A Warrior of Dreams (38 page)

YOU NEVER FORGAVE ME FOR THAT.

The membrane separating Joslyn's dream from the other was not nearly so well-defined now; it didn't seem at all unusual that she should hear Dyaros's voice in her dream. She considered, and decided he was right.

I deserved more from you, Dyaros. Even a little shallow regret would have been better than nothing
.

SPOKEN LIKE A TRUE WHORE
—
MEASURE GIVEN AND VALUE RECEIVED. YOUR PARDON, MY LOVE
—
I THOUGHT YOU WERE A THIEF.

The corridors were flowing together like two branches of a river. Joslyn hesitated, but only for a moment.
I don't want to go forward. I can't go back
. No choice at all.

Joslyn liked that.

*

Joslyn's sleep did not die a natural death. She fought, but the pull to wakefulness was too strong. Joslyn struggled, but nothing could prevent her inexorable rise. It was slow, at first, then more rapid as her strength faded. She broke into daylight like a fish yanked from its own dear ocean. Sunlight poured through the window of her room; the glare was like fire.
I forgot to close the shutters last night—
Joslyn suddenly remembered last night. And now the sun was high into morning.

Dyaros
?

She heard voices from the courtyard, a low hiss and babble like a quick stream. Joslyn pulled herself out of bed and padded over to the window. A raven perched there on the sill, looking at something Joslyn didn't see. It didn't seem strange that the bird didn't fly away.

"I wonder what that's about," Joslyn said.

The raven cocked its dark eye at her. "They caught a thief in the Temple last night," it said.

There was a scream in Joslyn's mind, but nowhere else. She nodded dully. "Fancy that."

"Swift justice," croaked the bird. "The Temple has that right."

There was a scaffold in the center of the courtyard, grim enough as a reminder of harsher times, but long disused. It was in use now; Dyaros's body hung from the thick old beams like a marionette corded in silver. Most of the Temple, acolytes, servants, and priests alike, stood gawking at the spectacle, whispering and laughing among themselves. The raven was still looking at her.

I didn't know a bird could smile like that
.

"As if he would dance at any moment," the raven said, giggling, "but I guess we already missed that part."

Joslyn made a grab for the little beast but it hop-flew to the shuttertop, out of reach. Joslyn hurried away from the window and out into the corridor. She didn't pause to wonder why there were no stairs in this Temple now, just a long dark corridor that slanted further and further down. When she reached the level of the courtyard there was no courtyard, no morning sun, merely an abrupt retreat of the corridor walls one from the other until a wide hall was created. There were statues ranged about the walls, and a raised dais on the north wall. Joslyn took scant notice of the them; she was looking at Dyaros.

The scaffolding was there, too. Dyaros's body turned slowly from side to side, as if pushed by a morning breeze. Joslyn stood at the entrance to the chamber, her heart beating faster.
I never got farther than this
.

She wasn't quite sure what that meant; she did know it was important. Another moment and she was aware of the dream, aware of where she was, but the balance was too precarious. Joslyn surrendered her certainty for something far more precious
—
a chance. Joslyn heard a rustle of feathers in the damp air, felt a touch on her shoulder. It was the raven finding a perch. "Here we are again."

Joslyn watched the hypnotic swing of Dyaros's body.
Again
?

Again. Yes. Not for a long time, and not always with the raven. But always Dyaros. And every time with Joslyn returning the way she came. The memory was fleeting; Joslyn let it go. She needed all her will to hold onto something else
—
an image of a spider. She stepped into the hall.

Dyaros brought his audience. Acolytes and priests ringed the scaffolding, their sibilant voices echoed through the chamber. Joslyn took another step and the voices ceased. Everyone was looking at her now; but Joslyn was mostly aware of Dyaros. She felt his dead eyes staring at her. Another step and Joslyn almost reached the outer ring of White Robes. They stepped aside like a curtain being drawn; Joslyn had a clear path to the scaffold.

Dyaros's eyes were half-closed; only twin streaks of white were visible, but Joslyn knew he was watching her. That didn't prepare her for when he spoke. "I waited, Joslyn. I waited too long."

