The city itself was even more magnificent when viewed up close. Webs covered every surface, and spider-people walked around with leashed spiders, ranging from wolf-sized to the size of the one I’d defeated and resurrected. The architecture was exquisite, with ornate temples, ostentatious buildings, and many sculptures and friezes all fashioned from white marble. It would have been even more grand if most of it wasn’t in ruin. It seemed as if this civilization had once been tremendously advanced, but some sort of cataclysmic event had not merely stunted their progress but actually sent them back centuries.
Guards wearing armor fashioned after spiders’ bodies and carrying long poleaxes regarded us with suspicious, cold gazes. The sight of the resurrected war-spider walking alongside me put a gleam of grudging respect in more than a few of their eyes. We traveled down the main street, covered with a smooth, black rock. It led to a huge, white marble palace with high pillars and soaring spires at the heart of the city. On the entrance steps, an Arachne woman awaited us.
As I neared, I noticed she was young, barely or almost out of her teens. Like all of the Arachne, she was tall, slender, and long-limbed. Blood-red hair cascaded down her subtle shoulders, leaving her not-so-subtle breasts pushed up beneath a blood-red dress. Her irises were an intense hue of violet. Her lips had been painted violet to match those striking eyes. She wore a gold tiara, glittering with many diamonds.
In short, she was regally beautiful, beguilingly sensual.
“That is the Webmaven,” Isu whispered to me, pulling her hood even closer over her head so that it hid her face completely.
“She looks innocent,” I said. “I was expecting some grizzled old hard-ass. Shit, nobody in this city looks a day over 25.”
“That is because they all drink from the fountain,” Isu said. “It keeps them in a state of near-permanent youth. And as for the Webmaven, she may look young, but innocent she most certainly is not.”
“How so?”
“The Webmaven of Aith is not an inherited title. A new Webmaven is chosen every five years in a gladiatorial game in the city’s colosseum. All of the hopefuls, those who wish to become Webmaven, enter the arena with weapons of their choice. The last one standing—that is to say, living—becomes the new Webmaven.”
I stared at the gorgeous Arachne ahead of us with new respect.
“Interesting,” I murmured. “Well, I’ll make sure I keep my guard up around her.”
“You’d better,” Isu said. “She is dangerous. And that is no understatement.”
Chapter Nineteen
As we walked up the steps, I looked at the palace and caught sight of something I hadn’t noticed before: a great number of spider silk cocoons hung from the walls and towers. Human-like figures were trapped within the cocoons, in the manner that spiders wrap up their prey.
The Webmaven was fixing me with an intense stare full of both a desire to intimidate and an entirely different desire.
“Remember what I told you,” Isu whispered to me. “She is far more dangerous than she looks.”
I dismounted Fang and called a halt to my party’s advance. I waited for a signal from the Webmaven.
“Welcome to Aith, Lord Chauzec, God of Death,” she said in a bell-like voice, giving me a slight curtsy.
“Thank you, Webmaven,” I said, bowing slightly.
“You killed my favorite war-spider.” She smiled broadly as if it delighted. “And yet now he stands beside your lizard, seeming to be alive and well.”
“I resurrected him as an undead servant. All those I resurrect serve me unconditionally. I am, after all, the God of Death.”
“Indeed.” She walked down the steps toward me, her gleaming high heels clicking on the polished marble. “The powerful connection I once had with him has been completely severed. But it does not matter. I have many more war-spiders.”
“Look, I’m going to be blunt here. All we want from you is passage for my army through your city. We don’t want gold, food, supplies, or anything of the sort. All we want is to continue on our mission.”
“Perhaps that sounds like a reasonable request to you, an outsider, but passage through Aith is not given lightly. There are many things about our culture and customs that you outsiders cannot understand.” Her eyes drifted up to one of the unfortunate human corpses cocooned in spider silk, hanging from the walls. “You will have to present your case before the Council of Aith. There are many things, as Webmaven, that I have the power to do. But the Council of Aith must decide whether your request will be granted.”
The crawling speed—as in, slowness—of proceedings here was starting to frustrate me, but I knew I had to be diplomatic. The sands of the hourglass were falling, and Rodrick and his scum were no doubt breaking through Lucielle’s fortress’ defenses, but diplomacy was the key. If I managed to communicate to this Council of Aith just how pressing the situation was, they’d surely see that their lives and their city were under as much threat as the rest of Prand.
“How soon can I see the Council of Aith?” I asked the Webmaven.
“I will call a meeting of the council this evening,” she said. “But they will only make a decision on the matter tomorrow; it is our custom. In the meantime, you and your friends will stay in my palace as my guests, under my protection.”
I glanced up at the many corpses in cocoons and wondered whether they’d also been guests
