" Waldron?"

" Of course, Waldron. The grey king. The man they all call Saviour. But what matters all this to a dried- up husk of his former self? I am useless. My mate seeks to devour me, and I flee. So craven of me! How can I bear the shame when my hatchlings discover I have not been properly cocooned to feed them? Poor Klawn must capture millions of tiny insects for them instead of giving them my plump, cocooned body. I am a failed spider, failed utterly and beyond redemption."

Lan allowed Krek to pity himself without human intervention. He had much to consider. This Waldron would be the logical one to order the release of Velika and Inyx. All he had to do was find the base of operations and talk with him. Even ruthless conquerors listened with a knife at their throats.

To regain Velika, Lan Martak was willing to barter with forty demons from the Lower Places.

" The rain' s over, Krek. Let' s get out of here." Lan pulled the silken cape tightly around his flanks. Although the rain had stopped sometime earlier, a razor- sharp wind from the north had been seeking out his naked flesh for hours. Exercise would help keep him warm, and what better way than walking toward his goal of freeing Velika from the grey- clad soldiers?

" You go, Lan Martak. I wish nothing more than to die here. Oh, why did they not leave you with a sword?"

" I wish they had, too, but for different reasons," said Lan grimly.

" You could have dispatched me and put me out of my horrid existence."

Lan decided the spider meant what he said about not budging from this spot. He wondered if threats would work. Deciding against such overt violence, he tried a different tack.

" Krek? Why don' t you help me get some clothing and a weapon? That' d help us both, according to your logic."

The spider raised his head, brown eyes softly unfocused. " How could such a bungler as I aid the likes of you?"

" You' re always pointing out how clumsy we humans are. Show me how good a spider really is."

" Hmmmm, yes, you are right this time. You are clumsier than the most spastic of spiders. My newest hatchlings show more coordination in their movements along the web. Even old Klork, the seven- legged spider living over in the Estaman Gorge, is better able to get around than you, it seems. Very well, I will help you in exchange for your aid later in dispatching me from this sorrow- filled world."

Lan marched off beside the spider, figuring on arguing later with Krek- after he was decently clothed and had a sword and dagger weighing heavily in each hand. The way Krek' s moods oscillated, the spider might talk himself out of suicide soon. The cheerful countryside, dotted with delicate flowers and flowing green ground vines, certainly perked up Lan' s flagging spirits. The rain cleansed the air and left it sweet and heady. The porous ground sucked up the fallen water and left only dust, so that their path wasn' t through the mud of the bog world. Most of all, Lan enjoyed being able to survey the sprawling country dotted with stands of forest and know that none pursued him.

Rather, he had become the hunter. The grey- clads had left him for dead; they wasted no time hunting corpses. He was free to work as he saw fit until the proper moment for attack. And that moment had to include freeing Velika. Unbidden, Lan' s hand went to his lips and ran along them, remembering the feel of the woman' s soft kiss, the tears burning his flesh. His breathing came harder, and his hand trembled slightly in anticipation. As he ran over various scenarios in his head, his spirits rose to dizzying heights.

Krek sensed this.

" I fail to understand the workings of that thing you humans call a brain. How one such as yourself can be beaten senseless, robbed of valued treasure- from my web trove, yet- and your paramour whisked away, then laugh and sing afterward, is a total mystery."

" You think you have problems understanding us?" Lan laughed out loud. " If I live to be a hundred, I' ll never understand you."

" I am a hundred, and then some," mused Krek. " You are right. If you did live as long as I have, you would not appreciate us spiders." This satisfied something in the arachnid' s twisted mentality, for he began loping along with the spring in his gait that Lan remembered so well from the time they had entered the Egrii Mountains.

Krek suddenly stopped and dug his claws deep into the soft earth until he found bedrock. He " listened" for a moment, then announced, " Soldiers come this way."

" How many?"

" Enough" was all Krek said. He sank to the ground alongside the road, appearing to be nothing more than a small dark hillock. Lan found a tiny culvert and draped the silk cape over his shoulders, then camouflaged himself with a few strategically placed branches and leaves. They waited less than five minutes before a pair of horsemen galloping hard came into view.

One sported the grey of a soldier under the banner of Waldron, while the other dressed in gaudy, flowing layers of silk, the garb of a member of the merchant class. Lan didn' t care about the quality of the man' s clothing, as his interest lay in arming himself. Both men sported swords and daggers. And protruding from one' s swordbelt was the butt of a wheel lock pistol identical to those carried on Lan' s home world. He watched the men carefully, frowning. The one carrying the pistol wasn' t of Lan' s world. Lan waved his hand to signal Krek that he planned to attack as the pair galloped by.

Lan had no chance to mount his attack. Krek' s bulk blasted from concealment and bowled over the soldier' s horse. The frightened animal struggled to its feet and raced off, minus its rider. The merchant' s horse reared and vainly pawed the air to fend off the giant spider. Krek pounced, and two savage slashes of his mandibles left the horse bleeding on the ground, more dead than alive.

Lan hastened to the fallen soldier and discovered Krek had already done his work for him. A broken neck ensured that this man would never again lift a sword. Lan dragged out the knife sheathed at the soldier' s belt and turned to face the merchant. It became readily apparent the man had no desire to fight.

On his knees, he begged, " Master, call off your demon! I am sinless! Don' t steal my worthless, pitiable soul! I am too good for such a vile fate. I-"

" Silence!" roared Lan. The man blanched, then fell, touching his forehead repeatedly to the ground at Lan' s unshod feet. He wanted to laugh but decided avenging angels didn' t make sport of their victims in that manner.

" Strip. I want your clothes."

" Please, master! They forced me into the service of King Waldron. I was only a poor merchant on the bleak world, struggling for a living. King Waldron came and seduced me away with tales of riches, tales of people eating regularly. I was weak. He convinced me I should do his bidding and come to this world. Believe me that I didn' t want all those gold coins they demanded I take for-"

" Silence, I said," he snapped again. " And get those clothes off. I might decide that is recompense enough for your sins." Lan didn' t have to hear all the merchant' s garbled confession to know the man was greedy and had probably done worse in his day than steal clothing needed to cover nakedness. If anything, this man probably had sold the clothes and jewels already taken from Lan by the grey- clads. He had the air of the illicit about him.

Somehow, Krek' s looming bulk added speed to the merchant' s fingers as he disrobed.

" How do I look, Krek?" asked Lan, pirouetting to display the gaudy, flowing clothing stolen from the merchant. The thin material billowed out from his lean body and lent an air of massiveness to him that wasn' t his. In spite of the fine clothing, he kept the silk cape spun for him by Krek. Never had he found a garment so light and warm. The heavy sword swinging at his side comforted him, too. The body of the fallen soldier was neatly covered in the culvert after he had stripped it of the weapons he wanted. The wheel lock pistol felt hard and firm and substantial in his fist- and it gave a poignant reminder of his lost home. The sheathed knife completed his armament. While he could hardly fight off an entire army, he felt plucky enough to handle anything up to a company.