The Hour of the Gate (20 page)

“well, then.” She rested quietly for a moment. Then she glanced up once more at Jon-Tom. “why should we care what happens to the peoples of the warmlands?”

“You have to,” Clothahump began importantly, “because it is evident that if—”

“be silent.” She waved a leg imperiously at the wizard, “i did not ask you.”

Clothahump obediently shut up. Not because he was afraid of the large, poisonous body but because pragmatism is a virtue all true wizards share.

“now, you may answer,” she said more softly to Jon-Tom.

History, he told himself, trying not to stare at those fangs so near. Try to see in this massive, deadly form the same grace and courtesy you've observed in the other arachnids you've met. To answer the question, remember your history. Because if you don't…

“It's quite easily explained. Are not you and the Plated Folk ancient enemies?”

“we bear no love for the inhabitants of the greendowns, nor they for us,” was the ready reply.

“Isn't it clear, then? If they are successful in conquering all of the warmlands, what's to prevent them from coming for you next?”

There was dark humor lacing the reply. “if they do there will be such a mass feasting as gossameringue has never seen!”

Jon-Tom thought back to something Clothahump had told him. “Oll, in thousands of years and many, many attempts the Plated Folk have failed even to get past the Jo-Troom Gate, which blocks the Pass leading from the Greendowns to the warmlands.”

“that is a name and place i have heard of, though no weaver has ever been there.”

“Despite this, Clothahump, who is the greatest of wizards and whose opinion I believe in all such things, insists this new magic the Plated Folk have obtained control of may enable them to finally overthrow the peoples of the warmlands. After hundreds of previous failures.

“If they can do that after thousands of years of failure, why should they not do so to you as well? A thousand swords can't fight a single magic.”

“we have our own wizards to defend us,” Oll replied, but she was clearly troubled by Jon-Tom's words. She looked past him. “how do i know you are all the wizard this fellow says you are?”

Clothahump looked distressed. “Oh ye gods of blindness that cloud the vision of disbelieving mortals, not another demonstration!”

“it will be painless.” She turned and called to the shadows. “ogalugh!”

A frail longlegs came tottering out from behind a high pile of cushions. Jon-Tom wondered if he'd been listening back there all along or if he'd just recently arrived. He barely had the strength to carry the thin silks that enveloped his upper body and ran in spirals down his legs.

He looked at Clothahump. “what is the highest level of the plenum?”

“Thought.”

“by what force may one fly through the airs atop a broom?”

“Antigravity.”

“what is the way of turning common base metals into gold?”

Clothahump's contemptuous and slightly bored expression suddenly paled.

“Well, uh, that is of course no easy matter. You require the entire formula, of course, and not merely the descriptive term applied to the methodology.”

“of course,” agreed the swaying inquisitor.

“Base metal into gold, my… it has been a while since I've had occasion to think on that.”

Quit stalling, Jon-Tom urged the wizard silently. Give them an answer, any answer. Then the truth will come out in the arguing. But say
something.

“You need four lengths of sea grass, a pentagram with the number six carefully set in each point, the words for shifting electron valences, and… and…”

The Grand Webmistress, the sorcerer Ogalugh, and the other inhabitants of the chamber waited anxiously.

“And you need… you need,” and the wizard looked up so assuredly it seemed impossible he'd forgotten something so basic for even a moment, “a pinch of pitchblende.”

Ogalugh turned to face the expectant Oll, spoke while bobbing and weaving his head. “our visitor is in truth, a wizard webmistress. how great i cannot say from three questions, but he is of at least the third order.” Clothahump harrumphed but confined his protest to that.

“none but the most experienced and knowledgeable among the weavers of magic would know the last formula.” He tottered over to rest a feathery leg on the turtle's shoulder.

“i welcome you to gossameringue as a colleague.”

“Thank you.” Clothahump nodded importantly, began to look pleased with himself.

