In the Cave of Magic...   


 

 

Then, abruptly, the old woman veered toward them and with a shock they all registered her eyes. In a face that was as folded with wrinkles as a walnut, two solemn black eyes were fixed upon them. There was neither white nor iris. The eyes were all black, liquidly glistening, and as fierce as an eagle's. All four of them shrieked as their gazes fell from her eyes to the voluminous rags of her dress, which shifted and moved, like something quick and horribly alive, and in which minuscule diamonds of light seemed to gambol and reflect the firelight.  Alan felt his heart hammering against the cage of his chest. She was addressing him, with her head down and her chin lost in the folds of her neck and upper chest. But even if the pounding of his heart had not expanded to fill his ears, he would not have responded. 

Suddenly Alan realised the true nature of her dress. It was woven from cobwebs. The diamond lights that scrabbled and sparkled in its dark lacy depths were the eyes of the spiders that spun it.