A murmur of voices. YES, YES. TRUE. WAITED TOO LONG. CAUGHT HIM FAIR, WE DID. HANGED THE THIEF STRAIGHT AWAY...

Joslyn took another step.
Spider
...

SOMEONE OPENED THE DOOR FROM THE INSIDE. WE COULDN'T MAKE HIM SAY WHO. WE DID MAKE HIM SCREAM. TOO BAD JOSLYN SLEPT THROUGH THE EXCITEMENT. ALL DONE BY THE TIME SHE WAS THROUGH DREAMING.

Not much farther
. Joslyn forced another step, but that was all. The ring of spectators closed behind her. She smiled a sad little smile.
I really thought I could do it this time
.

The raven's wing stung her cheek as the bird rose from her shoulder and flapped across the chamber. It landed on the dead man's shoulder, glanced haughtily in Joslyn's direction, and began to peck at the flesh of Dyaros's chest.

I even supplied the carrion
-
crow
. Her anger did what her will could not, and she ran to the scaffold, her arms raised to frighten the raven away. "Leave him alone
—
"

The raven raised its head but otherwise didn't move. Joslyn finally noticed where the bird had been feeding. The wound was deep, and there were others. The raven hadn't made any of them, merely took advantage of the openings in the carcass. Joslyn did the same.

"They did hang you, Dyaros," she said. "But after you were dead. No torture. No noble silence. Just a quick struggle in the dark when the White Robes found you. Funny how I'd forgotten about that."

There was a sudden stirring in the audience; the voices rose. TAKE THE BITCH NOW! SHE HAS TO PAY --

"I already have. More than was due, if the truth be known..." She raised her hand, and the voices went silent as if a door had slammed shut. "We won't be needing you anymore."

With a thought they were banished; Joslyn was alone in the widened corridor with Dyaros and the raven. Joslyn, her hands clasped behind her back, strode closer to the scaffolding. The corpse seemed to shrink away from her. "One lie gone," Joslyn said. "Were there more? Something about you waiting for me, perhaps?"

The raven hopped off Dyaros's shoulder, spread its wings and circled the hanged man once before lighting on his belt. It used its beak to worry at something hidden in the waist of the breeks and came up with a gleam of gold.

"Let's see that," Joslyn said. The raven threw the disk like a vulture breaking an egg. It rolled to Joslyn's foot and stopped, the stamped portrait gazing ahead with empty eyes. Joslyn studied the coin with amusement. "A votive. Minted in the Temple for one purpose only
—
an offering to the Dreamer. Would that have anything to do with where you were really caught, Dyaros? In the sanctuary, perhaps?"

Dyaros seized the dream for a moment, and in that moment he stood, splendidly defiant, on the scaffold. The next the lever was pulled, and he quivered on the end of the long rope. YOU KILLED ME!

Joslyn brushed the attack aside, reclaimed the dream that was her own. "I knew the White Robes caught you in the vaults, not the Dreamer's wing, but I wouldn't understand what that meant. You didn't come for me, Dyaros. You came for the Temple Treasure, and I was just your key. You killed yourself, and I think it's past time you were buried." Joslyn smiled at him. "That looks uncomfortable."

She took the ropes away. Dyaros fell heavily to the platform, and then she took
that
away. Dyaros dropped to the stone floor, and that blow seemed to wake the dead. He sat up, looking dazed, but no longer the pitiful corpse.

"I was luckier than you," Joslyn said, "the little spider believed my pitiful wasp, made it real. I won't make you real anymore."

Fear was a fickle thing in this dream. First Joslyn had it, but it had deserted her to nestle in the eyes of the shibboleth. He came up in a crouch and began to back away from her. Joslyn remembered another aspect of the spider-child's dream.
I'm not quite so mad as that... Still, one does what one can
.

She was ready for him. When he tried to flee the dream he found the edges much too hard. He picked himself up and tried again. The second time drew blood. The raven landed on Joslyn's shoulder. "Let him go. He can't harm you now."

Joslyn shook her head, slowly. "He has some things that belong to me. I want them." And she took them. First the memory of Dyaros's clothes. What he wore and how he wore it. Then the bright blue eyes, and, last, the infuriating, splendid smile. All the borrowed memories until the imposter had nowhere to hide. Joslyn looked on his true face, saw the chaos etched there.

