Part 13 (2/2)

.. where is that wise man? I need his ministrations now!”

t.i.tch pursed his lips as he studied his friend. ”I fear you have gone beyond Ynyr's abilities.”

”I fear I've gone beyond living,” Ergo groaned pitifully. ”It was that last gooseberry.”

There was no sympathy in Rell's reply: ”That last gooseberry weighed five pounds.”

Ergo twisted painfully on the gra.s.s. ”Torturer! You had to remind me, as if I was ignorant of the fact at the time. A thousand torments consume you both!”

Rell looked knowingly down at t.i.tch. ”Spoken like a true friend, wouldn't you say?” t.i.tch nodded solemnly.

Ergo's distress was good for at least an hour's clever commentary from his companions. Then the joke began to weary. Lulled by the steady sound of Ergo's moans, one by one they drifted off into contented sleep.

Only Colwyn remained awake, leaning against his tree, staring up at the mountain. Only Colwyn-and the girl Vella. She sat nearby, watching him with preternatural intensity.

Ynyr saw the light before he saw the opening. It was a pale glow, so faint it seemed no more than a reflection of the moonlight from the rocks, but as he drew nearer he saw that it had nothing to do with the moon. The light came from inside the mountain, illuminating the wide, oval opening like the mouth of a monster lit from the throat. The image was upsetting and he discarded it.

The climb had been harder than he expected. Now he paused to gather his strength before entering the cave. Inside he would need all the energy he could muster, and more. The inhabitant of this solitary place would not be impressed by shouts. It would take more than big words and sonorous phrases for him to succeed here. It would take the right words.

Carefully he edged inward along the right-hand wall. The rock was cool to his touch. It was rea.s.suring to have something solid to lean against in such a place, where nightmares became real and death was something you could taste in the back of your mouth.

Ahead the cavern was draped with white; thin ropes fas.h.i.+oned from cream, a milky maze whose appearance was deceptively soft. The softness was as deceptive as the elasticity. Each thin cable was stronger than steel.

Ynyr slowed, reluctant to leave the comparative safety of the entrance. His gaze traveled to the center of the immense spiderweb, fastening on the solid white ma.s.s at its core.

”I seek the widow of the web!” His voice echoed through the silken chamber.

A faint scuttling sound made him retreat a couple of steps. It stopped and he resumed his approach. A pair of pale cables quivered, then stilled.

As soon as the last echo of his cry vanished into the far reaches of the cavern, he was gifted with a stark reply: ”Enter here and die!”

That was hardly encouraging, but then he had no reason to expect anything else. ”I call the widow of the web!”

This time no response was forthcoming. He would have to force an audience.

Carefully he chose the driest-looking cables and started out across them, aiming for the silken ma.s.s at the center of the web. It was hard to balance on the two unsteady cables and his physical skills were not what they used to be.

He was halfway across the web when a cable off to his left twitched. It was not connected to the ones he was slowly and patiently traversing. He forced himself to look up and across the web.

There it was: the white death. Drawn by his movements, the crystal spider had emerged from its ceiling hidey-hole, anxious to see what might have stumbled into its lair. It was bigger than a cow and transparent as old gla.s.s. The apparition would have shocked a normal man into insensibility.

Ynyr was sufficiently startled to lose his balance. He tumbled backward, flailing at the silk. This action only excited the crystalline arachnid. It moved rapidly now, turning toward the disturbance in the web, flas.h.i.+ng gla.s.sy palps and dripping clear poison from fangs of dark diamond.

”Lyssa!” Ynyr shouted. No time left for subtlty or surprise. His fate would55 be decided in a few seconds. Even as he called out to her he was fumbling for the dagger at his waist. The spider's poison would paralyze without killing. He did not want to die slowly, sucked dry like an orange.

”Lyssa!”

The voice that had replied to his own when he'd first entered had been sharp and forceful. Now uncertainty bred hesitation. ”Who speaks that name? Answer me!”

”It is Ynyr!” The spider was close now, nightmarishly close. No man should have to bear such a sight nor antic.i.p.ate such a death. Far better to perish beneath the hooves of the Slayers' mounts or by one's own hand. He hefted the dagger, positioned it over his heart.

The voice came again. ”I give you the sand in the hourgla.s.s.”

The words he'd prayed for. The spider stopped, frozen by the movement of sand in the widow's strange gla.s.s. It would remain motionless until the sand ran out. Ynyr didn't know how much time had been given to him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Instead, he concentrated on making his way as rapidly as possible over the unsteady cables toward the ma.s.s of silk suspended at the center of the web.

The silk clutched and tugged at his body and limbs as if conscious of his presence, trying to hold him back until its spinner's spell was ended. He slashed at the cables with his arms, forcing a path where none existed. One wave of a groping hand uncovered a globular white ma.s.s. The skull showed two widely s.p.a.ced punctures, one above each earhole. Ynyf knocked it aside and it went tumbling down through the web. A faint, final crash indicated how far it was to the rock below.

The sticky silk gave way reluctantly, but he adroitly avoided the worst spots, keeping to the dry cables the spider used itself. The central coc.o.o.n was close now.

Then he slipped. He'd rushed his approach. As he fell, he grabbed frantically for an overhead strand. It was thinner than the cables he'd been traversing, but it held long enough to enable him to swing into a net of thin webbing just beneath the coc.o.o.n. At the same time the spider seemed to regain its composure as well as its senses. It lunged across the gap, landing in the webbing just below the white sphere. But by then Ynyr had started to pull himself up into the coc.o.o.n.

The spider turned a slow circle, moving in short, erratic starts, pulling on various cables in an attempt to relocate the prey that had so mysteriously vanished.

It rested there, sensing in its dull fas.h.i.+on that its supper was out of sight as well as out of reach.

Gasping for breath, not daring to glance back, Ynyr finally pulled himself up into the coc.o.o.n. The surface he relaxed against was unimaginably soft. He lay there a long moment before rising, then stood and inspected his surroundings. He likened the sensation to walking on a feather mattress ten feet thick.

The light that illuminated the cave was slightly brighter here, as though it emanated from the silk itself. There were chairs, a mirror, other implements of human design. A bed of spun silk lay off in one corner.

There was no suggestion of wood in its frame. It appeared to have been woven rather than built. He smelled freshly cooked food and his mind told him not to inquire into the nature of the ingredients.

Across the room sat a table. Various utensils decorated the top. Some were familiar to him, others not. A large hourgla.s.s squatted on the far side of the table. The old woman who sat there staring at him rested one hand atop the device.

All the sand had collected in the bottom of the gla.s.s.

She didn't smile as she studied him. A finger tapped the side of the gla.s.s, marking thoughts as well as time. ”I gave you the sand. You nearly used it all.”

”I am not as sprightly as I once was and this body works not as well as the one I remember.”

”None of us is young anymore.”

He walked toward her. ”Lyssa.” Yes, it was she who shared name and more with the young woman betrothed to Colwyn. Age could not hide the resemblance.

What must she think of my appearance, he thought? Have I changed that much?

From her stare he felt certain that he had.

None of us sees ourself true, he mused. It lies only in the power of others to do that. But I can see the past as well as the present in her eyes. She remembers. Whether that is good or ill we will soon know.

”I was young when I last heard that name.”56 He moved nearer, took a chair across the table from her. ”I was young when last I spoke it to you.”

”My face was as beautiful as my name then.”

”More beautiful. You were renowned throughout the Fifty Kingdoms and men came even from across the seas to court you.”

”None of them was suitable. Many were handsome, all were wealthy, others brave and valorous. But none was suitable. Only you were suitable, Ynyr, and you would not stay with me.”

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