He asked eagerly: "Shall I summon your charioteers?"

"No, thank you. If it is close, I would prefer to walk."

The spider led the way to the side street that ran out of the southwest side of the square. The pavement was thronged with people, and Niall drew his cloak around him to avoid recognition. But at the end of two blocks, he felt so warm that he allowed it to fall open again.

"Grel."

"Yes, sire?" The young spider stopped, and turned respectfully.

"Not so fast. My human legs are shorter than yours."

Grel looked abashed. "I'm sorry, sire." He walked on with exaggerated slowness.

But since his stride was about ten feet long, Niall still had to walk at a brisk pace to keep up.

They were walking in the direction of the old part of the city; this, until recently, had been the women's quarter, and had been forbidden to males. A high wall, whose enormous stone blocks required no cement, divided it from the eastern half of the city.

Now its iron gates stood open and unguarded. Niall's history lessons had taught him that this wall dated from ancient times, although it had been rebuilt as a historic showpiece in the twenty-first century.

Now, instead of passing through the nearest gate, they turned south along the broad avenue, and walked parallel to the wall which divided it down the center. It was obvious that this had once been the main thoroughfare of the city. The avenue was a steep incline, peaking in a hilltop surmounted by a tower. Niall had often wondered what lay on the far side.

"How old are you?"

"Five and a half, sire."

"And are you a member of the Death Lord's personal guard?"

"No, sire. I am the junior assistant to the lady Sidonia." Sidonia was the commander of the Spider Lord's guard.

"You speak English very well." (What Niall meant was: "You communicate in human language very well," but he knew that he would be understood.) The young spider glowed with satisfaction. "Thank you, sire. The lady Sidonia taught me herself." Then, to Niall's astonishment, he loped across the avenue, and proceeded to climb the wall with the agility of an acrobat. Spiders, like flies, are able to climb vertical surfaces, but the sheer weight of the giant spiders meant that few of them attempted to practice this accomplishment. Grel's lightness and speed carried him to the top of the wall with the ease of a bird in flight. His objective, Niall realized, was a large bird that had perched on the far side of one of the gate towers that subdivided the wall.

As if aware of its danger, the bird stretched its legs and raised its head, as if about to launch into flight. It was too late. The young spider took advantage of the sloping roof of the gate tower to conceal himself as he slid, like some boneless mollusk, over the parapet; then, as the bird saw the movement and prepared to fly, launched himself like a projectile, striking the bird as it rose into the air. Niall expected to see them both crash down on to the pavement below; in fact, they landed on the parapet, then fell backwards.

There was a brief and pathetic squawk. A moment later, the spider reappeared on the edge of the roof and lowered himself to the ground on a length of silk, which he jerked free and reabsorbed into his body as he was crossing the street. His jaws closed on the bird with a crunch that made Niall wince.

As if suddenly recalling Niall's presence, the young spider became apologetic. "I beg your pardon, sire. Do you care for bird?"

"Not uncooked." Niall found it impossible to smile. Now, suddenly, he understood why the guard had shown disapproval. Although he possessed the strength and speed of an adult, Grel was as impulsive as a child. And Niall knew enough about spiders to recognize that they attached enormous importance to self-control.

The young spider gripped the bird in his tarsal claws -- he was able to balance comfortably on the other six legs -- and tore out feathers with his jaws, scattering them by blowing them out of his mouth. The breeze carried them away down the street. Then he bit into the breast with the relish of a schoolboy sinking his teeth into an apple.

Niall asked: "How far do we have to go?"

"Not very far." Since the spider was communicating telepathically, he could speak with his mouth full. Looking up the wide, empty avenue, Niall experienced a twinge of dismay, recognizing suddenly that a spider's idea of a short distance was based upon the length of its stride, which was more than twice that of a human being.

At least Grel was now walking more slowly. And as he strolled beside him, Niall allowed himself to relax and to examine his companion more closely. As he ate the bird, Grel had left his mind open, as if to apologize for not giving Niall his full attention. The result was interesting. Niall's response to the crunching jaws -- and to the drops of blood that fell on to the pavement -- was a certain repulsion. Yet he was also able to enter the young spider's mind, and share his pleasure in the tender flesh. For a spider, eating a bird which had only just been killed was an intensely interesting activity which demanded his full attention. To begin with, the flesh was still permeated with the flavor of life, which Niall perceived as a warm glow. Then there was the fascination of the bird's craw, which contained two small rodents -- baby rats -- and a large insect like a dragon fly. These were an additional bonus, a delightful fringe benefit. For the spider, the bird tasted like a succulent fruit, in the depths of which someone had concealed delicious sweetmeats.

