"And you're sure these don't?"

"Oh no." It was Sidonia who spoke; her voice had a dreamy tone, and she was caressing the scarlet trumpet as though it were a pet animal. "This is not a trap."

Niall removed the thought mirror from around his neck -- it focused his attention too sharply -- and saw immediately that she was right. There was something curiously innocent and joyful about this profusion of odors. His intuition told him there was nothing to fear.

"Have you ever seen plants that bloom in midwinter?"

"Not like this." Simeon was studying one of the thick, glossy leaves. "You notice the leaves are evergreen." He felt the petal of an orange flower that might have been an unknown variety of rose. Niall did the same, and observed that it was thick and fleshy.

"And this flower could probably remain intact in a gale."

Niall asked Dravig: "Do you know anything about them?"

"My people have no interest in flowers." The reply carried an overtone of amusement; Niall had observed before that Dravig possessed a dry sense of humor.

Simeon said: "Surely it can't be a coincidence that they planted these flowers among these buildings?"

The same thought had struck Niall at the same moment. At close quarters, the buildings looked as if they had been constructed for a child's playground; their bright colors and elaborate patterns produced that same curious upsurge of delight.

"Perhaps this was the nursery of the industrial estate."

"Industrial estate? Is this an industrial estate?" "According to the map."

Simeon nodded slowly. "That explains it. They used to build them like this in the old days. The workers got depressed if their surroundings were boring and dull. But as soon as they made the surroundings attractive, everyone worked harder. My grandfather read about it in books on history."

"But that doesn't explain flowers that bloom in winter."

"No." Simeon took a deep breath of a great golden flower like a giant snapdragon.

"I agree that's odd."

Sidonia said: "Perhaps they brought these plants from the Delta,"

Niall said: "The Delta didn't exist in those days."

"No?" It was obvious that she knew no history.

A light breeze rustled the bushes, mingling the scents so that they became almost overpoweringly sweet; they produced a shimmering, swooning sensation that made him want to lie down on the damp grass and close his eyes. With an effort, he replaced the thought mirror round his neck. The dreamy sensation vanished instantly, to be replaced by a hard sense of clarity that seemed almost brutal in comparison. The feeling of joyousness also vanished, swept away by the sense of concentrated will power, a desire to hurl himself into practical activity.

"It's getting late. We ought to move on."

Simeon turned his back on the flowers with a sigh. But Sidonia pulled back her shoulders, thrust out her breasts, and followed him with a firm, purposeful stride.

Simeon's account of the industrial estate was obviously correct. All the buildings had the same deliberate gaiety, which at times approached vulgarity. Niall could imagine it as it was when originally built; with its smooth lawns, and colored buildings surrounded by bright flowers, it must have looked like a piece of fairyland. Simeon pointed out one curious structure, built entirely of green stone, that looked like some unknown species of cactus pushing its way out of the rich soil.

Niall shook his head. "But surely they got bored with it after a day or so?

Everyone gets used to the same surroundings sooner or later."

Simeon shrugged. "My grandfather didn't say anything about that."

By half-closing his eyes, Niall was able to study the map he had memorized in the white tower. It amazed him that, with the aid of the thought mirror, his mind could re- create every detail with the precision and clarity of a photograph; it was an awesome glimpse into the unknown powers of memory. The map indicated that the industrial estate was roughly circular, and more than two miles in diameter. There was a large lake, still attractive although now overgrown with reeds and algae, an industrial museum, and an administration block that resembled the pipes of some vast organ. Yet it was obvious to Niall that none of these buildings bore the slightest resemblance to the square gray structure they were seeking. A gray building would have been out of place in this explosion of color. But after passing the administration block, which stood in the center of the complex, the nature of the buildings began to change. Presumably the lessees were unable to afford the more elaborate premises, or the designers of the estate had run out of money; at all events, the buildings became increasingly functional, and many were built of plain red brick. Then, toward the eastern edge of the estate, Niall saw something that made his heart contract: the top part of a gray building that rose behind the trees. He pointed. "That looks like it." Simeon surveyed it dubiously. "It looks like an electricity generating station.

There's one exactly like it on the other side of the city."

