These are relevant references from the Books where the Swamp Spider is mentioned.
I make no pronouncements on these matters, but report them as I find them.
Arrive at your own conclusions.
I wish you well,
When I opened my eyes, I found myself partially adhering to a vast network of broad, elastic strands that formed a structure, perhaps a pasang in width, and through which at numerous points projected the monstrous trees of the swamp forest. I felt the network, or web, tremble, and I struggled to rise, but found myself unable to gain my feet. My flesh adhered to the adhesive substance of the broad strands. Approaching me, stepping daintily for all its bulk, prancing over the strands, came one of the Swamp Spiders of Gor. I fastened my eyes on the blue sky, wanting it to be the last thing I looked upon. I shuddered as the beast paused near me, and I felt the light stroke of its forelegs, felt the tactile investigation of the sensory hairs on its appendages. I looked at it, and it peered down, with its four pairs of pearly eyes quizzically, I thought.
When I said this, the monstrous insect bent near me, and I caught sight of the mandibles, like curved knives. I tensed myself for the sudden lateral chopping of those pincerlike jaws. Instead, saliva or some related type of secretion or exudate was being applied to the web in my vicinity, which loosened its adhesive grip. When freed, I was lifted lightly in the mandibles and carried to the edge of the web, where the spider seized a hanging strand and scurried downward, placing me on the ground. He then backed away from me on his eight legs, but never taking the pearly gaze of his several eyes from me.
The insect seemed relieved. "I am pleased," he said. "I do not think it is appropriate for rational creatures to speak loudly."
"You have saved my life," I said. "Thank you."
"My web saved your life," corrected the insect. He was still for a moment, and then, as if sensing my apprehension, said, "I will not hurt you. The Spider People do not hurt rational creatures."
"That is pleasing to me," said the insect, "for the men of Ar do not behave well toward the Spider People. They hunt us and leave only enough of us alive to spin the Curlon Fiber used in the mills of Ar. If they were not rational creatures, we would fight them."
There was a sound. I leaped to my feet, sword ready. But across the marsh, with his swift prancing stride, came Nar, and in his mandibles, held gently but firmly, the daughter of the Ubar Marlenus. She was striking at Nar with her tiny fists, cursing and kicking in a manner I thought most improper for the daughter of a Ubar. Nar pranced onto the knoll and set her down before me, his pearly luminescent eyes fixed on me like blank motionless moons.
"This is the daughter of the Ubar Marlenus," said Nar, and added ironically, "She did not remember to thank you for saving her life, which is strange, is it not, for a rational creature?"
"Silence, Insect," said the daughter of the Ubar, her voice loud, clear, and imperious. She seemed to have no fear of Nar, perhaps because of the familiarity of the citizens of Ar with the Spider People, but it was obvious she loathed the touch of his mandibles, and she shivered slightly as she tried to wipe the exudate from the sleeves of her gown.
"Also," said Nar, "she speaks rather loudly for a rational creature, does she not?"
"Yes," I said.
After a journey of an hour or so Nar stopped and pointed ahead with one of his forelegs. About three or four pasangs distant, through the thinning swamp trees, I could see the verdant meadows of Ar's Sa-Tarna land. The mechanical voice of Nar spoke. "I do not wish to approach nearer to the land. It is dangerous for the Spider People."
I slid from his back and helped the daughter of the Ubar down. We stood together in the shallow water at the side of the gigantic insect. I placed my hand on Nar's grotesque face, and the gentle monster lightly dosed his mandibles on my arm and then opened them. "I wish you well," said Nar, using a common Gorean phrase of farewell.
"No," said Misk, "we have similarly brought various species to the Counter-Earth, from other locations."
"I have seen few of these 'other species'," I said.
Misk shrugged his antennae.
"I do remember," I said, "a Spider in the Swamp Forests of Ar."
"The Spider People are a gentle race," said Misk, "except the female at the time of mating."
"His name was Nar," I said, "and he would rather have died than injure a rational creature."
"The Spider People are soft," said Misk. "They are not Priest-Kings."
In my haste I had not fastened my safety strap. She feigned docility and gratitude, and then, suddenly, seized me about the waist and flung me from the saddle. I fell into one of the huge webs spun by the Spider People, inhabitants of the vast swamp forest north of Ar.
Then she had flung me from the saddle, down through the darkness to the Swamp Forest far below. I had heard her triumphant laughter, fading as I fell. My fall had been broken as I had landed in the web of Nar, of the Spider People.
"Long ago," I said, "when I tried to comfort and protect you in tarn flight from Ar, you pretended fear and helplessness, and then thrust me suddenly from the saddle of the tarn."
"What did you expect?" she asked. "You stole the Home Stone of Ar."
"Luckily," I said, "my fall was broken by the vast, yielding web of one of the giant Spider People."
"Such webs are common amongst the swamp trees," she said.
"The foliage makes them hard to detect."