Fearsome Dreamer (20 page)

Rue said nothing.

‘There is so much more in the world than Angle Tar,' he said, as he came closer. She thrilled whenever he came closer to her with that little smile on his mouth. ‘There may even come a time, one day, when you think of Angle Tar as a small place, and you'll wonder how you ever fitted in there.'

‘Will you show me more things like this?' said Rue.

‘Yes. And soon.'

Her eyes came onto the black box, sitting calmly on the table in front of her.

Did it really hold another world? Perhaps there were more worlds, other worlds she couldn't see, or smell, or hear. Worlds without end and of infinite variety, everything you could ever imagine existing somewhere, just waiting to be tasted.

She would find a way to get to them all; to see them and be in them and feel them for herself. She would have adventures. A wild and passionate life. Her years stretched before her, blank and promising. She would fill them with everything.

And if Angle Tar wouldn't help her, maybe the silver-eyed boy could.

He rolled over, sheet sweat-soaked and twisted.

Gods, he prayed with a fervour that shook him, please get rid of it. Please cure me. I'm sick. Any god will do. Help me.

The dream would linger all night and for at least two more days, as usual. This time it had been more abstract. Flashes of skin and her open mouth, and her head turning, turning. Every time his attention wandered, he would find himself running his fingers over the freckles on her arms in his mind.

He groaned and pressed his face into the pillow hard. There would be no more sleep. But he would not think of her. He would not indulge and encourage himself by picturing her lying next to him, or thinking of how she might look if she were here, with him, in his bed, talking to him in little whispers.

It was as if his skin itched constantly, and no amount of scratching could relieve it. The more he scratched the worse it became; maddening and constant. He couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a minute or two, because she was always there, waiting for him to come back.

‘Stop this,' he said again, trying to cut through the mist of her with his voice. ‘Stop it.'

It was Tuesday, the day, the best and most nerve-wracking day of the week. Rue's weekly lesson with him would be this afternoon. No wonder he couldn't sleep.

‘Today we will further the hook,' he said.

Rue sighed theatrically. That used to annoy him. Now it did something else.

‘It is tiresome, I know it,' he said. ‘Tiresome to learn, to take you from your busy hours of doing what you do.'

‘What I do?' she said, with a teasing grin. ‘What do I do? You won't know what I do. It could be very important.'

‘No doubt it has much to do with frivolous fantasising,' he snapped. Inside he cringed at himself. What was he becoming?

Her face fell, and he knew he had hurt her, which made him angry, so he tried to shake it off.

‘Focus,' he said, aware he was speaking mainly to himself. ‘Close your eyes and let us begin.'

She did, obediently.

‘Now we have five minutes of reaching inside. Start breathing.'

‘I'm always breathing,' she murmured. ‘If I weren't, I'd die.'

‘Stop playing and concentrate.'

He watched her.

It took half an hour, this time, which was an improvement. But slowly, so slowly, inch by inch. Almost as much as they gained they would lose, and Frith was going to be unhappy.

‘It is imprecise,' White said to Frith once. ‘It is not a skill you implant. It is most probably linked with brain development, personality traits, factors of environment. You cannot control with precision how someone develops. So you cannot control this. It is a confused, intricate human thing.'

Frith had looked at him for a long moment. White was afraid that he knew what Frith was thinking.
Then what good are you?

White had become nervous. ‘It can be honed, as with any skill,' he had said, trying not to appear defensive. ‘But it takes time, and it depends on the student. Some will understand precisely from the start and develop fast. But then they will reach a certain level and go no more. The unpredictable ones are those that are usually the most Talented.'

‘Like you,' Frith had said softly.

White saw Rue's eyes twitch. And there it was.

‘Where are you?' he said, his voice pitched as gentle as he could make it.

‘A room. It's wood everywhere. It's pretty.'

‘Are you alone?'

‘Yes.'

‘What can you see?'

He ran through the requisite questions, noting everything that she said as meticulously as he could. Questions about the environment around her, what anything man-made looked like. What the people, if she could see any, looked like. How it smelled. How it felt. How she felt. What she could hear. Every little thing, so they could attempt to work out where she was and if she could see or hear anything of use.

Truth be told, it was dull, always dull. Always the same questions, and it took so long. It was always rooms such as this one, with the newer Talented. It was easier for them to Jump their minds to places that reminded them of the one they were in.

