Leaning against a mossy fallen log, I realized I was weary.
“I had forgotten,” Fian groaned. He flung himself flat on the ground not far from me.
“Forgotten what?”
“How much I hate to ride. Every bone in my body aches, an’ I know it will be worse tomorrow.”
Smiling, I advised him not to think of riding, since more of it lay ahead. “Fian, do you know why the Sadorians do not speak gadi?”
A true teknoguilder, Fian’s fidgets ceased as soon as his mind was engaged. “They do speak it, but they have chosen to communicate in urolish. A lot of Gadfians actually learned urolish back in Gadfia, and they simply taught the others after their exodus.”
“Why didn’t they just go on speaking gadi?”
“Partly because they wanted no one they encountered to know where they had come from, in case they were followed. But also I think rejectin’ gadi were part of rejectin’ their country an’ their heritage in a broader sense,” Fian said. “But they still teach gadi to their children, an’ they use it for ceremonies an’ in songs.” He rolled onto his side. “Ye know, when I first figured out that them codes I was findin’ was actually ancient languages, I remember wonderin’ why dinna th’ Beforetimers choose one language an’ all of them speak it? But when I was learnin’ th’ jerman code, I found there were things I could say in that language that there were no words for in our language. I realized a different language is nowt just different words fer th’ same things, it’s a different way of thinkin’….” He shook his head. “I’m nowt bein’ very clear.”
I thought I understood. “You’re saying that you think the Sadorians want to remember gadi because it lets them say things that our language doesn’t?”
He nodded eagerly. “Exactly. I think there is a part of th’ Sadorians that can only be expressed in gadi, an’ that bit of them would die if they let their language gan. Of course, there’s a lot th’ Sadorians feel is bad about their Gadfian heritage, so they only use it in poetry an’ songs. There is some sort of rule they have about never usin’ it in anger. But still, some of th’ Sadorians say gadi ought to be let die, because although it is a language of poetry an’ passion, it can also express perfectly th’ rage of th’ Gadfian fanatics.”
One of the coercer-knights interrupted to report that she had detected a group of miners traveling from Darthnor to Guanette. Their leader planned to bring them to the spring.
“I could coerce him to change his mind, but then we’d have to stay hidden for ages until they have gone out of sight down the road,” the coercer said. “It’s better if we go now.”
I told Fian, who sighed and struggled to his feet. “Let’s gan, then. Sooner begun’s soonest ended.”
We arrived at Obernewtyn late in the afternoon. The coercers dismounted by the main gate, thanking their mounts, and Fian took himself off, too, when we came to the grassy track leading to the Teknoguild cave network. His horse offered to carry him there, but he said wryly that he had better walk the remainder of the way or he might never walk again.
I continued on the outer trail running along the wall to the farm gate. I jumped down from Gahltha outside the barns, and he rubbed his head on my chest, then went in search of Avra. I did an attuned scan of Obernewtyn seeking Rushton, but to my disappointment it did not locate.
I was halfway across the furrowed field on the other side of the orchard before Alad spotted me and left his team of planters to greet me. His shirt clung damply to his shoulders and back, and his face gleamed with sweat.
“I see you are exercising the guildmaster’s privilege to watch others carry out your orders,” I said dryly.
He grinned and said he could use a drink and a bit of shade. He led me to where a spreading eben tree grew in one corner of the field. Here, in shadow, a bucket of water and a dipper were half buried in a vanishing snowdrift. He poured himself a drink and asked how the trip to Tor had gone.
I told him about the diving project, and he shook his head and advised me to leave scolding Garth to Rushton.
“I had decided that already,” I admitted. “Have you heard anything more from Rushton, by the way? I had half hoped he would be here by now.”
“He would be riding easy, as traveling jacks do. I’d not be looking for him before tomorrow morning.”
I repressed a sigh. “How are preparations for the moon fair going anyway?”
He beamed. “I think this will be the best we’ve had yet, what with all the displays and Gevan’s magi. You must see the wagons. Grufyyd has crafted them….”
As he talked, my mind drifted back to Miryum’s assertion that people slept unquietly in the mountains. When Alad gave me a quizzical look, I did not pretend I had been listening to him. Instead, I asked if he slept better when he was away from Obernewtyn.