"What is he?"

The raven sighed. "Incubi, we called them
—
a special talent dreamer, a swimmer in the Dark Waters. More than a little insane and capable of powerful imagery. Useful, sometimes. If Dyaros hadn't died robbing the Temple this one
—
or another
—
would have been after him."

"Praise Somna, a straight answer... and what did I steal from the Temple that would send him after me?

"I don't know."

Joslyn finally took the time to recognize her surroundings; the chamber was an image of the Temple sanctuary. She clothed her hand in a falconer's gauntlet and gently moved the raven to the dais. What she did then was far different from the "meddling" she might do in another's dream, slight changes in the images aided, knowingly or not, by the dreamer. All belonged to her in this place, and, as with Dyaros's memory, she reclaimed everything that was hers step by step. First the Raven, then the Harpy. Musa was the very last, sitting demurely massive on the dais under the Image of Somna.

"I would like the Raven back," Musa said. "It's just the least bit difficult to get around in my true form."

Joslyn shook her head. "First you'll answer my question."

Musa laughed. "Child, I may be at your mercy here, but I honestly don't know. Tagramon thinks you're a threat to him, and that's really all the excuse I needed to help you. I'm not very fond of the man."

"Help? Is that what you call it?!"

Musa smiled. "Between the Spider-child and Belor's petty nastiness you learned to fear true dreaming before you learned its powers. So much easier to cloak yourself in self-pity and guilt. To hide from this pitiful monster." She shot a scornful glance at the incubus. "And all the lectures in the Temple Archives wouldn't have made a scratch in it. But if there's one thing stronger than fear, it's anger. I did help you, Child. And in the only way you could accept help."

"I didn't need you," Joslyn said, softly. She was speaking to the incubus. "I did it much better myself. But as long as you're here you'll be useful."

"Joslyn, we've wasted more time than we can afford. Let him go!"

Joslyn glanced at Musa, and the raven was back. "You said yourself I need anger, and
your
barrel is empty. His isn't. In fact, I'm just the least bit annoyed with him." She moved forward, and the incubus scuttled into a corner. She filled it with snakes, and he yelped in terror and scrambled past her, half running, half crawling toward the corridor where Joslyn had come in.

Not that way
.

There was no corridor, only another wall. Joslyn conjured horrors out the air, herding the trapped Nightsoul until there was only one way out of the chamber. He stopped there, his back to darkness. Joslyn came for him.

"I'll say it," he gasped, "if you want me to. I'll say it."

"Say what?" asked Joslyn mildly.

"That you've won. You have, you know. I'll go away."

"You stole my memories," she said. "You tried to keep me from something that belongs to me. I don't know what it is, just yet, but you're going to help me find it. It's the least you can do."

All shape and form belonged to Joslyn there, but she kindly gave him one. Smaller, true, and a few more shiny black legs than he was used to. But for running down the dark narrow way it was just the thing. All that was left was for Joslyn to choose the shape of the hunter.

"Spider," she said. The chase was on.

Chapter 16
—
God-Dreaming

The incubus lay whimpering in the corner; Joslyn ignored him. As far as she was concerned his part was done. Her only fear now was that her part might be done, too.

They stood at what looked like the end of their journey. Joslyn put her fingers to a flat wall of dark-veined stone; felt the cold hard reality of it. "I had only a glimpse of it before. Maybe... maybe this is all there is."

"Maybe," the raven said, its voice echoing harshly in that silent place. "I grieve for you, Child."

Joslyn glared at her. "The Dream needs your sadness, Musa. Not me."

"So certain? Ghost's soul may stay lost; we don't really know what that means. But this," she waved her wing at the wall, "I understand as well as you. If there's nothing else, then you've stood in the deepest place you have and known that there's nothing else to find, nowhere else to go. If you know of a sadder journey's-end, I'd love to hear it."

The incubus had stopped shivering as he listened to the raven's words. A sly little smile crept onto his face; he cherished it, keeping himself close to the floor so no one would see. Slowly, carefully, he began to crawl closer.

Joslyn saw him. "I've done with you. Go now." He pushed himself closer to the floor but otherwise didn't move. Joslyn frowned. "I said
go
!"