Simeon said slowly: "In my younger days I was interested in the old science of alchemy. This reminds me of a symbol of a bird of prey."

"Yes, of course." Now he looked more closely, Niall could see the resemblance.

Corbin, a fat young man whose head was covered with tight blond curls said: "I hear that Skorbo was the most hated spider in the city." He spoke with a certain complacency.

Niall said reprovingly: "That may be true. But it doesn't help us to find out who killed him." "I'm certain it wasn't one of our people." The speaker was one of the captives from Dira; his countrymen occupied one third of the seats on the Council.

Niall said: "You could be right, Massig. But someone in this city must know something about it. I need the help of every one of you. You must all realize how serious it is."

Corbin asked: "And what happens if we find them?"

"We must hand them over for punishment."

Massig asked: "Couldn't we execute them ourselves? We are a legally constituted authority."

Niall understood his objection. The spiders would devise the most horrible death that could be imagined.

"That is true. But we must also show that we possess a sense of justice." He looked around at their faces, and could see that none of them was convinced. "Listen to me. I used to wonder why the spiders hated men so much. I thought it was because they were monsters. Then I found out the real reason: because they were afraid of us. They regarded us as the monsters. They had to enslave us because they believed we threatened their existence. And nothing that has happened since then has made them change their minds. Yet they agreed that there should be peace between the spiders and men. They agreed there should be no more killing. And now it looks as if we have broken our side of the bargain. What if they decide that it is time to break theirs?"

In the silence that followed he could read their thoughts: the fear and confusion and self-interest. They all enjoyed being on this Council, playing at being men of authority. Now they remembered what it was like to be slaves, and the thought chilled them.

Hastur, one of the beetle servants, asked: "Do you think that might happen?"

"Not at the moment." He could sense their relief. "But it could happen. That is why we must show our good faith."

Broadus asked: "What can we do, sire?"

"I want you to go back to your own people and find out what you can. Someone must have seen these men. Perhaps someone spoke to them. They cannot have entered the city unnoticed. If you learn anything, report back to me immediately." He stood up. "And now I think it is time to adjourn this meeting."

All rose and made ritual obeisance. As they filed out of the room in silence, Niall beckoned to Simeon. When they were alone, he closed the door, then sat down at the table.

"Give me your advice."

Simeon shook his head. "What can I say? This is a bad business."

"But who do you think was responsible?"

Simeon frowned. "It's baffling. We know it can't be one of your people -- they wouldn't have the courage or the enterprise. My people detest the spiders. But they've simply no reason to kill Skorbo. It would be an act of stupidity. That only leaves the men of Dira. Plenty of them have reason to kill spiders. Some of them saw their relatives and friends murdered when the spiders overran the city. Some of them saw their children eaten. As far as I can see, they're the only ones with a good reason for killing a spider."

Niall shook his head. "I don't think they were responsible."

"Why not?" "There's something I didn't mention. Dravig tore the palm tree out of the ground.

And in the roots there was a metal disc -- I think it was made of lead -- with a symbol on it: the same symbol as on the pendant. It seemed to me that it must have been there at least a year."

"What makes you think it had been there so long?"

"Because the roots had grown around it."

Simeon stared at him with astonishment. "You're saying that the tree was specially planted to kill Skorbo?"

"Can you think of any other explanation?"

"Isn't it more likely that it was put there later, to bring good luck to their enterprise?"

"It's possible. But I got the impression that it had been there since the tree was planted. And that must have been at least a year ago -- before Dira was captured by the spiders."

Simeon shook his head; he was obviously perturbed. "If you're right, then they've been planning this for a very long time."

Niall nodded. "That was my own thought."

"Then who the devil are they?"

"Have you heard of human beings outside this city -- in other parts of the country?"

"No." Simeon was silent for a long time. "I suppose there are some, of course. I once heard rumors of people to the north -- people who are more like animals. But I never believed them."

"Why not?"

