The middle-aged woman grabbed Simeon’s arm. “Look! He’s waking up.”
Her husband was shaking his head and staring around him in a bewildered manner. “How long have I been asleep?”
It was obvious that he had no idea of what had happened to him.
The matron appeared in the doorway. “Is it all right to let some more of them in?”
Simeon snapped impatiently: “No it isn’t. Keep them out for at least half an hour.” He was taking the man’s pulse. “Do you feel strong enough to walk?”
“Of course.” He jumped off the table.
“Good. Take him home, madam.”
The woman seized her husband by the arm, and hurried him out without pausing to say thank you.
The child was now in her mother’s arms. Niall asked the woman: “When did she disappear?”
“Exactly six weeks and two days ago.”
Niall asked the child: “And you were awake all that time?” She nodded. “And you weren’t afraid?” She shook her head firmly.
Simeon muttered: “Incredible!”
The child said: “But I didn’t like the nasty man.”
“What nasty man?”
“The man with the funny lips.”
Niall and Simeon exchanged glances; the phrase evoked Skorbo’s assassins, with their strangely sensual lips. Niall took the child’s hand, gazed into her eyes and probed her mind. What he saw there startled him. He asked her: “You saw this man with the spiders?” She nodded. “And they didn’t attack him?”
“No. They were friends.”
Niall could see that further questioning would be pointless; she had told him all she knew, and her mind was succumbing to exhaustion; when he tried to probe further, it was as if he was trying to see through a drifting fog. “You’d better take her home. Do you live nearby?”
“Across the street.”
Simeon said: “Make sure she gets a good sleep. Bring her in to see me tomorrow.”
When the mother had gone Simeon asked: “Did that child mean what I thought she meant?”
Niall nodded. “I’m afraid she did.”
Phelim was looking baffled: “What did she mean?”
Simeon said: “The man with the funny lips was one of the killers.”
“But she said they were friends.” He looked from Niall to Simeon. “Perhaps she was dreaming? Or suffering from delirium?”
Niall shook his head. “I’m certain she wasn’t.”
“But that’s absurd. Why should Skorbo be friendly with one of his killers?”
Niall said: “It could mean one of two things. Either that this man betrayed his comrades to Skorbo. . .”
Simeon finished the sentence: “Or Skorbo was in league with the magician.”
“Oh, surely not — that doesn’t make sense. If Skorbo was in league with them why did he drag two of them off to his larder? And why did they kill him?”
Niall shook his head. “Perhaps they betrayed him. Perhaps he betrayed them. I don’t know. But I’m certain she wasn’t dreaming.”
There was a silence, while each of them was lost in his own thoughts. Finally Simeon shrugged.
“I agree. It doesn’t make sense. But we have work to do.” He asked Phelim: “How much serum is there left?”
Phelim held up the bottle against the light. “About an inch.”
“Then we might have enough.”
For the next ten minutes he moved deliberately among the prostrate bodies, injecting each with a carefully measured quantity of the serum. A few woke up almost immediately; others took several minutes before they showed signs of returning consciousness. Some of these began to moan, as if in the grip of a nightmare. But most gave the characteristic shake of the head, and gazed around them in perplexity.
Simeon grunted with satisfaction. “Amazing stuff.”
Phelim asked: “Why does it work so quickly?”
“I imagine it’s because the spiders inject a precise amount of poison to paralyze the nervous system but not to kill. As soon as the balance is altered, the victim begins to recover.”
The last to be injected was the girl who had reacted so badly to the snake serum. Niall watched her with anxiety, and was relieved when her eyelids opened almost immediately. As her eyes met Niall’s, her face broke into a warm and gentle smile, which was succeeded a moment later by a look of alarm and embarrassment. What had happened, he realized, was that she had recognized him from the depth of her dream consciousness as someone with whom she had experienced some form of intimacy; a moment later, she recognized him, and was plunged into confusion.
