" 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 placed 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."