Rue had to search to answer his questions; it took her a full minute, on occasion. Almost as if she couldn't see properly. The light was too dim, or their vision was blurred. It took them a long time to be able to see in a mind Jump the way they saw normally.

Her voice had a curious quality to it when she used the Talent. Dreamy and languorous. Seductive. He thought often about reaching in and kissing her when she was in this state, knew that he never would, and so felt safe in letting himself think of it.

He sighed. It had been three hours, almost. He should bring her back.

‘Zelle Vela,' he said. ‘Find the hook now. I need you to find the hook.'

She was still for so long he thought she'd gone to sleep.

‘Can't feel it,' she said eventually.

‘You know what it feels like, reach for it.'

‘Can't feel it.'

White watched her. ‘The hook, Zelle Vela,' he said, keeping his voice soft. ‘You will remember what it feels like.'

‘Can't find it.' Her voice had lost some of its sleepiness. He thought he could hear nervousness.

‘It is thin,' he said, as if reading from a textbook. If he showed any emotion at all, she would hear it and start to panic. ‘It vibrates with the frequency you have given it. It is familiar, it feels as if you are coming home. You will want to stay away from the feeling of home, but you must embrace it. There will be another time to explore, always another time. As you find the hook, you are overwhelmed with tiring sensations. It is time to come back now, and you are too tired to stay out there in the world.'

Rue stirred. She looked more crumpled and faded this time around, a good sign that she had thrown more of herself into the mind Jump. He noted it down to mention in his report later. Her eyes opened and she almost slid off the chair.

He wanted to put his arms around her. She seemed worn, and very tired.

‘It is time to rest, an hour at least,' he said, standing up. She looked at him, muzzy.

‘Come,' he said, more sharply than he'd intended. ‘I have another lesson in a moment.'

‘Who with? I thought you said you didn't have one 'til the evening.'

‘It is the evening. Our lesson today has been three hours.'

Rue looked around stupidly. ‘Oh,' she managed. ‘I'm getting longer. Is that good or bad?'

‘Neither,' said White. He could have lied, but had taken Frith's advice to heart. It appeared, miraculously, to be working.

‘Oh! I'm late,' she squealed, as her eyes fastened on his wall clock. ‘Threya take me, and I've to change clothes.'

‘You should be resting.'

She ignored this and gathered up her bag and coat, giving him a glance he thought – hoped – was shy.

‘Don't you want to know where I'm going?' she said.

‘No,' said White, though he did, and desperately.

‘I shall see you next week, then.'

She hurried out of his door, and he watched her go.

Rue ran across the gardens, banging the back gate closed and bursting into Red House.

‘You should hurry,' said Lea, floating past. ‘Marches and Tulsent have already gone ahead.'

‘Don't go without me?' Rue pleaded, springing into her room.

At breakfast that morning, Lufe had led the way in suggesting that the group go out to the town together in the evening, in the spirit of friendship. They were to dine at a favourite tavern of his, and he would be paying. When Rue had protested at this exuberant display of generosity, Lea had laughed and told her it wouldn't even make a dent in his weekly allowance.

Rue picked up the dress she had decided to wear. It was old-fashioned, she supposed, but it looked good on her. She pulled it on and checked her face in the mirror. Not bad. A little tired-looking, maybe.

Lea and Lufe were waiting for her in the corridor. Lea looked lovely, far too lovely for her own good, according to Lufe. He teased and taunted her mercilessly as they walked, but she would have none of it. Finally he went up ahead in a huff, to find a carriage.

‘He's just annoyed because he thinks I'll attract some rich man and go off with him,' said Lea gleefully.

‘Why does he care?' said Rue, though she could guess.

Lea gave her an impish look, but said no more.

They travelled to a less dainty and more raucous part of town than Rue had yet seen. Still respectable, but wild enough to have a good time, as Lufe put it. Lea was provoking some admiring stares, which she did nothing to dissuade. Rue fancied she caught a glance or two tossed her way, but she supposed she was like a robin next to a swan walking along beside Lea in her finery.

When they reached the tavern, it was noisy, smoky and packed. Lufe being Lufe had ordered a table in a private booth near the back, and Rue was glad of it. The dividing curtains kept out the worst of the noise.

She slid in next to Marches, who was already sat with a blinking Tulsent beside him. They both looked really young, here. She supposed they all did.

