He could deal with Comma later.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Henry found he was thinking two things at once. One was that he knew this room. He'd been here before – it was Blue's bedroom in the palace. The other was, Yeoooow! He was afraid of spiders even when they were smaller than his thumb. This spider stood taller than his head.
He recognised it as well. It was the thing Blue kept in her jewel box, some sort of pet. But pet or not, it was a monster that could eat him now he'd shrunk.
Except for one thing, of course. He could fly and the spider couldn't.
Henry turned to launch himself off the edge of the dressing table and found he couldn't move a muscle.
It was the most horrible sensation he'd experienced in his entire life. It was as if something had wrapped filaments around his mind, binding him so tightly he could scarcely think. His whole body felt chill and lifeless, like meat. Henry froze on the edge of the dressing table and watched with terror as the spider crawled towards him.
Its eyes were huge, featureless ovoids, black as the depths of Space, liquid and hideously wise. They stared at Henry without emotion.
The creature moved with great deliberation, legs lifting high, feet placed carefully, almost delicately, as if feeling out the high-grained wooden surface. There was a soft, gentle click with each contact and Henry noticed for the first time the spider had claws.
There was a jerk in time, like missing frames in an old movie reel, and suddenly the spider was no more than a yard away from him. The smell was overpowering now, alien and rank. He could hear a tiny hissing, crackling sound like bacon frying.
The spider reached out with one foreleg, as if gently probing. Henry fought his paralysis like a mad thing, but still failed to move. The claw at the end of the leg was embedded in a tuft of yellow fur. It was curved as a sabre is curved, but little longer than a dagger and, like the eyes, completely black. The surface had the polish of horn. It moved with great deliberation towards his eye.
Suddenly the spider slashed him.
The claw missed his eye, but ripped a gash in his cheek, opening it to the bone beneath. Amazingly there was no pain, but blood spurted like a fountain, spattering both eyes and blinding him. At the same time his paralysis broke. Henry jerked backwards in a reflex action, stepped into space and found himself falling. Desperately he knuckled his eyes. Sight returned slowly through a red, stinging haze that cleared as he blinked. He was dropping like a stone. The floor beneath rushed up to meet him.
Henry found his wings again and flew.
His heart was pounding, his whole body trembling, his mind frozen in the shock of his experience. There was a sticky warmth across his cheek, which was beginning to hurt now – a deep, hot throb that spread to take over almost the whole of his face. Yet the wings took him and held him, as if of their own accord. He rose easily and safely until, high above the dressing table and its nightmare, he was able to hover far from danger while his breathing slowed and calm gradually returned.
The spider was drinking his blood.
Henry fluttered down a little closer to make sure, but there was no mistake. Blood from the wound on his cheek had pooled on the surface of the dressing table and the spider was bending to it now, extruding a fleshy tube with which to feed.
For a moment he simply watched, his thoughts tumbling in confusion. Something began scratching at the edges of his mind, like a dog at a door. The sensation was so sinister Henry froze again and it was only when he began to drop directly down towards the spider that he remembered to use his wings. In his anxiety to get away, he found himself fluttering in circles like a wounded moth. But he couldn't get away – the scratching thing was inside his head.
Henry almost lost it then. He wanted to scream and scream and flail about and curl up into a ball and hide and never, never come back out again so long as there were things like -
The spider stopped. It hung there, at the edge of his mind, alert but cautious. Below him, the spider suddenly looked up and watched him with its huge, black eyes. Two spiders, but the same spider. The creature below was just a thought away. The creature below… A stupid, stupid, stupid idea occurred to Henry. The creature below just wanted to make friends.
The thing had ripped his face apart and drunk his blood! It was about as friendly as a viper!
All the same, he turned his mind towards it and watched carefully. It stayed quite still, waiting. I have to be mad, Henry thought. I have to be nuts even thinking I should do this. The spider waited. Henry hovered and the spider waited. Henry couldn't stop thinking the spider only wanted to make friends.
The thing below him trilled with pleasure.
He could stroke it like a kitten. If he wanted to, he could just reach out and stroke it. It was crazy, but he could. The spider below was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen, but the spider as it hung at the edge of his mind was somehow… different. It looked the same to his mind's eye, but…
The spider moved deeper into his mind. He was reminded irresistibly of a puppy wriggling forward on its stomach, wanting to be stroked and petted, but still a little frightened.
This monster was no puppy. This was the most dangerous, terrible -
Henry reached out with his mind and stroked the spider.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Mr Fogarty opened his eyes. He had a premonition something was wrong seconds before it happened. But when it happened, he didn't realise just at first that it was happening.
Through the window of the ouklo he could see one of the outriders – a big, burly man with a habit of pulling close to the carriage and staring in, as if to make sure Prince Pyrgus and his little party were still inside. He was doing that now, and as he caught Mr Fogarty's eye, he gave a broad, unpleasant smile.
Then he disappeared. One second he was there astride his floater pod, the next he vas gone. Fogarty moved in his seat. The rider less pod was still there, pacing the ouklo perhaps four feet above the ground. Then, devoid of any hand at the controls, it veered away wildly, following an erratic course. There were shouts, barked orders and a single scream.
'We're under attack,' Fogarty said Quietly.
Pyrgus, who had been deep in conversation with Blue, broke off and stood up. He graphed the window of the ouklo as if to open it.
'Pyrgus!' Blue shouted in warning.
'Might be an idea to keep away fro 1 the window,' Fogarty said.
But the window was open now and Pyrgus had his head out. There was another scream and another pod overtook the carriage, tumbling fore over aft, with no sign of its rider. 'You're right,' Pyrgus said. He pulled his head back like a turtle. 'Any ideas?'
'You can start by closing the window,' Fogarty said drily. 'Are either of you armed?'
'Ceremonial dagger,' Pyrgus murmured, pushing the window back up.
I have a steen,' Blue said a little sheepishly.
Mr Fogarty glanced at her admiringly. 'That's what I call firepower. Surprised you didn't use it on Prince Comma.'
Blue grinned at him.
Mr Fogarty said, 'Any idea who might be behind the attack?'
'Hairstreak?' Pyrgus ventured.
'That would be my guess. You know him better than I do – what's his style?'
'Stealth. Surprise. Likes to outnumber the enemy, but will rely more on speed than weight of numbers.'
'It's him all right,' Fogarty said, looking past Pyrgus through the window. 'They're using unmarked foo discs. Think he wants to kill us?'
'Yes,' Blue said simply.
'Then we'd better try to disappoint him. Did you notice how many were flying this carriage?'