“Do you think they’ll find out?” he asked.
The man shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve never worked out just what they can do and what they can’t.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “But I’ve got a feeling they don’t know half as much as they’d like us to think.”
Niall glanced out to sea. The ships appeared no closer. “Are you a servant of the spiders?”
The man shook his head violently. “No, thank God. I can’t stand ’em. They give me the creeps.”
“Then what do you do?”
“I work for the bombardiers.”
“The beetles?”
“That’s right.”
“What kind of work?”
The man grinned. “Make bangs. I’m their chief explosives expert.” He pointed to the sacks. “That stuff in there’s for making gunpowder.”
They were interrupted by one of the dockers. He stood to attention, saluted the little man, and said that the cart was ready to leave.
“All right. I’ll be with you in a minute. Get ready to start.” Waving him away, he waited until the docker was out of hearing, then leaned forward and said in a low voice: “Take my advice. Don’t let the crawlies find out.”
“All right.” Niall tried to look more courageous than he felt.
The little man climbed on top of the sacks. The cart, which had two enormous wheels shod with iron, also had two shafts, each about ten feet long. Four muscular dockers seized each one of these and, at an order from the little man, began to heave. By the time they reached the end of the quay, they were moving at a steady trot. The little man turned and gave a brief wave. Niall waved back, and watched until the cart was out of sight. Then he walked thoughtfully back towards the main dock.
On the way there, he met the commander. She smiled at him — she seemed in a good mood — and gave him a thump with her clenched fist. He was aware that this was a friendly gesture, but he felt it had almost broken his shoulder.
“You need fattening up,” she said.
“Fattening?” There was something about the way she said it that made him feel uneasy.
“The masters like us to be strong and healthy. Like that.” She pointed to a passing docker whose muscles stood out on his arms like cables.
Niall said without conviction: “Yes, I’d like that.”
Staring at her face, trying to read her expression, he found that he had automatically tuned in to her mind. He experienced nervous embarrassment, as if he had inadvertently bumped against her, and instantly withdrew his scrutiny. A moment later, it struck him that she seemed unaware of this contact of minds. Cautiously, prepared for instant withdrawal, he tried again. He at once became aware of why she was so pleased with herself — and with him. Her commanding officer had just congratulated her on bringing the wolf spiders safely back to land. If the spiders had been harmed, she would have been blamed and punished. And although it would not have been her fault, she would have accepted the blame and the punishment. As it was, she had received only praise, and consequently felt well disposed towards Niall.
All this Niall saw instantaneously, simply by tuning in to her feeling-waves. Once he had assured himself that she was unaware of his scrutiny, he continued to probe her mind. It was an odd sensation. By tuning in to her consciousness, Niall felt as if he was inside her head, looking out through her eyes. He was aware of her female body, of the bronzed breasts that bounced as she walked, and the long legs whose stride forced him to hurry to keep up. For the moment, he had ceased to be Niall and become this tall, beautiful woman. He was even aware of her name: Odina.
But why was she unaware that he was inside her head? The answer, he realised, had something to do with that strange blankness that he sensed inside the minds of these people. It was as if a part of their consciousness was anaesthetised.
Then, suddenly, he began to see an outline of the answer. It had to do with the spiders. These people were so accustomed to their minds being probed by the spiders that they took it for granted. Their minds had open doors, so anyone could wander in and out. . . like the pepsis wasp, that was so used to being handled it made no attempt to sting, even when one of the children tried to stroke it.
They had reached the end of the quay. The nearest ship was just passing the outer harbour wall. Niall felt a thrill of delight as he recognised Veig’s face looking over the side, and he waved vigorously. Veig waved back. As the ship was hauled against the quay, Niall could see that its port side had been damaged, its upper planks smashed as if by a heavy downward blow.
Five minutes later, the commander came ashore, followed by the wolf spider escort. Behind them came Veig. Niall started to run towards his brother, but was stopped by something that seemed to knock the breath from his body. The wolf spider was glaring balefully at him, and the beam of its will had stopped him like a heavy blow. Then, having made its point, the spider marched on past the kneeling commanders. It was evidently in a thoroughly bad temper.
Odina touched Niall on the shoulder, and raised her finger reproachfully.
“When the masters walk by, the slaves lower their eyes.”
Niall said meekly: “I’m sorry.”
He and Veig were made to stand to one side as the sailors disembarked. Niall whispered: “Where have you been? What happened?”
“The mast blew down in the storm — almost capsized us. Luckily, the other boat stayed with us. . .”
The commander of his ship gave him an angry glare.
“Talking among prisoners forbidden.”
Veig said: “Sorry.”
They stood there silently, watching the other ship approach. Out of the corner of his eye, Niall observed them as they talked. Evidently Odina was telling her colleague what had happened in the storm. The woman stared at Niall with astonishment and disbelief. Then she strode over to them, looked into their faces for a moment, and said: “All right talking permitted.” She turned her back and walked off.
Veig said: “What on earth was all that about?”
Niall whispered: “I’ll tell you later.”
The other ship had been moored farther along the quay. This time, Niall and Veig kept silent, their eyes averted, as the commander came ashore followed by a wolf spider. Behind them came Siris. They waited until the spider was twenty yards away before they rushed to embrace her. She was looking pale and ill. As Veig was hugging her, Niall caught the thought of one of the dockers; he was thinking: “What a skinny woman — I wouldn’t like to kiss her. . .”
Niall experienced a flash of protective indignation as he looked at his mother; to him, she seemed slim and beautiful. These slaves of the spiders had a strange idea of beauty. . .
Odina touched Niall’s arm. “Come.”
As they followed her along the quay, they heard one of the commanders ask, with no attempt to lower her voice: “Why are they coming with us?”
“The master’s orders,” Odina said.
Beyond the quays, they crossed a wide area of waste ground, covered with damaged boats, broken carts and piles of litter. The walls that surrounded the docks had been allowed to fall into a state of ruin. Evidently this had once been a large and flourishing port; now it had shrunk to a small harbour. Only the road underfoot seemed in a good state of repair; it was made of some hard, smooth substance like a continuous sheet of marble.
Beyond the dock wall, they came upon a row of hand carts, similar in design to the one Niall had already seen, but smaller. A dozen or so bored looking men were standing around. When Odina snapped her fingers, six came running and bowed in front of her. Odina and the two commanders climbed into one of the carts; two men seized each of its shafts, and stood waiting for further orders. Odina pointed to another cart, and then signalled Niall, Veig and Siris to climb in. As they did so, one of the men who took the shafts exclaimed: “Niall!”
“Massig!” Niall recognised him immediately as one of the group that had come to escort him to Kazak’s underground city.
They locked forearms, but as they did so, one of the commanders snapped: “That’s enough!” Massig went pale and hastily stood to attention. Odina gave an order. Her own four men went off at a sharp trot; the other cart followed them. Niall looked with concern and astonishment at the back of Massig’s head. The hair, which had once been so beautifully washed and groomed, was now tangled and dirty.