" Another method?" Lan cursed the spider' s nonlinear, nonlogical mind.
" Yes. I can spin a silk strand long enough and strong enough to easily scale the walls."
Lan put his head in his cupped hands. He didn' t know whether to cry from relief or frustration.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The glittering strand of web material shot upward faster than Lan could follow. The bulb at the very tip touched the glassy wall some fifty yards over their heads, but the spider didn' t seem concerned about the possibility of its coming loose. Blithely, as if he took an afternoon stroll in the warm sun, Krek walked up the wall until he reached the spot where the web stuck. Lan strained to see what he did then, but failed. Another loop of web rocketed upward from the spider' s spinneret. Krek followed this strand as he' d done the first. The process repeated until Krek' s now distance- diminished form perched high atop the obsidian battlements of Waldron Ravensroost' s supposedly well- guarded, impervious castle.
" What now?" Lan called up.
Seeing the boulder hurtling down from above, he dived too late and found himself crushed under a ponderous, enveloping weight. Struggling only entangled him more in the sticky material. When he realized this, he relaxed and allowed Krek to reel him in like a fish on a line. All the way up, he cursed under his breath. Krek should have told him what to expect; the spider undoubtedly assumed this to be lodged already in Lan' s memory and yet another indication of arachnid superiority over frail humanity.
" Get this gunk off me," raged Lan after his feet felt hard stone battlement under them. " It' s getting into my nostrils and suffocating me." He kept his arm over his nose to protect against such an unhealthy occurrence.
" One moment, foolish human."
Lan cringed as a shower of astringent fluid bathed his entire body, but he shook his head once and the sticky strands began to melt away. In less than a minute, he stood free of the web material, most of his silk clothing also eaten through by the acid.
" My skin! What' ll this do to me?"
" Nothing," Krek said, unconcerned. " It eats only my web and, apparently, those inferior garments. I told you they were of mediocre construction. Now perhaps you will believe me in the future."
Lan pictured the spider sitting down, crossing his legs and folding his arms in a smug manner. The spider, of course, did no such thing. He simply stood watching Lan, waiting for the next move. Lan brushed his curly hair back from his eyes and pulled a tattered strand of clothing from his arm. He shook all over like a dog thrown into a lake and material flew like water droplets. Only the broad leather belt remained unscathed from Krek' s dissolving acid.
" I' ve got to find more clothing."
" Of better quality this time, I hope," added Krek.
" Yes, of course." Lan stalked off down the walkway on the ramparts, taking care when he entered a guard post. It was deserted and showed little sign of having been recently occupied. A quick search failed to reveal anything of more than passing interest.
" What now, Krek? Are there soldiers patrolling the walls?"
Krek' s claws noisily scraped against the smooth obsidian of the walkway, and the faraway look came into his chocolate eyes. His body undulated to an unheard tempo as the coppery strands of fur on his legs bristled.
" A lone guard approaches from the east."
Lan killed the guard with a quick thrust to the back. As the dead body slumped to the floor of the guard room, Krek observed, " Will it not be hard explaining the dagger rent and bloodstains on the back?"
" The only way any of Waldron' s men can see me from that direction will be if I run. I plan to attack." Lan rapidly stripped the fallen soldier of the grey uniform, wondering if the red stripes of the sleeves were indicative of rank. He had failed in his attempts to figure out how greys marked their officers. The commander of the forces back on the bog world had slightly less red piping than the man now dead at Lan' s feet, yet this man obviously marched patrol around the walls of the castle, not the work of a commanding officer.
Smoothing down the too- small uniform' s wrinkles, Lan asked, " Does this pass inspection?"
Krek didn' t answer, but his motions reminded Lan of a man smelling a long dead fish. How the spider had come to be such an expert on human tailoring and style was something Lan would have to extract from him at some future time.
