Qisib reflected for a long time. It was evident that this was a question he had never considered. "To express his hatred and envy of our people. What else could it be?"

Niall shook his head; the answer seemed too simple.

Qisib observed that he was troubled. "What is your own explanation?"

"I do not have one. Yet my reason tells me that there must be one."

There was a long silence, which was finally broken by Qisib. "You must teach my people to use the powers of reason. We do not think enough." He added after a pause: "And now it is too late."

"Not too late, my lord."

"Too late for me, at any rate. For now I must return to the kingdom of the dead.

Before I go, have you anything further to ask me?"

Niall considered this. "No, lord."

"Then I have one more thing to say to you. The land of the unliving is timeless, and the past is as the future. When I saw you, I knew that you would be making a dangerous journey, and that you would come close to despair. When that happens, remember that an unbroken spirit is unconquerable."

"But. . ."

Even as Niall began to speak, he realized that Qisib had already gone. He had vanished with the abruptness of a bursting bubble, leaving all Niall's questions suspended in midair. It was only when Niall observed that the three wolf spiders were lying on the floor, their legs bunched underneath them in attitudes of total exhaustion, that he understood how much living energy had been sucked from their bodies, and why Qisib -- like Cheb -- had vanished so abruptly. He also observed that the room had become strangely cold, and that the damp walls were now covered with a thin layer of frost and ice.

After a silence Asmak asked: "Shall we return, my lord?"

"Should we not wait until these three have recovered?"

"That would take a long time -- perhaps two days."

"Then lead the way."

Asmak turned, and vanished into the cleft in the rock. Niall followed, and realized with surprise that his claustrophobia had vanished, and that he was leaving this strange place with regret.

The moment Niall found himself back on the solid floor, he became aware that something strange was happening. Asmak was standing silently, as if reluctant to move, and the atmosphere seemed to be permeated with a peculiar, tingling quality, as if the air was full of tiny bubbles which burst as they came into contact with the skin. It was like the spray from some cataract of sheer vital energy, or like the ringing of a million tiny bells. Niall had experienced the sensation before, in the city of the bombardier beetles. He knew it was associated with the life-giving energies of the empress plant -- the plant that the spiders knew as Nuada, goddess of the Great Delta. Every day at dawn, the plant transmitted waves of pure vitality -- the same vitality that had caused the abnormal development of the spiders and other insect life.

But what was now happening was that the young spiders were absorbing these energies, and then, by a process of mutual interaction, combining them together and then releasing them into the atmosphere of the sacred cave. It was as if each individual spider allowed himself to become filled to the brim with a vital fluid, then emptied this fluid into some communal storage vessel. The storage vessel was the cave itself. In this way, they were able to conserve the living energy that was necessary to maintain the memory cells of long-dead spiders like Cheb the Mighty and Kasib the Warrior, and to prevent their spirits from taking up permanent residence in the land of the unliving.

Asmak himself was caught in this torrential flow of energy, reduced to immobility and ecstasy by its tremendous vibrations, which seemed to shake the cave like the notes of some mighty organ. Niall could also sense this energy, but on a far lower level; its vibrational rate was too low to affect humans, except in a state of deep relaxation; so that although he was able to sense its power, he was unable to respond to it. Yet he recognized that Asmak himself was too old to respond with the same total involvement as the young spiders; the development of his powers of control had alienated him from the voice of the goddess. Now Niall understood why young spiders had been chosen as the guardians of the mighty dead; they alone could respond with undivided intensity. Niall envied them.

Now the energies slowly subsided, until they were like a sound receding into the distance. When it vanished, there was a strange silence, like the silence after a heavy storm, when the only sound is the intermittent fall of a raindrop. Niall was leaning back against the wall of the cave, so blissfully relaxed that he had no desire to move. It would have been pleasant to lie on the hard floor and fall asleep. Yet he was also aware that a part of his being remained detached, craving some higher fulfilment than this dreamlike sense of emotional plenitude.

It was Asmak who was the first to stir. As his mind reestablished contact, Niall realized suddenly that he had been standing in darkness; the intensity of the experience had made sight superfluous. Now once more he could "see" the sacred cave, and sense the presence of the young spiders hidden among its overhanging webs. With an effort, he forced himself to stand upright, and to return to the world of normal consciousness.

Asmak also freed himself from the spell of the goddess; his enormous will power enabled him to do this without effort.

"Shall we return, my lord?" Like Dravig, he had sensed that Niall preferred to dispense with formality. When Niall made a gesture of assent, Asmak turned and led the way across the floor of the cave.

