" Hmmmm, yes, you are right this time. You are clumsier than the most spastic of spiders. My newest hatchlings show more coordination in their movements along the web. Even old Klork, the seven- legged spider living over in the Estaman Gorge, is better able to get around than you, it seems. Very well, I will help you in exchange for your aid later in dispatching me from this sorrow- filled world."
Lan marched off beside the spider, figuring on arguing later with Krek- after he was decently clothed and had a sword and dagger weighing heavily in each hand. The way Krek' s moods oscillated, the spider might talk himself out of suicide soon. The cheerful countryside, dotted with delicate flowers and flowing green ground vines, certainly perked up Lan' s flagging spirits. The rain cleansed the air and left it sweet and heady. The porous ground sucked up the fallen water and left only dust, so that their path wasn' t through the mud of the bog world. Most of all, Lan enjoyed being able to survey the sprawling country dotted with stands of forest and know that none pursued him.
Rather, he had become the hunter. The grey- clads had left him for dead; they wasted no time hunting corpses. He was free to work as he saw fit until the proper moment for attack. And that moment had to include freeing Velika. Unbidden, Lan' s hand went to his lips and ran along them, remembering the feel of the woman' s soft kiss, the tears burning his flesh. His breathing came harder, and his hand trembled slightly in anticipation. As he ran over various scenarios in his head, his spirits rose to dizzying heights.
Krek sensed this.
" I fail to understand the workings of that thing you humans call a brain. How one such as yourself can be beaten senseless, robbed of valued treasure- from my web trove, yet- and your paramour whisked away, then laugh and sing afterward, is a total mystery."
" You think you have problems understanding us?" Lan laughed out loud. " If I live to be a hundred, I' ll never understand you."
" I am a hundred, and then some," mused Krek. " You are right. If you did live as long as I have, you would not appreciate us spiders." This satisfied something in the arachnid' s twisted mentality, for he began loping along with the spring in his gait that Lan remembered so well from the time they had entered the Egrii Mountains.
Krek suddenly stopped and dug his claws deep into the soft earth until he found bedrock. He " listened" for a moment, then announced, " Soldiers come this way."
" How many?"
" Enough" was all Krek said. He sank to the ground alongside the road, appearing to be nothing more than a small dark hillock. Lan found a tiny culvert and draped the silk cape over his shoulders, then camouflaged himself with a few strategically placed branches and leaves. They waited less than five minutes before a pair of horsemen galloping hard came into view.
One sported the grey of a soldier under the banner of Waldron, while the other dressed in gaudy, flowing layers of silk, the garb of a member of the merchant class. Lan didn' t care about the quality of the man' s clothing, as his interest lay in arming himself. Both men sported swords and daggers. And protruding from one' s swordbelt was the butt of a wheel lock pistol identical to those carried on Lan' s home world. He watched the men carefully, frowning. The one carrying the pistol wasn' t of Lan' s world. Lan waved his hand to signal Krek that he planned to attack as the pair galloped by.
Lan had no chance to mount his attack. Krek' s bulk blasted from concealment and bowled over the soldier' s horse. The frightened animal struggled to its feet and raced off, minus its rider. The merchant' s horse reared and vainly pawed the air to fend off the giant spider. Krek pounced, and two savage slashes of his mandibles left the horse bleeding on the ground, more dead than alive.
Lan hastened to the fallen soldier and discovered Krek had already done his work for him. A broken neck ensured that this man would never again lift a sword. Lan dragged out the knife sheathed at the soldier' s belt and turned to face the merchant. It became readily apparent the man had no desire to fight.
On his knees, he begged, " Master, call off your demon! I am sinless! Don' t steal my worthless, pitiable soul! I am too good for such a vile fate. I-"
" Silence!" roared Lan. The man blanched, then fell, touching his forehead repeatedly to the ground at Lan' s unshod feet. He wanted to laugh but decided avenging angels didn' t make sport of their victims in that manner.
" Strip. I want your clothes."
" Please, master! They forced me into the service of King Waldron. I was only a poor merchant on the bleak world, struggling for a living. King Waldron came and seduced me away with tales of riches, tales of people eating regularly. I was weak. He convinced me I should do his bidding and come to this world. Believe me that I didn' t want all those gold coins they demanded I take for-"
" Silence, I said," he snapped again. " And get those clothes off. I might decide that is recompense enough for your sins." Lan didn' t have to hear all the merchant' s garbled confession to know the man was greedy and had probably done worse in his day than steal clothing needed to cover nakedness. If anything, this man probably had sold the clothes and jewels already taken from Lan by the grey- clads. He had the air of the illicit about him.
Somehow, Krek' s looming bulk added speed to the merchant' s fingers as he disrobed.
" How do I look, Krek?" asked Lan, pirouetting to display the gaudy, flowing clothing stolen from the merchant. The thin material billowed out from his lean body and lent an air of massiveness to him that wasn' t his. In spite of the fine clothing, he kept the silk cape spun for him by Krek. Never had he found a garment so light and warm. The heavy sword swinging at his side comforted him, too. The body of the fallen soldier was neatly covered in the culvert after he had stripped it of the weapons he wanted. The wheel lock pistol felt hard and firm and substantial in his fist- and it gave a poignant reminder of his lost home. The sheathed knife completed his armament. While he could hardly fight off an entire army, he felt plucky enough to handle anything up to a company.
The spider crouched down and came close to looking him in the eye. His only comment was " The coarse weave of the fabric offends my craftsman' s sensibilities."
Lan laughed. That was the best he could expect from the spider. If Krek hadn' t commented in a sarcastic fashion, it would have bordered on a miracle.
" Very well, Krek, your opinion' s duly noted. Now let' s set off and find some that will be less objectionable to you- and less gaudy for me."
Krek let out a screech that made Lan jump. He had anticipated some bit of sarcasm, but not outright fear. He spun to face another arachnid fully half his height taller than Krek. Lan didn' t have to be told that this was " the lovely Klawn." He read it in Krek' s horrified response. Instinct guided him.
His blade flashed wickedly in the sunlight as he drew and slashed at the female spider' s legs.
Agilely, she leaped and avoided his sword. She simply ignored him in her single- minded drive to get to Krek, now cowering beside the road and blubbering incoherently. Lan wished the spider would at least attempt to defend himself, but knew this might be impossible under the circumstances. He didn' t blame his spider friend for not wishing to attack his mate; such behavior was frowned upon in most human cultures, Lan had found, and the consequences in the spider' s culture appeared even more dire.
" Klawn, you are too good for me," whimpered Krek. He might have been a beaten child, so high and thin and tremulous sounded his voice. Lan didn' t hesitate in reinitiating his attack. The sword resheathed, he dived forward and tackled the back two legs, giving impetus to Klawn' s attack. The spider overcompensated and tumbled down in a furry pile of legs and snapping mandibles.
Lan writhed around to avoid the ominous crashing of those serrated death scythes above his head. He knew better than to release his hold on the hind legs. Allowing Klawn mobility meant death. He pulled upward on the legs held tightly in the circle of his brawny arms as he rolled to one side and snared still another leg. With three of the giant spider' s legs under his control, he found it relatively easy to capture a fourth. Klawn kicked and fought but failed to reach and devour Krek, as her mating ritual demanded.