A few minutes later, the downpour had ceased. But the sudden change in the weather had made Niall reflective. It had made him recall the snow that had fallen only three days ago, and how quickly it had vanished. “All magicians believe they can control the weather. . .” Now his own words were like an echo whose meaning eluded him. Could there be any significance in the fact that Skorbo’s death had been accompanied by a fall of snow?
His train of thought was disturbed by the opening of the door. It was Dona, dressed in a cloak with a waterproof hood. Her gaze was so abstracted that for a moment she failed to recognize Niall. When she did, her face brightened. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you all night.”
“I’m sorry. . .”As he looked into her eyes, he experienced a sudden sense of foreboding. “Is anything wrong?”
“It’s Veig. . .”
His heart turned to lead. “Is he. . .”
“He has been unconscious since last night.”
As Niall started to follow her inside, he remembered Grel. “Please come inside and wait. I have to go to my brother.”
He followed her along a corridor and across the courtyard, to the older part of the building; Veig occupied two large rooms on the ground floor.
At first sight, Veig seemed to be dead. He was lying on his back, and the black-bearded face looked pale and thin. His mother was sitting on the side of the bed, with her hand on Veig’s forehead; she looked exhausted. Simeon was seated on a chair on the far side of the bed.
Niall went to the bedside, and touched his brother’s cheek. He was relieved to find that it was warm. But when he probed Veig’s mind, he realized that he was close to death. The fever had disappeared, but so had the determination to live. All conflicts had disappeared; in their place there was a flat calm that was like an endless plane of grayness.
Siris said: “He was asking for you.”
“I’m sorry.” Her face was as bloodless as Veig’s. He felt an overwhelming rush of affection, a desire to take her in his arms and comfort her. “Why don’t you go and rest? I’ll sit with Veig.”
“No, I’d rather stay.” He knew she meant that she would never forgive herself if Veig died in her absence.
Once again Niall probed his brother’s mind. It was like trying to plunge into a sea of nothingness. This grayness was somehow cold and repellant, resisting all efforts to see beyond it. Even to contemplate it had a numbing effect on his senses. What puzzled Niall was that a sleeping mind should be a mysterious whirlpool of forces, not a closed door. And even as he was about to abandon the effort, he seemed to sense Veig’s presence behind the closed door. Then the grayness returned, as uniform as a blanket of snow.
Simeon stood up. “I’ll come back later.” Siris nodded without even raising her head.
Niall followed Simeon from the room. “Have you any idea of what’s wrong?”
“Only that it’s not a poison. It’s some kind of bacterium.”
“How do you know?”
“It was visible on the microscope slide — it looks like hundreds of black rods.”
“And it came from the blade of the ax?”
“Of course. You saw me take a scraping. But there’s something very odd about these black rods. Most bacteria can’t survive apart from a living body. But when I dissolved the scrapings in salt solution, it was immediately swarming with bacteria, like a pond full of tadpoles.” He pulled a face. “And now Veig’s bloodstream is full of tadpoles.”
“And do you think they came from Skorbo’s blood?”
“It’s possible. I just don’t know.”
They emerged into the hallway; it was empty except for Grel, who was standing in the center of the marble floor with the total immobility that was so characteristic of spiders.
Niall said: “I am sorry to keep you waiting. My brother is ill.”
Grel said drily: “That does not surprise me.”
Niall looked at him in astonishment. “Why do you say that?”
“Because this place is full of evil.”
“Evil!”
“Can you not feel it?”
Niall allowed his mind to blend with that of the young spider. The first thing he noticed was Grel’s state of nervous tension, as if he was watching the approach of an enemy. Then, with startling suddenness, he himself was aware of the cause of the tension. It was so obvious that he was surprised that he had failed to notice it earlier. It was the now-familiar sensation that he was in the presence of some dangerous entity. He had experienced this same sense of danger in the presence of the force field of the pendants. Yet this vibration was subtly different: at once more powerful and less obtrusive.
Niall turned to Simeon. “Do you know if any strangers have been admitted while I have been away?”
