Dreamer (19 page)

“Is that Benjamin’s holo?” Fen said at one point, nodding toward Ara’s desk.

Ara automatically twisted in her chair to look at it, though she knew it was there. “That’s him, yes.”

“You told me you fell out of touch with him,” Fen said. “What really happened?” He paused. “Is it bad?”

Emotions welled up in Ara’s chest. For a brief, odd moment Pitr’s face flashed before her, and all she could do was nod at Fen.

“I’m sorry,” Fen murmured. “God. How did it happen?”

“Hull breach,” Ara said, barely managing to keep her voice flat. “Some clueless idiot didn’t perform the inspection properly and missed a weakened section. After a week in vacuum, the plate blew and took Bejamin with it. The inspector was charged with negligence, but that didn’t help Benjamin any.”

Fen looked stricken. “God,” he said again. “I haven’t seen him in years, but all of a sudden I feel like shit. It must have been horrible for you.”

“It was,” Ara said. “But we cope. I named my son after him.”

“You have a son? Now this one you need to explain. I can’t imagine you’ve got a husband who lets you keep a holo of your...former fiancé out in plain sight.”

“Ah. Well, that’s a story. You want some tea now?”

“Not if you have anything stronger. I’ll need something to cushion my system against more shocks.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

True love, like a cough, cannot be long concealed.

—
Ched-Balaar Proverb

Grandfather Adept Melthine always held Council meetings in a medieval stone hall. Brightly-woven tapestries hung from the walls to hush echoes, and two enormous fireplaces stood at either end of hall. Shuttered windows opened on a lovely green garden. One of the walls was purposefully blank, as a result, the cracked chaos on the horizon was not visible to anyone present. Kendi, however, could feel its wrongness, just as he could hear the muffled whispering of millions of Silent in the Dream.

The meeting hall had no doors because the Silent didn’t need them in the Dream. A circle of fifteen sitting places made a ring in the center of the room. Some seats were common padded chairs for humans. Two other chairs were only large enough to seat a human child, and one chair was tall enough that Kendi’s feet wouldn’t touch the floor if he sat in it. Still other seats were simple cushions piled on the floor.

Grandfather Melthine, as head of the Council of Irfan, occupied a thronelike chair just in front of one of the fireplaces. He looked like his title—tall and silver-haired, with kind blue eyes and a lined face. A twisted walking stick leaned against his chair, and he wore a somber brown robe embroidered with fine gold thread. An amethyst ring, the symbol of his office, gleamed on his right hand.

Kendi sat next to Ara a quarter-turn clockwise around the circle from Grandfather Melthine. Because Kendi could not transport himself instantaneously through the Dream, Ara had been forced to bring him into the Council chamber, and it had taken Kendi a great effort of will not to throw up at the Grandfather Adept’s feet. The pangs of nausea were only now wearing off. He and Ara were both dressed in the formal brown robes and gold disk medallions that marked them as Children of Irfan. Kendi wore a ring with a stone of yellow amber, indicating his rank as a Brother. Ara’s ring was blue lapis lazuli, indicating her rank as a Mother Adept.

Despite his tension and the recent nausea, Kendi suppressed a yawn. He couldn’t seem to get a good night’s sleep lately. Every night he bolted awake at least once, slicked with sweat and breathing hard. He supposed he should talk to someone about it, maybe a doctor, but so much was going on lately, it didn’t seem likely he’d be able to.

One by one, other Silent appeared in the center of the circle. The first four were human, two women and two men. They were followed by a Ched-Balaar, the species that had beat humans to Bellerophon almost a thousand years ago. They were a centauroid race, tall and wide. The Ched-Balaar, a male, blinked a moment to get his bearings. His body was covered with short blond fur, and his forelegs were longer than his hind legs. All four feet were heavily clawed, suitable for digging dirt and ripping logs. His neck was almost two meters long and flexible, topped with a round head impressed with two wide, round eyes and a single round hole in the forehead. He had wide, shovel-like jaws and broad flat teeth. A pair of muscular arms were set below the neck. They ended in four-fingered hands. An indigo fluorite ring graced one finger, meaning he was a Grandfather in the order.

The Ched-Balaar settled in among a pile of cushions next to Grandfather Adept Melthine just as another Ched-Balaar appeared, and another. In all, four Ched-Balaar showed up, all ranked as Grandparent or Grandparent Adept.

The remaining four chairs were taken up by other races—a short, furry Grandmother Adept who was the same race as the Empress’s Seneschal, a ponderous elephantine Grandfather with wrinkled red skin, a multi-legged Grandmother who resembled a cat-sized centipede, and an upright, lizardly Grandfather Adept who came to Kendi’s waist.

