Ilna took out her hank of cords. It was her pride that she could control any living creature which had eyes to read her patterns; were this spider alone, she could hold it till sundown.
It wasn’t alone. The valley held more of the creatures than there were people in a Valles tenement. The smallest of them was as big as a dog, and even without poison their fangs could tear her apart.
This wasn’t the way Ilna would have chosen to die. She smiled coldly. Well, that was all right; she hadn’t chosen it.
GREETINGS AND HONOR, ILNA OS-KENSET, said a voice in her mind. WE TO WHOM WEAVING IS LIFE BOW TO YOU, WHO ARE A GREATER WEAVER YET.
SHE FEARS US, said another mental voice. SHE HAS NO REASON TO FEAR. WE ARE HER FRIENDS AND HER DISCIPLES.
WE ARE YOUR FRIENDS AND DISCIPLES, ILNA, agreed a chorus, each tone different but the thoughts all the same.
“You’re the spiders,” Ilna said. Her gut didn’t believe it, but she kept her voice flat because her intellect knew beyond a doubt that she was right.
WE ARE SPIDERS, the first voice said. The black-and-silver giant facing Ilna nodded her fused head and thorax to punctuate the statement. HAVE YOU COME TO OUR WORLD TO TEACH US?
Ilna frowned at the idea. “I didn’t mean to come here,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t even know where I am.”
She’d started to say, “Perhaps I’m here by accident,” but before the words came out she realized they were absurd. She didn’t know why she was in the place that Echeus had feared, but it couldn’t reasonably have been the result of coincidence. You didn’t have to read patterns the way Ilna did to see that.
The giant bowed again, and said, WHATEVER THE CAUSE, WE ARE PLEASED AT YOUR PRESENCE. WOULD YOU VIEW THIS PLACE, ILNA? WE CATCH GLIMPSES OF YOUR WORLD WHERE THE BARRIER IS THIN, BUT WE RARELY HAVE VISITORS LIKE YOU.
“Yes, show me….” Ilna said. She rubbed her eyes; she hated spiders. Opening her eyes again and facing the huge spider, she went on, “Where are we? It’s not my world, you say; what is it, then?”
TAKE HER TO THE MOUND, said another voice.
TAKE HER TO THE MOUND, the chorus echoed, AND LET HER SEE HER OWN WORLD.
WILL YOU COME WITH ME TO THE MOUND, ILNA? asked the black-and-silver giant. She pointed to the nearby wall of black basalt; all joints of her foreleg sprouted tufts of silver hair. YOU CAN SEE YOUR WORLD AS WE DO.
“Yes, all right,” said Ilna. She had to fight an urge to fall to the ground and wrap her arms about herself, moaning. That wouldn’t do any good. “Can I return to my world from there?”
The great spider set out, climbing the gentle side slope instead of heading directly toward the vertical escarpment. Despite her size, the spider moved with the care of someone to whom walking is not a natural activity; Ilna had no difficulty keeping pace.
I REGRET THAT THERE IS NO WAY TO GO FROM OUR WORLD TO YOURS, ILNA, the spider said. THE ONE WHO EXILED US HERE MADE CERTAIN OF THAT, THOUGH HIS BARRIER OCCASIONALLY ALLOWS HUMANS LIKE YOURSELF TO VISIT US.
Ilna’s diaphragm tightened at the words. The spasm forced a gasp from her; she frowned like an angry hawk, embarrassed by the hint of weakness.
Her face still angry, she looked up at the sky. The barrier that dimmed the sun remained there, streaked and twisted. It was as surely a pattern as anything that came from Ilna’s loom. More complex, perhaps—
Ilna caught herself and grimaced at the arrogance she’d allowed into her thoughts. More complex certainly; but that was only a matter of degree. Given a little time and a certain amount of experimentation, she was sure she could solve the puzzle which the hazy sky set her.
“I don’t believe that,” she said flatly. “I think there’s a way out as surely as my presence here proves there’s a way in.”
PERHAPS FOR YOU, ILNA, the spider said. There was agreement and an odd satisfaction to the voice in Ilna’s mind. WE ARE NOT AS SKILLED AS YOU, SO WE DO NOT SEE THE PATH.