Striding out as boldly as possible in the tight trousers, Lan surveyed the inner keep of the castle. It, too, was cast in heroic proportions like the castle' s battlements. Companies of grey- clad soldiers drilled on the bare grounds surrounding the central spire, too many men for Lan to avoid if he simply walked across to the keep. Not knowing if he carried rank in the three red stripes on his left sleeve also deterred him from attempting such a foolhardy excursion. Since everything inside the castle walls seemed geared perfectly to a military operation, Lan feared passwords might also be required at some point. While the keep loomed less than a hundred yards from the wall, it might as well have been on the other side of the world.
" Impressive design work," said Krek. " I am particularly taken with the intricate patterns etched into the black glass of the central building. Most architects feel the only decoration needed is a gargoyle here and there. Ingenuity as well as taste are always at a premium."
" So who made you an art critic?" snapped Lan, worried about being seen standing and peering so intently at the keep.
Krek paid him no attention.
" Pillars of some contrasting color, perhaps bone- white marble, would be most effective in front of that massive black door leading into the keep. All those guards simply litter the picture. A few more of those cunning arches would hide the soldiers posted to:"
" Be quiet, unless you can give me a quick and easy way into that pile of glass." Even as he mouthed the words, realization burst on him. The distance was greater than that across which Krek had shot the sticky strand of web material in climbing the outer wall, but the target was horizontally placed, not vertically.
" Naturally, I can," Krek smugly answered the unasked question. " A trifle of web shooting." A silver strand arched upward to follow a parabolic path to the roof of the distant keep. " Grab a leg, friend Lan Martak, and I will demonstrate how a Webmaster of the Egrii Mountains conquers space."
Lan barely had time to fold arms and legs around one of Krek' s furry limbs before he felt himself precipitously yanked out into thin air. Once, he glanced down and saw the marching troops. His stomach flipped over as he felt poised in midair with nothing below, and he almost lost what little he had eaten for breakfast, but the flight ended abruptly, saving his meal and his sanity. Never had solid flooring pleased him more than this treacherously slick glass under his boots.
" See? It was the work of a moment," said Krek, satisfied with the task. A quick dab of his acid erased all vestiges of his web. Lan' s only agitated thought was that Krek had missed his calling. As a cat burglar, he' d have been unmatched. Then he settled his mind to cope with the fighting he knew to be ahead of him.
" Let' s find Velika and get free of this place."
" Do not forget the glorious jewels, friend Lan Martak. Once they belonged to me; it is a personal affront that they robbed you of my web treasure."
" I won' t forget. Now let' s find our way off this roof and into the audience chamber of our unwilling host." It took twenty minutes to find the door and another fifteen to pry it open. Never had Lan seen such a well- locked door onto a roof. It was as if they expected invasion from the skies. He didn' t know enough, of this world to put credence to it, but the balloons hardly seemed adequate for the task, and there existed scant evidence of ensorcellment to promote flying. In fact, Lan had seen little magic used on this world. Even his minor fire- starting spell constituted a major enchantment.
One renegade warlock could tie this world around his spell- ring finger.
" Down?" Krek asked tremulously. The flare of torches lighted the stairway and frightened the spider.
Lan p
laced a reassuring hand on the spider' s nearest leg and stroked it as he would a kitten.
" I won' t let any sparks set you on fire. Trust me. I trusted you in that aerial leap across the gap." He repressed a shudder thinking about it.
" But that was safe!" protested Krek. " This is dangerous."
Lan managed to guide the reluctant spider safely down the spiralling stairs without once endangering a tinder- dry bit of fur. The rest of their brief journey proved uneventful, and for that Lan muttered heartfelt thanks to several gods and a dozen demigods. The staircase ended in a balcony overlooking the great hall. Balanced precariously on four upright sword points stood a throne of blinding white. Seated on it with awesome majesty had to be Waldron of Ravensroost.
He didn' t merely observe the throng gathered at his feet; he exuded a regality that Lan felt. A haughty look and fine garments added to the effect, but the pair of ravens perched on the man' s shoulders pulled the scene from base affectation and pushed it into one that Lan dreaded. Waldron was no common soldier on a wild spree; he commanded. His presence dominated the room.