He took her hand and helped her into a sitting position. “What is your name?”
“Amaryllis.”
“Did you see the spider that attacked you?”
She shook her head. “I remember nothing.”
“Where were you when you were attacked?”
“In the slave quarter.”
Niall and Simeon exchanged glances.
“Please tell me all you can remember.” When she still hesitated, he asked: “What were you doing in the slave quarter?”
“I had been to see my old nurse.” In the days of slavery, all children had been reared in nurseries, with female slaves as wet nurses. The result was that children often regarded the nurse as their true mother.
“Then what happened?”
“It was a full moon, and we walked down to the new lake while Dinah’s sister was cooking supper. Then we started to walk back. . .”
“Can you remember which way you walked?”
“Along the river bank. But we turned into a side street.”
“Which one?”
“I cannot recall. We were talking. . .”
“And what happened?”
“Dinah screamed, and something knocked me down. . .” “Did you see or feel anything?”
“It all happened so quickly.” She began to cry. “What happened to Dinah?”
Simeon patted her hand. “We’ll try to find her, don’t worry.”
While they had been speaking, the room had gradually emptied as patients were led away to be reunited with relatives. Some were so weak that they had to be supported by nurses; many seemed dazed and distressed. Now, at a signal from Simeon, Amaryllis was also led away by the matron. Niall watched her go with regret. Because he had infused some of his vitality into her, he felt that she was taking a part of his identity with her. It was a sad, yet at the same time an oddly pleasant sensation.
Simeon said: “It’s strange that she was in the slave quarter. Do you think. . . ?”
“I’m afraid so. The hideout was within fifty yards of the new lake. She may have been attacked in the same street.”
Simeon ran his fingers through his stubbly gray hair. “This is insane. Why should Skorbo be in league with them? What would be the advantage to either side?”
Niall shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Phelim said: “What I can’t understand is how Skorbo could keep such a secret. Surely the other spiders would be able to read his mind?”
Niall saw he was suffering from a familiar misconception about telepathy. “Not necessarily. It’s not difficult to hide your thoughts, particularly if no one has any reason to suspect you. Skorbo was the captain of the guard, so none of his subordinates would dare to probe his mind. And his superiors — the Spider Lord and his council — wouldn’t want to read his mind.”
“Why not?”
It was not easy to explain. “Skorbo was a commoner, an ordinary soldier of no particular distinction. They simply wouldn’t be interested in what went on in his mind. They’d find it slightly distasteful.”
Simeon had noticed the box wrapped in the slave tunic; Niall had left it on a chair.
“What’s this?”
“I found it in the hideout. It’s a sort of seaweed. You remember the brown fragments on that girl’s body. . .”
He broke off, and he and Simeon stared at one another with sudden dismay; the same thought had struck them both at the same time. Simeon smote his forehead. “We’ve used up all the serum!”
“Are you sure? There was some in the bottle. . .”
But the bottle and the hypodermic syringe both proved to be empty. Simeon groaned: “What an idiot I am!”
Niall turned the bottle upside down; there was not even a drop left.
Phelim said: “Couldn’t we make more?”
Simeon sighed. “It looks as if we’ll have to.”
Niall asked: “How is it made?”
“Oh, that’s straightforward enough. First of all you have to get hold of some spider venom. Then you dilute it and inject someone with tiny quantities until they’ve formed a resistance. When that happens, the blood serum becomes an antidote to spider venom.”
Phelim asked: “Don’t we have any in the dispensary?”
“No, for a simple reason. It’s never been possible to get hold of spider venom. They obviously don’t want anyone to develop an antidote.”
Niall said: “I’m sure Dravig could arrange it. How long does it take to make serum?”
“Two weeks. Perhaps three.”
Phelim said: “Does it really matter how long the girl remains unconscious?”
It was Simeon who answered. “While she is unconscious she cannot be questioned. And she is now our only link with the magician.” He shook his head. “How the devil did we both manage to forget the girl?”