Niall actually began to find himself feeling hungry.

It was curiously pleasant to allow himself to relax into the spider's vital rhythms.

He was brimming with a kind of cheerful well-being which is totally unlike the normal state of human consciousness. By comparison with spiders, Niall realized, human beings are hopelessly self-divided, even the simplest. Their minds have been trained to scan reality, looking for meaning, like a bird of prey looking down at a broad landscape, watching for any sign of movement that might betray a small animal. This, in turn, means that a part of human awareness is permanently passive, waiting for something to happen.

Grel's consciousness was completely and magically different. He had no need of "thought." Consequently, he lived in a totally real universe in which everything was fascinating in its own right.

And this, Niall now realized, explained why the spiders had developed their tremendous will power. When they wanted something, they wanted it with their whole being. If it was bad for them, their instincts told them so. "Thinking" was unnecessary. So they used the secret powers of the mind -- powers of which human beings are scarcely aware -- as naturally as an athlete uses his strength and agility.

What excited Niall was that he now shared the secret. He realized, for example, that when they had set out on this walk he had been very tired. Now, although his legs were still aching, he was aware that he was not genuinely tired. It was an illusion caused by the fact that he thought he was tired. As he shared the mind-world of the young spider, he began to feel a glow of interest and purpose that made him aware that he was the one who decided whether he was tired or not. Even as this thought took shape in his mind, the ache in his legs disappeared, and was replaced by a tingling sense of energy.

Grel dropped the bird into the gutter. Niall was surprised; it still contained a great deal of tender meat. Then he realized that they were approaching the tower on the hilltop.

"Is your father here?"

"Yes. This is the headquarters of the aerial survey."

The tower was built of black stone, and was therefore known among humans as the Black Tower; it had a sinister reputation among city dwellers as a prison, and even a torture chamber. Built as part of the wall, it was obviously intended as a vantage point to survey the whole city. Beyond the hilltop the wall -- and the avenue -- turned westward around the old part of the city. To the south, the flat winter landscape was touched by the rays of the setting sun; the sea, which lay on the horizon, was already in shadow. On the far side of the thirty-mile strip of ocean lay the deserts of North Khaybad, the land where Niall was born, and where his father's ashes were now scattered on the wind. Grel manipulated an iron ring and pushed open the massive door. They were met by the smell of cold and dust that seemed so typical of spider dwellings. There was also a trace of another smell, which released in Niall a curious flash of nostalgia. It was, in fact, a rather unpleasant smell, a combination of rotting vegetation and decaying meat. This was the smell of the porifids, the primitive organism that provided the gas used to inflate the spider balloons. It brought back to Niall the journey to the Delta that had culminated in his encounter with the empress plant, the extraterrestrial creature that the spiders worshiped as the goddess Nuada.

They were in a circular chamber, whose low ceiling was supported by stone columns. A narrow flight of steps ran up to the next floor; as the door slammed, a man in the uniform of a worker came to the head of the stairs and peered at them through the gloom. Light streamed through the open door behind him.

"Who's there?"

Niall said: "We have come to see the Lord Asmak."

The man -- obviously an overseer -- said: "No one is allowed in this place without the permission of the Spider Lord."

He looked so combative that for a moment Niall felt disconcerted. Then Grel stepped out of the shadows. "Please tell my father we are here."

The overseer started with astonishment; then he shrugged and went back into the room, closing the door firmly behind him, and leaving them in almost total darkness.

Niall, irritated by this display of bad manners, and by the implication that they had to wait there like unwelcome guests, mounted the stairs -- Grel walked behind him as a matter of protocol -- and groped for the latch of the door. The chamber beyond proved to be large and well lighted, with pressure lamps suspended from hooks on the wall. Most of the room was occupied by a huge circular work-table, which must have been fifteen feet in diameter, and whose top was occupied by a deflated spider balloon, whose blue-white silk glowed softly in the lamplight. The men who stood around the table were occupied in sewing together the edges of the balloon. On the far side of the room there was a large glass tank whose sides were as high as a man; in the depths of its slimy green water lay the porifids -- short for porifera mephitis -- whose smell permeated the room. It was, in fact, too faint to be unpleasant; porifids only produced their asphyxiating stench when plunged in total darkness -- as in the interior of a spider balloon.

