A Warrior of Dreams (33 page)

"Of course Joslyn!" snapped Inlos, flinching away from the contact. "Find a dreamer who doesn't dream... That was cleverly done. Well, I did find her, despite that. I did, and because she wouldn't dream, I built a dream just for her. And she walked in and every devil in that shallow little soul of hers came out to play with me. Only your little joke spoiled the game."

Even Belor forgot tact. "Damn it, what happened?!"

Inlos looked wounded. "As if you didn't know. Yes, let's play it out. Put on the Mask of Ignorance and join the chorus. The play's well begun."

Belor recovered himself, just a bit. "Inlos, I swear that neither I nor the Dream Master knows what you're talking about. No one's played any trick on you, nor meant to. Are you saying Joslyn escaped?"

"No, and why should I? We all know that."

"We do now," said Tagramon, "but we don't know how. Please enlighten us."

Inlos peered up at them through long, darkened eyelashes. "Exquisite. You really don't know?"

Belor gritted his teeth. "We really don't know."

Inlos motioned him over, then leaned close
—
not touching, never that
—
and whispered, "She dreamed."

*

Joslyn slept the next night huddled in the bow, and Ghost didn't ask her what her dreams were like. They found the island on the morning of the second day. It sat by itself in the middle of an empty sea. The sun rising to its left cast the sides of its hills in shadow. As the sun rose and they grew closer, they saw reflections from what appeared to be mirrors scattered among the hills.

"What is that?" asked Joslyn.

Ghost, studying the shore for a place to land, only shrugged his shoulders. They found a serviceable pier of stone on the lee side of the island and tied the boat. Joslyn noticed another rope tied to the pier on the other side. She looked and found the other end on a sunken boat, its prow showing just above the water. "Ghost, look at this."

He looked. "We aren't the first to use this dock in human memory, just in a long, long time."

"Someone was here very recently, Ghost. Still, whoever it was didn't take good care of his boat."

Ghost studied the dim outline of the boat under the water. "You're right, this hasn't been here long, but I'd say he took very good care of his boat. It was scuttled."

"Sunk on purpose? But why?"

Ghost shrugged again. "If we find him perhaps he'll tell us."

Joslyn remembered the dream she watched and how it ended. "I don't think so."

She was right. They found the cairn just as Joslyn remembered it, lying by a crude altar made of exquisite stone, fragments that came from the ruins scattered throughout the islands.

"Polished marble. That explains the reflections."

"And nothing else." Joslyn kneeled by the grave. "The man in the dream is buried here. He was the threat to the Aversa."

Ghost shook his head. "Not him so much as this." He looked at the altar. "A symbol of a human god in their home would be bad enough, but Malitus... And they've no place left to run."

"You seem to know a lot about the Aversa," said Joslyn, skeptically.

Ghost seemed to consider this. "Yes, I think you're right. More than any man
—
" He stopped.

Joslyn pretended not to notice and changed the subject. "We might be too late."

"Let's hope not." He stepped over to the altar and pulled a large stone loose. Part of one corner of the structure collapsed and fell to the grass in a rattle of stones. "Help me," he said.

Together they finished pulling down the altar, adding a few more stones to the grave, scattering most of the rest as best they could. Later, when they paused for breath, Joslyn said, "I don't think the God of Ending will like this."

"A grave is not so fine a thing as an altar," conceded Ghost, "but, to Malitus, it is a tribute of sorts."

When they were was finished they began to search. The sun peaked and then faded toward the west, and the first evening stars appeared. There was no sign of the Aversa.

"She's here," insisted Joslyn.

"I have no doubt that she
was
here," said Ghost. "The Aversa built this place; these ruins prove that. I just think we came too late."

Joslyn shook her head. "She's here. There's not much time, but she's here. I know."

"How do you know? A feeling?"

Joslyn tried not to sound defensive. "Yes."

"Then I must believe you. That's your arena, Joslyn. Not mine."

"You're too modest. You've got feeling sorry for yourself down to an art. Do you think you can stop it long enough to build a fire?"

"Why? There's an hour or two of light yet."