"Because the spiders would have hunted them down."

Niall had to agree that this sounded reasonable. In the days of slavery, spider balloons had constantly patrolled all areas suspected of concealing human fugitives.

Simeon said: "Could I see this lead disc?"

"It disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"It was too heavy for my pocket, so I left it by the door. When I came back, it had gone."

"So these men must have been hiding nearby?"

Niall shook his head. "It was more likely one of the slaves. They were working right outside the building."

"Did you question the overseer?"

"He saw nothing."

"But why should a slave want a piece of lead?"

"You know slaves. They'll steal anything."

"But you didn't have them searched?"

"It hardly seemed worth the trouble." Yet now that he thought about it, he could see that Simeon was right.

Simeon persisted. "Look, if someone went to the trouble of stealing a heavy piece of lead, he must have had a reason. Even a slave wouldn't have much use for a lump of lead. What if Skorbo's killers were among the slaves?"

Niall shrugged. "It's possible. But they looked just like an ordinary squad of slaves."

"Even so, I think we ought to go and check."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Yet he stood up reluctantly, feeling that he was giving way merely to humor Simeon.

Outside, the pale winter sky was cloudless, and the reflected sunlight was painful to the eyes. At least the slaves had trampled a path through the snow, so walking was easier. The slaves were no longer in the square, but the wheel marks of the cart that had been used to transport the dead man were clearly visible.

The mortuary was situated in the same building as the newly founded medical school, three blocks south along the main avenue. As they reached the corner, they could see the slaves shambling in irregular formation beside the cart, not far from their destination. They were hurrying after it when the cart halted; the body -- still covered by a trailing sheet -- was removed, placed on a plank, and carried into the building. The overseer was about to follow as Niall and Simeon arrived, breathless from their exertion.

Niall called him back.

"Dion, I want you to line up all the slaves. Call the others from inside."

The overseer saluted and shouted an order; a few moments later, the body reemerged from the building. It was on a single broad plank, and the arms and legs hung down on either side. Niall ordered them to replace it on the cart. Then the slaves were ordered to stand in line along the road. Niall counted them, then asked the overseer: "How many should there be?"

"Thirty, sir."

"Then why are there only twenty-nine?"

The overseer blinked with astonishment, and counted them slowly, pointing at each one as he did so. He said: "Yes, you're right." He turned to face the squad.

"Attention!" The slaves clicked their heels, and made a half-hearted attempt to look like soldiers. Dion said: "Do any of you know what happened to the other fellow?"

"I do." The speaker was a hollow-chested man with a harelip who was standing next to the cart. When he showed no sign of offering further information, Dion shouted impatiently: "Well, where is he, you fool?"

The man raised his hand and silently pointed into the building. The overseer cursed.

"I thought I told you all to come out." The man gazed back blankly with cowlike indifference.

Niall beckoned to Dion. "You'd better come with us."

Simeon said: "Someone had better watch the rear of the building, in case he tries to escape that way."

Niall had already been here several times. The ground floor had been converted into a casualty department and maternity ward. It smelled of the chlorinated lime used as a disinfectant. This was a large building, and the man could have gone in one of many directions. As they stood, hesitating, Dion said: "If necessary I'll get a squad and search the whole place."

Niall pointed. "Look, he went up there." He had noticed a fragment of melting snow on one of the stairs.

They climbed the stairs quietly, so as not to forewarn their quarry. The next floor was in the process of being converted into a ward, and they could hear carpenters sawing wood from behind a closed door; it seemed unlikely the man had gone that way. Niall led the way up the next flight. This part of the building was still in its original state, and the floor had not even been swept; it was covered with plaster that had fallen from the walls and ceiling, and with broken glass and fragments of lath. A glance at the floor of the corridor told Niall that no one had been this way recently; but the overseer was already flinging open doors and peering into empty rooms. Niall swore under his breath; the man they were seeking must have heard the noise.