The longlegs addressed Oll. “it may be that these visitors are all that they claim, webmistress. the fact that they have made so perilous a journey without assurance of finding at its end so much as a friendly welcome is proof alone of high purpose. i fear therefore that the words of my fellow wizard are truth.”

“a troublesome thing if true,” said the webmistress, “a most troublesome thing if true.” She eyed Jon-Tom. “there has been hatred and enmity between the plated folk and the people of the scuttleteau for generations untold. if they can conquer the inhabitants of the warmlands then it may be, as you say, that they can also threaten us.” She paused in thought, then climbed lithely to her feet.

“it will be as it must be, though heretofore it has never been.” She stood close by Jon-Tom, the hump of her abdomen nearly reaching his shoulder. “the weavers will join the people of the warmlands. we will do so not to help you but to help ourselves. better the children of the scuttleteau have company in dying.” She turned to face Clothahump.

“bearer of bad truths, how much time do we have?”

“Very little, I would suspect.”

“then i will order the calling put out everywhere on the scuttleteau this very day. it will take time to assemble the best fighters from the far reaches. yet that is not the foremost of our problems. it is one perhaps you might best solve, since the proof of your abilities as travelers is not to be denied.” She studied the little group of visitors.

“how in the name of the eternal weave are we to get
to
the jo-troom gate? we know only that it lies south to southwest of the scuttleteau. we cannot go back through the earth's throat, the way you've come to us. even if so large a group could cross helldrink, my people will not chance the chanters.”

“Offspring of the Massawrath,” Caz murmured to Mudge. “Can't say as I blame them. I'm still not sure it wasn't blind luck that got us through there, not sensible actions.”

“I don't want to go back myself,” said Talea.

“Nor me, Master,” said Pog, hanging from a strand of dry silk overhead.

“Then it follows that if we cannot return by our first route we must make a new one southward.”

“through the mountains?” Ogalugh did not sound enthusiastic.

“Are they so impassable then?” Clothahump asked him.

“no one knows. we are familiar with the mountains of the scuttleteau and to some small extent those surrounding us, but we are not fond of sharp peaks and unmelting snows. many would perish on such a journey, unless a good route exists. if one does, we do not know of it.”

“so it will be up to you, experienced travelers, to seek out such a path,” stated the queen.

“your pardon, webmistress,” said the spindly sorcerer, “but there are a people who might know such a way, though they would have no need or use of it themselves.”

“why must wizards always talk in riddles? whom do you speak of, ogalugh?”

“the people of the iron cloud.”

Rich, whispery laughter filled the chamber. “the people of the iron cloud indeed! they will have nothing to do with
anyone.”

“that is so, webmistress, but our visitors are experienced travelers of the mind as well as the land, for have they not this very instant convinced us to join with them?”

“we are but independent,” Oll replied. “the people of the iron cloud are paranoid.”

“rumor and innuendo spread by unsuccessful traders who have returned from their land empty-clawed. it is true they are less than social, but that does not mean they will not listen.” He turned to face Jon-Tom.

“they are much like some of you, friend. like yourself, and those two there,” he pointed to Mudge and Caz, “and that one above,” and he pointed now at Pog.

“They sound most interesting,” said Clothahump. “I confess I know nothing of them.”

“Are they good fighters?” Flor wondered. “Maybe we can get more out of them than directions.”

“they are great warriors,” admitted Ogalugh readily. “but you speak so facilely of making allies of them. you do not understand. they are interested in nothing save themselves, will support no causes but their own.”

“That's just what we were told to expect of the Weavers,” Jon-Tom said with becoming boldness.

“but we are sensible enough to see advantage and necessity where they occur,” Oll argued back. “the people of the iron cloud, i am told, are unaffected by events elsewhere. they are protected by their indifference and their isolation.”

“Nothing is safe from the evil the Plated Folk build,” said Clothahump somberly.

“i am already convinced, wizard,” she said. “convince the ironclouders: not me. it will be enough if they can show our fighters the way through the southern peaks.”