In fact, as they changed their angle of approach, they could see that the gray building stood beside a water tower. For a moment Niall was convinced that he had made a mistake. Then, as they emerged from a side path, he was able to see the lower half of the building, and the banks of rich vegetation that surrounded it, with their red and yellow flowers. At that moment, he knew with intuitive certainty that they had discovered Skorbo's secret larder. A curious wave of cold energy, like a shiver, emanating from Dravig, told him that the spider was also aware of it.

They were approaching the building from the rear, and they found themselves facing a blank wall, with no sign of doors or windows. It would clearly be necessary to find their way around to the front. This proved to be less simple than it looked; a prickly hedge, which seemed to form the eastern boundary of the estate, blended into the mass of bushes and small trees that surrounded the building. On closer inspection, this hedge proved to be a tangle of needlelike spikes, and it stretched up more than four feet above their heads -- too tall even for Dravig to step over. It was Sidonia who solved the problem by drawing her shortsword and stepping boldly into the bushes; with each heavy blow, severed branches and creepers fell at her feet. Within a few minutes she had hacked her way through to the wall and exposed an overgrown concrete path about four feet wide; this had prevented the vegetation from approaching too close to the wall, and they were able to force their way around to the front of the building.

What faced them was a gray facade with half a dozen broken windows and a massive steel door whose blue-tinged metal was still unrusted; a handle at one end indicated that this was of the type that slid open on rollers. Niall braced himself and heaved; the door slid open about four feet, then jammed. Sidonia, still holding her sword, took a cautious step inside. As she did so, Simeon shouted a warning, and something hurled itself out of the darkness. Sidonia was thrown violently onto her back, her head striking the concrete floor. The force of the blow probably saved her life; the spider that stood over her was poised to strike at her throat, and would undoubtedly have done so if she had moved. Because she lay still, the fangs remained poised for long enough for Dravig -- who had just squeezed his way around the corner of the building -- to transmit a mental command. The spider froze in astonishment. But when Dravig ordered it to move back, it ignored the command and remained in a threatening posture. Niall was incredulous. It was the first time he had ever seen a spider defy the order of a superior.

Now he looked more closely, he was not even certain that the creature was a spider. The legs seemed to be encased in a kind of shell, like those of a scorpion. The huge black body, which was also encased in a jointed shell, like a wood louse, was circular, completely lacking the waistline that separates the cephalothorax from the abdomen in most spiders. It was also lacking anything resembling a head; the eyes and the fangs seemed to be set in the body. The big body and powerful legs gave an impression of immense physical strength; it was obvious that the mandibles could sever the girl's head with a single pincer movement.

Dravig was also astonished; as the special adviser of the Spider Lord, he had become accustomed to instant obedience. Now it seemed unbelievable that this uncouth monster, who looked more like a black beetle than a spider, should be ignoring him.

Perhaps the creature was mentally subnormal, or had simply failed to recognize him? Once again he snapped a mental command. Still the stranger continued to stare back, its feelers trembling slightly, as if from tension, its eyes glinting red as they caught the light.

Dravig's impatience turned to anger, and exploded in a burst of will-force that made Niall wince; the spider cringed and retreated a step backwards. Like Dravig, Niall expected it now to give way and submit to Dravig's superior dominance. Instead, its sullen defiance turned to anger, and it lashed out with a burst of will-force that was like a heavy blow.

Dravig, who was unprepared, reacted exactly as if he had been struck by a physical force; his two back legs started to buckle, and the gray hairs on his body quivered as if a wind had blown over them. Dravig responded with outrage, drawing himself up like a patrician who has been insulted by a commoner. But the other spider was unimpressed; it was obviously a stranger to this city. It took a step forward and braced itself over Sidonia's body, its tarsal claws raised to the fighting position. Niall observed nervously that Sidonia was beginning to stir; then she opened her eyes and stared up at the hairy belly poised above her. Fortunately, the challenger was paying too much attention to Dravig to notice her.