Lan circled the railing and jockeyed for a better position. The postures of the two men kneeling in front of the lambent throne indicated that they were senior officers. Straining to hear confirmed Lan' s suspicion.
" Well done, General Wixxel, very well done," congratulated the ruler. " If this world' s subjugation is almost complete, mass transfer of my subjects will begin immediately."
" A few outposts remain defiant, liege, but our forces apply growing pressure on them. They must fall soon. And when they do, we can move on to still another world."
" All in time, General, all in good time. I have just returned from our home world, and last season' s crop failure has extended into this season, too. If we hadn' t completed the conquest of this world according to the Great Plan, many more would starve this winter. Aid is being sent even now until they emigrate."
" My world also supplies them, liege," said the other man. " While total subjugation of my world is many months away, foodstuffs are plentiful."
Lan froze at the voice. He strained to see the man speaking more clearly. His worst suspicions were verified when Waldron answered.
" You have done well, Kyn- alLyk- Surepta. Of our new generals, you have accomplished the most."
" Under your leadership, all is possible," said Lyk Surepta.
Lan felt himself blanching. His hand trembled as he reached for his dagger. It was an impossible dagger toss, but he had to try. As he pulled back to send the blade cartwheeling, a furry limb restrained him.
" Is life so worthless that you throw it away like this?" asked Krek.
Lan relaxed slightly, the dagger no longer considered.
" He killed Zarella."
" Zarella? Oh, yes, your paramour on your home world. But I thought you wanted to retrieve your paramour on this world? Which is it to be, Lan Martak?"
Lan knew Krek was right. Zarella was dead and worlds away. But vengeance would be his! Kyn- alLyk- Surepta had sold out their home world to the murderous Waldron, and killing him would eliminate both a danger and a traitor. He turned his attention back to Waldron.
": and take the bitches captured on the road. I understand they are comely enough even for nobles such as yourselves."
The general smiled wickedly and bowed deeply. " Thank you, liege."
" My heartfelt gratitude," echoed Surepta.
" When you tire of them, allow your men to play with them. All my officers can use some: recreation."
All three laughed boisterously. Lan had to fight to hold his anger in check. He knew with certainty that those " bitches" were Velika and Inyx. He silently motioned to Krek as the officers backed from Waldron' s throne, then turned and strutted off.
*****
" We mustn' t lose them, Krek! If we do, we' ll never find Velika." Lan grew more panicky as he tried to keep the general and Lyk Surepta in sight. The going was made even more difficult by the need to avoid the sporadically placed guards. Explaining Krek' s presence to a guard would be too difficult.
" I fail to understand what you see in that female. She appeared rather ordinary to me."
Lan remembered the way the blond woman' s grey- green eyes had implored him to protect her, the way her slender fingers crushed his arm so passionately, her fragrance, her beauty, the burning touch of her tears. For a moment, he felt as if his head spun wildly through a cosmos far removed. When he recovered from the brief vertigo, fire burned within. He must rescue Velika. He had promised to defend her against all danger, and he had failed. To regain his own besmirched honor, and the woman with whom he had fallen in love at first sight, Lan Martak felt morally obligated to fulfill his self- appointed duty. He must rescue her. And, of course, Inyx. She came under the same stringent code he avowed concerning Velika.
" Human stuff, Krek. I can' t explain it to you right now. Call it a matter of honor and let it go at that."
" You continue to astound me with your bizarre honors and dishonors. One day, when I am feeling less put upon, I shall sit down and contemplate all this. Truly, walking the Road is instructive. But the knowledge I gain seems so worthless to me. I ofttimes wonder if-"
" Krek, be quiet. Unless you can help me keep Surepta in sight."
" Oh, is that all you desire? It is quite simple. The pair you seek went down this corridor." Krek flexed his claws and inserted them into crevices in the interior walls. His eyes got a faroff look as he concentrated on " feeling" the location of Surepta and the general. After a few seconds, he bobbed his head rapidly and said, " It is as I thought."
" What?"
" I am right. They still go in that direction."
