A Warrior of Dreams (10 page)

That stung. Joslyn followed the voice around a jagged mass of stone. One the other side was an open stretch of beach where the spires grew thin. Waves roared and hissed against the sand, and farther in the sand turned to rock again as high cliffs stopped sand and sea like a wall. One bleached skeleton of a tree clung to the stone with dry, withered roots.

Perched on the tree was a black harpy. It stretched dark wings impossibly wide and winked at her. It had Musa's face as before. "About time you joined us."

Joslyn finally noticed the other girl sitting on the sand, facing the harpy. She was familiar, but Joslyn couldn't see her face, and wasn't in a mood to puzzle it out. "It's odd I've never found one of your dreams before, Musa. Is this how you see yourself?"

The harpy grinned. Its teeth were many and pointed. "I'm not seeing me, Child. You are. How can I know what you see?"

"You knew about the Supplicant," Joslyn pointed out.

"It's your dream," the monster replied, unruffled, "How could you not know? Honestly... You should listen to yourself now and again."

"This isn't my dream!" Joslyn snapped, "I don't
—
" She stopped, reddening.

"You don't... what?" the harpy grinned even wider. "What were you about to say, Dear?"

Joslyn willed herself away. The dream didn't budge, and neither did she. "What are you doing to me?"

"What are you doing to yourself?" mimicked the harpy, "charging about the Nightstage after any dream but your own. Well, tonight there is no other dream to hide in, Joslyn. The Supplicant isn't here."

"He's a living man," Joslyn said. "He spoke, he walked, he drew breath. He's here."

"Then why haven't you found him?"

Joslyn trembled, her fists clenched. "I don't know!"

The harpy shifted on its perch. "I think you do. Isn't that right, Child?"

The monster wasn't talking to Joslyn
—
it spoke to the girl on the sand. The girl looked back over her shoulder and Joslyn felt a cold finger on her spine.

Night
-
twin
.

It was foolish, she knew. A night-twin was no more than a phantom spawned of fear and shadows, but seeing her own face without a mirror was unsettling.

Joslyn shook her head, slowly, "The Nightstage is all there is."

"Fool! Did you really think you were the only one who knew? The Nightstage is where we play at being gods, but where do the gods play? And where do we draw those beautiful horrors that grace the stage? You've seen beyond the play; perhaps only once but you have seen. Deny it again and maybe it'll be your twin who takes the scent away from you. Maybe
she'll
be the one to rejoin the Daysoul and give the precious augury while you wail in the shadows."

"No," Joslyn said. Her voice had echoes of a blade's edge.

The night-twin rose and smiled at her. "We'll see." In an instant she was away, running headlong down to the dark sea. Joslyn watched her go.

The harpy tightened its grip on the branch until the wood groaned. "My dear one seems to have the lead."

It was Joslyn's turn to smile. "He may not be on the Nightstage," she said, "but he isn't down there."

"The Dark Waters flow through us all," the harpy said, "and if it's the home of monsters we made it so. Why wouldn't your client lose himself there? Better men have."

All that was true enough, but Joslyn had seen the client's face and she knew that if, as a man, he knew the Dark Waters he did not drown in them. "Not this one," she said.

"What does that leave?"

The harpy vanished, not waiting for answer. Joslyn stood facing the cliff, its dull grey stones looming over her. Joslyn smiled, ruefully.

You know what's left, Musa. The wall. The Supplicant must be beyond it... Whatever 'it' is
.

Joslyn started walking, her back to the sea. The wall was no closer. She willed herself there and the sea was gone, the beach was gone, and the wall was still in the distance. She ran, and the vastness of the cliff paced her, now closer, now farther, but always out of reach.

What have I forgotten
?

There had been too many auguries, too much time filled with other people's dreams since the time she first found out what lay beyond the mist. It was hard to remember, but harder still to want to remember.

