" Oh, master," cried Velika. " You are too kind!" The tears rolled down her full cheeks, leaving salty tracks behind. He reached out and touched the tear on her left cheek. For an instant, he recoiled, as if bitten by an insect. The fluid stung his finger and caused a sensation similar to needles being thrust into his flesh to race up his arm.
" You' re so lovely," he said, in a voice that sounded as if someone else spoke. He touched the other tear and experienced the same sensations, though less intense. Lan felt momentary confusion and reeled. Velika supported him.
" Master, are you well?"
" He' ll be better under cover of those trees," said Inyx, pointing.
" He' s in no condition." More tears welled in Velika' s eyes before starting their liquid tumble over her cheeks. Lan felt an overpowering urge to hold her. He bent and kissed her. Tears lightly caressed his parted lips, sent animal surges throughout his loins. Again the vertigo assailed him.
" How do they power those balloons?" he asked, craning his neck to peer upward at the globe. This brief question allowed him to hide the unexplained confusion inside him. The three grey soldiers in the gondola waved their arms frantically as if signalling. " Do they use a demon spell to manufacture the hot air?"
" Of course not. Too wasteful," came Inyx' s tart reply. " The burning gas is manufactured on the bleak world. But enough of that. Let' s go before they drop their flame nets on us."
Lan twisted to get a better view of the colorful balloon. He might have heard the crunch of boot heels in the dirt. He heard nothing else, unconsciousness claiming him before he struck the ground.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lan Martak might have had a worse hangover at some time in the past. The pain intensified to the point, however, where any mental feat, such as remembering when this might have been, drowned out the purpose. He groaned and found that even this hurt. Everything hurt. Terribly. He rolled onto his back and stared into the patches of blue sky. For long minutes, he wondered if his eyes were focusing properly. The billowing clouds formed mind- confusing patterns in their mad haste to coalesce into a raging storm.
The first heavy droplets spattered coldly into his face. He groaned again, this time feeling better for the movement. Lan managed to sit up and waited for the whirling world to calm. When he had regained some semblance of control, he saw he was naked. Whoever had robbed him had been extraordinarily thorough in not leaving him even one thread. Gone were his jewels and fine sword and cape and even his newly liberated slaves.
" Velika!" he cried out, immediately regretting it. Pain shot through his ribs and around the purple and green bruise blossoming there in the general shape of a boot sole. " All the gods take them!" he raged impotently, knowing the grey- clad soldiers had again entered his life. He banged his fist against the ground, as much railing against his own stupidity as anything else.
After a time, his anger at the soldiers changed into something colder, something more controlled. He felt himself returning to his old self, the man who knew intimately the ways of the forest, who prided himself on the things he did well and never pretended to be something he wasn' t. Lan sat down in the mud and ruefully shook his head. He knew quite well now what a complete fool he' d been. The money had given him a false sense of security; the only real security lay in what he was, not what he fantasized being. His dreams of riches had come true, and they had almost ruined him.
If he wanted to fight the greys, he' d have to do it with the weapons he was most accustomed to using. And most of all, he' d have to rely on his wits, something he' d failed to do since delivering Krek to his web and mate.
The rain became bolder as the clouds formed into the proper configurations. The lead- heavy drops pelted him unmercifully now, stinging coldly, savagely, against his bare hide. He made a vain attempt to reconstruct the site of his defeat, but the rain rapidly turned it into muddy soup. Lan hardly needed the evidence of the ground to relive the events. Inyx had warned him, and he had ignored her sage advice. While he had stared at the pretty hot- air balloon, those soldiers inside had signalled to others on the ground. He had felt so confused after kissing Velika that he had failed to hear others sneak up on him. The rest was obvious.
Lan sheepishly smiled to himself. It could have been worse. Only some quirk of fate had allowed him to survive the attack. The lesson had been a hard one, but one that was burned indelibly into his brain. The liquor and women and sudden wealth had changed him, and not for the better.
Turning his bare feet toward the beckoning green overhang of the trees, he slipped and stumbled in the glass- slick mud. Soon covered with brown slime, he succeeded in reaching the shelter promised by the forest. For a few minutes, he stood naked to wash off the mud. He soon found himself singing loudly and off- key. He lived. What more did he need? He walked the Road like Inyx and, like her, he took care of himself. After a fashion.
Sitting under the protection of the thickly woven leaves, he started making a simple loincloth. It didn' t provide the warmth needed, but it was a start. As his nimble fingers traced familiar patterns, he heard a piteous whirling noise. He stopped work on his project and concentrated. Not quite human, the keening noise raced up and down the scale, passing the upper limits of his hearing, only to return again, almost a child' s cry.
Curious, Lan investigated. This time history aided him. A dark lump appearing to be a rock with ropy tendrils extending to either side pulsated near a tree bole.
" Krek?" he called. " Is that you? Really you?"
" Oh, silly human, who else in all the world is as miserable as I? This rain! My fur is wet, and I wish to die. Never has one so noble born been subjected to such base treatment."
Lan went and hunkered down beside Krek. The giant spider was completely drenched, sitting under a natural rainspout formed by leaves. The man dragged the arachnid a few yards deeper into the forest, where the boughs formed a more perfect rain shelter.
" Now, you sodden spider, what are you doing here? I thought you' d be swinging high up in your web, mating with Klawn."
" Oh, you saw the mating!" cried the spider, showing signs of excitement for the first time. " Was it not the most glorious mating of two noble spiders you have ever witnessed? Such bliss! We lived for that wonderous ecstasy."
Lan moved closer. The spider might have been damp, but he also radiated warmth necessary to keep Lan from shivering. The coarse fur on the legs had softened in the rain and now caressed his naked flesh like a velvet comforter. He burrowed deeper and was rewarded by Krek' s shifting position. He found a berth between two of the large legs and settled down to listen.
" I don' t understand. I didn' t stay for the nuptials. All I saw was the web swinging back and forth when you greeted Klawn."
" Ah," signed Krek in remembrance, " the sweet epithalamion of our bliss! Such poignancy, such dexterity of spinning!"
" You mean you' ve already mated? You did it while I was there, watching?"
" Certainly," Krek said snappishly. " You silly humans prolong the moment of bliss to ridiculous lengths. We spiders concentrate our joy into one intense movement. I shall remember it forever," he sighed, sounding more like a maiden in love than ever before.