“Is it a spider?”
“Not strictly speaking. It’s called a bull spider — my father used to call them druggets. I think it’s a member of the bug family.”
“Have you ever seen one before?”
“Oh yes. The beetles kept two of them as work animals. They’re incredibly stupid but immensely strong. Also incredibly loyal. Skorbo had probably ordered him to let no one in. And he’d be prepared to attack the Spider Lord himself rather than disobey.”
Sidonia said: “There’s a colony of them in the old mine over there.” She gestured vaguely toward the east.
Since the dead bull spider was occupying most of the doorway, Niall and Simeon had to drag it aside — like all spiders, it was surprisingly light for its size — before they could enter. Then they pushed back the steel door to its limit — the groove in which the castors moved was filled with compacted rust and grit. The first thing they saw was a mutilated corpse lying in a pool of blood. It was a woman, and her head and left arm had been eaten away. Her clothing, still covered in spider web, lay nearby; it had been neatly sliced off by the bull-spider’s mandibles. They had evidently interrupted it in the course of eating its dinner.
Niall looked up. In the dim light that pierced the dusty windows he could see a dozen or so human-shaped cocoons suspended from the beams that supported the ceiling. They swayed gently in the breeze, exactly as he had seen them in his glimpse into the captain’s mind. In fact, he was startled to realize how closely this shed corresponded to that momentary glimpse, as if all its essential features had been conveyed instantaneously. There was only one slight difference. The slaughterhouse of his vision had stunk of blood; this place only had a damp and musty odor. And this, he realized, was due to the difference between the senses of a man and the far keener senses of a spider.
Niall asked Simeon: “Do you think any of them are alive?”
“She was alive.” Simeon indicated the woman’s corpse. “Otherwise her blood wouldn’t have flowed like that.”
Niall turned to Dravig. “Do you think any of them could be saved?” Dravig’s mental gesture was the equivalent of a shrug. The warehouse was virtually a bare concrete shed, empty except for a number of packing cases stored in its farthest corner. The suspended bodies hung six feet or so above their heads. Each was covered with a semitransparent gauzy mesh of surprising delicacy, far thinner than normal strands of spider web. As Niall’s eyes became accustomed to the poor light, he was able to distinguish the features underneath the gauze that covered the faces — in one case, even to observing that the eyes were open.
Simeon pointed. “That looks like a child.”
The body hanging closest to the far wall was only about three feet tall; through the thin web that covered his face like a hood, Niall could see dark curly hair. Simeon voiced the thought that was in Niall’s mind.
“Could that be the brother of your kitchen maid, what’s her name?”
“Nyra. It could be.” He asked Dravig: “Is it possible to cut him down?”
The spider braced himself against the wall and reached up with the legs containing the tarsal claws, steadying the body with one of them while the other snipped the thread that held it suspended. He caught it neatly with his pedipalps as it fell.
As Niall took the body from him, the sticky web clung to his fingers and his tunic. He carried the child into the sunlight and lowered him carefully to the floor. The gauze covering the face was like a film of sticky rubber, and resisted all attempts to tear it. Niall borrowed Sidonia’s shortsword, which had an edge like a razor and, pulling up the mesh so it was clear of the face, carefully sliced his way through the clinging threads. The face that was exposed was that of a boy of about seven. The face was deathly pale, and there was no sign of breathing. But as Simeon was cutting away the mesh that covered the arm, Dravig extended his pedipalps above the chest and said: “He is alive.” A moment later, Simeon placed his thumb on the child’s wrist and pronounced that he could feel a faint pulse.
Niall placed his hand on the cold forehead. “Is there any way of reviving him?”
Simeon shook his head. “I don’t know. If it’s a poison that paralyzes the central nervous system, the damage may be irreversible. That one’s probably dead already.” He pointed to a face that was as emaciated as a skull.
Niall asked Dravig: “Is he dead?”
Dravig stretched upwards, raising his pedipalps toward the swaying body.
“No. He is alive. They are all alive, although the woman at the far end is close to death.”
Sidonia startled them with a cry. “That one moved his eyes!”
She was standing underneath a body that hung from the center of the beam, where the light from the doorway was strong. The body was small — it might have been that of an overgrown child or teenager. Behind the gauze that covered the face, the eyes were closed. Niall stared intently, but could detect no sign of breathing.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. His eyelids moved.”
Niall addressed the face that swayed above his head. “If you can hear me, try to open your eyelids.”
Nothing happened. He repeated it, slower and louder. This time, after a long delay, there was a faint but unmistakable movement of the eyelids. Sidonia said: “You see. He is alive.”
Dravig said: “It is not a he. It is a woman.”
From the other side of the shed, Simeon gave an exclamation of excitement. He was looking at the packing cases that stood in the far corner.
“What is it?”
“This stuff is labeled hospital equipment. Lend me that sword, would you? I want to try and get the lid off.”
As Niall looked down at the child who lay on the concrete, a flash of pain in the back of his skull warned him that he had been wearing the thought mirror for too long; he removed it and dropped it into his pocket. The relief was so intense that he felt dizzy; he had forgotten that the thought mirror consumed so much energy. Momentary darkness clouded his vision, filling his head with a buzzing noise, and he felt himself swaying. To avoid falling, he crouched down on his heels, balancing himself with both hands on the floor.
A few moments later the blackness began to pass away, and the child’s face became visible. And then, quite suddenly, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of intense cold. It felt exactly as if he had been plunged into the depths of some icy lake, where the light found it impossible to penetrate. At the same time, he experienced a return of the nausea of the previous day, the peculiar exhaustion that had succeeded the attack by Skorbo’s assassin. There was an odd sensation that something unpleasant had happened. Niall started around in bewilderment, and was relieved to see that everything looked so normal. Simeon and Sidonia were trying to open one of the packing cases, with Dravig looking on; it was obvious that they had noticed nothing. Through the open door, the bushes were glowing in the late afternoon sunlight — oddly enough, they seemed to be wavering, as if seen through a heat-haze. Yet he was gripped by an icy cold so intense that he had to clench his teeth to prevent them from chattering. He was also aware of a sense of vulnerability, as if a layer of skin had been stripped away, leaving all nerve-ends exposed.
The sunlight outside looked infinitely alluring, yet his weariness was so deep that he found it impossible to drag himself to his feet. It was a temptation to lie down on the floor and close his eyes. Yet he felt that if he gave way to the temptation, he would freeze to death. It cost him a convulsive effort of will to allow himself to sink into a sitting position, then to turn over on to his hands and knees and force himself to stand up. As he did so, he again felt his senses leaving him; but he mastered the nausea, and forced himself to take the half dozen steps that carried him out into the sunlight.
It was like plunging into a warm bath. The warmth seemed as startling and inexplicable as the cold of a few moments before. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, at the same time placing both hands on the nearest bush to prevent himself from swaying. As the warmth soaked into his body, he tried to understand what was happening. This glowing sensation was not simply the heat of the sun; it was a vital energy that made his heart beat faster and filled his blood with a pleasurable excitement. And the cold inside the building was not physical cold; it had the effect of draining his vitality; it was a sensation like bad news.