And no time to try. There was a light dawning behind Joslyn's eyes, growing brighter by the moment. From overhead came the crack of powerful wings against the wind. Joslyn ran faster and as she did her memories jumbled together as she searched back frantically to the time when she first lay siege to the Wall. In another moment she knew part of the answer
—
the why. There was a reason she didn't want to remember, and it stopped her with a jolt as the Wall disappeared in unreachable distance.

No
...

"Time's up, Joslyn."

She looked up to see the harpy fold its wings and dive. Joslyn dodged. Too late. A scaly foot struck her shoulder and bore her down. The harpy perched on her like the demon Gahon on the Dreamer, and the Musa-face smiled as blood gathered bright red on its talons.

"Wake up."

*

"Wake up."

Joslyn slapped at the claws on her shoulder, but they weren't claws
—
merely the High Priest's bony fingers. In that instant the dream turned hazy and unreal, something that happened to someone else. Joslyn rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the three shapes standing by her couch. Why was it so hard to see?

"We were beginning to think you weren't coming back," said the Dream Master, "The Supplicant has been awake several minutes."

The Nightsoul was returned, but Joslyn wasn't really awake. She yawned, trying to make sense of it. Supplicant..? Oh, yes. The augury. She had to tell him something... or was it something she wasn't supposed to tell him? It was all fuzzy.

"We're waiting, Dreamer Joslyn."

Joslyn looked at the client, and he returned her gaze with eyes like stone. No other word seemed to fit; he looked as if he didn't care, and in the same way and to the same degree that a stone does not care. It annoyed her.

Let's see how hard you are
. Joslyn stifled another yawn. "I searched the Nightstage, the sacred Domain of Somna. You weren't there."

Tagramon gasped. Belor put his hand on her shoulder again. "Joslyn, that was a poor jest
—
"

"Let her speak!"

They all stared at the Supplicant in amazement. The stone was gone from his face, replaced by something very close to excitement. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to grab Joslyn and shake the words out of her. More composed, he repeated, "Let her speak."

Belor let go of her shoulder and stepped back. The stranger looked into her eyes, bade her go on.

"I couldn't find your dreams," she said, "I tried. As if... as if they weren't there. But that's impossible, isn't it?"

The man stepped forward and took her hand. "Do you know where they might be?"

Joslyn glanced at the Dream Master's face and saw the warning there, but it was too late for that. The Supplicant would spot a lie; she was certain of it. And she could not bring herself to betray the hope in his eyes. But there would be consequences. She looked away.

"The Nightstage is where mortal dreams happen," she said, and immediately wondered why she'd said it. He knew that; it was in his eyes where the stone used to be. That and other things.
Damn it all, who is he
? She went on with barely a pause. "From the Nightstage there is a place beyond and a place below. I... I think you're in the place beyond."

Belor said nothing. Tagramon was in a rage. "Blasphemy! There is nothing beyond the Nightstage that is the province of mortals. Dreamer Joslyn, you have sinned terribly!"

Dreamer Joslyn wasn't listening. The Supplicant was smiling at her, something she had been totally unable to imagine scant moments before. Now it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

"I cannot apologize enough for Joslyn's nonsense," the Dream Master said, "Rest assured that she'll be punished for it."

"I'll rest better if she isn't," Ghost said, softly. He placed a gold coin in her palm and released her hand. "Thank you for the dream."

Joslyn fell into the ritual by long habit. "Is it all that you wished?"

He nodded. "I am satisfied."

The stranger turned and left without another word. Joslyn watched him go while Tagramon glared at her.

"Girl," he said, "you have much to answer for."

The effects of the drug were finally wearing off; Joslyn was just conscious enough to realize how true that was. Just then a week without sleep didn't seem so terrible, but of course it was beyond that now. How far beyond she didn't want to guess.

Belor snapped out an order, and two White Robes appeared. "Escort Dreamer Joslyn to her rooms," he said.

Now there were two harpy-grips on her shoulders, and Joslyn smiled ruefully.

Too far
.

