He must have fallen asleep. A sudden light made him start in alarm; then Merlew’s voice said: “Don’t worry. It’s only me.” She was holding a small oil lamp. “You can come down now. My father wants to see you.”
He followed her along the corridor. “What about my mother and Veig?”
“They’ve already gone. Look.” She pushed open the end door; her lamp revealed an empty room.
They went down the stairs. The spider guards were no longer there. The lower floors of the building were brightly lit with the flames of many oil lamps, some of them enormous gold-coloured objects with tall glass chimneys. Merlew blew out her own lamp and pushed open a door. “In here.”
It was a large room whose walls were covered with blue and gold hangings. The furniture was of the same type he had seen in Kazak’s palace in Dira, but more comfortable. Half a dozen girls were seated or lying on couches; one was brushing another’s hair.
Merlew clapped her hands. “Berris, Nella.” Two of the girls stood up; Niall had seen them that morning, fanning King Kazak. One of them looked at him and laughed.
“What is it?”
She pointed to a metal mirror on the wall, and he saw that the left side of his face was covered with dust; so was the whole left side of his body. The other girls stared at him and began to laugh.
Merlew flushed. “That’s enough. Don’t waste time!”
But the girls were plainly unimpressed; one was still laughing as she laid her hand on Niall’s arm and led him out of the room. He followed her along a corridor and into a large, white tiled room whose atmosphere was heavy with steam and perfume. The floor underfoot was of mosaic tiles, not unlike the ones he had seen in the temple in the desert. In the middle of the floor there was a sunken bath, circular in shape, full of blue-tinged water that steamed gently.
The girls, both of whom were olive-skinned and dark eyed, led him to the edge of the bath; a flight of steps went down into the scented water. When one of them started to remove his tunic, Niall started nervously and tried to cling on to it. They both laughed.
“Don’t be silly! You can’t have a bath in your clothes!”
“But I can undress myself. . .” In the burrow, his mother and Ingeld had always undressed in the dark, and the men had averted their eyes.
The taller of the two girls shook her head. “That’s our job. You don’t have to be shy. We bathe the king every morning.”
Niall submitted to being stripped, and the girls held his hands as he descended into the water. It was just as well; one of the top steps was slippery, and he would have lost his balance except for their firm grip.
The water was pleasantly warm, and he recognised the scent he had smelt on Merlew’s hair and hands. When he was standing in the water, up to his shoulders, the girls pulled off their own tunics and jumped in beside him; the water surged up and soaked his hair. Then, while one of the girls massaged his face and torso, the other rubbed a green liquid into his hair, then rubbed it into a cloud of foamy lather.
After this, they made him sit on the steps while they poured jugs of water over him. Every time he turned his head and caught a glimpse of naked thighs, he closed his eyes. The girls noticed this and began to tease him, pulling his face against them as they washed his hair. After a few minutes of this, he decided that he looked ridiculous and joined in the laughter.
They made him stand as they dried him with enormous towels, rubbing his hair so vigorously that it made his eyes water. He was led to a couch where they rubbed oil into his body and trimmed his nails and hair. They combed his hair and brushed it, then held it in place with a narrow band of cloth round the forehead. Finally, one of them put on her tunic and went out; when she returned, she was carrying a dark blue tunic and sandals of yellow leather. When they had dressed him in these, one of them wiped the steam off a full-length mirror and showed him his reflection. He had to agree that he had never known himself so clean and so attractive. He no longer looked like a savage, but like one of the young men who had come to greet them as they approached Dira.
The door opened, and Merlew looked in. “Is he ready? Oh yes! How handsome!”
Niall blushed, but the mirror told him she was telling the truth.
“That blue colour suits you. It belonged to Corvig.”
“Where is Corvig?”
“Working on the rabbit farm. They wouldn’t let father keep him here.” She nodded to the girls. “You can go now.” As soon as the door closed behind them, she put her arms round his neck and pulled his face against hers. Then, sighing with reluctance she pushed him away.
“We mustn’t keep the king waiting any longer. When you go in there, I want you to do this.” She went gracefully on one knee, bowing her head. Try it.”
Niall did so, but felt awkward. “Do I have to? I’ve never done it before.”
She placed her ringer on his lip. “Do it for me. I want you to impress my father.” She kissed him briefly. “I want him to like you.”
“All right.” If she had told him to fling himself, fully clothed, into the bath, he would have done it without hesitation.
She took his hand and led him out. The air felt cool to his skin and he felt as if he were treading on a cushion of yielding foam.
She pushed open the door at the end of the corridor; the room inside was lit by so many lamps that it might have been daylight. The king was lounging on a heap of cushions, tended by half a dozen girls; he looked as if he had not moved since that morning.
“Ah, my dear boy. Do come in.” As Niall went on one knee and averted his head, Kazak smiled with pleasure. “Well, that was done like a courtier. Excellent!” He stood up, helped by the girls, and crossed the room. “Come and sit down. You must be starving.” He placed one hand lightly on Niall’s shoulder.
The door clicked; Merlew had gone.
As soon as Niall was seated, a girl handed him a metal goblet and another filled it from a long-necked jug. It was the golden liquid he had drunk with Odina on the boat. Kazak watched with approval as he drained it. The drink seemed unutterably delicious, cooling his burning throat like icy nectar. Almost immediately, Niall experienced the sensation of pleasant light-headedness and the warm glow in his veins.
The girls placed carved wooden bowls of food in front of him — fruits, nuts, soft white bread and a dish containing small cooked birds, still warm from the oven. When he looked questioningly at Kazak, the king said: “That is all for you. I have eaten already.” He gestured to one of the girls. “Krista, play our guest some music to aid his digestion.”
She took up a stringed instrument, sat on the floor in front of them and began to sing in a sweet, clear voice. Kazak lay back on his cushions and closed his eyes in an expression of contentment. Niall was too ravenous to pay attention to the music. Yet in spite of his hunger, he ate sparingly. He knew that too much food would make him sleepy, and some intuition told him that he should keep his wits about him. For the same reason, he resisted the temptation to drain the second cup of the honey-coloured liquid, and sipped it slowly.
When he had finished eating, one of the girls came forward with a damp, scented cloth and wiped his hands and mouth; another dried him with a soft towel.
The girl ceased playing. Kazak seemed to wake up. He looked at Niall with a benevolent smile.
“Had enough?”
“Yes thank you, sire.”
“Good. Then we can talk,” He turned to the girls and clapped his hands. They gathered the food bowls and went out.
Kazak rearranged his cushions closer to Niall and sat on them with his legs crossed. He said:
“Well, young man, you seem to be causing us quite an amount of trouble.”
Niall blushed. “I’m very sorry. But I don’t know why.”
Kazak looked Niall direct in the eyes. “Don’t you?”
Niall answered truthfully: “No.”
Kazak frowned, staring down at his feet; the movement accentuated his double chins. He said finally:
“You killed a spider.”
Niall had to prevent his voice from trembling as he answered: “Yes.”