Then the two spiders were locked in a combat of wills. This was no longer a question of blows, but of strength pitted against strength. It was the first time Niall had witnessed such a combat, and he was fascinated to observe what happened. It was as if each spider was surrounded by an energy field, like the lines of force surrounding a magnet. These two energy fields met head on, producing exactly the same effect as the like-poles of two magnets approaching one another and creating repulsion. Where they met, it was as if the lines of force darkened in color, so they became visible. In fact, these force fields were invisible to Simeon, who could only see two spiders facing one another at a distance of about twelve feet, each one braced as if walking into a powerful gale, or as if pushing at one another like two wrestlers. Niall could see the force between them because he was on the same telepathic wavelength as Dravig.

He could also see that Dravig was out of condition for this kind of combat. He was older, and it had been many years since he had been called upon to assert his authority through force. And although his will power had the controlled thrust of a rapier, he lacked the sheer brute force of his adversary, whose aggressive energies had the same strength as his squat body. Moreover, Dravig's conviction was undermined by a feeling that this combat was an undignified absurdity. And although it seemed that the two were locked in equal combat, neither giving nor losing the slightest advantage, Niall was aware that Dravig was losing strength sooner than his opponent. What would happen if Dravig was finally forced to give way? Niall could almost see it as if it were happening at the moment. The only way in which Dravig could save his own life would be to make a ritual gesture of surrender, the equivalent of an animal turning tail. And this was inconceivable.

Even now, as his energies remained locked in precise counterpoise, Dravig's stance expressed a furious loathing of his opponent, a desire to see him punished and utterly abased. This meant that, when Dravig was finally forced to give way, he would inevitably be killed. And to a spider, death would have been a matter of indifference after surrendering to one he regarded as an inferior.

Suddenly it struck Niall as absurd to be standing there while Dravig was engaged in a life-and-death struggle; it was an affront to his own courage. His state of inner tension -- and his desire to see the stranger defeated -- was such that he could also have faced death with indifference. Then his tension made him aware of the thought mirror against his chest; it produced a burning sensation, exactly as if it had been a flame. At the moment, its concave side was turned inward, reflecting his thought-energies back inside himself and intensifying his powers of concentration. Now he reached inside his shirt, turning it the other way, and directing the force of his concentration at Dravig's adversary.

The spider was startled by this additional attack, and immediately gave ground. A moment later, it registered with amazement that its adversary was a human being. With a strength that Niall found incredible, and without losing an inch of ground, it braced itself to meet this new challenge, and began to fight back on two fronts. Niall immediately felt as if some invisible force was pushing him backwards, and for a moment he felt absurdly lightweight and inadequate. Then he again concentrated his will, and used all the force of the mirror to press home his attack. The mirror became so hot that it burned his flesh, and he found himself wishing that he had taken the precaution of suspending it outside his tunic. He ignored the pain, and summoned all his force to resist the power that was trying to force him backwards and then crush him to the ground.

Several minutes passed. They were deadlocked. Niall's intervention had made it impossible for the stranger to win; with all its brute strength, the spider was not sufficiently strong to press home the attack on two fronts. Yet it seemed capable of holding its opponents at bay indefinitely, and Niall found himself wondering how long he could maintain this intensity of concentration. His sense of urgency had steeled him to a level of effort that he would normally have found impossible to maintain for more than a few minutes. But attempting to batter down the will of this squat, powerful stranger was like trying to push down a brick wall by sheer physical force. He was aware that his own strength was beginning to flag.

Then, with startling suddenness, all resistance vanished. As Niall stumbled and fell to his knees, he experienced an agonizing shock that seemed to tear his intestines like a white hot flame. He looked down, expecting to see blood gushing through his tunic, and was relieved to see that everything looked normal. The stranger was staggering backwards, as if struck by a powerful blow. It took Niall a moment to realize what had happened: that Sidonia had driven her sword into its belly and ripped it sideways. Now he saw her withdraw it, and then roll aside like an acrobat as the pincers tried to decapitate her. The pain in his stomach had been the result of telepathic contact.

Unlike Niall, Dravig had continued to exert his will-force; it was this that had caused the spider to stagger backwards, and which now smashed it to the ground like some immense club. As it lay there, dazed and defeated, blood gushed from its stomach over the concrete floor. Dravig contemplated it with cold hostility for a moment; then, holding it paralyzed with his will, he stepped forward and drove his poison fangs into its head. He remained in that position for several seconds, his legs braced, as the poison was injected. Niall was startled and shocked by the ferocity of the attack; he had somehow expected Dravig to show mercy. Then, as Dravig withdrew his fangs and stood back, Niall caught a glimpse into his mind, and realized that he felt no fellow feeling toward the creature he had just killed. It was simply a dangerous wild animal that had just threatened his life; now he had destroyed it with the same lack of compunction that it would have shown toward him.