Kendi fingered the amber ring he had conjured for his own finger, realizing with some nervousness that he was the lowest-ranked member of the order present. Then he shook his head. The Real People taught that there was no need for rank and order. Such things were artificial and arbitrary. Only the individual knew how well one’s talents had been developed or how much one had learned. But Kendi had spent over half his life among people who took rank and order very seriously, and it was difficult to hold the concepts at arm’s length.

Once everyone had settled in, Melthine rapped his twisted walking stick on the floor, and all eyes turned to him.

“Well, we all know why we’re here,” Melthine said. “No point in wasting time and drugs. Brother Kendi, Mother Adept Araceil reports that you have located a new Silent who has some unusual abilities. She also reports that, against her better judgement, you wish to take this Silent as your student.”

Kendi glanced at Ara. Her face remained expressionless. When she had first told him that Melthine was convening this Council meeting, Kendi had wondered if Ara had gone to Grandfather Melthine to tattle on him, complain that he was acting against her wishes. But then he had realized that Ara would have been lax in her duties if she didn’t report something so clearly unusual as Sejal Dasa. He noticed that he had lately regarded Ara as an adversary, and that disturbed him. They had certainly had their share of disagreements, but he would never have suspected her of trying to sabotage his career until now. He didn’t like it.

“I want to make it clear, Brother Kendi, that you’re not in trouble,” Grandfather Melthine continued. “I think it’s best if we hear what happend directly from you instead of through a recorded report. That’s why you’re here.”

Kendi relaxed a bit. “Yes, Grandfather. Where should I begin?”

“When you first noticed something odd in the Dream, if you please.”

The monks in the hall turned their full attention on Kendi. Eyes of varying sizes, shapes, and colors focused on him, and Kendi’s mouth dried up. Public speaking had never been one of his strengths. Ara conjured up a bottle of water and handed it to him. He sipped from it, grateful for both the water and the gesture. Without a word, Ara had told him that she still knew him as well as any mother and that her support lay firmly in his corner.

Kendi told the story. He left out a few details, such as the rent boys and the fact that he had suspected Sejal was his nephew. He also glossed over the Unity prison, though his heart sped up noticeably when he mentioned his arrest. Occasionally Melthine or one of the other Council members asked him to clarify a point, but for the most part they listened in attentive silence. Kendi ended with a summary of his conversation with Ara about teaching Sejal.

“I
am
within my rights to take him as my student,” he concluded with a note of defiance in his voice. “The law is very clear.”

The Ched-Balaar Grandfather who had first appeared in the circle spoke up in a deep, thrumming voice. “Such are unusual circumstances, Brother Kendi. You are new to instruction, and the young man requires special training for this Silence most unusual. Perhaps someone with greater experience is more appropriate.”

“Mother Adept Araceil has offered to advise me.” Kendi’s insides felt shaky but his voice remained firm. “I know I’m new to teaching, but I’m not foolish. I have no problem with shouting for help if I get in over my head.”

“Is Sejal causing the disturbances in the Dream?” asked the Ched-Balaar Grandfather.

Kendi slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not an expert in Dream mechanics. But I don’t think he is. Tremendous pain and suffering emanates from the disturbance. Sejal doesn’t seem to be in enough agony to cause anything like it.”

“Isn’t it possible that it’s subconscious?” Grandfather Melthine said.

“I suppose,” Kendi said, still dubious. “But it doesn’t feel right. Anyone in that much subconscious pain, it seems to me, wouldn’t be able to function well in the solid world either, and Sejal seems perfectly fine to me.”

“Does the Empress know of this boy?” the centipede asked.

“She does, Grandmother Nik,” Ara put in. Was that a quaver in her voice? “I have been in constant contact with her Imperial Majesty since we arrived on Rust. She has been receiving from me the reports that I’ve only recently made to the Council because her original orders were for me to keep Sejal’s existence a secret. That order has recently been rescinded.”

This brought on a storm of startled whispers among the Councilors. Melthine let it continue for a moment, then rapped his walking stick on the stone floor for attention.

“What is the Empress’s assessment, then?” he asked.

“She wants him watched carefully and she wants me to continue reporting to her.”

“What is her attitude toward the boy?” Grandmother Nik asked. Her Dream speech was high-pitched and full of little clicks. Kendi knew that in the solid world, he wouldn’t even be able to hear her voice, let alone understand her language. “Did she give you any instructions regarding him?”

Ara hesitated. “With respect, Grandmother, this would not be...an appopriate venue to answer that.”

