A Warrior of Dreams (11 page)

*

The Night and Day souls that together were Joslyn both slept. A small copper brazier fumed near her rough straw pallet, and the smoke hovered over her still form like a specter. In time the charcoal fell to ash, the brazier cooled, the smoke dispersed. When it was completely gone Joslyn opened her eyes. She sat up feeling stiff, sore, and confused. This wasn't her room. It was bare and damp, with a narrow oak door and no windows except a tiny barred one in the door. She looked around the cell and got up, slowly.

Definitely too far
.

She made one complete circle of the room, her fingers trailing against the cool stone. She tried the door to be certain it was locked. It was. She looked both ways out the little window but could see nothing but a fragment of corridor either way. She shrugged and sat down on her prickly bed.

The time since the augury wasn't clear in her mind. She remembered being taken back to her quarters, and later Belor storming in with a gang of acolytes, and then... a goblet. Belor made her drink something.

And now here she was. Wherever 'here' was. But why couldn't she remember being on the nightstage? Joslyn knew why she didn't remember her dreams; you must have a dream in order to remember it. But she should have remembered moving about the nightstage; she'd been asleep hours, by the feel of it. And all she could remember was an odor like the smoke from burnt feathers that filled her sleep and left room for nothing else.

She smelled it still.

Joslyn leaned over and cautiously sniffed the brazier. The same. She sat back, letting out her breath in one gust.

Sweet Oblivion
.

Joslyn had almost forgotten about that one, though she'd heard Musa tell of it. But why use it on her?

Joslyn shuddered and tried not to think about it any more. The Dream Master would no doubt reveal her punishment when he was ready, and until then there was no point imagining better 
-
-

"You're awake. Excellent."

Tagramon's face was framed by the bars on the window, and illuminated by a single torch. A lot of questions went through Joslyn's mind just then: why hadn't she heard him approach, and what he would do, but most of all she wondered why he looked so terribly sad.

"At your service, Master."

He shook his head slowly. Joslyn thought for a moment that he was going to weep.

"No longer. That pains me more than words have strength to bear, Joslyn. I never told you, of course, but, of all the dreamers I've trained, you were the best. I want you to know that."

Joslyn still didn't know that, because a word he used snagged at her mind like a bare root and sent it sprawling.

Were
?

"I failed one augury," she said, "as did others. Surely you won't turn me out for that?"

"You didn't fail. That's the problem."

Joslyn frowned. "I couldn't find him."

"But you know he
could
be found. That's something really astounding, Joslyn. But don't worry; you won't be leaving the Temple."

It sank in. Despite all the pits and walls of reason she tried to set in its path. Tagramon nodded. "You understand now."

"But
why
?" Joslyn demanded, "why is he so important?"

"I can't tell you that. I'm truly sorry."

He sounded like a merchant fresh out of lentils. Sorry, so sorry. No reasons for dying today. Joslyn's shock passed through astonishment and into anger with giant strides. "Damn you, I have a right to know!"

He shrugged. "Surely. But if I tell you'll call me insane, and I don't think I could bear that. You may call me cruel and selfish if that helps any."

It did not. "I think you
are
insane!"

Tagramon wasn't the least bit ruffled. "You may
think
whatever you wish. But as long as the reason isn't dancing merrily before your limited mind you can't be certain. It's a fine distinction, but to my mind a valid one." He yawned. "When you sleep again it'll be done. There'll be no pain. Stay awake as long as you wish
—
or can
—
but I'd advise not to prolong the inevitable. That helps no one."

He left, carrying the torch with him. Joslyn slumped against a wall and tried to think. Tagramon was clearly tired; he hadn't slept since the augury by the look of him. He would retire soon... he must! Joslyn reached under her robe very carefully, praying that what she had hidden there was undisturbed. Her fingers closed on the paper bundle and she stopped holding her breath. She unwrapped the paper until the sleeping crystals showed as a faint patch of white in the gloom.

What if they're watching me already
?

