone, and she was caressing the scarlet trumpet as though it were a pet animal. “This is not a trap.”
Niall removed the thought mirror from around his neck — it focused his attention too sharply — and saw immediately that she was right. There was something curiously innocent and joyful about this profusion of odors. His intuition told him there was nothing to fear.
“Have you ever seen plants that bloom in midwinter?”
“Not like this.” Simeon was studying one of the thick, glossy leaves. “You notice the leaves are evergreen.” He felt the petal of an orange flower that might have been an unknown variety of rose. Niall did the same, and observed that it was thick and fleshy. “And this flower could probably remain intact in a gale.”
Niall asked Dravig: “Do you know anything about them?”
“My people have no interest in flowers.” The reply carried an overtone of amusement; Niall had observed before that Dravig possessed a dry sense of humor.
Simeon said: “Surely it can’t be a coincidence that they planted these flowers among these buildings?”
The same thought had struck Niall at the same moment. At close quarters, the buildings looked as if they had been constructed for a child’s playground; their bright colors and elaborate patterns produced that same curious upsurge of delight.
“Perhaps this was the nursery of the industrial estate.”
“Industrial estate? Is this an industrial estate?”
“According to the map.”
Simeon nodded slowly. “That explains it. They used to build them like this in the old days. The workers got depressed if their surroundings were boring and dull. But as soon as they made the surroundings attractive, everyone worked harder. My grandfather read about it in books on history.”
“But that doesn’t explain flowers that bloom in winter.”
“No.” Simeon took a deep breath of a great golden flower like a giant snapdragon. “I agree that’s odd.”
Sidonia said: “Perhaps they brought these plants from the Delta,”
Niall said: “The Delta didn’t exist in those days.”
“No?” It was obvious that she knew no history.
A light breeze rustled the bushes, mingling the scents so that they became almost overpoweringly sweet; they produced a shimmering, swooning sensation that made him want to lie down on the damp grass and close his eyes. With an effort, he replaced the thought mirror round his neck. The dreamy sensation vanished instantly, to be replaced by a hard sense of clarity that seemed almost brutal in comparison. The feeling of joyousness also vanished, swept away by the sense of concentrated will power, a desire to hurl himself into practical activity.
“It’s getting late. We ought to move on.”
Simeon turned his back on the flowers with a sigh. But Sidonia pulled back her shoulders, thrust out her breasts, and followed him with a firm, purposeful stride.
Simeon’s account of the industrial estate was obviously correct. All the buildings had the same deliberate gaiety, which at times approached vulgarity. Niall could imagine it as it was when originally built; with its smooth lawns, and colored buildings surrounded by bright flowers, it must have looked like a piece of fairyland. Simeon pointed out one curious structure, built entirely of green stone, that looked like some unknown species of cactus pushing its way out of the rich soil.
Niall shook his head. “But surely they got bored with it after a day or so? Everyone gets used to the same surroundings sooner or later.”
Simeon shrugged. “My grandfather didn’t say anything about that.”
By half-closing his eyes, Niall was able to study the map he had memorized in the white tower. It amazed him that, with the aid of the thought mirror, his mind could re-create every detail with the precision and clarity of a photograph; it was an awesome glimpse into the unknown powers of memory. The map indicated that the industrial estate was roughly circular, and more than two miles in diameter. There was a large lake, still attractive although now overgrown with reeds and algae, an industrial museum, and an administration block that resembled the pipes of some vast organ. Yet it was obvious to Niall that none of these buildings bore the slightest resemblance to the square gray structure they were seeking. A gray building would have been out of place in this explosion of color. But after passing the administration block, which stood in the center of the complex, the nature of the buildings began to change. Presumably the lessees were unable to afford the more elaborate premises, or the designers of the estate had run out of money; at all events, the buildings became increasingly functional, and many were built of plain red brick. Then, toward the eastern edge of the estate, Niall saw something that made his heart contract: the top part of a gray building that rose behind the trees. He pointed. “That looks like it.”
Simeon surveyed it dubiously. “It looks like an electricity generating station. There’s one exactly like it on the other side of the city.”
In fact, as they changed their angle of approach, they could see that the gray building stood beside a water tower. For a moment Niall was convinced that he had made a mistake. Then, as they emerged from a side path, he was able to see the lower half of the building, and the banks of rich vegetation that surrounded it, with their red and yellow flowers. At that moment, he knew with intuitive certainty that they had discovered Skorbo’s secret larder. A curious wave of cold energy, like a shiver, emanating from Dravig, told him that the spider was also aware of it.
They were approaching the building from the rear, and they found themselves facing a blank wall, with no sign of doors or windows. It would clearly be necessary to find their way around to the front. This proved to be less simple than it looked; a prickly hedge, which seemed to form the eastern boundary of the estate, blended into the mass of bushes and small trees that surrounded the building. On closer inspection, this hedge proved to be a tangle of needlelike spikes, and it stretched up more than four feet above their heads — too tall even for Dravig to step over. It was Sidonia who solved the problem by drawing her shortsword and stepping boldly into the bushes; with each heavy blow, severed branches and creepers fell at her feet. Within a few minutes she had hacked her way through to the wall and exposed an overgrown concrete path about four feet wide; this had prevented the vegetation from approaching too close to the wall, and they were able to force their way around to the front of the building.
What faced them was a gray façade with half a dozen broken windows and a massive steel door whose blue-tinged metal was still unrusted; a handle at one end indicated that this was of the type that slid open on rollers. Niall braced himself and heaved; the door slid open about four feet, then jammed. Sidonia, still holding her sword, took a cautious step inside. As she did so, Simeon shouted a warning, and something hurled itself out of the darkness. Sidonia was thrown violently onto her back, her head striking the concrete floor. The force of the blow probably saved her life; the spider that stood over her was poised to strike at her throat, and would undoubtedly have done so if she had moved. Because she lay still, the fangs remained poised for long enough for Dravig — who had just squeezed his way around the corner of the building — to transmit a mental command. The spider froze in astonishment. But when Dravig ordered it to move back, it ignored the command and remained in a threatening posture. Niall was incredulous. It was the first time he had ever seen a spider defy the order of a superior.