"If the Aversa is hiding from us, it doesn't matter how much light there is. I'm tired, and I'm hungry, and since sleep tonight is going to be
more
work if we're to find her, then I'm at least entitled to a full belly."

He nodded. "Fair enough. I'll go to the boat
—
"

"You'll build a fire," she corrected firmly, "while I find meat that hasn't been entombed on a bed of salt for a week." She gathered up her crossbow and quarrels, a last gift from Kessa. Already their time in Darsa seemed vague and unreal, but the weapon was solid enough. "I saw goats on that high hill today. I can shoot one if you can cook it."

Ghost smiled. "You've not eaten wild goat, have you?"

"No."

"Well, you shoot it and I'll cook it. Whether we eat it is anybody's guess."

*

The nightstage was only the surface, a ripple on the face of the Dark Sea. Inlos paid no attention to the dreams blossoming there. They were all the same at heart
—
fear and contentment dancing together, an illusion of balance. But there was no balance. The waters moved under everything, waiting.

That was why Joslyn could not win; everything that had teeth was his domain, and nothing that could hurt him belonged to hers. Let her catch him by surprise, escape him for a while. It didn't matter; there was time.

Inlos left the dreams behind, moved farther out into darkness. Islands appeared, dim shapes rippling like water around a stone. Inlos soon found what he was looking for.

A scent of fear
.

It lingered still at the site of the broken dream. He kneeled where the scent was strongest, fingers spread wide as he caressed the boundary.
It's here. Something she made of the cloth I wove for her. It remembers
.

Inlos found the place where the fear was strongest, and there he left the nightstage behind, slipping across the boundary like a diver breaking the surface of the ocean. He went mad again. What else was there to do? He swam in nightmares, bathed in the screams of a world. They were all there: fears of dying gave themselves substance in millions of little deaths, every one that was waiting for a dreamer above. Sometimes Inlos could hear the groans of sleepers buried alive in their dreams, but not this night. He was far away from the cities; here there were more formless terrors, voices that were only echoes. Inlos picked out one echo among all the others, a voice he knew by the name it carried.

JOSLYN.

A little lost one. How sad
. Inlos played the hound, and the Dark Sea wrapped that form around him. He went on all fours, testing the wind. The smell of fear was a delicious tickle in his nose, guiding him to the echo.

Its outline was not so very clear. It was a man
—
boy, really
—
whose features seemed hazy, as if viewed through a fog, and no matter how close Inlos came the haze did not go away. He could see wounds, blood, but little else. The first time he'd worked from an imperfect idea of Joslyn's fear; this time he would have it all.

She fought the image
, he mused.
She almost won
. Inlos wondered for a moment what there was about this boy's memory that frightened Joslyn so much. He shrugged. Not important. What mattered was that there was enough left of the image to work with, a place to start building the weapon that would revenge himself on Joslyn. It took a conscious effort to shape-shift from the image the Dark Waters had forced on him, but when it was done, he stood on human legs again and smiled his friendliest smile at the wretched phantom.

"What is your name?"

"Dyaros."

*

Joslyn was stubborn; she chased the goats and the sun into darkness before she finally gave up.

They seemed so carefree and trusting, today
. But when Joslyn went back with the arbalest, they were no longer so carefree or trusting. They were, however, very nimble. Joslyn waited till the moon was clear of the horizon and used the bright night sky to guide her back to the camp. She found Ghost there and wasn't greatly surprised to see that he'd been to the boat. A small pot simmered low over the fire.

"Daycia packed some dried herbs and lentils with the rest," he said. "I think it'll make a passable soup."

Joslyn put her weapon down and sat on a fallen pillar. "You haven't asked about the goats."

The camp lantern cast half of Ghost's face into shadow as he stirred the lentils. "Was something sarcastic called for?"

"Yes."

"Pity... I used to be good at spotting those chances
—
"

Ghost stopped in mid-sentence as if he'd forgotten how to speak. He stared past Joslyn's shoulder, and she turned to look. They'd camped in a small valley between two of the largest hills, and near the west where the land started to rise again there was a small wood. There was a blue light among the trees.

"Come on," said Ghost. He picked up the lantern and started toward the glow without another word.