Possible, but Joslyn didn't think so. If the Dream Master meant to sleep now
—
and she was only hopeful about that
—
then there was no hurry. Despite his melancholia Joslyn was certain he'd be present when they killed her. And even a Temple Dreamer wouldn't be expected to sleep again so soon, so there would be no smothering drug to keep her nightsoul penned.

Joslyn shrugged; there was no point worrying. If she was wrong, she lost nothing not already forfeit. But if she was right, then there would be a small chance to salvage something.

Revenge.

She waited as long as she dared, then creased the paper and poured the drug into her mouth. She had no water; the crystals felt like sand in her throat and the bitterness brought tears to her eyes. She almost gagged, and grimly worked her tongue until a trickle of spit gathered, then swallowed. She did it again and the effort nearly made her sick, but the drug went down. The taste never did.

Awful
.

Joslyn lay back on the straw, closed her eyes, and started a silent prayer to Somna the Dreamer. She almost finished it.

*

Ghost watched the entrance to the Temple. Two acolytes in plain white robes flanked the door, their hands hidden under long sleeves.

Carrying steel, no doubt
.

It puzzled him
—
why would the Temple of Somna need armed guards? Granted, thieves sometimes tried their luck against the Temple. There was certainly gold about for those clever or bold enough to take it, and it was certainly a fine thing to be rich.

Provided you never went to sleep again.

The lucky ones returned their spoils, begging forgiveness and the honor of paying a very stiff penance. Those more stubborn or greedy held out longer than their sanity. Guards there were, but nothing so crude as this.

What to do
?

The only thing he could do, for now. Ghost watched, and waited.

*

Tagramon's nightsoul wasn't hard to find. It was vibrant and glowing; it strutted the stage with the attention
-
grabbing
presence
of a veteran actor. Joslyn hid herself in the misty curtains, watching. And waiting. But a new emotion had been added to fear and anger
—
fascination.

What's he doing
?

Agmen a wore a robe of pure light. It bathed his body and limbs like an endless flash of lightning. His hands weaved the pattern of an ancient blessing, and as he moved bits of his robe
—
no, his
body—
tore away like wisps of smoke in a high wind, only to settle and reform, glowing, on the stage as tiny men and women. They took on a life of their own, fighting, loving,
living
under the stern but benevolent gaze of the Dream Master. With a wave of his little finger he gave life, and took it back again. Joslyn understood, and her smile was white and cold.

The bastard thinks he's a god
!

She shrugged. Why not? It wasn't so very different from what he had in mind for her. With a wave of his hand he would take her life, too, only he wouldn't be able to give it back. Joslyn felt her anger rising, and she made no effort to hold it in check. With hope gone, hate was the only weapon she had. She honed it to a fine edge and awaited her chance.

Tagramon pointed at a young girl, little more than a candle
-
flicker in the grand design. "Die," he said.

"No," she said.

The Dream Master's jaw dropped in astonishment and his raiment of light dimmed a bit. With a shaft of pure loathing Joslyn snuffed it out completely, leaving nothing but ashes. A look of bewilderment came to Tagramon's face, and Joslyn laughed. The Dream Master turned at the sound and squinted into the grayness, but Joslyn had already retreated into the mist. He looked back at the defiant little spark before him. "You are mine," he said, "This dream is mine."

"You are mine," she answered in her tiny voice, "and the dream be damned."

The Dream Master cursed and his robe blazed anew. Spires of light surrounded his face like a halo around the sun. The candle
-
girl laughed at him. "Where there are gods there must be devils..."

She began to grow. And change. And change. She was a goddess. She was a beast. She was Gahon the Destroyer incarnate, a red horned thing with teeth and talons flashing white. She was his very own Death, personal and immediate.

Tagramon screamed and the flame went out for good. The play changed. There is a nether
-
world spoken of by the Priests of Malitus, a place of eternal torment for those who do not work hard enough to end the world. Tagramon stood in the lowest pit of Damnation. The demon flicked out a scaly paw and batted the Dream Master face down on the cracked, stinking earth.

The One Nearest Somna was a pathetic sight. His body was covered with charred scraps of cloth, his hair and beard with steaks of dirt and filth. He covered his face. "Mercy, Great One!"

