That could mean only one thing: it was not a human being who had retreated along the corridor. In that silence, any human being, no matter how light, would have been audible. But a spider, with its wide leg span, could tread on the solid boards on either side of the corridor. The creak of the door indicated that it had been in the next room.
Now, suddenly, he understood that feeling of being observed. It was not of eyes watching him through some crack in the door, but of a mind tuning in to his own. Because of his fatigue and despair, he had made no attempt to shield his thoughts. He cast his mind back, trying to recall every mood and thought since he had heard the guard’s retreating footsteps. Then, with a kind of mental shrug, decided it was pointless. It was too late to do anything about it.
Once again, time seemed to hang suspended. It must now be mid-evening; soon it would be dark. He was hungry and thirsty, but these sensations hardly seemed important.
A creak in the corridor galvanised him into alertness. Soft footsteps were approaching, the steps of someone with bare feet. They stopped outside his door, and the bolt began to move. Whoever was trying to pull it back was having difficulty. Then the door opened a few inches. A woman’s voice called his name.
“Merlew!”
“Sshh!” She tiptoed into the room and closed the door behind her. “Where are you?”
“Here, in the corner.” He was so glad to see her that he wanted to hug her, but was afraid of her reaction.
Merlew was peering around with distaste. “What a horrible place. Isn’t there anything to sit on?”
“Some cushions.”
“Oh well, they’ll have to do.” Her voice was restoring him to a sense of normality; there was something very down-to-earth about Merlew. She tossed a cushion against the wall and delicately lowered herself onto it.
Niall sat beside her. “Why have you come here?”
“To see what’s happening to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I was worried, of course!”
His heart suddenly became so light that the miseries of the past hours seemed unimportant.
“Why have they locked us up like this?”
“Sshh! Not so loud.” She placed her hand on his lips; it was soft, and had a scented smell. Niall resisted the temptation to kiss it. “I can’t stay long.”
“Does your father know you’re here?”
“No, and you must promise not to tell him.” She was whispering close to his ear. The feeling of her warm breath, and of her body pressed gently against his, intoxicated him.
“Of course I wouldn’t. But why has he locked us up like this?”
“It’s not his fault. He has to do what they tell him. This place has been swarming with spiders all afternoon.”
“What do they want?”
She whispered: “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”
He looked away from her, shaking his head.
After a pause, she said: “Don’t you have any idea?”
He said: “I don’t know.”
Merlew placed her hands on his cheeks, and turned his face towards her. “Do you trust me?”
The question astonished him. “Of course I do!”
“And you want me to help you?”
“So long as it’s not dangerous for you.”
Suddenly, he knew she wanted to be kissed. It was only necessary for him to lean forward for their lips to touch. She moved one hand from his cheek to the back of his head and pressed her face tightly against his. Niall’s arms went round her, and pulled her against him.
She was the first to disengage. Their position was uncomfortable, with bare shoulders pressed against the cold wall. He felt delight and incredulity as he saw that she was arranging the rest of the cushions on the floor. She apparently felt no incongruity in breaking off a kiss for this banal operation. A moment later, she had pulled him down beside her and pressed her body tightly against his.
It seemed so amazing that he found it hard to believe. Ten minutes ago, he had given up hope; now he felt he was holding everything he had ever wanted in his arms. If he had been told that he was to be executed the next morning, it would have left his delight untouched. He was aware of everything about her, of her bare legs pressed against his, of the silky material of the short tunic under his fingertips, of the breasts rising and falling against his chest, of the sweetness of her breath against his face. He kissed her ear, her neck where the hair began, her eyelids and her forehead; she stroked his hair and kissed his mouth. In the sheer pleasure of physical contact, both would have been happy to lie on the damp cushions for the rest of the night.
Somewhere below, a door slammed. She sat up and listened, then went to the door and peeped out. A moment later, she tiptoed back. Niall was sitting up again, his arm and thigh tingling as the blood flowed back into them. She sat down beside him and for another moment they kissed again. She was the first to break away.
“Listen, I’ll try to find out from daddy what this is all about. But don’t you have any idea?”
Niall said: “I killed a spider.”
“You what?” She looked at him with incomprehension.
“It was on the way back from your city.”
He told her the whole story: of the sandstorm, the finding of the telescopic spear, and of how he had suddenly found himself confronted by the buried death spider as it struggled out of the sand. She shuddered as he described driving the spear into its face. But when he had finished, she shook her head.
“I don’t see how they could possibly know about that. They’d naturally assume it was your father.”
“But they can read minds.”
She shrugged impatiently. “I don’t believe that. If they could read my mind, they’d have eaten me a long time ago.”
“There was a spider in the next room when they brought me here. I think it was trying to read my mind.”
She looked at him keenly. “What makes you think that?”
“I heard the door creak as it went out. And the boards in the corridor.”
Then what makes you think it was watching you ?”
“I just had a sort of feeling. . . You know how you feel when someone’s staring at you from behind?”
“Do you often have feelings like that?”
He smiled. “Only when someone’s staring at me from behind.”
She sighed. “I just don’t understand. Are you sure there’s nothing else?”
“Don’t you think killing a spider would explain it?”
“It might — if they knew. . .”
She suddenly stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to my father. I”m going to try and persuade him to talk to you.”
“Don’t tell him about the spider.”
She turned and knelt on the floor beside him. “I’ve got to tell him. And you’ve got to trust him.”
“But he works for them.”
“Of course he does. He can’t do anything else. And he’s very lucky to work for them — it’s better than cleaning sewers. But he doesn’t like them. How could he when he saw them killing so many of our people? They even ate poor Nyris.” She shuddered.
“I still don’t feel it’s a good idea to tell him about the spider. The less people who know, the better. I haven’t even told my mother and brother.”
She placed her hand round the back of his head.
“You’ve got to trust me. My father can’t help you unless he knows the truth.”
With her face so close to his, he found it impossible to object.
“All right. Do as you think best.”
She leaned forward and gave him a long kiss. Then she stood up and went out. He heard the bolt slide back into place.
His happiness made it hard for him to think. Instead, he recalled over and over again every detail of the past quarter of an hour. When he remembered how much he had hated her, how often he had daydreamed of punishing her, he felt ashamed. It seemed absurd to be upset because she had called him “that skinny boy”. That was simply her nature. She was a forthright person, used to giving orders and getting her own way. Yet she could be marvellously sweet and yielding. The thought of her lips pressed against his made him almost dizzy with pleasure. Her scent still lingered on his arms, and when he closed his eyes, he could imagine her lying beside him.
Suddenly, it was dark. He sat there, hugging his knees and reflecting that the smell of damp and mould would never again strike him as disagreeable; it would always remind him of Merlew. Merely to think of her name was a sensation like music.