The Sorcerer_s Skull

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.

Krek disabled the mechanicals one piece at a time, until only twitching, thrashing parts remained.

The crowd cheered wildly and began throwing flowers. Krek bent and sampled one of the tastier- looking ones. It had only bland appeal, nothing like a juicy grub or worm. He returned to find Nashira propped against the wooden wall.

" Nashira, are you injured?" asked the spider, concern in his voice. " The front of your dress shows-"

" I am fine, Krek. You are magnificent!" She ran to him and hugged a gory leg. " They love you. I love you."

" Why, thank you. But this killing. I don' t understand it. Humans do peculiar things, but this is totally senseless. I do not like being set upon by those mechanical servants, either. Their parts nick my mandibles." He tentatively clacked his pincers together, listening to the sound they made.

" Smell the blood, Krek. Doesn' t it heighten your senses, all your senses?" she cooed.

" Smell? I have argued this point with Lan Martak. His claims for this purported sense are too wild to believe. Taste is adequate."

" Ah, you want insects. Insects you shall have!" Nashira clapped her hands and servants came forth bearing silver serving trays laden with insects of every description, small ones, large ones, prepared in a dozen different fashions. " Enjoy yourself, Krek. You' ve earned it."

The spider looked around the arena. Men with litters removed the dead and dying. A funny tremor rose inside. He felt awful about the killing, but before he could put voice to it, Nashira' s soft voice reached him. The chant was lyrical, enticing. He became engrossed in the intricate patterns of sound. When the Suzerain of Melitarsus had finished her geas, Krek found himself totally unable to say a single word about the slaughter.

He shrugged, a rippling, sinuous motion, then began his feast. He disliked the killing, but the bugs were definitely to his taste.

Nashira watched, smiled, anticipated even more to come.

Lan Martak rolled over, stretched, yawned, then stretched some more until all his muscles felt taut and ready for action. But that was the problem. There wasn' t any action. Everything in his life was perfect. He lived in the most sumptuous of mansions, a dwelling beyond his wildest dreamings. He had the richest, tastiest of foods to eat and the finest of clothes to wear. There were no demands placed upon him. The Suzerain of Melitarsus saw him but seldom, requested his presence even less. The only real demand was of a pleasurable kind.

Ria was sexually insatiable. She knew tricks that Lan had never even heard of, much less tried, and she was wantonly willing to demonstrate anything and everything for him.

" Dammit!" he cried out. " I' m bored!" He felt like he' d gotten trapped in a cage. Guilt worked on him, too, knowing that Inyx wandered the Cenotaph Road alone. The only consolation Lan found lay in the fact that Inyx was independent and able to take care of herself. Yet he blamed himself for not making a more determined effort to leave Melitarsus and all the creature comforts, to brave the deadly grasshopper infestation, to climb the precipitously tall Mount Tartanius and find the cenotaph and possibly Inyx.

He heaved a deep sigh, then scratched himself.

" Claybore," he muttered to himself. " The grey- clad soldiers will swarm over this world. Claybore will rule along the entire Cenotaph Road unless I warn people about him, try to stop him before the conquest proceeds too far." Lan worried over this. Many times he' d tried to broach the subject with Nashira, and had found the words jumbling in his throat. It was as if he couldn' t tell her anything that might alarm her. Yet he had to keep trying. Nashira, indeed, all in Melitarsus, had to be warned of the danger posed by the decapitated sorcerer.

He didn' t know the true extent of Claybore' s territorial expansion. One world? A hundred? He had hints that the sorcerer had just begun when he encountered Waldron on the bleak world, but those remained hints, not facts. Nashira seemed to know of the grey- clads but felt no anxiety about their presence. The little scouting beyond the confines of his gossamer prison Lan had done showed no evidence of Claybore' s men, but the adventurer would be the first to acknowledge he had not made any comprehensive check.

The entire city- state of Melitarsus might be overrun with them and he wouldn' t know it.

" Hello, friend Lan Martak," came the doleful greeting from the direction of the doorway. Lan looked up but saw no one.

" Come on in, Krek."

" It is all right? You and that red- furred serving woman are not mating?"

" She doesn' t have red fur. That' s hair. And no, we' re not mating."

The spider bounced into view, filling the arched doorway. On either side of the arachnid, buried as decoration in the walls, gleamed jewels Lan took for diamonds. The spider appeared to wear them as a necklace as he bent to enter.

" You perform such feats constantly."

" Hardly feats," said Lan, then he laughed. " Maybe they are, with Ria. She' s an agile one."

" Almost as agile as a spider."

Lan looked more carefully at his friend. While the spider' s grooming had never been more immaculate or his belly more filled with tasty bugs, Krek' s attitude struck a discordant note. Seeing him despondent was nothing new; having their moods match so closely worried Lan.

" What' s wrong, old spider?" he asked. " You' re mighty morose."

" I: " the spider began, then stopped, making a choking noise. Lan sat up, concerned. Not only had he never heard Krek cough like this before, he felt the gentle winds of magic wafting through the chamber. Lan tried to put some name to the spell and failed. His abilities in casting spells were limited to a few healing chants and a pyromancy lore for starting fires. At detecting spells he had more facility, but this one eluded him. It almost fit into a pattern, almost became describable, then it faded away and left him, like the miasma of a subtle perfume.

" They' re grooming you well enough. I don' t remember ever seeing your fur shine like it does now."

" My legs are rather well tended, are they not? And my abdomen has never been more nicely polished."

" Food? They' re giving you all the right kinds of insects?"

" Oh, superb insects!" cried the spider, showing some signs of enthusiasm on the subject. " Even my quarters are everything one of my persuasion might require. Mechanicals clean it properly, doing my exact bidding. I have spun a new and more intricate web every day this week. It is only that:"

" That you think we should be moving on, working to find Inyx?" Lan rushed the words out to make sure he actually voiced them. He felt a strange reluctance to speak of such matters, just as he did of telling Nashira about the menace posed by Claybore.

" Yes!"

Krek' s vehemence startled him.

" Nashira promised an escort."

" She has not provided it."

" Her troops are all occupied fighting the ' hoppers. We can' t ask her to free up some of them just to escort us on our way. Saving the lives of her people in outlying areas is more important."

" What outlying areas?"

" The ones outside the walls. She said her men are on constant guard outside."