The demon grinned, its teeth now row on row of rusty iron spikes. "As much as you've shown, most certainly. The Dreamer does love balance."

Tagramon suddenly looked up and Joslyn, startled, took one step backward. The demon mirrored her movement.

"If Somna loves balance the Spawn of Gahon do not," he said. His voice was like cracking ice. In another moment he was on his feet. He looked the demon
-
image up and down with a critical eye. "You fooled me for a while
—
I give you that. Who are you?"

Joslyn didn't waste time trying to regain control; it was lost. The demon sprang on the Dream Master who staggered back despite himself. He waved his hands frantically and the image disappeared, but in that instant Joslyn withdrew still farther. Tagramon looked about, furious. "It's Joslyn, isn't it?" he asked, "I don't know how you managed, but it has to be you. No one else could have penetrated my dream."

She couldn't resist.
You flatter me
.

Tagramon smiled, and kept scanning the mist with quick bright eyes. "Not at all. Alyssa, young Ter, even Pari... they're babes next to you. They can't affect a dream, did you know that? They can barely observe one that isn't their own."

Joslyn was surprised, and wondered if he was lying. It seemed such a natural thing to do 
-
-

The fireballs appeared out of nothing, blossoming at the edge of the dream and fanning outward. The mist retreated from them.

Careless
...

Joslyn smothered the curses; there was no time. She crouched low, selected a fireball on the far side of the circle, and snuffed it out with a blast of pure, desperate will. Tagramon expanded his dream to cover that area, bring it to light. Joslyn wasn't there. Joslyn put out another fireball, and again the Dream Master pulled the area into his dream. Nothing.

"You little bitch!"

Joslyn took a deep breath and the fireball approaching her went out. Tagramon hesitated and then Joslyn was away, into a place once lit but now discarded by the Dream Master. One by one she snuffed the other lights.

Tagramon stood alone. He nodded, slowly. "Well played, but pointless. Why attack me?"

You're having me killed. It seemed the thing to do
.

"But I take no pleasure in your death; don't you see that? And now you go and ruin an old man's harmless fantasy. You're a cruel child, Joslyn."

Joslyn felt a little numb. Did he actually believe what he was saying? If yes then he was insane, and she had all the proof she needed. If not
—
she looked around slowly, careful not to lose sight of her opponent. She saw nothing. What was he up to?

She sent her thoughts to him again.
I take my death rather personally
.

He dismissed that. "Child, the end I planned for you was quick and clean. It still could be. Return and wait for me."

For answer, Joslyn set him on fire. The image held for a moment and Tagramon twisted in agony. In that moment the
reality
of the scene wavered, like a shadow cast by a dying candle.

Almost
.

That had been her intention from the first
—
attack and drive the great Dream Master from his own dream as from a nightmare. Make him hurt, just a little, for killing her.

But the dream was not destroyed. Tagramon stood up, slowly, and when he could speak again his tone hadn't altered in the slightest. "Joslyn, you will regret that."

What are you going to do? Kill me
?

He laughed, and a charred piece of flesh fell from his face. "Joslyn, this may be a revelation to one so young, but Death isn't the most that can happen to a person."

She heard it then, something in the distant mist. Something that whispered like the wind. Joslyn saw flickers of movement.

"You see them now, don't you? Wait a bit, Child. It won't be much longer."

I'm no child and I'm through waiting
.

Joslyn flitted away from the light of his dream, out to where the mists boiled in the wakes of... something. They moved with a whisper and a moan and they headed unerringly toward her. Joslyn stopped. She decided to wait after all.

*

When Belor sent the acolyte named Chel to search Joslyn's rooms his instructions weren't very specific. "Look for anything unusual." Chel hadn't dared ask the High Priest just what he might consider 'unusual,' he merely hoped he would know it when he saw it. That proved no problem at all. The door Chel had left open closed very softly behind him. He turned, and there stood a hooded man carrying a small knife. The man held the knife to Chel's stomach and the blade suddenly looked much larger. Chel stood, mesmerized, his eyes on the bright steel.