‘I'm starving,' announced Lea, as she slid into the booth. ‘Let's order everything they have.'

And so the evening went. Rue had never been out to dinner before, unless you counted the spring and harvest dances at the village, and really then it was more a case of wolfing down what food you could find on the ramshackle tables laid out in the square in between dances. This was different. You were sat, eating, drinking, talking. Close together like conspirators. You could feel that people looked at your closed-off booth as they passed, perhaps in envy or curiosity. It felt nice, and strange. It was easy to get on with people when food kept coming, and wine kept flowing.

Rue started to enjoy herself.

‘The midwinter ball is soon, and I must have a dress for it, for I still haven't found one quite right,' said Lea, in between mouthfuls of hot chicken drenched in lemon oil.

‘What's that, then?' Rue asked, swilling her mouth out with wine. She had chosen spiced beef baked with soft, fat apricots, and her tongue was on fire.

‘Only the biggest event of the year,' said Marches. ‘I shall be in peacock blue.'

‘You're to be a fat, blue peacock for the night?' said Lufe, feigning polite interest. ‘That's quite a statement, March. Will you manage it?'

Marches tossed him an oath so explicit that Rue snorted wine through her nose.

‘S'a yearly tradition at the university to mark the culmin-ation of the midwinter festival,' said Tulsent. His words were slurred. The poor boy probably hadn't drunk more than a glassful of alcohol at a time before this. Rue looked at Lea, and they both started giggling.

‘Yes, and it's bloody important in fanning the flames of your social calendar, if you understand my meaning,' said Marches. ‘All the students worth knowing will be there, as well as important government people, scouting for potentials. It's just about the only bloody time the bloody Talented get to mix with other people.'

‘You say bloody a lot when you're drunk,' observed Lea.

‘Shut up.'

‘Do you have a dress for it?' said Lea to Rue.

‘I don't know.'

‘I'll check your wardrobe. If not you'll have to hurry out and get a suitable one. They all go this time of year – the seamstresses will be booked up so you'll have to pick up a ready-made. I can't wear ready-made, it never sits right on me, but you have that kind of figure that anything looks good on, so you'll be all right. We'll go shopping tomorrow. I'll take you to the best ready-made shops or you'll never find anything decent.'

‘Good god, girl,' roared Lufe, thumping the table. ‘You talk enough for all of us!'

‘I'm not sure what you meant by social calendar,' said Tulsent to Marches, whose mouth split into a wide, evil smile.

‘He means you need to pick out anyone you might want to bed, Tulsent,' said Lufe.

‘Oh.' Tulsent blushed.

‘Hush,' said Lea. ‘Don't scare the poor boy.'

‘I'm not scared,' Tulsent insisted, still scarlet.

‘Oh really,' said Marches. ‘You may act the harlot, Lea, but your good family name would never allow casual dalliance. I bet a hand up your skirt is as far as you've got.'

Lea laughed in outrage. ‘You pompous cock,' she screamed.

‘And you,' Marches pointed at Lufe. ‘You, syer. I would reckon that you've had half the maids in your house.'

Lufe only smiled lazily.

‘As for me; it's been a while, I'll admit. But there was a young lady of my acquaintance who did enjoy a game or two in the back bedrooms while our parents held parlour parties.'

‘What complete lies,' said Lea. ‘If a girl has laid a hand on you other than to deliver a slap, I'd be astonished.'

‘I do enjoy a slap,' mused Marches.

‘What about you, my country dear?' said Lea to Rue, who up until now had been laughing hard at the turn of conversation. She swallowed her wine and pressed her lips together. Let them think what they wanted.

‘I'll bet she's had thirteen farmer's lads, all together,' announced Marches, to gales of laughter.

‘D'you speak from experience?' retorted Rue with a raised eyebrow.

‘Give us a number, then.'

‘Less than a million and more than nothing.'

‘Definitely more than nothing. At least one I know of, anyway,' said Lufe.

‘What's this? Say it!' Marches demanded.

‘What? What do you know?' said Rue, puzzled.

‘I said I know of one of your conquests, at least,' Lufe repeated, a strange smile on his face. It took her a moment to realise that it seemed painted on, like smiles did when they came from anger.

‘Lufe, hush up,' said Lea.

‘What's going on?' said Rue.