Niall had expected to be taken back to the low doorway through which they had entered; instead, Asmak led Niall in the opposite direction, along the wall toward the far end of the cave. They had to circumnavigate veils of cobweb that had concealed entrances to the tombs of spider lords and counselors since the days of Cheb the Mighty.

The cave extended further than Niall had suspected; what he had supposed to be its far wall was pierced by a low arch, on the other side of which were irregular pinnacles of some sedimentary rock, which rose like immense stalagmites toward an invisible ceiling. Beyond these, the floor sloped, and they had to wade ankle deep through freezing water, which seemed to be flowing from a hole at the base of the wall. The moisture, Niall recognized, was essential if the corpses of the dead spiders were not to crumble into dust.

They were now advancing toward a vertical rock face, in which Niall could perceive no obvious exits. He was within a few feet of it before he recognized that a sloping ramp or ledge ran upwards in a roughly diagonal line.

Asmak halted. "Would you prefer to go first?"

"No. You go first."

As soon as they began to mount, he regretted his decision. The ledge was scarcely a foot wide, and its surface was rough and irregular. If his foot slipped, he would be hurtling downward before Asmak could save him. But it was too late to change his mind.

Spiders attached a great deal of importance to face-saving, and if he reversed his decision, Asmak would be more embarrassed than he was. So he stepped onto the ledge and cautiously followed Asmak into the darkness.

Spiders, he soon realized, had no fear of heights; it made no difference to them whether they were ten feet off the ground or a thousand. For a spider whose leg span was normally eight feet, bunching them together onto a narrow ledge should have been uncomfortable; but even in this awkward position, Asmak moved swiftly and unerringly.

Niall, on the other hand, felt increasing alarm as his feet stumbled on the irregular surface. Within a few minutes they were hundreds of feet above the floor of the cave, and the ramp ahead of them seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness. The rock face was rough, but afforded no handholds. Niall had never liked heights; they filled him with an instinctive dread over which his mind had little control. Now his alarm made his legs feel weak; this was even more terrifying than wriggling into a narrow tunnel in the rock. He pressed his back to the wall, and walked with a sideways motion, glad that Asmak was looking straight ahead.

Five minutes later the ledge became narrower still, and it struck him that his alarm was endangering his life more than the difficulties of the ascent; thought of the immense drop below flooded his bloodstream with adrenaline, making him feel weak and light- headed. At this point he recalled the thought mirror which he had left behind in his room, and experienced a despairing feeling of regret that he had forgotten to take it. But the thought brought a momentary sense of concentration which was like sudden relief from nausea. He wrinkled his forehead and clenched his fists, trying to recapture the feeling of control induced by the thought mirror. At the same time, he told himself that nothing could be more stupid than terminating his career through weakness and loss of nerve.

Then, in a flash, he saw the answer. What he recognized, with sudden total certainty, was that he was not here by chance. What had led him into his present situation was some kind of destiny -- the same destiny that had brought him to the spider city and enabled him to free his fellow humans from their slavery. If he fell now, it would be because he was destined to fall. And that, he saw, was an absurdity. Whatever he was destined for, it was not to die by accident.

The sense of panic evaporated and was replaced by an almost dreamlike feeling of confidence and certainty. Suddenly, it seemed to him that he understood Qisib's last words -- that an unbroken spirit is unconquerable. It was exactly as if a fence had been erected between himself and the abyss. It now seemed to him that the ledge was wide enough for two persons. He ceased to press his back against the wall, and once more began to walk forward in the normal manner.

Asmak said: "We are almost there. If you will excuse me, I will guide your footsteps until the worst part is over."

At this point, the rock face bulged outwards, and a series of foot- and handholds had been cut into it. But the slope of the bulge meant that these were narrow and inadequate; as Niall climbed up after Asmak, he became aware that the slightest movement toward the left would cause him to lose his grip. Asmak's guidance was necessary because the holds were at irregular intervals, and it was sometimes necessary to place both feet in the same narrow step to reach the next handhold. Toward the top of the bulge, their movement ceased to be diagonal, and became almost horizontal. But at least Niall felt that he was in Asmak's hands, and that the spider had no intention of allowing him to fall.

A moment later, they had surmounted the bulge, and Niall's feet were once again firmly planted on the narrow ledge. It struck him as amusing that he should feel as relieved as if they were back on solid ground.

