CHAPTER EIGHT

The glittering strand of web material shot upward faster than Lan could follow. The bulb at the very tip touched the glassy wall some fifty yards over their heads, but the spider didn' t seem concerned about the possibility of its coming loose. Blithely, as if he took an afternoon stroll in the warm sun, Krek walked up the wall until he reached the spot where the web stuck. Lan strained to see what he did then, but failed. Another loop of web rocketed upward from the spider' s spinneret. Krek followed this strand as he' d done the first. The process repeated until Krek' s now distance- diminished form perched high atop the obsidian battlements of Waldron Ravensroost' s supposedly well- guarded, impervious castle.

" What now?" Lan called up.

Seeing the boulder hurtling down from above, he dived too late and found himself crushed under a ponderous, enveloping weight. Struggling only entangled him more in the sticky material. When he realized this, he relaxed and allowed Krek to reel him in like a fish on a line. All the way up, he cursed under his breath. Krek should have told him what to expect; the spider undoubtedly assumed this to be lodged already in Lan' s memory and yet another indication of arachnid superiority over frail humanity.

" Get this gunk off me," raged Lan after his feet felt hard stone battlement under them. " It' s getting into my nostrils and suffocating me." He kept his arm over his nose to protect against such an unhealthy occurrence.

" One moment, foolish human."

Lan cringed as a shower of astringent fluid bathed his entire body, but he shook his head once and the sticky strands began to melt away. In less than a minute, he stood free of the web material, most of his silk clothing also eaten through by the acid.

" My skin! What' ll this do to me?"

" Nothing," Krek said, unconcerned. " It eats only my web and, apparently, those inferior garments. I told you they were of mediocre construction. Now perhaps you will believe me in the future."

Lan pictured the spider sitting down, crossing his legs and folding his arms in a smug manner. The spider, of course, did no such thing. He simply stood watching Lan, waiting for the next move. Lan brushed his curly hair back from his eyes and pulled a tattered strand of clothing from his arm. He shook all over like a dog thrown into a lake and material flew like water droplets. Only the broad leather belt remained unscathed from Krek' s dissolving acid.

" 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.