"He may be heading for the roof. Could he get into the next building?"

"Probably." Simeon opened the nearest door; through the broken window of the empty room, they could see that the building next door was less than six feet away -- a distance posing no problem to an agile man.

"We'd better hurry."

Simeon laid a hand on his arm. "Careful. There's a spider living in the roof space.

It might jump on us and ask questions later."

His caution was justified; although spiders were now forbidden to attack human beings, the invasion of its personal territory might be regarded as extreme provocation.

"A death spider?"

"No, a pink glue spider." This was the name given to spiders of the species oonopidae, generally regarded as harmless, since they were smaller than the death spiders and had no poisonous sting. But they were many times stronger and swifter than any man, and their tarsal claws were powerful enough to sever an arm.

Niall mounted the stair softly and cautiously and, as he reached the top step, suddenly found himself face to face with the glue spider. It had obviously come to investigate the noise. For a moment, both were equally startled; its immediate reaction was to immobilize him with a concentrated burst of will power. Niall felt exactly as if his whole body had been frozen in a block of ice, so that he was unable to move a muscle.

Six months earlier, he would have found such an experience terrifying; now he had become so accustomed to spiders that it hardly caused his heartbeat to accelerate. His passivity and lack of fear convinced the spider that he was harmless, and it released him almost immediately.

Niall had never seen a glue spider at close quarters, and he was struck by the beauty of its coloring; its body, legs, and head were all of the same flesh pink color, like the cheeks of a healthy country girl. But unlike the wolf spiders or death spiders, whose chelicerae resembled tufts of beard, the face of the glue spider entirely lacked the slightest touch of humanity. The great dome of a head, not unlike that of a bald-headed man, surmounted the smooth pink chelicerae with their unfolded fangs; the six eyes were in two rows, with four above and two below, and the end eyes of the upper row were turned outward; since they were also pink, they looked like glass globes rather than eyes.

The creature seemed as alien as a Martian.

Yet perhaps because it seemed so totally nonhuman, perhaps because of its warm coloring, Niall felt that he had nothing to fear. He addressed the spider telepathically, also speaking the words aloud.

"We are looking for a man. Have you seen him?"

The spider seemed startled. It shifted uncomfortably on its feet but made no reply.

The bulblike eyes -- on a level with Niall's own, since the spider was less than six feet high -- seemed blank. Niall repeated the question -- this time trying to transmit the image of a man -- but there was still no reply. He stepped forward cautiously; the spider stepped back and then moved aside. Niall beckoned to Simeon and Dion to follow him.

He attempted to place himself in the mind of the fugitive. If he had arrived at the top of the stairs, and found that he could go no further, what would he do? This floor, like the others, consisted of a corridor with rooms on either side. The rooms on the right side overlooked the narrow side street, and through the nearest open door, Niall could see the web of the glue spider stretching across the street to the house opposite. The fugitive had almost certainly noticed this before he entered the building, so it was unlikely that he had gone to the right.

And if a man knew there was a spider in one of the rooms on the right, he would move to the left, probably on tiptoe. Niall looked carefully at the dust and rubble on the floor, mixed with the wings and carapaces of dead flying creatures, and saw what he was looking for. The marks would have been unnoticeable to anyone who was not looking for them, mere disturbances of the plaster and debris. The man had, as Niall suspected, been walking on tiptoe, and the slight signs were repeated at regular intervals of about eighteen inches -- a man on tiptoe takes smaller steps than a man walking normally. In front of the first door on the left, there was a clear footmark where the man had paused to open the door. Niall did the same, and found himself looking into an empty room with unbroken windows. There was no place of concealment, and this was clearly why the man had continued on tiptoe to the next door. It was unnecessary to open this, for the marks continued on along the corridor, sometimes becoming invisible where there was no dust or rubble, but also resuming further on. Outside the third door the traces ceased; there was no sign of disturbance further along the corridor. Niall raised his hand to halt the others; his heart was beating violently. Cautiously, he turned the handle and pushed open the door. To his disappointment, the room was empty. But its cracked window had been raised. He hurried across the room and peered out. An ornamental ledge ran under the window along the whole length of the building; it was only six inches wide, but would present no problems for an agile -- or desperate -- man. What puzzled Niall was that there was no accessible window in the building across the alleyway, only a blank wall; to achieve access to such a window, the fugitive would have to move twelve feet along the ledge in the direction of the main avenue. And the window opposite this spot was closed and unbroken. The alternative, it seemed, was to go in the opposite direction, and around the corner at the rear of the building. And looking down at the ground four stories below, Niall had to admit that only desperation could have induced him to make such an attempt.

