Mundanes were brutes; Dor had already known that. So this news about the family of this body was not all that shocking. Still, it was a lot more immediate than it had been. 'About making friends with a dragon-the word dragon may be taken as slang for an aggressive woman.'
The sword laughed. 'Oh, clever! And absolutely crazy. You're right; your old man could have said it. Friends with a dragon!'
Dor decided to gamble. Though the sword could translate some of what the monster said into human language, it could not translate what Dor said into monster-spider language, for that was not the sword's talent. It was one-way. But communication should be possible, if he tried hard enough. 'I'm going to make a peace overture by gesture,' he told the sword.
'A peace overture! Your father would roll over in his booze-sodden grave!'
'You just translate what the spider says to me.'
'I only understand combat language, not that sissy peace stuff,' the sword said with warlike dignity. 'If the monster doesn't fight, I have no interest.'
'Then I shall put you away.' Dor looked for the scabbard. He touched his hip, but found no sheath there. 'Uh, where do you go?' The sword said something unintelligible. 'Where?' Dor repeated, frowning.
'Into my scabbard, idiot!' the sword said cuttingly.
'Where the hell is the scabbard? I can't find it.'
'Don't you remember anything? It's across your big stupid back where it belongs!'
Dor felt his back with his left hand. There was a harness, with the scabbard angled from his right buttock to his left shoulder. He lifted the sword and maneuvered the point into the end of the sheath. Obviously there was an art to this, and he lacked that art. Had he allowed his body to do it automatically, there would have been no problem; but now he was opposing the nature of his body, putting away a sword in the face of battle. 'Bro-tther!' the sword muttered with disgust.
But when Dor relaxed, distracted by his own chain of thought, his body took over, and the sword slid into its scabbard and was fastened into place at last.
'Then you, scabbard,' Dor said. 'You must understand peace, or at least truce.'
'Yes,' the scabbard replied. 'I comprehend the language of negotiation-from-strength, of peace- with-honor.'
Dor spread his arms wide before the monster spider, who had remained frozen in position all this time, while the goblins inched forward, suspecting a trap. Dor was trying to suggest peace. The monster spread its own front legs wide and chittered. Behind it the face of another goblin appeared, watching with suspicion. It seemed the goblins were not allied to the spider, and didn't understand it any better than Dor himself did.
'It says it was wondering when you would attack,' the scabbard said. 'It thought for a moment you intended peace, but now you are making ready to grasp it with your pincers so you can bite or crush or sting it to death.'
Hastily Dor closed his arms.
The spider chittered. 'Aha,' the scabbard said. 'Now it knows it has outbluffed you. You are huddled in terror. It can consume you without resistance.'
Dor's embarrassment turned to anger. 'Now look here, monster!' he snapped, shaking his left fist in the creature's hairy green face. 'I don't want to have to fight you, but if you force me-'
Another chitter. 'At last!' the scabbard said. 'You have elected to meet it on equal terms, it says, neither threatening nor cowering. It is a stranger here, and is willing to declare a truce.'
Amazed and gratified, Dor held his pose. The spider brought its left foreleg forward. Still Dor did not move, afraid that any change might be misinterpreted. Slowly the segmented leg came up until the mittonlike tip touched Dor's fist. 'Truce,' the scabbard said.
'Truce,' Dor agreed, relieved. The monster no longer looked so horrible; in fact its green fur was handsome in its fashion, and the eyes gleamed like flawless jewels. The top of its abdomen was variegated, so that seen from above it might resemble a smiling human face: two round black fur eyes, a white fur mouth, a broad black fur mustache, and delicate green complexion. Maybe the face-image was meant to frighten away predators, though what might predate on a spider this size Dor hesitated to conjecture. The eight legs were gray, tied neatly in to the base of the thorax. The two fangs were orange-brown, and long tufts of hair sprouted around some of the eyes. Really, quite a pretty creature, though formidable.
Suddenly the lurking goblins attacked in a swarm. Dor's body acted before he knew what it was doing. It whirled, drawing the sword from its sheath, and swung at the nearest enemy. 'I thirst for your black blood, spawn of darkness!' the sword cried in a happy singsong. 'Come let me taste your foul flesh!'
The goblins were hardly daunted. Two charged right at Dor. They were half Dor's height, and the outsized extremities made them look like cruel caricatures of the Good Magician Humfrey. But where the Magician was grumpy, these were evil; there was incredible malignance in their misshapen faces. Their bodies were thin, like the stalks of weeds, and bumpy. They carried crude weapons: chips of stone, splinters of wood, and small thorny branches.
'Stand back!' Dor cried, brandishing the hungry, thirsty sword. 'I don't want to hurt you!' But emotionally he did want to hurt them; antipathy flooded through him, for no good reason he could fathom. He merely hated goblins. Maybe it was inherent in being a man, this revulsion by the caricatures of Man. Something completely alien could be tolerated, like the huge spider, but something that looked like a distorted man-
Then he jumped. A third goblin had sneaked in from the side and bitten him on the thigh. It hurt horribly. Dor punched him on the head with his left fist-and it hurt worse. The goblin's head was like a rock! Dor tried to grab an arm and haul the creature off, but it clung tenaciously, overbalancing him, still gnawing. Meanwhile, the other two were advancing, watching the gleaming blade with their beady eyes, trying to get safely around it. More goblins were crowding in behind.
Then a hairy leg swung in. It inserted itself between the goblin and Dor's leg and thrust out. The goblin was ripped away, screaming with rage.
