The men who had been captured from Kazak’s underground city were a different matter. Their minds were still unviolated, and they had a long tradition of hostility to spiders. But now that they were no longer slaves, they had no motive for killing a spider. Most of them were now overseers and supervisors, and contented with their lot. They were delighted to be living in the open air, instead of in an underground fortress. Besides, even they lacked the kind of cunning and ruthlessness necessary to have set the trap. . .
There was a light tap on the door, and a tall, dark-haired girl looked in. This was Nephtys, the commander of Niall’s personal guard; because she knew he hated to be disturbed at breakfast, she spoke with her eyes averted.
“The Lord Dravig is here.”
“Ask him to come in.” He smiled at her, wishing that his servants were not so afraid of him. But they had all been trained to fear and respect those who were above them. Their fear of the spiders was like that of a slave for some ruthless tyrant. So they found it awe-inspiring that Niall should speak on equal terms with the tyrants. The point was reinforced when Dravig entered the room, and Nephtys prostrated herself in front of the spider at the same time that Dravig made a ritual gesture of obeisance before Niall.
Dravig was probably the oldest spider in the land, with the exception of the ancient female spider who presided over the ruling council of the city. He stood more than seven feet tall, but was thin and gaunt, and the hairs on his body were turning gray. Insofar as it was possible for a spider to understand a human being, and for a human being to understand a spider, these two understood one another.
Niall moved away from the table and sat on a cushion on the dais. It would have been impolite to continue his breakfast. For some reason, the spiders were profoundly disturbed by the sight of human beings eating or drinking — perhaps in the same way that a human being would be disturbed at the sight of a spider eating a fly or a rat.
He wasted no time on preliminaries. “Do you know that Skorbo is dead?”
“Yes.”
“Have you any idea who did it?”
“No.”
During this dialogue, Niall spoke aloud while Dravig communicated telepathically. Niall was also communicating telepathically — spiders were unable to understand human language — but he found it easier to speak his words aloud; it seemed to give his thought an added precision.
“Is the Spider Lord very angry?” Although the ruler was a female, she was known to human beings as the Spider Lord.
“Of course. But she will abide by the agreement.” Dravig understood the question that Niall had in mind — this was the advantage of speaking telepathically. While human beings had been slaves, the death of a single spider had been punished with appalling ferocity — sometimes with the torture and execution of a hundred humans. When the slaves became free, the Spider Lord had agreed that there should be no more killing.
Niall said: “Nevertheless, if the murderers can be found, they must be punished.”
“That is your decision. We shall abide by the agreement.”
There was a silence between them, but it was the silence of understanding. Intelligence had bridged the gap between their two species, so that it was as if both were human or both were spiders.
Dravig said: “But I cannot understand how human beings could kill a spider.”
Niall stood up. “Come with me and I will show you.”
On the spot where the injured spider had collapsed, a platoon of slaves was shoveling the snow into handcarts and washing away the blood with buckets of warm water. It would have been regarded as a kind of sacrilege to leave the spider’s blood staining the ground. As Niall and Dravig went past, the overseer cracked his whip and made the slaves stand to attention. Niall averted his gaze; the blank eyes and drooling mouths of the slaves always made him feel uncomfortable.
The door stood half open, exactly as Niall had left it. As they entered the rubble-strewn hallway, the spider paused and his chelicerae unfolded; Niall was aware that something had galvanized him into sudden alertness. But the spider said nothing. After a moment, he followed Niall down the passageway and out into the garden.
Niall pointed at the truncated palm tree. “That was what killed Skorbo.”
Dravig failed to understand. Spiders were completely lacking in mechanical aptitude. Niall had to transmit a mental picture before Dravig could understand how a tree could be used as a murder weapon. Even then, he seemed skeptical. Niall had to point out the rope still tied to the top of the tree, and to the bloodspots on the wall, before the spider was convinced.
Niall also pointed out the shape of the blood splashes, with their tadpole-like tails, indicating that they had flown upwards due to the force of the blow. Dravig said with astonishment: “The human mind is amazingly subtle.”
Niall pointed to the fragment of bone lying in the snow.
“The blow failed to kill him because it struck him to one side, breaking his legs. While he was still stunned, someone attacked him with some heavy weapon — probably an ax — and shattered his skull. That is why he failed to send out a distress signal.”
Dravig said: “Whoever is responsible will pay for this.” The force of his anger was so great that it struck Niall like a blow, causing him to step backward. He realized then that he had underestimated the strength of Dravig’s feelings. For a human being, the murder of a spider could be regarded with detachment. For Dravig, it was the slaughter of a fellow creature, and it filled him with rage and a desire for revenge.
Dravig was instantly aware of the effect produced by his anger on Niall; he made a mental gesture of abasement and apology, to which Niall replied with a similar gesture indicating that apology was unnecessary. In human language the exchange would have been expressed: “I am sorry. I did not mean to upset (or shock or startle) you;” “Please do not apologize, I understand perfectly.” Instead, these meanings were conveyed instantaneously, and with a precision beyond the power of language. It made Niall aware of the crudity and clumsiness of human speech.
Dravig advanced toward the palm tree, and gripped it with his pincers and with his four front legs. Niall looked on with a perplexity that changed to embarrassment; surely Dravig realized that it would take far more than the strength of a single spider to uproot a tree? His embarrassment changed to astonishment as he watched the spider’s legs brace and strain, and heard the tearing sound as the roots began to loosen. This was not merely physical strength; it was will power intensified by rage. The spider staggered for a moment as the earth under his feet heaved upwards; he regained his balance and again braced himself. A moment later, the tree was ripped out of the earth. With a gesture of contempt, Dravig threw it away from him, and it crashed down onto the bushes.
Dravig said nothing, but Niall could sense that the effort had relieved some of his rage and frustration.
Niall stepped forward and looked down into the hole, with its torn roots protruding from loose brown earth. The two main roots had been snapped in two; the strength required must have been tremendous. Yet Dravig showed no sign of effort; he was not even breathing heavily. Niall realized that he had used his immense will-force — the will-force that could knock a human being unconscious — to galvanize his muscles into this unbelievable effort. And, as so often since he had been in contact with the death spiders, Niall caught a glimpse of the great secret forces of the will.
Something caught his eye in the loose earth. He bent down and picked up a gray-colored object that lay between the roots. It was a disc, about four inches in diameter, and its weight surprised him. Niall had heard of lead, although he had never seen it; now he guessed that this was what he was holding.
When he brushed off the earth, he saw that a simple design had been carved into one of the surfaces; this consisted of four curved lines.
Dravig asked: “What is it?” Niall held out the disc, and the spider took it in his claw.
Niall said: “It was in the hole. It must have been there when the tree was planted.”
“Does it mean anything to you?”
“No.”
The spider dropped it; Niall picked it up. “I’ll take it with me. I’d like to find out what it is.”
It was too heavy for the pocket of his mantle, so he placed it beside the doorway.