As it was passed around the table there was a shaking of heads.
Simeon asked: “It belonged to the dead man?”
Niall nodded. “It is of ancient workmanship. No modem jeweler would have the skill to make this chain.”
“Have you any ideas about that symbol on it?”
Simeon said slowly: “In my younger days I was interested in the old science of alchemy. This reminds me of a symbol of a bird of prey.”
“Yes, of course.” Now he looked more closely, Niall could see the resemblance.
Corbin, a fat young man whose head was covered with tight blond curls said: “I hear that Skorbo was the most hated spider in the city.” He spoke with a certain complacency.
Niall said reprovingly: “That may be true. But it doesn’t help us to find out who killed him.”
“I’m certain it wasn’t one of our people.” The speaker was one of the captives from Dira; his countrymen occupied one third of the seats on the Council.
Niall said: “You could be right, Massig. But someone in this city must know something about it. I need the help of every one of you. You must all realize how serious it is.”
Corbin asked: “And what happens if we find them?”
“We must hand them over for punishment.”
Massig asked: “Couldn’t we execute them ourselves? We are a legally constituted authority.”
Niall understood his objection. The spiders would devise the most horrible death that could be imagined.
“That is true. But we must also show that we possess a sense of justice.” He looked around at their faces, and could see that none of them was convinced. “Listen to me. I used to wonder why the spiders hated men so much. I thought it was because they were monsters. Then I found out the real reason: because they were afraid of us. They regarded us as the monsters. They had to enslave us because they believed we threatened their existence. And nothing that has happened since then has made them change their minds. Yet they agreed that there should be peace between the spiders and men. They agreed there should be no more killing. And now it looks as if we have broken our side of the bargain. What if they decide that it is time to break theirs?”
In the silence that followed he could read their thoughts: the fear and confusion and self-interest. They all enjoyed being on this Council, playing at being men of authority. Now they remembered what it was like to be slaves, and the thought chilled them.
Hastur, one of the beetle servants, asked: “Do you think that might happen?”
“Not at the moment.” He could sense their relief. “But it could happen. That is why we must show our good faith.”
Broadus asked: “What can we do, sire?”
“I want you to go back to your own people and find out what you can. Someone must have seen these men. Perhaps someone spoke to them. They cannot have entered the city unnoticed. If you learn anything, report back to me immediately.” He stood up. “And now I think it is time to adjourn this meeting.”
All rose and made ritual obeisance. As they filed out of the room in silence, Niall beckoned to Simeon. When they were alone, he closed the door, then sat down at the table.
“Give me your advice.”
Simeon shook his head. “What can I say? This is a bad business.”
“But who do you think was responsible?”
Simeon frowned. “It’s baffling. We know it can’t be one of your people — they wouldn’t have the courage or the enterprise. My people detest the spiders. But they’ve simply no reason to kill Skorbo. It would be an act of stupidity. That only leaves the men of Dira. Plenty of them have reason to kill spiders. Some of them saw their relatives and friends murdered when the spiders overran the city. Some of them saw their children eaten. As far as I can see, they’re the only ones with a good reason for killing a spider.”
Niall shook his head. “I don’t think they were responsible.”
“Why not?”
“There’s something I didn’t mention. Dravig tore the palm tree out of the ground. And in the roots there was a metal disc — I think it was made of lead — with a symbol on it: the same symbol as on the pendant. It seemed to me that it must have been there at least a year.”
“What makes you think it had been there so long?”
“Because the roots had grown around it.”
Simeon stared at him with astonishment. “You’re saying that the tree was specially planted to kill Skorbo?”
“Can you think of any other explanation?”
“Isn’t it more likely that it was put there later, to bring good luck to their enterprise?”
“It’s possible. But I got the impression that it had been there since the tree was planted. And that must have been at least a year ago — before Dira was captured by the spiders.”
Simeon shook his head; he was obviously perturbed. “If you’re right, then they’ve been planning this for a very long time.”
Niall nodded. “That was my own thought.”
“Then who the devil are they?”
“Have you heard of human beings outside this city — in other parts of the country?”
“No.” Simeon was silent for a long time. “I suppose there are some, of course. I once heard rumors of people to the north — people who are more like animals. But I never believed them.”
“Why not?”
“Because the spiders would have hunted them down.”
Niall had to agree that this sounded reasonable. In the days of slavery, spider balloons had constantly patrolled all areas suspected of concealing human fugitives.
Simeon said: “Could I see this lead disc?”
“It disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“It was too heavy for my pocket, so I left it by the door. When I came back, it had gone.”
“So these men must have been hiding nearby?”
Niall shook his head. “It was more likely one of the slaves. They were working right outside the building.”
“Did you question the overseer?”
“He saw nothing.”
“But why should a slave want a piece of lead?”
“You know slaves. They’ll steal anything.”
“But you didn’t have them searched?”
“It hardly seemed worth the trouble.” Yet now that he thought about it, he could see that Simeon was right.
Simeon persisted. “Look, if someone went to the trouble of stealing a heavy piece of lead, he must have had a reason. Even a slave wouldn’t have much use for a lump of lead. What if Skorbo’s killers were among the slaves?”
Niall shrugged. “It’s possible. But they looked just like an ordinary squad of slaves.”
“Even so, I think we ought to go and check.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Yet he stood up reluctantly, feeling that he was giving way merely to humor Simeon.
Outside, the pale winter sky was cloudless, and the reflected sunlight was painful to the eyes. At least the slaves had trampled a path through the snow, so walking was easier. The slaves were no longer in the square, but the wheel marks of the cart that had been used to transport the dead man were clearly visible.
The mortuary was situated in the same building as the newly founded medical school, three blocks south along the main avenue. As they reached the corner, they could see the slaves shambling in irregular formation beside the cart, not far from their destination. They were hurrying after it when the cart halted; the body — still covered by a trailing sheet — was removed, placed on a plank, and carried into the building. The overseer was about to follow as Niall and Simeon arrived, breathless from their exertion. Niall called him back.
“Dion, I want you to line up all the slaves. Call the others from inside.”
The overseer saluted and shouted an order; a few moments later, the body reemerged from the building. It was on a single broad plank, and the arms and legs hung down on either side. Niall ordered them to replace it on the cart. Then the slaves were ordered to stand in line along the road. Niall counted them, then asked the overseer: “How many should there be?”
“Thirty, sir.”
“Then why are there only twenty-nine?”
The overseer blinked with astonishment, and counted them slowly, pointing at each one as he did so. He said: “Yes, you’re right.” He turned to face the squad. “Attention!” The slaves clicked their heels, and made a half-hearted attempt to look like soldiers. Dion said: “Do any of you know what happened to the other fellow?”
“I do.” The speaker was a hollow-chested man with a harelip who was standing next to the cart. When he showed no sign of offering further information, Dion shouted impatiently: “Well, where is he, you fool?”
The man raised his hand and silently pointed into the building. The overseer cursed.