The poison must have been powerful; the spider gave a convulsive jerk that turned it over on to its back, then became perfectly still, its legs bunched crookedly underneath it. Simeon went over and examined it with interest; Sidonia wrinkled her nose with haughty distaste. But when Dravig said "Thank you" -- it was addressed to both of them -- she blushed like a schoolgirl. And Niall realized with astonishment that she would have sacrificed her life for Dravig without a second thought. To save her the embarrassment of thinking he had noticed her blush, Niall turned to Simeon.

"Is it a spider?"

"Not strictly speaking. It's called a bull spider -- my father used to call them druggets. I think it's a member of the bug family."

"Have you ever seen one before?"

"Oh yes. The beetles kept two of them as work animals. They're incredibly stupid but immensely strong. Also incredibly loyal. Skorbo had probably ordered him to let no one in. And he'd be prepared to attack the Spider Lord himself rather than disobey."

Sidonia said: "There's a colony of them in the old mine over there." She gestured vaguely toward the east.

Since the dead bull spider was occupying most of the doorway, Niall and Simeon had to drag it aside -- like all spiders, it was surprisingly light for its size -- before they could enter. Then they pushed back the steel door to its limit -- the groove in which the castors moved was filled with compacted rust and grit. The first thing they saw was a mutilated corpse lying in a pool of blood. It was a woman, and her head and left arm had been eaten away. Her clothing, still covered in spider web, lay nearby; it had been neatly sliced off by the bull-spider's mandibles. They had evidently interrupted it in the course of eating its dinner.

Niall looked up. In the dim light that pierced the dusty windows he could see a dozen or so human-shaped cocoons suspended from the beams that supported the ceiling.

They swayed gently in the breeze, exactly as he had seen them in his glimpse into the captain's mind. In fact, he was startled to realize how closely this shed corresponded to that momentary glimpse, as if all its essential features had been conveyed instantaneously. There was only one slight difference. The slaughterhouse of his vision had stunk of blood; this place only had a damp and musty odor. And this, he realized, was due to the difference between the senses of a man and the far keener senses of a spider.

Niall asked Simeon: "Do you think any of them are alive?"

"She was alive." Simeon indicated the woman's corpse. "Otherwise her blood wouldn't have flowed like that."

Niall turned to Dravig. "Do you think any of them could be saved?" Dravig's mental gesture was the equivalent of a shrug. The warehouse was virtually a bare concrete shed, empty except for a number of packing cases stored in its farthest corner.

The suspended bodies hung six feet or so above their heads. Each was covered with a semitransparent gauzy mesh of surprising delicacy, far thinner than normal strands of spider web. As Niall's eyes became accustomed to the poor light, he was able to distinguish the features underneath the gauze that covered the faces -- in one case, even to observing that the eyes were open.

Simeon pointed. "That looks like a child."

The body hanging closest to the far wall was only about three feet tall; through the thin web that covered his face like a hood, Niall could see dark curly hair. Simeon voiced the thought that was in Niall's mind.

"Could that be the brother of your kitchen maid, what's her name?" "Nyra. It could be." He asked Dravig: "Is it possible to cut him down?"

The spider braced himself against the wall and reached up with the legs containing the tarsal claws, steadying the body with one of them while the other snipped the thread that held it suspended. He caught it neatly with his pedipalps as it fell.

As Niall took the body from him, the sticky web clung to his fingers and his tunic.

He carried the child into the sunlight and lowered him carefully to the floor. The gauze covering the face was like a film of sticky rubber, and resisted all attempts to tear it. Niall borrowed Sidonia's shortsword, which had an edge like a razor and, pulling up the mesh so it was clear of the face, carefully sliced his way through the clinging threads. The face that was exposed was that of a boy of about seven. The face was deathly pale, and there was no sign of breathing. But as Simeon was cutting away the mesh that covered the arm, Dravig extended his pedipalps above the chest and said: "He is alive." A moment later, Simeon placed his thumb on the child's wrist and pronounced that he could feel a faint pulse.