The men went on working with averted eyes, concentrating on their sewing. But as Grel closed the door, the nearest one shot them a sideways glance. His eyes widened, and he dropped the scissors he was holding. Niall realized with embarrassment that he had been recognized. He shook his head, and started to turn away, but he was too late to prevent the man from falling onto his knees. He said in a low voice: "Please, go on with your work."

But this led the others to look up, and as soon as they recognized Niall, they also fell onto their knees. This was not -- as with the spiders -- a matter of reverence for the living representative of the great goddess, but merely the fact that these men had been trained to absolute obedience to the will of their superiors. In the days before freedom, the slightest failure to show proper respect could lead to brutal punishment. A habit formed over many generations could not be uprooted in a few months.

Niall grimaced with embarrassment. "Please, get up."

At that moment, the door on the far side of the room opened, and the overseer returned. He stared at the kneeling men with incredulity -- as if suspecting some kind of joke -- and his face reddened with anger. Then he also recognized the emissary of the goddess, and fell onto his knees.

Niall cleared his throat. "Is the Lord Asmak ready to see me?"

The man stammered: "Forgive me, sire, I did not recognize you."

"No need for apology. You did your duty." He crossed the room and opened the door, which led to a further flight of stairs. The overseer seized his hand as he went past.

"You see, sire, this place is supposed to be secret. . ."

"Please, say no more about it." He disengaged his hand with some difficulty and mounted the stairs; Grel followed behind. Niall could sense his amusement.

The next door led into a room that was obviously a warehouse, piled high with folded spider balloons. The same was true of the next floor, and the next. The sixth floor was occupied by large tanks of porifids, and wooden containers of the white, wormlike grubs on which they were fed; these smelled considerably worse than the porifids.

At the head of the steps leading to the seventh floor stood a tall death spider, whose natural dignity and grace reminded Niall of Dravig. He stood back to allow Niall to enter, then lowered himself to the ground in homage. As they exchanged formal greetings, Niall realized that he had already met the commander of the aerial survey.

Asmak had been present on the previous day, at the trial of Skorbo's former associates.

They had not communicated directly; but since Niall had shared the consciousness of every spider in the room, he had become aware of their individual identities. Now he felt as if he was encountering an old friend.

The formalities over, the spider waited respectfully for Niall to speak first. "The Lord Dravig advised me to come and see you."

"I am honored. In what way can I be of service?"

"As the commander of the aerial survey, you must be familiar with the lands to the north?"

"I have flown over them many times."

"Dravig believes that Skorbo's killers came from these northlands."

"That is possible. But it is also possible that they came from the south, east, or west."

"Where do you think they came from?"

The spider made a gesture whose human equivalent would have been shaking his head. "Dravig asked me the same question. And I had to admit that I could not answer."

"Dravig says there are legends of an underground city. Have you any idea where that might be?"

"None. If there is such a place, it is so well concealed that our patrols have never even suspected its existence."

Niall remembered the underground city of Dira, and realized how difficult it would be for an aerial patrol to detect its existence.

"Do your patrols fly close to the ground?"

"Sometimes. But it can be dangerous, particularly in the mountains. That is how Skorbo crashed."

"Skorbo crashed? Do you know where?"

"Yes."

Niall felt a tingle of excitement. "Could you take me there?" "Of course."

"How far is it?"

"Only a few hours -- if the wind is blowing in the right direction."

"Ah, yes." Niall had forgotten the wind. It was, in fact, possible for a spider balloon to fly against the wind; the spider could use its will power to create an opposing force, so the balloon chose a path between two vectors. Niall had experienced the effect on his return journey from the Delta. But it was exhausting work, like rowing a boat against the current.

"But of course, it is unnecessary to wait for the wind to change."

"Unnecessary?" Niall failed to understand him.

Asmak said: "I am familiar with the area and I can describe it to you."

Niall said politely: "Then please do so."

"Would my lord care to follow me?" Asmak turned and led the way across the room. Puzzled and intrigued, Niall followed him up another flight of stairs. The door at the top led out onto a flat roof, which was surrounded by a crenellated parapet. The sky overhead had turned to a deep blue, and stars were visible on the eastern horizon. But in the west, the landscape was bathed in red sunlight. The wind that blew from the mountains carried a hint of snow.

Asmak led him to the edge of the roof that faced northward. The mountains were almost invisible in blue shadows; only the western slopes reflected the setting sun. Niall leaned against the parapet, placing his foot in the embrasure.

Asmak raised his tarsal claw and pointed toward the mountains -- a gesture that spiders had learned from their human servants. "All these lands that you can see are the domain of the Death Lord."

