I made the cut along the middle of the bald cranium with confidence, and the tight skin parted to release a viscous yellow fluid. It seeped out of the opening, pooled on the table, and dripped to the floor in minute wet explosions as steady as the ticking of a clock. Laying the scalpel down, I worked the fingers of both hands into the crease I had made and pulled back the flaps of flesh on either side to reveal the skull.
"There's nothing shy about Gey," Nunnly said.
"Doctor, how long would you estimate we have before the Delicate comes seeking revenge?" I asked.
"All we can go by is what happened to Professor Claudio. With this in mind, I believe we have a day." He turned to Anotine, and asked, "Was it the next day that it came after him?"
She nodded, and added, "But that is the only instance; a poor estimate based on one piece of evidence."
"I suppose we will have to trust to it," I said. "Now let's see what the Fetch is made of."
I tapped the scalpel against the yellow cap that lay exposed and was surprised to find that it was not hard like bone. There was a certain pliancy to it as if it were crafted from a kind of sturdy rubber. The Lady Claw dug into the substance with little resistance, and when I pulled the instrument in a circular motion to create a portal, it sailed smoothly along as though I were cutting nothing tougher than the callused flesh of a sailor's hand.
When this was finished, I used the thin edge of the scalpel as a lever and pried open the plug, which encompassed an area a little larger than the size of my fist. As soon as this piece was removed an acrid stench rose out of the cavity and filled the lab.
I was nearly overcome by the aroma, which smelled sharply of chemicals and shit. It was necessary to take a step back and let it dissipate before continuing. The others, having never experienced the scent of the latter, groaned audibly. An-otine's nostrils flared, she gagged, and I could see a ripple of fear run through her. Nunnly reached for his handkerchief. Brisden and the Doctor stepped briskly over to the open window and took in draughts of fresh air.
When the odor had lessened, I asked Anotine to light one of the candles and bring it over so that I could look into the dark hole I had opened. As she prepared this, the others returned and gathered around me. She brought the candle, and I leaned down, holding it as close to my face as possible so that its glow would illuminate the cavity.
At first glance there appeared to be nothing but space and the inner walls of the skull. "Harrow's hindquarters" I thought, "the damn thing is empty." I looked again, and then I saw a small shiny protuberance glint in the light from the flame. Giving Brisden the candle, I reached with my opposite hand inside the head. Up near the front, just behind where the eyes were positioned in the face, I felt a small sac filled with fluid. Further tactile investigation told me it was connected by two stalks to an area of smooth flesh. I grabbed these cartilaginous tubes tightly with my fingers and yanked on them. They came free with an audible snap, and I drew the entire assemblage of tissue out into the daylight.
Holding the organ in the palm of my hand, I looked down at it, amazed that this little bag of green liquid could have animated the Fetch.
"Not much of a prize for all that work," said Brisden.
"Is there nothing else?" asked the Doctor.
"Just this," I said.
"I don't understand how the thing worked," said Nunnly.
"Surely that can't be enough of an organic engine to power a flying head."
"Unless that gas that was released was the source of its energy," said the Doctor.
"And what would that be?" asked Nunnly.
"Dreams, perhaps," said the Doctor.
"Noxious ones at that," said Brisden.
"Another delivery," said Anotine, referring to what I had told her about my midwifing duties. She smiled at me as though proud of my accomplishment.
"For that, I'm going to have my essence sucked out through my ear?" asked Brisden, pointing with his pinky finger.
"It may be more valuable than you think," I said. Now that the initial puzzlement had worn off, I realized that it might just be what I had been looking for. The fact that it had been attached to the back of the eyes led me to believe that it had something to do with the Fetch's ability to probe the inhabitants and objects of the mnemonic world. Of course, it was all so much dangerous conjecture, but I wondered if perhaps it was the key to releasing Below's secret knowledge from those symbolic forms in which it was hidden.
"Anotine, do you have a beaker, something I can pour the contents of this into?" I asked.
She turned away and began searching the other tables.
Nunnly laughed. "Time for cocktails?" he asked.
"Precisely," I said.
The others remained silent as I cut the small bag of green with the scalpel and drained it into the bottom of the flask Anotine had found. When the organ was empty, I threw the whithered sac back into the open skull. Lifting the container, I swirled it around, the inch of liquid at the bottom circling in a miniature wave.
Now came the moment of reckoning. If I were to ingest it, I considered that there were at least three possibilities of what might happen. The first was that it would do nothing, perhaps make me ill. The second was that it would poison me, and I would die both in Below's mind and also back to my reality, where Misrix waited for me. The last was that I would be privy to the knowledge Below had stored on the island.
As cold as it is to say, I thought nothing of the predicament of my neighbors in Wenau, but only of Anotine. I could not lose her. The only prospect for her survival would be to find the antidote. It was this alone that convinced me to gamble.
"You're not really going to drink that muck, are you?" asked Brisden.
I walked past the others and took a seat in the metallic chair, which now frightened me less than the thought of what I was about to do.
"I can't allow this," said the Doctor. "Cley, this is senseless. There is no evidence that this will do any more than sicken you."
"I'm with the Doctor," said Nunnly. "We are going to need you when the Delicate comes. You're the only one who knows this foolish plan of yours."
"I'm only going to take a little of it," I said.
"Absurd," said the Doctor.
"We'll have to prevent that," said Brisden.
"Wait," said Anotine. "He knows what he is doing. You said you would trust him. Now is the time for trust. Stand away from him."
I watched as the gentlemen all bowed their heads and reluctantly moved a step back. It confirmed what I was beginning to suspect, that Anotine was really the leader of the group. Although Hellman had always spoken with the most conviction, it was evident that she had an unvoiced authority over the rest of them.
"I'm grateful to you all for your concern," I told them. "If this wasn't necessary, believe me, I'd rather a Rose Ear Sweet any time."
"What if you perish?" asked Nunnly. "What are we to do with the Delicate?"
"Kill him," I said, "and take his head to the gate. Align his eyes with the eye on the emblem. Hopefully it will open for you. The Panopticon might save you from the dissolution of the rest of the island."
"And if it doesn't?" asked the Doctor.
I had no ready answer for him, for I had barely thought that far ahead myself. To my surprise, I found a lit Hundred-To-One in my right hand. When I looked up, Brisden, Nunnly, the Doctor, and Anotine were all smoking. After a few puffs, I swirled the liquid one more time and put the flask to my lips.