“You were seen coming towards the tower — have you forgotten?”
Niall remembered the wolf spiders who had been guarding the headquarters of the Death Lord.
“Why haven’t they raised the alarm?”
“Because no one knows you are missing yet.”
Niall found himself automatically looking out of the window; it was frustrating to see the citizens of Florence going placidly about their business. He asked:
“Do you know what is happening to my mother and brother?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me?”
The voice said: “Close your eyes.”
As soon as Niall’s eyelids closed, he found himself in Kazak’s palace. There was nothing dreamlike about the experience. He was standing in a corner of the room in which he had last spoken to Kazak. There were four people in the room: Kazak, Veig, his mother and the black-clad guard who had locked him up. The woman was standing to attention, staring straight in front of her. Siris was seated on a pile of cushions; her face looked set and exhausted. The king was standing with his back to the room, looking out of the window. Veig was also standing; Niall thought he looked unhappy and unsure of himself.
“We know he must be hiding somewhere in this city,” Kazak said. “If you want to see him alive again, we have to find him before the spiders do.”
Veig shook his head. “If we could understand why he ran away. . .”
Kazak said irritably: “I’ve told you, I don’t know. It was a stupid thing to do. Everything seemed to be going so well. . .”
Veig said: “I think he’s trying to get back to the nursery.”
Siris gave a startled cry; she was staring at Niall. It made Kazak start convulsively. He said angrily: “What the devil are you. . .” Then he also saw Niall. His face expressed astonishment and relief.
“Thank God for that! Where on earth have you been?”
When Niall tried to reply, he found he had no voice. It was a nightmarish sensation; his lips moved, but no sound came out. Then he felt the scene fading. When he opened his eyes, he was still standing by the open window, looking down at the Arno. The old man was standing a few feet away, regarding him with an ironic smile. The whole experience had taken only a few seconds.
He asked: “What happened?”
“You broke the contact.”
Niall was feeling so dizzy that he had to sit down on the nearest bench. His heart was pounding violently, and perspiration was running down his face. For a moment he thought he was about to faint. Then the sickness passed, and his vision cleared. He felt very tired.
“They saw me.”
“Your mother saw you. So did Kazak.”
“Not the other two?” It had all happened so quickly that he had not noticed.
“No.”
He buried his face in his hands; it made him feel better.
“Why is my head so strange?”
“You tried to speak, and drained all your psychic energy
“But they saw me. I was there.”
“They saw you with their minds, not their eyes.”
After a minute, his heart ceased to pound. His throat felt dry and parched.
“I’m going to get a drink.”
He made his way along the corridor to the food machine. It was no surprise to find Steeg there already, seated at the table by the window. Niall pressed one of the “drink” buttons at random; half a minute later, a glass of cold orange juice emerged from the chute; tiny petals of orange were floating on its surface. Niall drank it thirstily. He sat down opposite the old man. He asked:
“What will happen now?”
“Now Kazak will be more determined than ever to find you. He believes you possess supernatural powers. He cannot afford to lose you.”
The memory of his mother’s pale face filled Niall with a sense of guilt. For a moment he contemplated returning to Kazak’s palace.
Steeg shook his head. “That would be stupid. This time they would never let you out of their sight.”
Niall stared sombrely out of the window. “Where can I go?”
The old man smiled. “First, you must complete your side of the bargain.”
“The riddle?”
“Not a riddle. A simple question.”
Niall buried his face in his hands, but it did nothing to clarify his thoughts.
“You want me to tell you. . . why you can’t help me to destroy the spiders.”
“Not quite. You asked me if I could tell you how to defeat the spiders. I told you that it was not permitted. But I didn’t refuse to help you.”
“But you want me to think it out for myself?”
He nodded. “You are beginning to understand.”
Niall said slowly: “You can’t tell me how to destroy the spiders. . . because” — he groped for words — “because that would be too easy. Men have to find their own freedom. . . or they won’t appreciate what it is to be free.” He looked at the old man. “Is that the answer to your riddle?”
“It is a part of the answer.”
Niall shook his head; his brain still felt weary. “I can’t think of any more.”
“Then it will serve for the time being.”
Niall asked quickly: “Then you’ll help me?”
“First of all, let me ask you another question. Why do you want to destroy the spiders?”
“Because they are our enemies.”
“But they are not my enemy. I want to know why you think they deserve to be destroyed and man deserves to survive. Is man so much better than the spiders?”
The question troubled Niall; he suspected a logical trap. He said finally: “Men built this city, and the spiders never built cities. They live in the cities left behind by men.”
“But they are masters of the earth. Does that not prove they are superior to men?”
“No. They have stronger wills, that’s all. That doesn’t make them better.”
“Why not?”
Niall thought about it and shook his head. “I can’t explain. But I feel it’s true.”
The old man said gently: “If you intend to fight the spiders, you need to know why it is true.”
“Can you tell me?”
“I can do better than that. I can show you. Come.” ,
Niall followed him out of the room, down the corridor and back into the gallery. He was expecting to be taken to the peace machine. But the old man went past it and stepped into the white column. Niall followed. He felt himself rising. When he stepped forward again, they were in the room at the top of the tower with the view over the city. It seemed strange to see it again. The illusion of Florence had been so complete that he felt as though he had been away. The sun was close to the western horizon.
Steeg pointed to the black leather couch. “Lie down there.”
Beside the couch on a table of black glass lay a device made of curved strips of metal: it might have been a rudimentary hat. It was connected to the Steegmaster by a length of wire.
“Place it on your head,” Steeg said.
His order was accompanied by a mental image. Niall did as he was told. Small felt-covered pads pressed against his forehead and his temples.
“Lie down comfortably and place your head on the pillow. Are you ready?”
Niall nodded. He experienced a faint electrical tingle where the pads touched his skin. He closed his eyes.
He had been expecting to receive some kind of mental image, perhaps accompanied by a wordless flow of insight. In fact, the electrical tingling merely increased until it tickled the skin. This was accompanied by a pleasant sensation as if he had become bodiless and was floating free, like a balloon. The tingling sensation was now flowing from his head to his feet, and the pleasure became steadily more intense. He was completely unprepared for anything so inexpressibly delightful; the tingling seemed to turn into a kind of white light that suffused his whole body as if he had become transparent. It was not unlike the pleasure he had experienced as he pressed Merlew’s body against his, but raised to a far higher degree.
Quite suddenly, it seemed as if a higher note of intensity sounded inside the white light, a note that was itself an intenser form of light. It rose higher and higher, and the light became as blinding as the sun at midday. All this was the prelude to an experience that lasted for perhaps five seconds.
So far, he had accepted all that had happened passively, with immense gratitude. But a point came where he became aware that these sensations were not being imposed upon him from outside. They were only a reflection of something that was happening inside. It was as if the sun were rising from below some horizon of his inner being. And then, for a few seconds, there was a sensation of raw power — a tremendous, overwhelming power rising from his own depths. It was accompanied by an insight that, for some reason made him want to laugh. The tower, the Steegmaster, the old man, even the spiders, all seemed a tremendous joke. And he, Niall, was also a joke, for he was aware that Niall was an impostor. In fact, he was an absurdity, for the truth was that he did not really exist.