Joslyn followed, but only after she'd moved the pot off the fire and retrieved her crossbow. She almost had to run to catch him, and when she did, she grabbed his arm. "Will you be a little more cautious?" Joslyn whispered, "We could be walking into an Ender camp!"

"I've never seen a blue campfire in my life, and if you have I'd love to know how the trick was done."

Ghost was right, but that didn't stop Joslyn from loading the crossbow as she walked. She had to stop to cock the trigger, and when she did Ghost gained several steps on her. She caught him again just past the first line of trees, but only because he stopped.

"I'm not a real ghost," he said, "I may not be a real anything. But I did wonder what the true thing looked like."

Ghost was looking at the woman made of blue light. She stood among the trees at the foot of the farthest hill, and, though her image wavered and rippled like a reflection on water, the shadows around her were motionless. While they watched her light began to fade.

... LITTLE TIME, DREAMWATCHER.

The voice in her head was fainter than a whisper, and for a moment Joslyn wasn't sure it was real. But she had heard it before when it was stronger, and there was no mistaking.

"Ghost, did you hear that?"

He shook his head, looking at her curiously. The voice answered her next question before she had entirely formed it.

NO ONE TO SPEAK TO, THERE. NO ONE INSIDE TO LISTEN. The voice gathered strength, but there was a price. The Blue Lady's outline became indistinct for a moment, then returned.

WHAT... WITH ME?

Joslyn understood, and didn't waste time dissembling.
To help you if we could. For you to help us if you could. But you defeated the Ender alone and so we have nothing to bargain with
.

HE DEFEATED HIMSELF AND WAS GLAD OF IT IN THE END, I BELIEVE. NO MATTER. I WILL SPEAK WITH YOU.

Joslyn's breath escaped in a little gasp; only then did she realize she'd been holding it. She understood, for a moment, what hope must feel like to Ghost.
Where are you
?

There was no answer, but the apparition sank in on itself until there was nothing left but a little were-light floating among the trees. It began to recede, and Joslyn grabbed Ghost's arm. "Come on!"

Ghost followed, passive. "I watched your face, girl. She spoke to you, didn't she?"

Joslyn dodged the subject like a poorly-thrown stone. "She'll speak to both of us," she said, "if we stop wasting time we don't have."

The nimbus vanished, but Joslyn had marked its path very clearly in her mind, and they found the source. Ghost traced the outline of a door cut into the hill. The posts were two columns of white marble carved into spiraling vines, supporting a lintel very plain by contrast. It had one decoration only: in the very center a bas-relief of a flowering rose.

"A temple?" asked Joslyn.

Ghost nodded. "Or a tomb. And for a Firstborn in this age, I'm not sure which is more appropriate." He turned the lantern's weak glow into the darkness beyond, but it did not reach very far. "Come on, then."

The passage sloped downward and was very narrow. Several times along the way, the lantern flickered, and Joslyn felt a breath of cool air on her skin.

"Ventilation shafts," said Ghost. "That might rule out 'tomb.'"

"Or not," Joslyn said. She was feeling the darkness close around her and began to keep mental tabs on the oil supply in the lantern. The slope finally ended; the last several feet of it dropped so sharply that they were cut into steps that led down to a polished stone floor. They descended, cautiously, and stood together for a while, their breaths mingling in pale white clouds. Joslyn shivered. "What now?"

Ghost adjusted the wick until the flame grew a bit and then raised the lantern high. "Now we find out."

They were in a very large room. Even with the greater light they could not see all of it, but they did see the wall opposite the steps and the great throne-like stone flanked by twin shadows. When Joslyn's eyes adjusted to the stronger light, she could even see the pale figure seated there.

WELCOME.

Joslyn led the way, Ghost close behind her. The flanking shadows were two large openings cut into the wall of the cavern; the throne was the same as it looked at a distance, though now they could see how the stone had been carved, its curves and depressions exactly fitted to the one who sat there. The Aversa's hair flowed over her shoulders; thick, fur-lined robes draped her slight frame. Her eyes were closed, but when Ghost looked past her at the open passages, Joslyn heard her again.