A hundred yards further on, the ledge suddenly widened. The rock above bulged outward, so that it was necessary to crouch to avoid banging his head, but this was a minor inconvenience. A few yards further, he became aware that there was a rock face on his left as well as his right, and that they had entered a narrow tunnel that smelled of mold. There was another smell which he recognized with relief -- that of damp earth. The air also became noticeably warmer. Now the roof of the tunnel was supported by wooden props, and the ground underfoot had been cut into a series of steps, also reinforced with wooden boards. Moments later, his eyes were dazzled by an explosion of light that made him close them tightly; he stumbled on a step and fell to his knees.

Asmak said: "I am sorry, lord. I should have warned you." The light vanished; when Niall cautiously opened his eyes, they were in a green twilight. Then Asmak again moved aside the curtain of vegetation, and the tunnel entrance was illuminated by the light of the rising sun.

He had to crawl out on his hands and knees -- the entrance, which was in a steeply sloping bank, was hidden by bushes that grew close to the ground, and concealed by a large moss-covered stone. The warm air was full of an odor that resembled new-mown hay, mingled with the scent of honeysuckle and gorse. Even before he pushed his way out into the daylight, Niall knew where he was; the sight of the banks of rich vegetation, with their red and yellow flowers, only confirmed it. He was standing at a spot within a hundred yards of the warehouse that Skorbo had used as a larder, and the air was full of the tingling vitality that was like a fine spray of water.

Now, suddenly, Niall understood why the flowers here bloomed in midwinter. It was because this spot stood directly above the sacred cave, and its earth was permeated by the tremendous energies that were stored there. The life-force of the goddess created a kind of permanent springtide. This was also the reason that Skorbo had chosen the site for his larder: its energies kept his paralyzed victims alive.

It came as something of a surprise to find that it was already dawn -- although Niall should have realized it when the young spiders were absorbing and storing the life- force of the empress plant. The total darkness of the sacred cave had prevented him from making the connection. Now he realized with astonishment that he had spent the whole night underground. The time had passed so quickly that it seemed no more than two hours.

Asmak said: "Shall I summon a chariot to take you back to your palace?"

"No. It's such a lovely morning that I think I'll walk. But first I'd like to rest for a moment."

"Of course."

A patch of rich green lawn between the flowering shrubs looked very inviting; the thick, springy grass reminded Niall of the Great Delta. He lay down with his head against the root of a tree, and closed his eyes. The sun seemed to caress the skin of his cheeks and forehead. Buoyed up on a feeling of peace that was like a rising wave, he was carried into sleep.

He was aroused by a vague feeling of discomfort; the sun had moved around a few degrees, leaving him in shadow, and a cool breeze had sprung up from the east. A glance at the sky told him that he had been asleep for at least two hours.

As he sat up, he realized that the spider standing a few feet away was not Asmak, but his son Grel. The glossy black hairs on the young spider's body shone like ebony in the morning sunlight.

"Where is your father?"

"He apologizes for having to leave. He has to be at work."

Niall yawned and rubbed his eyes. His stomach rumbled; he had never felt so hungry in his life. "Thank you for waiting."

"Thanks are unnecessary. It would be unlawful to leave you unguarded."

"I did not intend to fall asleep -- only to close my eyes. Are you not tired?"

"No. The sacred cave always makes me feel more awake."

"You have been before then?"

"Seven times. But never before have I stood in the presence of Cheb the Mighty, or his counselor Qisib."

As Niall received these words -- transmitted directly, without the encumbrance of language -- he was able to see into the young spider's mind, and to recognize that the experiences of the past few hours had made a profound difference. The Grel of the previous evening had been little more than a thoughtless child; this Grel was almost an adult.

They were walking past Skorbo's larder, and Niall paused to look in through the open door. The warehouse was completely empty; not even a single strand of web now dangled from the beams that supported the ceiling. Only a red stain on the concrete floor -- the blood of the bull spider -- remained as a reminder of what had happened so recently.

The air was soft and warm, heavy with the scent of flowers; he realized that the wind was blowing from the south. As they walked back along the sandstone-colored road, which looked as if it had been built only yesterday, past glowing banks of flowers, Niall became aware that his companion was bursting with a desire to ask him a question, but was forbidden by spider protocol to address a superior without being spoken to first.

In an older spider, this desire would have been undetectable; but Grel had not yet learned the art of self-concealment. Niall asked: "What is it you want to know?"

If Grel had been a human child, he would have blushed. But the intensity of his curiosity overcame his embarrassment. "Now that you know the history of the enemy, do you intend to seek him out?" Niall shook his head. "What purpose would that serve?"