The other spiders were watching her. Sometimes one of the spectators shifted slightly in her web, turning so that she could stare at Ilna with her bank of simple eyes.
“I…” Ilna said. “You said you’d been exiled here. How is that?”
The question that most puzzled—and concerned—her was what the spiders ate, but even her willingness to believe the worst didn’t compel her to say, “Are you going to devour me?” to a hulking giant like her guide. For the moment she was willing to assume they were as friendly as they appeared to be.
MANY AGES BEFORE YOUR RACE AROSE, the spider said, YOUR WORLD WAS RULED BY A RACE OF MEN SPRUNG FROM REPTILES. WE AND THE LIZARDMEN LIVED IN PEACE FOR COUNTLESS YEARS, BUT AT LAST A WIZARD OF THAT RACE SET HIMSELF AGAINST US. THOUGH HIS POWER WAS GREAT, HE COULD NOT DESTROY US UTTERLY. INSTEAD HE FORCED US INTO THIS PLACE, AN ENCLAVE IN THE COSMOS, WHERE WE HAVE NO COMPANY BUT OURSELVES AND THE PLANTS ON WHOM WE LIVE.
Ilna felt her chest loosen. She believed—and had said—that she didn’t care whether she lived or died, but it appeared that death from the fangs of giant spiders wasn’t an experience she could manage to look forward to. She grinned in wry amusement at herself.
“I didn’t realize spiders ate plants,” she said. They were nearing the top of the escarpment. The shallow downslope beyond was more heavily forested than the valley in which she’d arrived. Many of the trees were hardwoods—oaks, hickories, and not far away a black walnut. The webs of huge spiders hung from all of them.
WE DRINK PLANT JUICES, ILNA, said her guide. THERE IS NOTHING HERE BUT THE PLANTS AND OURSELVES. WE ARE NOT AS OUR LESSER SISTERS WHO REMAIN IN YOUR WORLD.
They’d reached the bald dome of basalt that blocked the head of the valley. It was the core of an ancient volcano, frozen into a dense plug that remained when the softer surrounding rock weathered away. No trees or lesser vegetation had found a roothold in the black stone, though where windblown grit had collected in hollows it supported occasional clumps of grass.
Ilna stood, wondering why her guide had chosen this location. The spider climbed to the smooth top of the dome and said, WATCH THE BARRIER, ILNA. WATCH THE SKY.
The spider elevated her rear body and raised her hindmost pair of legs. Spinnerets at the tip of the abdomen writhed, squirting an almost transparent fluid which the hind legs teased into growing coils of silk. The strands wove in and around themselves in a pattern that drew Ilna’s eyes.
The creature repeated, WATCH THE SKY!
Ilna looked up. The streaks of haze, never more than hints in the pearly sheen, drew themselves into an imposed pattern less complex than the originaclass="underline" they were forming an analogue of the shape the spider wove in her silk. Instead of a uniform light-struck blur, Ilna saw—
“Garric!” she cried; and in the instant she spoke the word, she knew that she was wrong. She saw Garric’s body in the clothes and armor of a common soldier as he walked toward the guards at the entrance of a silk-walled tent, but the woman at his side was Sharina. The man wasn’t Ilna’s childhood friend, but rather the hardhanded warrior who wore Garric’s flesh until his soul could be retrieved.
Ilna curled her lips. Tenoctris had sent her to look for reasons and enemies. She’d found some of both; but she hadn’t reported back. She’d failed her friends.
WE WATCHED YOU OFTEN, ILNA, said her guide. THERE IS NONE LIKE YOU IN ALL THE COSMOS. WE BOW TO YOUR SKILL. THERE IS NO PATTERN THAT YOUR WISDOM CANNOT DISCERN.
Ilna sniffed. She knew her own skills, but she knew also what they had cost her to acquire. She had walked in Hell, and on her return to the waking world she’d done more harm than she could repay in a lifetime. She didn’t like to hear others praise the things she was capable of, because she knew well what she might do when anger or envy led her.