It had not taken Niall long to realize that men need to be taught to exercise their freedom. Too much freedom bewildered them and made them lazy. So the men of the spider city continued to go to work daily under the supervision of the female commanders. But these commanders were now — theoretically at least — under the orders of the Council of Free Men. In fact, they continued to work closely with their old masters; they regarded the spiders with a loyalty that had been instilled into them since childhood. As far as they were concerned, Niall was merely an overseer who had been appointed by the spiders. They had no desire for “freedom.”
Yet humans differed from spiders in one basic respect: their craving for novelty. Niall had soon recognized that this could be used to increase their capacity for freedom. The beetle servants were now manufacturing all kinds of novelties: pressure lamps, clocks, kitchen appliances, mechanical toys, electric torches, children’s picture books, even bicycles. When the first examples of these things were seen in the spider city, they created a sensation. Mechanical toys were in such demand that grown men would barter their food and clothing for them. But the men of the spider city possessed few goods that could be used for barter — one man had been known to offer a hundred hours of manual labor in exchange for a pressure lamp. Recognizing their frustration, Niall decided to offer them the most startling novelty so far: money. In exchange for their daily work, men were paid in brass coins, cast in the newly built mint. They could use these coins to purchase food, clothing, and “novelties.”
The results surpassed all Niall’s expectations. Within weeks, all the men were working longer hours to accumulate more money to buy the novelties. After dark, the windows of the city glowed with the lights of pressure lamps. Manufacturers of clothing and footwear began to produce “luxury” goods that could command higher prices. Bakers began to create cakes and tarts and sweetmeats, and the coarse gray bread that had been the staple diet of human beings for as long as they could remember gave way to a fine white bread that was baked daily. The use of dyes spread from the city of the bombardier beetles; soon all the women of the spider city were wearing brightly colored garments and necklaces of glass beads. As men and women were once again allowed to live together — the spiders had kept them segregated — they ceased to live communally in basements, and began taking over empty buildings. Nearly all the windows in the spider city had been broken; now the beetle servants taught the art of glass manufacture, and men and women spent their free time repairing and decorating their new homes. After nightfall, the spider city had once been dark and silent; now its streets were more crowded in the evening than during the day. And the men and women who walked the streets had a new sense of confidence and responsibility; Niall could see it in their eyes, and it filled him with satisfaction. He had no illusions; he knew that most of them were little better than innocent and greedy children. Nevertheless, it was a beginning. In a few generations — perhaps after Niall’s death — they would be capable of shaping their own destiny.
This is why Niall was so excited at the thought of the Council meeting. Every meeting was a landmark. Four of the twenty members were from the city of the bombardier beetles, and during the early meetings, they had dominated the proceedings with their suggestions and advice; now it would take a very perceptive observer to guess which of the members were beetle servants. At the last meeting, one man had suggested that the darker streets should be lighted by large pressure lamps, which should be paid for jointly by all the inhabitants of the street; only Niall realized that the streets of ancient cities had been illuminated by municipal lighting. Another man, a cook who had once prepared a nightly meal for a hundred men, and who now lived with his wife and child, had asked permission to convert an empty room into a dining hall, where men and women could come and buy the meals that he and his wife would cook; only Niall knew that restaurants were almost as old as civilization. And the charioteers, who had once worked exclusively for the commanders, and spent most of their days waiting for their masters, were now suggesting banding together to create a public transport system. It was exciting to realize that all these people — Niall thought of them as his people — were embarking on an adventure of self-development, and that one day their story would occupy an important place in the history books.
And now, just as men were beginning to understand the meaning of freedom, this murder threatened to undermine everything they had accomplished. Niall was aware that many of the spiders resented this new situation; they regarded human beings as slaves whose lives were as unimportant as those of the lowest kind of insect. Now they had been told that these human vermin were under the special protection of Nuada, the Goddess of the Delta, and that the Spider Lord had ordered that they were to be treated as equals under the Law. That was, of course, preposterous. Nothing could make a spider regard a human being as his equal. But because they were accustomed to obedience, they observed the letter of the Law, and ceased to treat human beings as slaves. They continued to regard them with contempt, but they no longer showed it openly. And because human beings continued to regard the spiders with fear and respect, there was no open friction.
But if these human lice could murder a spider, then the whole situation had become outrageous. It would surely deserve the utmost severity — as in the old days, when rebels had been tortured and executed in batches of a hundred at a time.
Dravig had said that the Spider Lord would stick to the agreement; human life would continue to be respected. But since spiders were telepathic, they were far more aware of one another’s feelings than human beings were. If the feeling became too strong, even the despotic old Spider Lord might feel obliged to change her policy. . .
Niall was aroused from these disquieting reflections by the sight of two charioteers who were laboring breathlessly through the deep snow; behind them in the cart sat a big, fleshy man, who was shaking his head with visible impatience. Niall recognized him as an overseer named Broadus, a prominent member of the Council of Free Men. When he saw Niall, the expression of irritation dissolved into an ingratiating smile. He made a bow from a sitting position.
“Good morning, highness. I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Good morning, Broadus.” (Broadus’s smile changed into something like a smirk; he loved hearing his name spoken aloud.) “I’m afraid we’re all late. Would you tell the Council I’ll be with them in a few minutes?”
“Certainly, highness.” He shot a wrathful glance at the charioteers as he clambered out into the snow.
As Niall started to mount the stairs, Nephtys came hurrying down to meet him. She said in a whisper: “The Princess Merlew is waiting to see you.”
“Oh no! I’ve got a Council meeting.”
“I’ve told her that.”
“All right. Thank you, Nephtys.”
As he approached his chamber, the door opened and Merlew came out; she must have been waiting behind it.
“Good morning, Niall.”
“Good morning, princess.” He deliberately used the formal title.
She was looking dazzlingly beautiful in a short dress of red spider silk which clung to the curves of her body; her red-gold hair was combed straight down her back.
“You must be cold.” She took his hands in both of hers. “Oh yes, you’re frozen! So is your face.” She had placed her hands on his cheeks; they felt pleasantly warm. He felt his impatience melting away; he had never been able to maintain an attitude of coolness toward Merlew.
“I’ve got a Council meeting. . .”
“I know. You can keep them waiting. That’s your prerogative.”
“Punctuality is the politeness of kings.”
She laughed. “That’s clever! I must remember that.”
He was tempted to tell her that he had found it in an old book, but she interrupted him.
“I’ve got a present for you.”
He grunted noncommittally; he was pulling off his boots, and the thick woolen socks.
“It’s a new servant girl. Her name is Savitri. I’ve trained her myself.”
He was buckling his sandal, and was glad his face was averted. “Thank you, but I can’t accept her.”
“Why not?”
“This house is run by women — it might cause problems.”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t. I’ll speak to your mother.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. Why don’t you give her to my brother?”