"But the Lord Qisib said you would be making a perilous journey."

This was a point Niall had already considered. "That is true. But I have already made a perilous journey -- out of the sacred cave."

But Grel was still unsatisfied. "The Lord Cheb also wished you a safe voyage."

Niall had noticed that, but assumed that it was simply a form of polite leave- taking. He said firmly: "It is not my intention to seek out this magician. That would be foolish and very dangerous. It is obvious that he wants to be left alone."

"Then why does he not leave us alone?"

Because Grel was so young and so obviously curious, Niall felt an impulse to take him into his confidence. "I believe the enemy has been sending out spies since the days of Cheb the Mighty. He wants to know what is happening in the spider city. But when Skorbo captured two of his spies, and carried them off to his larder, he decided that Skorbo had to die."

Grel asked: "But why? What good could it do?"

This was a point that Niall himself had puzzled about during the past two days. If his spies were captured, surely it would be better for the enemy to send more spies, rather than alerting the spiders to his presence? Was it stupidity or miscalculation? Niall found that hard to believe.

"One reason could be that Skorbo himself was a spy."

"What!" Grel was so staggered that the exclamation was a shriek of protest.

"Skorbo a spy? How is that possible?"

His amazement made Niall feel guilty; he had simply failed to see the implications of what he had just said. For a spider, nothing could be more shocking, more horrifying, than the thought of the treachery of one of their own kind. Human beings are accustomed to being unable to see into one another's minds -- even those we love best.

But all spiders experience a sense of mutual interaction that is inconceivable to human beings. So the thought of treachery was far worse than the shock a man might feel if he discovered that the wife he adored had been unfaithful or was planning to murder him.

Grel was shaken to his depths.

Niall said gently: "There is evidence that Skorbo fell into the hands of the enemy and was enrolled as a spy."

"But how could he be so wicked?" Grel was almost in tears. "How could he betray his fellow creatures?"

"I do not know. But the magician can be very persuasive."

Grel dissented passionately. "No. Skorbo could only be overcome by a will stronger than his own."

"Perhaps the magician's will was stronger than Skorbo's."

"I cannot believe that."

Asmak would have been horrified to hear his son contradicting the emissary of the goddess; but Niall was flattered at this evidence of the young spider's trust. "Then what do you believe?"

"Perhaps that Skorbo was tortured into submission. It is evident that the enemy is a man of extreme cruelty."

"He is cunning, certainly. But why do you say he is cruel?"

Grel seemed puzzled by Niall's question. "Does a benevolent ruler cut out the tongues of his subjects?"

"Who told you that?"

"Why, the lord Qisib himself."

The mental image of Qisib was followed immediately by an image of Madig being washed and combed in his prison cell. And now Niall could see that, as the girl was trimming his beard, Madig caught a glimpse inside her mouth, and saw that she had no tongue.

Suddenly he understood why they had been speaking at cross-purposes. Qisib had told his story in a series of images. At the time, Niall has felt pleased with himself because he understood so well. Now he realized that his understanding had been crude and imperfect, like someone trying to understand a foreign language. Qisib's "conversation" had been full of details that Niall had simply failed to notice. Madig's glimpse into the girl's mouth had been only one of these. And as Grel recreated the image of Madig's cell, Niall became aware of many others. He could now sense the atmosphere of suspicion, mistrust, and anxiety that reigned in the city of the enemy, and the fear and misery that it created. And as Madig was led, blindfolded, through the streets of the city, Niall realized that the silence was the silence of dread.

He also understood many other things: how, when the magician had told Madig that his companions would die if he failed to bring back a satisfactory answer, he meant that they would die slowly and painfully. Now it was clear that, from the beginning of the interview, the magician had set out to instill a feeling of terror and of danger, so that Madig would convey this to the Spider Lord.

Grel added with satisfaction: "But he made one mistake. He failed to understand that no Spider Lord would give way to threats."

Niall was about to reply when he was struck by the import of Grel's words. The insight that followed was accompanied by an odd sense of breathlessness, and a tingling of the hairs of the scalp. "Perhaps it was not a mistake. Perhaps the enemy intended to anger the Spider Lord."

"But why?"

Niall was suddenly astonished that it had taken him so long to grasp anything so obvious. "Why do you think the attacks ceased as soon as the Lord Qisib began building the wall?"

Grel said hesitantly: "Perhaps because it was too well guarded."

"So was the town of Cibilla, yet they attacked it."