had indicated, her camp had no more shelter than a bedroll and a blanket. Yet he recognized immediately that she was in no danger. The large fire that burned in the center of her bivouac gave off an eldritch pale-blue glow, and he could sense the wards and guards she had erected around the perimeter. Novice though he was in the thaumaturgic arts, he knew that they were powerful magic. Yet he did not feel fear. They were designed to block the supernatural, not the mundane, and while they might deter anyone who harbored ill-will or evil designs against her, he possessed none.
Still, courtesy demanded that he announce his presence and await permission to enter. Being as his voice was not powerful enough to shout, he chose instead to approach from a direction in front of where she sat. As he expected, the cat detected him first, then Medb caught sight of him as he entered the edge of the circle of the fire's light. Also as he expected, she recognized him instantly.
Rising to her feet, she called out, "Hail, Cuideog, Master Builder of Spiders. You are welcome in my presence. Come forward, and enter safely."
He understood that her greeting was more than just an overly formal salutation; most likely, it served as the incantative key that temporarily opened the perimeter for him. He therefore wasted no time and scurried up to the fire.
Medb held her cloak wrapped around her, but when she opened it before she sat back down, he saw that she was naked. Not that that perturbed or titillated him. He understood from various stories told to him that she was reckoned to be quite handsome and had a reputation for being lecherous. As a matter of fact, the merchant had confided far more about their mutual activities the night he spent with her than the spider had wanted to hear. To him, though, she was simply an animal, potential prey were he ever to catch her off her guard.
He scuttled around to the side of the fire so he could see her better, but he was careful not to approach so close that he unnerved her. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he would attack her. She was far too crucial to the success of his mission for him to try to get the better of her, at least for the time being. Besides, he remembered their first encounter, how he had underestimated her and she had made him regret it. He was not eager to repeat that humiliation.
She and two other travelers had come to the web bridge he had constructed across an impassable ravine in the mountains north of Inganok. By providing a safe route free of monsters and robbers, he insured a steady train of travelers, who paid him tolls. Her companions had crossed over first, each promising that the one to follow would pay him handsomely for all. When Medb arrived, he demanded payment, and she offered herself, but he had to take her. So they fought, but despite his having defeated other humanoid beings who had challenged him, he found they were evenly matched in skill and speed and strength, and battled each other to a standstill. Nonetheless, he managed to get the upper hand and nearly subdued her, but her companions intervened, and they captured him. She let him go only after he agreed to accept a token payment of one silver tahler. Yet that tahler became a prized possession, an eternal reminder both of her and his own careless overconfidence. Since then, he had added stories of her to the list of items he would accept as payment of his toll, and over time he had learned much about her, though how much was actually true remained to be seen.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked in her strong contralto. When he paused to gather his thoughts, so as to spin a convincing argument, she added, "You should know, I had planned to pay you a visit on my way to Urg."
It was then that he understood how best to broach the reason for seeking her out. "I hoped that would be the case," he replied in his breathy whisper. He spoke to her in the common tongue that all beings in the Dreamlands understood, instead of his own race's native language of sheer whistles. "I had business in the mountains around Mt. Thurai, so when I heard you were on the plateau I thought we could travel together, for mutual protection. It would also give us a chance to get to know one another better."
Medb looked impressed. "That is quite a long journey for you to make alone. I would think it would be very dangerous, considering your small size." And indeed, despite having survived sixty-odd years, he was still only as large as a bullock, not much more than thrice the size he was when he had hatched out of his egg.
Cuideog waved his pedipalps in the air, the equivalent of a shrug. "It wasn't all that dangerous. Besides, I have duties that I must occasionally perform, danger or no."
As he hoped, that comment piqued Medb's interest. "What sort of duties?" Very little was known of the habits of Leng spiders, for obvious reasons, and there were sages who would pay large sums of money for mere rumors.
"I am sometimes called upon to carry messages between the members of the Council of Elders."
