" Quite so, Nashira. For that I thank you. But you are treating that weak human friend of mine too well. We might never leave."
" Would that be so odious? Melitarsus is a place where all things can happen, all good things."
Krek looked at her, as if for the first time. He twitched his leg and pulled it from her grasp.
" I feel dampness on my leg. You sweat, perhaps."
" Let' s go exploring in the city and see if we can' t find something to keep you amused." Nashira pulled away from Krek with some reluctance and smoothed her skirts.
" If I enjoy myself one- half as much as he," Krek said, bobbing his head toward the archway leading to Lan' s sleeping quarters, " I might not want to leave, either."
" I' d like that," said Nashira earnestly. " In fact, this very day is an occurrence you will be sure to enjoy."
" I am your humble servant." Krek performed an awkward bow that made Nashira smile even more broadly. She held out her hand and Krek placed one chitinous claw lightly in it. Together, spider and Suzerain left, the passionate sounds soon behind them.
" There are certainly enough people gathered about," observed Krek. " But why? We seem to be the center of attention." The spider stood in the center of a sand- covered arena, walls rising up all around before the banks of seats curved back. Not an empty chair was to be seen.
" They have come to see your fighting prowess."
" Fight? Me? I do not fight."
" Not even for me, O Mighty Krek?" asked Nashira, her hand softly rustling the copper- colored bristles on his leg.
" Why fight? There is no need. Such things are peculiarly and tediously human. We spiders might seem bloodthirsty, but such is not the case. In fact, we:"
The three men entering the arena were naked to the waist, their bare, muscular bodies gleaming with lubricants. They parted as they came from a single gateway on the far side of the pit, then drew long swords. The silvery sheen reflected back to the spider.
" What is this?" he demanded of Nashira.
" If you do not defend me, they will have their way with me."
" So?"
" They will then kill me. And you." The woman' s voice became husky, passionate. " You must fight, Krek. You must kill them. Do it!"
The men attacked in a precision movement. The one on the left flank drew Krek' s attention while the one on the right moved in for the kill. The one in the center poised on the balls of his feet to jump in either direction to aid whichever of his comrades required it.
A powerful overhead slash would have ended Krek' s life if the spider hadn' t gathered all eight legs under him and jumped straight up. The sword buried itself in the ground- and Krek' s descending body weight buried his would- be killer. Hard claws pinned the man down.
" Get him!" cried Nashira. The remaining two swordsmen were already on the attack. They circled and came at Krek from opposite sides. The spider shivered as if he had a palsy. As the men attacked, two of Krek' s long legs shot out, catching them both in the midriff. They stumbled backward, swords and attack forgotten. One landed heavily, the wind knocked out of him. The other turned and ran.
" Why do they wish to harm me?" asked Krek in a small voice. " I have done nothing to them."
" Fight, damn you!" screamed Nashira. " Don' t let that one get away."
" You wish me to stop him? Oh."
The spider made a coughing sound, then a gurgling came from deep inside. A spinneret opened on his abdomen and a long, silken strand rocketed forth. The strand arched across the arena and dropped on the fleeing man' s back. A long, agonized scream sounded as Krek reeled him in. He fought in vain against the silk rope now encircling his body.
" Here, Nashira," said Krek.
" Look. Three more!" cried the Suzerain. She backed away until she felt the firmness of wooden wall behind her. The woman picked up a fallen sword and thrust it into the sand in front of her. " Kill them, Krek. Defend me! Defend yourself!"
" I do not understand why they attack," said the spider, bemused. A humming noise filled the arena as more and more of the sticky strands of web- stuff shot forth to entangle his opponents' legs. But the number of men entering the pit soon exceeded Krek' s ability to produce web.
A quick slash of his mandibles cut one man in half. Fountains of blood gushed onto the dry sand, to be quickly sucked up. The crowd went berserk, cheering and screaming.
" Yes, Krek, that' s it! Do it! Kill them! Kill them all!" Nashira stepped forward, lifting her skirts. The pommel of the buried sword rested cool and round between her thighs, but her eyes never left the carnage in front of her. Krek bounced from side to side, appearing awkward in his movement but giving death to any who came within his range. One mighty snap of his pincers broke a finely tempered steel sword flailing too close to his head. Again the crowd left out a frantic cheer.
Nashira bobbed up and down, moaning, sobbing, urging on the spider in his battle against a full dozen armed and armored men.
Krek glanced at the woman, saw the look of stark ecstasy on her face, and didn' t understand. Even less he understood the reason for these men trying to slay him. They fought with single- minded determination, yet he had never before seen them. They weren' t his enemies. They weren' t the grey- clad soldiers who had invaded his world and many others along the Cenotaph Road. Most of all, they weren' t being sent by Claybore to permanently remove him.
The spider considered the question, then decided to be vexed.
He fought without hesitation now, his potent death scythes snapping and clacking, closing on human arms and legs and torsos. One quick nip severed a man' s head from his body. A geyser of blood ten feet high shot aloft. The crowd went berserk.
" Nashira, what is happening?" demanded Krek during a brief respite from the battle. Fourteen lay dead and mutilated in front of him while another seven limped back to the gateway at the far side of the arena. The Suzerain of Melitarsus let out a tiny gasp, then shook all over like a leaf in a high wind.
When she stepped away, the sword was still buried in the sand, the pommel damp and shiny with her juices.
" Krek, you fight like a juggernaut. You are superb! Can you fight any more?"
" Why? Why are they attacking me? I have done nothing to them."
" For a gourmet feast of insects. Succulent bugs, the finest in all of Melitarsus. Will you kill again for that, Krek?" she cried.
" I have worked up a hunger," admitted the spider, " but why must I slay these poor, fragile humans?"
" There. They come again!" Nashira cried. She pointed. A wedge of ten soldiers armed with pikes advanced on the spider.
Krek leaped into the air, all eight legs acting like coiled springs. But the soldiers reacted swiftly, their pikes planted in the sand, deadly barbed points aimed aloft. A collective gasp came from the throats of everyone in the audience. The spider now met his fate.
Krek saw the ten pikeheads turn upward. In the same instant, he spit forth a long strand of web- stuff. It arrowed upward and clung tenaciously to a thick beam overhead supporting part of the arena bleachers. The spider swung, his body passing just inches above the pikes. His clawed feet raked across the massed men, killing six. As he swung back, he shortened the strand and avoided the thrusting pikes of the remaining men who had thought to skewer him.
Krek cut loose from the strand of web and dropped. The soldiers fought, but with so many of their friends dead, they fought in disarray. Krek backed them against a wall, then attacked. His mandibles closed on metal; he fought mechanicals now. One long, hard slash ripped the artificial skin from the face of one, exposed the metallic legs of another. These soldiers did not bleed and die, but they proved easier to disable. They fought because they' d been ordered to, but lacked the human reserve to keep fighting, no matter the odds.