As he spoke, Niall experienced a curious sensation, as if his body had become as light as a feather, and was floating up into the air. It was so unexpected that he reached out in panic and gripped the parapet with both hands. Contact with the cold stone made him realize that he was still standing securely on the roof. Asmak said apologetically: "I beg your pardon. I should have warned you. . ."

With a twinge of embarrassment, Niall realized that the illusion had been due to the spider's power of suggestion. As soon as he relaxed, he once again felt himself rising gently from the roof, and floating out above the rooftops. For a moment or so, his mind divided into two parts, one of which continued to be aware of his body. Then, fascinated by the panorama that was unfolding below him, he forgot his body, and became absorbed in the strange sensation of flying through space.

What was happening was that the spider was describing a typical reconnaissance flight, exactly as a human being might describe it in words. But since he was using images and sensations, Niall experienced what he was "saying" as a series of visual impressions. Never before had he experienced such a clear sense of sharing the mind of another -- not even at the trial of Skorbo's associates, when he had been privileged to enter the collective consciousness of the spiders. And it was, he now realized, as a consequence of that experience that he was now able to enter the mind of Asmak.

He could see the city -- which was bathed in sunlight -- as clearly as if he was in a spider balloon. Asmak's recall of detail was clearly extraordinary; he knew this terrain so well that his mind had photographed it with the accuracy of a camera -- only a blurring effect toward the horizon revealed that this was merely a mental image. The mountains in the distance looked exactly as they looked from the roof of the palace. To the northwest of the city, across a range of low hills, Niall could see the city of the bombardier beetles, with its twisted red towers which were actually spiral cones made of beeswax. As they floated over the river that divided the city from east to west, Niall looked with curiosity toward the east -- a region he never explored -- and saw that the river lost itself in a region of low hills covered with woodland. Among these undulating treetops, he was intrigued to see a building like a half-derelict castle on a hilltop, and pointed toward it.

"What is that?"

"A ruin. This land is full of ruins."

The words were factual, but for Niall they brought a wave of melancholy, an image of this land as it had been in the remote past, when men took it for granted that they were lords of the Earth.

Now they were passing over the slave quarter, flying low enough to see the people who thronged the streets. What puzzled Niall was that all the slaves looked absolutely identical, as if they were all copies of the same person. Then the answer dawned on him: to a spider, all human beings looked alike.

Beyond the slave quarter lay an area of empty houses which had once been the middle-class residential area of the city. Slaves had no use for such houses, with their overgrown back gardens that might shelter dangerous predators, so this part of the city had been left to fall into ruin.

Soon they were passing over the northern edge of the city, where the main road turned northwest toward the city of the bombardier beetles. Another road, obviously in a poor state of repair, continued toward the mountains, then lost itself in an area of brown heather, which clothed the slopes of a low range of hills. On the far side of these lay more dense woodland, in which the trees were so close together that the ground was invisible.

Among the treetops to the right, Niall glimpsed a sheet of water that reflected the blue of the sky. "What is that?"

"An abandoned quarry."

"Could we see it?"

As if changing direction in midair, the spider obediently veered to the east. A moment later they were poised above a water-filled quarry that was at least a mile wide -- it reminded him of the disused marble quarry that the bombardier beetles used for their explosive exhibitions. As far as Niall could see, no flowing streams fed this enormous stagnant lake. On its northern edge, a vertical cliff face plunged into the dark water. But the southern edge of the quarry shelved more gently, and there was even a kind of beach.

As Niall looked down at this he saw something that made his heart leap: a gently heaving surface of brown lakeweed that covered the shallows to a distance of about fifty yards from the shore. As far as he could see, it was similar to the mat of lake-weed that he had found in the abandoned hideout. But when he tried to look more closely, the image blurred, as he reached the limit of the spider's perceptions.

He asked: "Have you ever landed near the lake?"

"No. We have no reason to go there."

Niall recalled that death spiders disliked water. Asmak even avoided floating above the dark surface, preferring to skirt the edge of the quarry.

Now once again they were moving toward the mountains. They were crossing a hollow land that looked like a swamp: rivulets of brown water, brown tussocks of coarse swamp grass, and areas of a bright green vegetation that reminded Niall of the Delta.

Then came wooded foothills, whose twisted, olive-colored trees covered a landscape of rocky outcrops. Then came the mountains, whose green lower slopes soon turned into barren expanses of gray rock and scree which rose steeply until they vanished into the mist. They passed into a black raincloud, and Niall was aware of drops of water blowing against his face, although when he raised his hand to brush them away, he discovered that his skin was dry.