The young spider gripped the bird in his tarsal claws — he was able to balance comfortably on the other six legs — and tore out feathers with his jaws, scattering them by blowing them out of his mouth. The breeze carried them away down the street. Then he bit into the breast with the relish of a schoolboy sinking his teeth into an apple.
Niall asked: “How far do we have to go?”
“Not very far.” Since the spider was communicating telepathically, he could speak with his mouth full. Looking up the wide, empty avenue, Niall experienced a twinge of dismay, recognizing suddenly that a spider’s idea of a short distance was based upon the length of its stride, which was more than twice that of a human being.
At least Grel was now walking more slowly. And as he strolled beside him, Niall allowed himself to relax and to examine his companion more closely. As he ate the bird, Grel had left his mind open, as if to apologize for not giving Niall his full attention. The result was interesting. Niall’s response to the crunching jaws — and to the drops of blood that fell on to the pavement — was a certain repulsion. Yet he was also able to enter the young spider’s mind, and share his pleasure in the tender flesh. For a spider, eating a bird which had only just been killed was an intensely interesting activity which demanded his full attention. To begin with, the flesh was still permeated with the flavor of life, which Niall perceived as a warm glow. Then there was the fascination of the bird’s craw, which contained two small rodents — baby rats — and a large insect like a dragon fly. These were an additional bonus, a delightful fringe benefit. For the spider, the bird tasted like a succulent fruit, in the depths of which someone had concealed delicious sweetmeats. Niall actually began to find himself feeling hungry.
It was curiously pleasant to allow himself to relax into the spider’s vital rhythms. He was brimming with a kind of cheerful well-being which is totally unlike the normal state of human consciousness. By comparison with spiders, Niall realized, human beings are hopelessly self-divided, even the simplest. Their minds have been trained to scan reality, looking for meaning, like a bird of prey looking down at a broad landscape, watching for any sign of movement that might betray a small animal. This, in turn, means that a part of human awareness is permanently passive, waiting for something to happen. Grel’s consciousness was completely and magically different. He had no need of “thought.” Consequently, he lived in a totally real universe in which everything was fascinating in its own right.
And this, Niall now realized, explained why the spiders had developed their tremendous will power. When they wanted something, they wanted it with their whole being. If it was bad for them, their instincts told them so. “Thinking” was unnecessary. So they used the secret powers of the mind — powers of which human beings are scarcely aware — as naturally as an athlete uses his strength and agility.
What excited Niall was that he now shared the secret. He realized, for example, that when they had set out on this walk he had been very tired. Now, although his legs were still aching, he was aware that he was not genuinely tired. It was an illusion caused by the fact that he thought he was tired. As he shared the mind-world of the young spider, he began to feel a glow of interest and purpose that made him aware that he was the one who decided whether he was tired or not. Even as this thought took shape in his mind, the ache in his legs disappeared, and was replaced by a tingling sense of energy.
Grel dropped the bird into the gutter. Niall was surprised; it still contained a great deal of tender meat. Then he realized that they were approaching the tower on the hilltop.
“Is your father here?”
“Yes. This is the headquarters of the aerial survey.”
The tower was built of black stone, and was therefore known among humans as the Black Tower; it had a sinister reputation among city dwellers as a prison, and even a torture chamber. Built as part of the wall, it was obviously intended as a vantage point to survey the whole city. Beyond the hilltop the wall — and the avenue — turned westward around the old part of the city. To the south, the flat winter landscape was touched by the rays of the setting sun; the sea, which lay on the horizon, was already in shadow. On the far side of the thirty-mile strip of ocean lay the deserts of North Khaybad, the land where Niall was born, and where his father’s ashes were now scattered on the wind.
Grel manipulated an iron ring and pushed open the massive door. They were met by the smell of cold and dust that seemed so typical of spider dwellings. There was also a trace of another smell, which released in Niall a curious flash of nostalgia. It was, in fact, a rather unpleasant smell, a combination of rotting vegetation and decaying meat. This was the smell of the porifids, the primitive organism that provided the gas used to inflate the spider balloons. It brought back to Niall the journey to the Delta that had culminated in his encounter with the empress plant, the extraterrestrial creature that the spiders worshiped as the goddess Nuada.
They were in a circular chamber, whose low ceiling was supported by stone columns. A narrow flight of steps ran up to the next floor; as the door slammed, a man in the uniform of a worker came to the head of the stairs and peered at them through the gloom. Light streamed through the open door behind him.
“Who’s there?”
Niall said: “We have come to see the Lord Asmak.”
The man — obviously an overseer — said: “No one is allowed in this place without the permission of the Spider Lord.”
He looked so combative that for a moment Niall felt disconcerted. Then Grel stepped out of the shadows. “Please tell my father we are here.”
The overseer started with astonishment; then he shrugged and went back into the room, closing the door firmly behind him, and leaving them in almost total darkness. Niall, irritated by this display of bad manners, and by the implication that they had to wait there like unwelcome guests, mounted the stairs — Grel walked behind him as a matter of protocol — and groped for the latch of the door. The chamber beyond proved to be large and well lighted, with pressure lamps suspended from hooks on the wall. Most of the room was occupied by a huge circular work-table, which must have been fifteen feet in diameter, and whose top was occupied by a deflated spider balloon, whose blue-white silk glowed softly in the lamplight. The men who stood around the table were occupied in sewing together the edges of the balloon. On the far side of the room there was a large glass tank whose sides were as high as a man; in the depths of its slimy green water lay the porifids — short for porifera mephitis — whose smell permeated the room. It was, in fact, too faint to be unpleasant; porifids only produced their asphyxiating stench when plunged in total darkness — as in the interior of a spider balloon.
The men went on working with averted eyes, concentrating on their sewing. But as Grel closed the door, the nearest one shot them a sideways glance. His eyes widened, and he dropped the scissors he was holding. Niall realized with embarrassment that he had been recognized. He shook his head, and started to turn away, but he was too late to prevent the man from falling onto his knees. He said in a low voice: “Please, go on with your work.”
But this led the others to look up, and as soon as they recognized Niall, they also fell onto their knees. This was not — as with the spiders — a matter of reverence for the living representative of the great goddess, but merely the fact that these men had been trained to absolute obedience to the will of their superiors. In the days before freedom, the slightest failure to show proper respect could lead to brutal punishment. A habit formed over many generations could not be uprooted in a few months.
Niall grimaced with embarrassment. “Please, get up.”
At that moment, the door on the far side of the room opened, and the overseer returned. He stared at the kneeling men with incredulity — as if suspecting some kind of joke — and his face reddened with anger. Then he also recognized the emissary of the goddess, and fell onto his knees.
Niall cleared his throat. “Is the Lord Asmak ready to see me?”