“Not as far as I know. I’ve been here most of the night.”
As soon as Niall’s mind lost contact with that of the spider, the sense of danger receded. Yet because he had been alerted to its presence, he remained aware of it as a disturbing vibration, like something glimpsed out of the corner of the eye.
He asked Grel: “Is there someone here — some enemy?” He spoke aloud, so that Simeon could understand.
“There is some evil presence. We should summon my father, and have this building surrounded by guards.”
Simeon asked: “What did he say?”
“He said we should summon the soldiers.”
Simeon looked around at the silent hall; the only sound was the clatter of cooking utensils from the kitchen.
“I think he’s imagining things. No one could get past the guard.”
“No, he’s speaking the truth. I can sense it too.” He asked Grel: “Where do you think this enemy is hiding?”
Grel extended his pedipalps like feelers. “He is upstairs somewhere.”
Niall experienced a cold sensation. He knew that his sisters would now be eating breakfast in the nursery, and that since Dona was in Veig’s room, they would probably be alone. As Niall started up the stairs, Simeon said: “Let me call the guard.”
Niall shook his head. “If it’s a man, that shouldn’t be necessary.” Even a spider as young as Grel could paralyze a man into immobility.
He paused on the first landing, and tried to soothe his senses into total immobility; but there was too much adrenaline in his bloodstream, and it was impossible. Instead, he stood and waited for Grel to join him. With his pedipalps still extended the spider turned right, and continued on up the second flight of stairs. As he did so, Niall experienced a sudden flash of intuitive certainty: where else would an enemy wait for him but in his own room? And when Grel paused in front of the door of Niall’s chamber, and stayed there in a state of uncertainty — the spider claw was not designed to handle doorknobs — Niall tiptoed past him and stood with his ear pressed against the cold wood. There was not the slightest sound from inside. Very slowly and deliberately, he turned the knob and pushed open the door.
His chamber looked so normal that for a moment he was inclined to wonder if they were making some absurd mistake. But the tension in Grel’s attitude — he looked like a snake poised to strike — made it clear that he could still sense danger. Since this room was empty, then it must lie either in the bedroom or in Jarita’s scullery. The bedroom door was standing slightly ajar; Niall gave it a violent push so that it flew open. A glance inside told him that there was no one there — from this position he could even see under the bed.
As he hesitated, debating whether to investigate the scullery, or to summon the guard, Grel advanced past him and into the bedroom. He crossed the floor in a single stride, and, to Niall’s surprise, halted in front of the table at the side of the bed. This contained only an oil lamp, a glass of water, and a neatly folded tunic that had been placed there by Jarita. Yet it was at this tunic that Grel seemed to be directing his attention.
Niall went and stood beside him. “What is it?” He reached out cautiously, and twitched aside the tunic; all that it covered was the green figurine that he had found in the hideout of the assassins.
In his relief, he allowed his mind to relax; as soon as he did so, he realized that Grel was not mistaken. This squat figure, with its froglike face and bulging eyes, was the source of the force field that was filling the room with its curious vibration of menace. Moreover, as Niall removed the cloth, the entity seemed to become aware of their presence. In that moment, Niall was gripped by an acute sense of danger. His reaction was instinctive and instantaneous; he struck out and knocked the figurine onto the floor. As his hand touched it, he was convulsed by a feeling of nausea that was like an unutterably foul stench; it was so powerful that it seemed to distort his senses. As he looked round the room for some weapon, his eyes fell on the ax that was standing in the corner beside the wardrobe. It had been there since Simeon had taken scrapings from its blade, and its head was wrapped in a piece of sacking. Fighting off a desire to vomit, Niall tore off the sacking and raised the ax above his head; positioning himself carefully, he brought down the back of the blade with all his strength. It struck the figurine squarely, and the force of the blow almost split the floorboards beneath it. A moment later, he was engulfed by a wave of malevolence that burst over him like a flood of slimy water, the sheer rage of a being who could not believe that someone had dared to attack him.