Chapter 5
—
Ghost

True night had fallen on Ly Ossia. At the Temple of the Dreamer the beacons were lit and the mirrors in place. They cast a yellow glow on the bellies of low, scudding clouds. Most of the city was settled in and covered for the night, but one street in an older section of the city was only now beginning to stir. Hooded lanterns glowed softly along its entire length, and business there was brisk though discreet. It was called the Street of Sighs, among other things.

For the flickering life of him, Ghost couldn't remember why he was there. He walked slowly, hood up and face hidden in the poor light. His ascetic's robes raised few eyebrows, and no one questioned him. The Street of Sighs was one place where folk understood the necessity of minding their own business.

Ghost was grateful for that, but as for why he was there in the first place... it had something to do with the girl named Joslyn. A feeling came to him
—
for awhile
—
after her augury. Hope? Possible, but it had been a long time; he couldn't be sure. But he was sure of what the experience was like.

It was like being alive.

And he remembered what that feeling had made him try to do. The woman he found was beautiful and kind, but it just didn't work. He had paid her anyway and retreated back into the night. The memory still smarted, but it wasn't the embarrassment; Ghost was past that. It was the proof that he couldn't tell delusion from truth. How would he know the difference when the time came? If the time came...

Ghost put that aside and tried to concentrate on his next step. Speak to that dreamer... Joslyn? in private? Yes, of course he must. But it wouldn't be easy. The status of Temple Dreamers under Tagramon's stewardship was rather like that of the Imperial Governor's concubines
—
part pampered darlings, part closely
-
watched slaves. They were Blessed of Somna, comforters of the faithful and terrifiers of the guilty. They also brought far more gold into the Temple than simple piety would ever manage. While technically free and revered Citizens of the Empire, in practice the Dreamers were circumscribed and 'protected' like the valuable property they were. Ghost seemed to remember a time when it had all been different, but he wasn't certain if the memory was true. He shrugged; true or no it made no difference now. And the problem remained.

Not easy at all
.

Absorbed in thought, Ghost nearly collided with the two large young men who blocked his path.

"Come with us, Sir."

Rather polite, as thieves go
. Ghost didn't respond, and the two exchanged glances. One drew back the sleeve of his robe to show a glint of steel. "I said
—
"

"And I heard you," Ghost sighed. "Where is it you want me to go?"

"With us," repeated the larger of the two. He wasn't quite so polite this time.

Ghost considered. He had some mild curiosity about their intentions, but satisfying it would prove risky. And there was the loss of time to consider, time that was growing more precious every day. All in all, it just didn't seem like a good idea. "No thank you," Ghost said, "Perhaps another day?"

As one they stepped forward, daggers out and ready. In that instant the world quivered just the tiniest bit, but that little spasm went unnoticed in the wake of the next instant, and what happened then was at once too fast and too slow: too fast for comprehension, too slow and clear for the would
-
be kidnappers' sanity.

It wasn't much of a change; most of the world went on pretty much as before
—
on the Grass Sea a group of brigands rode one way and not another, in Darsa a young prostitute gave birth to a human child and not a monster, and on the merchant's street in Ly Ossia a nervous man slipped into Musa's shop for his monthly treat of Flowering Succubus still convinced that his wife knew nothing about it. But on the Street of Sighs reality was just a bit altered
—
instead of daggers two dazed young men held red roses in their hands, and Ghost was gone as if he'd never been there in the first place.

The two looked at each other with the same expression at the same time
—
the wild stare of drowning men ready to grab onto anything at all.

"What... what do we tell the Master?"

The other didn't answer right away. He turned the rose this way and that in his hand, feeling for an invisible edge. He found a thorn instead and sucked his thumb, looking thoughtful. A woman appeared in the window above them. She was young like them, with long fair hair. The second acolyte smiled an odd smile and tossed her his rose. She caught it deftly and held it to her nose, then smiled and waved at him. He waved back and started into the open doorway, pausing for just a moment on the threshold. "We tell him the man got away. Isn't that what happened?" he asked over his shoulder, "More or less?"

He left the other standing miserable in the street.