Niall placed his hand on the cold forehead. "Is there any way of reviving him?"

Simeon shook his head. "I don't know. If it's a poison that paralyzes the central nervous system, the damage may be irreversible. That one's probably dead already." He pointed to a face that was as emaciated as a skull.

Niall asked Dravig: "Is he dead?"

Dravig stretched upwards, raising his pedipalps toward the swaying body.

"No. He is alive. They are all alive, although the woman at the far end is close to death."

Sidonia startled them with a cry. "That one moved his eyes!"

She was standing underneath a body that hung from the center of the beam, where the light from the doorway was strong. The body was small -- it might have been that of an overgrown child or teenager. Behind the gauze that covered the face, the eyes were closed. Niall stared intently, but could detect no sign of breathing.

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure. His eyelids moved."

Niall addressed the face that swayed above his head. "If you can hear me, try to open your eyelids."

Nothing happened. He repeated it, slower and louder. This time, after a long delay, there was a faint but unmistakable movement of the eyelids. Sidonia said: "You see. He is alive."

Dravig said: "It is not a he. It is a woman."

From the other side of the shed, Simeon gave an exclamation of excitement. He was looking at the packing cases that stood in the far corner.

"What is it?"

"This stuff is labeled hospital equipment. Lend me that sword, would you? I want to try and get the lid off."

As Niall looked down at the child who lay on the concrete, a flash of pain in the back of his skull warned him that he had been wearing the thought mirror for too long; he removed it and dropped it into his pocket. The relief was so intense that he felt dizzy; he had forgotten that the thought mirror consumed so much energy. Momentary darkness clouded his vision, filling his head with a buzzing noise, and he felt himself swaying. To avoid falling, he crouched down on his heels, balancing himself with both hands on the floor.

A few moments later the blackness began to pass away, and the child's face became visible. And then, quite suddenly, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of intense cold. It felt exactly as if he had been plunged into the depths of some icy lake, where the light found it impossible to penetrate. At the same time, he experienced a return of the nausea of the previous day, the peculiar exhaustion that had succeeded the attack by Skorbo's assassin. There was an odd sensation that something unpleasant had happened.

Niall started around in bewilderment, and was relieved to see that everything looked so normal. Simeon and Sidonia were trying to open one of the packing cases, with Dravig looking on; it was obvious that they had noticed nothing. Through the open door, the bushes were glowing in the late afternoon sunlight -- oddly enough, they seemed to be wavering, as if seen through a heat-haze. Yet he was gripped by an icy cold so intense that he had to clench his teeth to prevent them from chattering. He was also aware of a sense of vulnerability, as if a layer of skin had been stripped away, leaving all nerve-ends exposed.

The sunlight outside looked infinitely alluring, yet his weariness was so deep that he found it impossible to drag himself to his feet. It was a temptation to lie down on the floor and close his eyes. Yet he felt that if he gave way to the temptation, he would freeze to death. It cost him a convulsive effort of will to allow himself to sink into a sitting position, then to turn over on to his hands and knees and force himself to stand up. As he did so, he again felt his senses leaving him; but he mastered the nausea, and forced himself to take the half dozen steps that carried him out into the sunlight.

It was like plunging into a warm bath. The warmth seemed as startling and inexplicable as the cold of a few moments before. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, at the same time placing both hands on the nearest bush to prevent himself from swaying. As the warmth soaked into his body, he tried to understand what was happening. This glowing sensation was not simply the heat of the sun; it was a vital energy that made his heart beat faster and filled his blood with a pleasurable excitement. And the cold inside the building was not physical cold; it had the effect of draining his vitality; it was a sensation like bad news.

As the freezing sensation gradually melted away, his senses readjusted to the soothing warmth. The shimmering energy that surrounded him felt exactly as though warm air was rising through vents in the ground. It was associated with a pleasant tingling in the nerves, as if tiny bubbles were bursting all over his skin. With his eyes closed, he could sense that some form of energy was rising from the ground, and was somehow being converted into a spray by the plants and bushes. This is why he felt as if he was standing in a shower of spray from a fountain.