Medb looked genuinely perplexed. "I have never heard of a such a thing; have you, Runt?"
She looked over at the Zoog, who lay on a pack. Though his true name was Conaed, he was well nicknamed, for he was only half the size of his race. However, his verdigris-speckled bronze fur was darker and his tarnished-silver facial stripes were bolder than normal. In the growing darkness, his pupils had widened, reducing the size of his peat-brown irises, while the firelight reflecting off his retinas gave them an eerie green glow.
"Indeed, Lady," he said, his pink nose tendrils quivering in an excited manner, "I have not, but there are rumors the Spiders of Leng have a government, of sorts." Among his own people, he served as an archivist: he memorized the stories the Zoogs collected from their friends and spies. He accompanied Medb to learn more, while he served her as seer and scholar, and a teller of tales.
"You are quite right, Master Zoog," Cuideog said, "though the council has no power to govern individuals. Instead, it acts in an advisory role, as well as engages in projects that are meant to improve the quality of life for all spiders. It is made up of the oldest and wisest individuals among us."
"I would not have thought a government of any sort would be possible among your people," remarked the cat. He lay beside Medb on her bedroll. He had a rangy stocky build, with a short, fawn-colored coat decorated with bronze tiger stripes that were bold on his face, legs, and tail, and more faded on his body. He had a salmon-pink nose and dust-blue irises, which were also reduced by the widening pupils, but his eyes glowed blood-red in the firelight.
Medb indicated the feline with a wave of her hand. "You two have not met." Indeed, the cat had not been with her when she first encountered him. "This is Cremedevoyager, a member of the feline messenger service and special envoy for Her Majesty, the High Queen of All Cats."
"This is true, Master Cat, my people find it very difficult to cooperate for long. However, the oldest are also the largest, and therefore the most sedentary. They reside within their own domains and have no direct contact with one another, so they are free to discuss ideas and arrive at decisions and make plans without fighting for dominance. Younglings, and runts such as myself, are used to relay messages between the members of the council; to bring them news of what occurs beyond the borders of their respective domains and from the world outside the plateau; to ferry requests for advice to them and responses back to the penitents; to carry their edicts to the rest of our people; and to deal with non-spiders."
Medb flashed a wry smirk. "Prey, you mean; that is what you call other races."
Again, he shrugged. "That, or potential prey." Then: "I see you have been studying up on my people."
"I have my sources." She replied in the whistling language of Leng Spiders. She had a weird accent that distorted her speech, and her grammar and pronunciation left something to be desired, but she still exceeded the ability of most other humans.
Cuideog whistled his admiration, but replied in the human tongue. "You speak well, for a youngling a half-year out of the egg."
Medb ignored the gibe, but she switched back to human language. "So, your real profession is as a techt."
"Is that what you would call it? As a matter of fact, my duties are fairly light, and I need a way to support m
yself in any event, so the bridge is simply a means to an end. Besides, being a 'tehsht' is no guarantee of safety, especially if you run into a starving spider that's larger than yourself. So, you have to know how to hide, and when that doesn't work how to evade. And as a last resort, you have to know a few good stories; thankfully, we spiders love storytelling."
Medb smiled with amused surprise. "A bard as well. As clever as you must be, I would think that you would have been appointed to this council by now."
"I said the elders are wise, not clever; they don't have to be, as large as they are. In any event, it doesn't work that way." The conversation had gone well, but that was the critical point. "The council is not a formal body, so members are not chosen in any way. It is simply a group of individuals who are greatly respected for their knowledge, and greatly feared for their strength. As you might guess, no one respects or fears me.
"Not that either protects them, you understand. Every now and then a particularly dull-witted spider will challenge one, and sometimes even win; it's rare, but it does happen. Also, one of the few times my people will cooperate is when a group of younger spiders band together to overpower and kill a larger, sedentary spider to claim his territory.