“Where are all the people?”
The man said laconically: “Working.”
Niall tuned in to the charioteer’s mind, and observed with surprise that he felt no resentment towards the woman who had kicked him. He felt that it was his own fault, and that he deserved his punishment. Niall found such an attitude incomprehensible.
In front of a green building with columns like the ruined temple the charioteer lowered the shafts to the ground and helped them out.
“This way.”
He led them up a flight of badly worn steps to a pair of elaborately decorated bronze doors, one of which he pushed open. Inside, they found themselves in a large hall with a grey marble floor; around the wall at intervals were marble benches. Huge windows filled the place with sunlight.
A woman was walking up the wide staircase. The charioteer cleared his throat and said: “Pardon me. . .”
The woman turned round and said: “Good God, Siris! What on earth are you doing here?”
Siris recognised the voice; it took her a moment longer to associate it with the face. Then she cried: “Ingeld!” and ran to embrace her. For a few moments, both women laughed aloud, and Ingeld swung Siris clear of the ground. Then she noticed the charioteer, who was kneeling on one knee.
“Where are you taking them?” she asked.
“To the supervisor, m’lady.”
“That’s all right. I’ll take them. You wait down here.” She turned to Niall and Veig. “So they captured you too. I thought they would.”
Siris asked: “Are you a prisoner?”
Ingeld smiled and raised her eyebrows.
“Not exactly. . .”
Veig was looking at her stomach. “I thought you were pregnant?”
Ingeld said casually: “Fortunately, it was a false alarm.”
Niall and Veig exchanged glances. Niall knew what his brother was thinking: that Ingeld had invented her pregnancy to persuade Ulf to escort her back to Dira.
“Come and see Kazak.” Ingeld slipped her arm round Siris’s waist.
“Kazak?” Siris knew the name well.
“Yes, he’s the supervisor.”
She beckoned to them, and led them up the stairs.
Ingeld had changed a great deal since they last saw her. To begin with, her black hair was now beautifully arranged, piled on top of her head, and held in place with a gold circlet. She had also gained weight, so that her figure was now statuesque. She was wearing a gleaming white tunic that showed off her shapely bronzed legs, and white sandals. Her full lips seemed redder than when Niall had last seen her. She was undoubtedly looking prosperous and healthy. By the side of her, Siris looked thin and rather drab.
The next floor was something of a disappointment for a palace. There was simply a wide corridor, with identical wooden doors all the way along. Outside a door at the far end stood two guards whom Niall recognised from the underground city. Instead of giving Niall a friendly smile — as he had expected — they stared woodenly in front of them and straightened their backs as Ingeld went past.
It was the most magnificent room Niall had ever seen. The floor was covered with a royal green carpet, and the walls hung with heavy green curtains. The ceiling was gold, and two immense chandeliers suspended from it sparkled with crystal. There was no furniture, but the floor was covered with cushions. At the far end Kazak was reclining on a pile of these while two women agitated the air around him with fans made of ostrich feathers. A shade of annoyance crossed his face as he saw the strangers who followed Ingeld, then changed to astonishment as he saw Niall. He started to stand, and the two women hastened to help him.
“My dear boy! This is amazing. Why did no one tell me you were here?” Niall blushed at this effusive welcome. “And can this be Siris? Yes, of course it is! You look just like your sister. Welcome, my dear. Well, well. And you are. . . ?”
“Veig.”
“Yes, Veig, of course. And where is. . .” for a moment he tried to recollect the name — “where is Ulf?”
Siris said: “He was killed by the spiders.”
Kazak shook his head, and his double chin also shook. “How dreadful! I’m so sorry. Please come and sit down.” He turned to one of the women. “Bring us something to drink. Yes, that’s right, my dear, sit there.” Niall observed the gleam of interest in his eye as he looked at Siris. “Sit down, Niall. And you. . .” He had obviously already forgotten Veig’s name. “Yes, I’m so sorry to hear about Ulf. But of course, he killed a spider, didn’t he? That’s why we’re all here.”
Niall was on the point of telling him the truth, then changed his mind. The less people who knew, the better.
Siris asked: “Where is Sefna?”
“She’s in the women’s quarters. You’ll be able to join her later.”
“And my children, Runa and Mara — shall I be able to see them?”
“Oh yes, I’m sure that can be arranged.”
The girl came back bringing a tray with tall metal cups. The golden drink was sweet and cool, and had a lemony flavour. Kazak’s was in a silver cup decorated with precious stones. He said, “Thank you, my dear,” and patted the girl’s thigh. Then he smiled at Siris. “I drink your health, my dear.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Niall glimpsed the shade of vexation that crossed Ingeld’s face.
Kazak asked: “Who sent you here?”
“A woman dressed in shiny black.”
Kazak raised his eyebrows. “One of the servants of the Death Lord. How did you come to meet her?”
“She took us to see him.”
Kazak was obviously perplexed. “And you’ve seen the Great Lord himself? But why?”
Niall let Veig and Siris describe what happened. Kazak listened intently, and his eyes took on a curious, brooding expression. When they had finished, he looked at Niall.
“Do you understand what this is all about?”
Niall said awkwardly: “I suppose it’s something to do with the killing of the spider.”
Kazak asked quickly: “Did he ask you about it?”
“No.”
“Then it couldn’t be.” He gave Niall a penetrating glance from under his hooded lids, and Niall was aware of the force of his personality. “Are you sure you’ve no idea? You can be quite frank with me. You’re among friends.”
Any impulse Niall had to tell the truth was countered by the same deep impulse that had checked him in the presence of the Spider Lord. He shook his head firmly: “I’ve no idea.”
“Mmmm.” Kazak drank meditatively. “Very odd.” And for the next ten minutes he questioned them carefully, getting them to describe everything that had happened since they were captured. Niall contented himself with a precise, factual account, but he was aware that Kazak was unsatisfied. The king’s intuition told him that the solution of this riddle lay in Niall himself; he could not make up his mind whether Niall was withholding something or not. Again and again, Niall felt the king’s penetrating glance trying to pierce through to his secret.
Ingeld was becoming bored and restive. When Kazak paused to sip his drink, she asked: “Shall I take Siris to see the women’s quarters?”
Kazak shrugged. “Yes, I suppose so. And you’d better take her to see her children.” He smiled at Siris. “It’s against the rules, but since it’s you. . .”
“But shan’t I be allowed to stay with them?” Siris asked.
He shook his head. “Quite impossible, my dear. Ingeld will explain why. But don’t fret. I’m sure we can arrange something.” He touched her lightly under the chin. “I’ll talk to you about it later.”
He stood up and escorted them across the room, one hand on Siris’s shoulder. At the door he turned to Niall and Veig. “You two will have to work, of course. That’s the rule here. Everyone has to work. Even I have to. But you needn’t start until tomorrow.” He patted them on the shoulder, then turned his back, dismissing them.
In the corridor, Veig asked Ingeld: “What work does he do?”
“Work? He’s the king!”
“And they still let him be king, even here?”
“Oh yes. In fact, he’s in charge of all the people here.” She was evidently glad to explain it to them. “As soon as the Spider Lord saw him, he realised that Kazak was exactly what he needed. You see, the people here are so stupid. They need someone to keep them organised.”
Niall said: “I thought the commanders did that.”
“Yes, but that’s the whole point. All the commanders are equal, so they can’t appoint one above the others.”
“Couldn’t they appoint a spider?”
“Oh no, that wouldn’t do. To begin with, they don’t really understand human beings. And of course, they can’t talk.” She glanced over her shoulder. “By the way, we’re not supposed to call them spiders — they don’t like it. We’re supposed to refer to them as Masters.”