“I have some small diplomatic skill,” said Clothahump immodestly. “I believe we can persuade them to do that, at least.”

“perhaps. you must, or we can be of no help to you and your peoples, no matter what the plated ones decide to do. we will march when ready, but if we cannot find a way, we will be forced to turn back.

“i will send from among the weavers a personal representative. perhaps the proof that we have joined with you will help to convince the people of the iron cloud. in any case, someone will be necessary to come back to report on the results of your mission, be it successful or not.”

“Not to preempt your prerogatives, Oll,” said Caz carefully. “but if we might be permitted to choose the representative…?”

“Sure,” said Jon-Tom quickly, turning to face the Webmistress. “Would it be okay if a river guard named Ananthos served as your representative?”

“ananthos… i do not know the name. a common river guard, you say?”

“Yes. He's the one who brought us here.”

“a common river guard of uncommon discernment, then. but still, it should be someone of higher rank.”

“Please, Oll,” Jon-Tom said, “rank will mean nothing to these Ironclouders if what you say of their nature is correct. And Ananthos is familiar with us. We know we can get along with one another.”

“a sound recommendation, i suppose.” She sighed and that whole globular black mass quivered. “it is the common soldiers who will decide this battle to come, as they do all such battles. perhaps it is fitting that one of their rank be our ambassador. as you say, it will likely not matter to the ironclouders.

“very well. you may have this ananthos. he will go with you as would one of my own children. uzmentap!”

“yes my lady, yes my lady?” A tiny adult spider scurried into the chamber, the same one who had admitted them a little while earlier.

“put out the word to all the ends of the scuttleteau, to the uppermost flanks of the mountains and the bottoms of the rivers, to all the believers in the weave and to all who would defend their webs against the plated folk, that a
temporary
alliance has been struck with the people of the warmlands to help them drive the plated beasts back into their putrid hole of a homeland once and for all!”

“it shall be done, my lady,” said the herald quickly. She dismissed him with a wave of one leg and he hurried away to do the bidding.

“we will move as soon as we have word from your messenger ananthos,” she told them. “we will go hopefully with a known route and will try our best if none such is available. but i will not send the best of the weave over the high snows to a cold death.”

“We know that,” said Clothahump gratefully. “You can't be expected to sacrifice yourselves to no purpose. But don't worry. We'll convince these people to show us a way.”

Jon-Tom did not think it a judicial time to mention the possibility that such a path might not exist.

“it is in your claws now. i will have this ananthos found and will give him my personal instructions and the scarf of ambassadorial rank. will you require an escort?”

“We've gotten this far on our own,” Talea pointed out. “From what you say these Ironclouders aren't hostile, just stubborn.” She patted the sword at her hip. “We can take care of ourselves.”

“i did not mean to imply otherwise. i will see that you are well supplied with food and—” She broke off at the twisted expression on Flor's face, one that was sufficiently intense and abrupt to transcend interspecies differences. “perhaps you had best see to your own provisioning, at that. list what you wish and i will see it is provided. i had forgotten for a moment that you partake of nourishment in a fashion somewhat different from ours.”

“Our marital habits are a little different, too.” Jon-Tom glanced significantly toward the bejeweled boudoir.

“so i have heard. honor is a strange thing. sometimes it is better to die happy and honored than to live miserably and unrespected. and you do not consider the effects such repeated matings have on my own mind. a burdensome thing. i am not permitted a lifetime of happiness but instead short periods followed by regretful melancholy. tradition must be upheld, however.” She waved a leg magnanimously.

“all that is required will be provided. i only hope that we have sufficient time to prepare and that we are granted a path by which to proceed.”

“We are most grateful,” said Clothahump, bowing slightly. “You are a Grand Webmistress indeed.”

“it is no compliment to say that one can see the truth.” She waved several legs. “good fortune to you, newfound friends.”