Yet why was the polarity reversed inside the building, so that it drained his vitality instead of increasing it? Now that his energies felt recharged, this question filled him with curiosity. Deliberately bracing himself, he stepped forward across the threshold of the warehouse. It was, as he expected, like plunging into icy water. Yet there was an important difference. Cold water would have produced a freezing sensation in his feet and legs. This cold seemed to attack his face and shoulders, like an icy wind blowing down from above. As he took another slow step forward, it struck the crown of his head, causing the skin to contract so his hair felt as if it was standing on end. Then, as he forced himself to take another step, it was concentrated on his scalp and the skin of his neck and shoulders. And since he was now standing directly under the central beam, with its suspended bodies, it seemed reasonable to assume that the cold was associated with the bodies. This was confirmed when he took another step, and the freezing sensation moved to the back of his head and the upper part of his spine. It cost an effort of self-discipline to turn and walk back under the bodies; it felt as if he was naked and standing in a shower of icy rain.

Yet why should unconscious bodies produce this sensation? The question so intrigued him that he mastered the desire to go out into the sunlight, and forced himself to stand there, trying to understand what was happening. Was it possible that these devitalized bodies were somehow stealing his own vital energies? But if that was the explanation, why had the others not noticed it? For a moment he considered hanging the thought mirror round his neck, but was deterred by the thought of the agony it would produce in his present state of fatigue. Instead, he closed his eyes and twisted his face into a grimace of intense concentration. The relief was immediate; it was as if he had interposed a barrier between himself and the suspended bodies. Even so, the cold was beginning to make his shoulder muscles ache.

It was at this point that he realized that his efforts had attracted Dravig's attention.

The spider was staring at him so intently that it produced a prickling sensation in the roots of his hair. He had time to register this as unusual -- Dravig would normally have regarded it as a form of rudeness -- when there was an explosion of light inside his skull, and a sensation as if the breath had been snatched from his lungs. For a moment he felt as though he was drowning and was overwhelmed with panic. Then the breathlessness passed, and as his senses cleared, he realized he was being held up by Sidonia and Simeon. He straightened his legs and forced himself into an upright position, realizing that his legs had buckled underneath him. At the same time he noticed that the cold had vanished, and that the air in the building felt pleasantly warm. His voice sounded thick as he asked: "What happened?"

Dravig said: "Did you not realize that you were being attacked?"

Niall shook his head. "No. I just felt cold." He still felt as if he had just climbed out of an icy river.

"You were cold because you were being attacked. Your energies were being drained." Responding to the question in Niall's mind, Dravig indicated the body that swayed above Niall's head. It was the girl whose eyelids had moved. Niall stared up at her, trying to distinguish the features beneath the gauze that covered them. "But she is unconscious."

"Yes. She is unconscious. You were being attacked through her. You have a dangerous enemy."

As he spoke, Niall was overwhelmed with a sense of his own stupidity. Suddenly, everything was obvious, and he found it difficult to understand how he could have failed to see it. Because he had assumed that the unconscious bodies were draining his energy, he had looked no further for an explanation.

He asked: "What did you do?"

"I tried to attack your enemy through your mind. But it was too late. He had already withdrawn."

Simeon said: "Come on. Let's get you into the sunlight!" Niall needed no persuading; he still felt frozen to the bone. As he walked outside, with Simeon's hand on his elbow, his legs felt numb and stiff. The feeling of the sunlight on his face brought a sense of relief; yet he was aware that something had changed. The air was no longer full of shimmering heat-waves; this was merely the normal sunlight of a winter afternoon.

The bushes still glowed with the same magical brightness; but when he reached out and touched them, there was no longer a sensation like standing in a shower of fine spray.

He asked Dravig: "Is it possible to reach this girl and cut her down?"

"Of course." He returned into the building, and a few moments later, emerged with the web-encased body gripped in his pedipalps and front legs. He laid her on the ground at Niall's feet.

"Your sword please." Sidonia handed it to him. Niall pulled the web clear of the face, and carefully cut it open; as it parted, it made a faint tearing sound like rubber. Niall sliced down as far as the waist. As he had expected, she was wearing a slave's tunic.