Kendi glanced at her. She was doing it again—hiding information. He considered pressing her here in the Dream where it was impossible to lie, then discarded the idea. Pressing her was a good idea, but not here before the entire Council. He had the feeling that it would be best for him and Ara to appear united when it came to Sejal.

“Very well,” Grandmother Nik said gravely. “I respect your judgement, Mother Adept. But I will require the information at a more appropriate time.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” Ara said quietly.

“Does anyone else have any questions for Brother Kendi or Mother Ara?” Melthine asked. No one did. “Then I adjourn this meeting. Mother Ara and Brother Kendi, I do want to discuss this further with both of you when you arrive on Bellerophon. Please alert me to your arrival and let me know if anything more happens.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Kendi and Ara replied in unison.

Melthine vanished and the room went with him, leaving behind a flat, featureless plain. In the distance, no longer hidden by the castle wall, lay the deep canyon that had opened almost beneath Kendi’s feet and the cracked darkness that covered it. Ara had said there were nineteen planets hidden by the chaos, either inside it or surrounded by it, no one knew for certain which. No one had been able to communicate with the Silent on those planets, which were part of a government that called itself the People’s Planetary Democracy. The Independence Confederation, the Empire of Human Unity, and the Hadric Kingdoms had sent courier ships to investigate, but the fastest of the slipships wouldn’t arrive for at least another week, and it would take further time for them to come back. Until then, the planets remained incommunicado.

One by one, the other Council members vanished. Ara and Kendi faced each other on the blank plain.

After a few hearbeats, both of them said, “My turf?” and laughed.

“We were at your place last time,” Kendi pointed out. “Come on. The Outback isn’t far.”

“It would be even closer if you’d learn to transport yourself,” Ara grumbled, but fell into step beside him. They walked in companionable silence, and Kendi carefully called to his Outback. After a short time, the terrain changed. The plain became sandy soil dotted with scrubby plant life. The sky deepened to a stunning blue, and a gold sun shone with glittering brilliance above them. Kendi welcomed the dry heat after the cool, stony castle. His clothes melted away, leaving him barefoot in a loincloth. Ara’s robe changed into a white cloth strip over breasts and loins. The outfit worked well on Ara’s round form and dark skin.

A high, free scream overhead announced the presence of Kendi’s falcon. He put his arm up, and she dove down to land on it. He set her on his shoulder and continued walking. A short time later, they reached the cliff and the entrance to Kendi’s cave. They entered together and sat down on the sandy floor just inside the cave’s mouth. The walls were dry, and the air was cooler. The falcon leaped off his shoulder to perch on one of the rocks and preen.

“Is
Sejal causing the disturbance?” Ara asked without preamble.

“I’ve thought about that a lot,” Kendi answered, “and the idea just doesn’t feel right. I can feel the pain in that blackness all the way over here, and I just don’t get the feeling that Sejal is hurting like that. Not even Harenn hurts that much.”

Ara nodded, her dark hair melding with the cave shadows. “I feel the same. And you can hear more than one voice wailing in the disturbance.”

“What kind of group could cause such a thing?” Kendi asked. “And why?”

“No way to tell right now,” Ara sighed. “Unless someone is willing to risk going inside the disturbance to look around.”

Kendi shook his head emphatically. “Not me.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Ara shifted position and sat cross-legged. “All right, let’s get this over with. Ask me what you
really
want to know.”

“Are you going to answer me this time?” Kendi said warily. “No evasions? No changes in subject.”

“I’ll try, Kendi,” Ara sighed. “This will be hard for me, and I want you to keep that in mind.”

The obvious pain in her dark eyes made sudden sympathy well up in Kendi’s chest. The topic was painful for her. Why hadn’t he seen that before? He could only have been making it worse, pushing at her the way he had. Shame made him fidget uncomfortably. Impulsively he reached out and took her hand the way she had so often taken his during his early, daunting excursions into the Dream.

“I don’t want to hurt you,
Mother
Ara,” he said. “Look, if it’ll be that painful to—”

“No. It needs to be over and done with.” She wet her lips. “Kendi, the Empress told me to watch and evaluate Sejal. She said that if, in my opinion, Sejal poses a threat to the Confederation...” She trailed off.

“Yes?” Kendi prompted, leaning forward. “The Empress said?”

“If Sejal poses a threat to Confederation,” Ara said again, forcing the words out one by one, “I am to kill him.”

Kendi blinked, uncertain he had heard correctly. He turned her words over in his mind, not quite comprehending.

“Kill Sejal?” was all he could say.

“Yes,” Ara said softly.