Simeon said: "What about the next room?"

Niall shook his head. "The footprints stopped outside this one. Wait . . ."He stooped and examined the floor. His nerves tensed as he realized that the signs showed that the man had gone back across the room -- back toward the corner, where there was another door. It looked like an inbuilt closet or cupboard. He looked toward it, and the others understood his meaning. Niall tiptoed toward it, and noticed that it had been left open a crack; the man inside had evidently been unable to close it completely. But while he was still several feet away, the door burst open, and a man darted out and ran to the open door of the room. He was so quick that they were all taken by surprise. Niall was the first to recover; he gave a cry and ran in pursuit. The man was already halfway down the corridor, but his run was heavy and awkward, and Niall had always been fleet of foot.

Within a few strides, Niall had gained on him, and seized the shoulder of his slave tunic. The man swerved and stumbled, crashing to the wall. For a moment, Niall gazed into his eyes. They were large eyes, and seemed very dark and piercing. But as Niall prepared to grapple, he experienced a sensation that made him drop to his knees. It was exactly as if someone had struck him violently in the face, and at the same time gripped his windpipe to cut off his breathing. For a moment everything became dark, although he had the confused impression that time had gone into slow motion, and that his arms and legs were also moving in slow motion, like those of a swimmer. It was like being half-awake and half-asleep.

When his vision cleared, he saw that the man was now lying on the floor, held down by the front legs of the glue spider. His face and hands were covered in some shiny substance, and as Niall watched, the spider squirted more from its chelicerae. It was some kind of transparent glue, and as it struck the man's face, he suddenly ceased to struggle, collapsing as if dead.

Niall dragged himself to his feet, helped by Simeon. He was feeling oddly sick and dizzy. He looked at the spider, and transmitted a message of thanks. The spider released its victim. But as soon as it did so, the man twisted sideways and jumped to his feet -- it was evident that he had been shamming. His hand darted into his bosom, and emerged with a knife in a sheath. As he pulled off the sheath and dropped it to the floor, his eyes met Niall's in a smile of triumph. There was something animal-like in the way the lips revealed his yellow teeth. He raised the knife, and Niall shrank back, expecting to be attacked. Instead, to his astonishment, the man slashed at his own forearm, making a superficial cut. Then, as the spider again seized him from behind, he sagged to his knees and collapsed onto the floor. This time it was obvious that he was not shamming.

Simeon knelt beside him and twisted his face sideways by grabbing his hair. The man's eyes were closed, and the glue on his face was already hardening into a mask.

Simeon took his wrist and felt his pulse.

"He's dead. Don't touch that!" This last was shouted at Niall as he bent forward to look at the knife. But Niall had no intention of trying to pick it up. What interested him was the symbol burned into the wooden handle of the knife, the same symbol he had already seen on the leaden disc.

The spider was retreating along the corridor. Then it reached up, and its tarsal claws gripped the edge of a hole in the ceiling. A moment later, it had pulled itself upward and heaved its body through the trapdoor. Its abdomen seemed too large, and stuck for a moment; then it disappeared.

Simeon asked: "Are you all right?"

"Yes." But Niall staggered as he said so, and almost lost his balance.

"What did he do?"