The question was rhetorical; but as their eyes met, both realized they were thinking the same thing.
A moment later, Boyd came into the room. He looked startled to see that the tables were now empty. “Hello! Where’s everyone gone?”
Phelim said: “We found the antidote to the poison.”
“Pity. I’ve got another idea.”
Simeon said quickly: “What is it?”
“But it’s no use now, is it?”
Phelim said: “Tell us all the same.”
“One of these.” Boyd reached up, and tugged from around his head something that Niall had taken for a metal hairband. It was of a pale gold color.
Niall asked: “What is it?”
“It’s called a Gullstrand apparatus. It’s supposed to help brain-damaged patients.”
Niall took it from him. It looked so much like a hairband that he wondered whether Boyd was mistaken.
“It doesn’t seem to have any controls.”
“It doesn’t need any. It’s made of two substances, a conductor and a nonconductor, and when the ends make contact with the skin, it fires random bursts of electric current into the brain. Why don’t you try it?”
Niall slipped it on to his head, with the center of the band across his forehead and the ends above his ears. He expected to feel some kind of electrical tingling sensation; in fact, he felt nothing. “Are you sure it works?”
“It takes a minute or two.”
“Then what happens?”
“I got strange sorts of flashes, then some rather weird sensations.” Something in Boyd’s expression suggested that he was saying rather less than he meant.
They stood there, watching him in silence. Niall finally shook his head.
“Nothing’s happening. Are you sure it’s switched on?”
“It’s on all the time. It works off permanent batteries.”
“Perhaps they’re worn out.”
“Not likely.” Boyd spoke with confidence. “They only use a few millivolts. They’ll last forever.”
Niall slipped it off his head and held it out to Simeon. “I don’t think it’s going to work.”
Simeon said: “Keep it. It’s yours.”
“Mine?”
“It was found in this city. You are the ruler of this city. Therefore, everything in it belongs to you.”
“Thank you.” Niall replaced it on his head, this time using it as a circlet to hold the hair in place.
Boyd said: “It worked for me. There must be something peculiar about your brain. ”
Niall opened his eyes and stared around him in bewilderment. It took him a few moments to recognize where he was. He was lying in the empty hallway of the hospital, at the foot of the stairs. Outside, the avenue was almost deserted. A few yards away, down the corridor, he could hear the voice of the matron holding a conversation with one of the nurses. The last thing he remembered was a flash of light inside his head, followed by a sharp pain like an incipient headache.
He clambered hastily to his feet, glad that no one had noticed him lying there — the thought of fainting filled him with embarrassment. The circlet was lying on the floor; he picked it up and replaced it on his head. The moment he did so, he realized that this was what had been responsible for his loss of consciousness. His brain lurched, as if he had stepped onto the deck of a ship tossing in a storm, and he had to steady himself by grabbing the banister at the bottom of the stairway. He hastily snatched the circlet from his head, and dropped it into the wide pocket of his tunic. The moment he did so, the feeling of dizziness vanished, but a feeling of weakness remained.
He sat down on the bottom step and closed his eyes. It was best to relax and allow himself to become totally passive; any attempt to think brought a return of the weariness. But after a few minutes, his sensations returned to normal. When he stood up, he was relieved to find that there was no return of the nausea.
But as soon as he stepped out into the winter sunlight he noticed the difference. It was as distinct as waking up from sleep. Everything around him seemed oddly clear, as if some kind of a veil had been withdrawn. The outline of everything he looked at was oddly sharp and bright. There was a similar heightening in his physical sensations. The wind against his face seemed somehow cooler and stronger, as if he had just stepped out of a hot bath. The sensation of his clothing against his body, normally unnoticed, was now almost painfully intrusive, as if a layer of skin had been removed. This new sense of clarity was at once delightful and uncomfortable; even the sunlight seemed too bright, so that he was forced to half-close his eyelids against it. In this state of wide-awakeness, his normal consciousness seemed like a form of sleep.
One thing was clear: that the Gullstrand apparatus caused peculiar changes in the brain. Boyd had said that it was used to help braindamaged patients. He was tempted to return to the hospital, to see if the medical textbook contained any further information; but since his forehead was covered in perspiration, and he felt a strong desire to lie down, he decided against it.
Now, as he walked along the southern side of the square toward the palace, he realized that strange things were still happening inside his head. He was now experiencing a disturbingly strange sensation — as if everything had suddenly been magnified and then shrunk back to normal size. It felt rather as if some enormous object was rushing toward him at great speed, then receding again, or as if his brain was on a swing, swooping backwards and forwards. It was a vertiginous experience, and brought back some of the earlier feeling of nausea. But he comforted himself with the thought that, since it had been caused by the Gullstrand apparatus, which was now in his pocket, the effect should be only temporary.
Staring at the pavement helped. But this had the curious effect of making the pavement seem closer and somehow more real; although he had been staring at it for only a few seconds, he felt that he would remember it for the rest of his life. He made a kind of effort — like pushing it to arm’s length — and this overpowering sense of reality disappeared, to be replaced by a curious sensation as if he was seeing the pavement through the long end of a telescope.
He had almost reached the palace when he heard the sound of footsteps running behind him. It was Boyd.
“You forgot this.” He held out the box containing the lakeweed.
“Oh, thank you.”
Boyd looked at him closely. “Are you all right? You look a bit funny.”
“Yes. I’m all right. Just rather tired.”
Boyd looked down at the gold circlet, which was sticking out of the wide tunic pocket. “It was that thing, wasn’t it? It made me feel as if I’d had too many glasses of mead. But it soon wears off.”
“Do you know how it works?”
“Yes, I think so. But it would take a long time to explain.”
“Then why don’t you come in? Or are they expecting you back?”
“Oh no. They’re trying to analyze the blood on that hatchet. That’ll take hours.” He looked up at the palace. “Is this where you live?”
“Yes.”
“What a marvelous place. Does it have marble staircases?”
“Yes. Would you like to come and see it?”
Boyd said eagerly: “I’ll say!” The piece of slang was new to Niall, but he gathered that it signified assent.
As they approached the door, Boyd glanced nervously at the wolf spider who stood on guard; the spider betrayed no sign of being aware of their presence. When the door had closed behind them, Boyd asked in an undertone: “Is that thing real?”
“Of course.” Niall looked at him in surprise.
“I thought it might be a statue. Doesn’t it give you the creeps?”
Niall was surprised to find himself feeling defensive about the spiders. “Human beings give spiders the creeps. We have to learn to get used to one another.”
Oblivious to the implied rebuke, Boyd was staring around the hallway. “I say, what a place to live! It’s like our town hall.” He ran over to the fireplace and peered up the chimney. “Isn’t it huge? Why doesn’t the rain come down?”
“I don’t know.”
Boyd opened the cellar door. “What’s this place?”
“The cellar.”
“Can I have a look?”
“It’s dark down there.”
“There’s a lamp here.” In a niche at the top of the stairs, there was an unlighted oil lamp, with a tinder box beside it. (Matches had been available since the end of slavery, but were still in short supply.) With an expertise born of long experience Boyd kindled the wick and replaced the chimney. Then, with Niall behind him, he went down into the cellar. Half a dozen smoked hams were hanging from the beams, and there were a few barrels of pickles, preserves, and boxes of spices. Boyd said with disappointment: “Not much here.”