Lan bit back the retort forming on his lips. Arguing with the spider while in the center of the enemy camp was both futile and dangerous. Later, when they were all safe and far away from King Waldron and his hordes of grey- clad soldiers, then he could set this miserable furry spider straight on proper conduct behind enemy lines. Lan made his way carefully along the hall, not wishing to alert any guards in the crossing corridors. Once, he had to use his dagger, then find a room in which to hide the dead body. He hated wanton killing like this, but the slightest alert from a patrol meant his death, Krek' s- and Velika' s. He dared not take such a frivolous chance with her life. Better a dead body than a tied- up soldier who might escape his bonds and condemn all their souls to the Lower Places.
" Lan Martak!" hissed Krek urgently. " Halt a moment. Let me: consider."
Lan looked over his shoulder in puzzlement at the spider. The spider' s entire body shrunk as he watched. The huge arachnid crumpled to the floor like a scrap of waste paper. For a long, throbbing heartbeat, Lan said nothing. Krek might be ill. He knew so little of the spider' s needs; only his too- apparent fears surfaced. Had the spider encountered a vagrant current in the halls carrying some substance poisonous to his kind? Lan imagined a castle such as this protected against insects of all types. Perhaps a ward spell to this end had unbalanced Krek' s metabolism.
He shuddered at the prospect. The only such insect- killing spells he knew acted directly to speed catabolism. The delicate balance of life was upset in such a way that the offending bug died rapidly, its bodily systems failing to offset the increased rate of dying.
Lan closed his eyes and muttered a simple detector spell, attempting to find what magical wards were at work. A dull throbbing attacked his temples, making his head feel as if it were a rotted melon ready to burst. He recognized no familiar spell. Pursuing the source of the aching in his head produced no useful information. Power of great magnitude flowed through the castle now, but to what end Lan failed to discern.
" Lan Martak, do you feel it, too?" came Krek' s voice, strong as ever.
" What is it?"
" Another path from this world has opened. Waldron Ravensroost has discovered the secret of opening gateways other than through the cenotaphs. He can come and go from this world at his own discretion. It is as
I thought. An artificial Road!"
Lan considered this. Whatever the strange power that Krek possessed, he must have it in some small measure, too. While he couldn' t detect the fainter emanations from the " natural" Cenotaph Road, he did receive strong impressions from Waldron' s manufactured one. A threshold factor might be at work. But, as interesting as this was, and answering many questions Lan had, he wasn' t free to pursue it further. Velika must be his primary concern.
" The Road Waldron opens lies in that direction." Krek used a hairy leg to indicate the corridor perpendicular to the one they traversed. He stood and started down it on shaky legs. Lan ran and pulled the spider to a halt.
" Velika! We' ve got to rescue her first. Then we can explore this. Please, Krek. You can feel out where Surepta went. Tell me!"
" Hmmm? Oh, him. I seem to have lost the vibrations distinctive of his walk: Ahead lies a large number of soldiers. Perhaps one of them can be persuaded to answer your questions."
Lan Martak had never felt more torn in his life. The possession of the secret of interworld travel at will was a prize far exceeding a few jewels, even ones of the size, water, and clarity that he had so foolishly allowed to be stolen. But no prize, even the key to the Road, matched the treasure of Velika. He decided the best course to pursue was a rescue of the woman, then flight along Waldron' s Road to another world. That saved them the trouble of fighting their way from the interior of the enemy stronghold into a world already conquered by King Waldron' s grey- clad soldiers.
" Let' s continue, Krek, and you warn me of guards." Lan wiped the sweat from his forehead that formed in spite of the clammy dampness of the hallway. He settled his mind and dried his wet palms on the sides of the uniform tunic. His sword mustn' t slip when he met Surepta again.
" Ahead, ten paces past the junction of the corridors," came Krek' s monotone voice. The spider jerked his head to the left, indicating the direction of the posted guard. Lan took a deep breath, held it for an instant, then exhaled quickly. Tense, but more relaxed than before, he walked into the intersection, performed an admirable left face and marched up to the sentry.
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