He blinked at the change of subject. “I leave Obernewtyn too seldom to know if I would sleep better away.”
“Do you sleep well in general?” I persisted.
Alad looked puzzled. “What are you getting at, Elspeth? No, I don’t sleep well. I toss and turn and can’t switch my mind off for thinking of planting this seed, or pruning this row, or cutting down on tubers.”
“Do you dream much?”
He snorted. “Now you sound like the novice we have nagging me to fill our dream journal. The thing’s a damn nuisance.” His exasperation dissipated in resignation. “All right, I do dream, if you can call them dreams. I’d call them distorted memories. Last night, for instance, I dreamed that Domick, Roland, Louis, and I were racing to the Teknoguild cave network to rescue you and Rushton from Alexi. That was pure remembering, but then it turned into a nightmare.” He shook his head.
“A nightmare? What do you mean?”
“One minute we were running through the trees just as we did in reality, and the next this giant dragonish beast flew at me. I screamed, and then I was awake and covered in a muck sweat.” He noticed the expression on my face. “What is the matter? You look as if you just had a nightmare.”
My lips felt numb. “The…the monster that came at you. You called it dragonish?”
“Oh, well, I meant no offense to our poor wee Dragon,” Alad said. “It’s just that the beast looked so much like those visions she conjures.”
I was flabbergasted at the sudden realization that it was not a critical mass of Talent distorting dreams and making sleep difficult at Obernewtyn. It was one Talent in particular.
“Things wear different shapes on the dreamtrails,” Maruman had sent to me so many times.
Different shapes.
9
“HOW HAVE YOU all been sleeping lately?” I asked.
“Are you joking?” Gevan demanded bluntly. “You called me in the middle of a vital rehearsal of the magi to answer questions about my sleeping habits?”
“I was mixing a difficult preparation,” Roland growled.
“And I am Mistress of Obernewtyn in Rushton’s absence,” I responded coldly.
There was a startled silence.
“Well, then, if it matters so much, I slept badly,” Gevan said. “Last night and for as many nights past as I can remember. But no doubt it is because of the moon fair preparations. I was up until—”
“Dreams?” I interrupted.
His irritation faded, and he nodded. “Now that you ask, I dreamed of Ariel and his wolves going after Selmar all those years ago. I dreamed I could hear her screaming. I seem to be dreaming a lot of the past lately.”
“Roland?”
The healer nodded. “I sleep little, and I toss and turn and can’t seem to settle. It is the same with all my people. Last night, I dreamed of trying to heal people with the plague. Hundreds of them, and as quickly as they were healed, they were ill again.”
“Angina?”
The young empath said softly, “I dreamed of Hannay climbing up the cliff during the Battlegames in Sador. I dreamed of how scared he was of falling.”
I looked at Maryon, who did not answer but s
pread out what appeared to be a large, beautifully dyed, woven map.
“What land is this?” Gevan asked, striding across to peer over her shoulder.
“Not any land such as ye will walk upon in wakin’ life,” Maryon answered. “’Tis a dreamscape.” She flicked me a darkly knowing look. “Ceirwan did nowt say what ye wanted it fer. We have many ’scapes coverin’ different periods. But I had th’ feelin’ ye might want this one, which covers dreams experienced by members of my guild from wintertime to last week. An’ to answer yer question, I have slept restively over that period, as has everyone in my guild. We dream vividly as ever, but it is growin’ more difficult to futuretell, an’ there are more ancestral memory dreams.”
“At Obernewtyn, people are dreaming more, particularly of the past, and are sleeping badly,” I concluded flatly. I let my eyes rove over them all, seeing they were now intrigued enough to have forgotten that I had dragged them from other matters. “Away from Obernewtyn, however, we sleep well and dream little.” I brought my gaze to Maryon. “Would I be right in saying that if you compared an older dreamscape to this one, there would be a substantial increase in dreams?”
“We have only just begun to monitor everyone’s dreams, but that is certainly true fer th’ Futuretellin’ guild. Assumin’ this is so, th’ amount of dreamin’ at Obernewtyn has increased dramatically.” She swayed over the dreamscape and touched a slender finger to an inky blot. “This signifies dreams that we would generally call nightmares. There has been a marked increase in them as well.”
I pointed to a red blotch overlapping the black. “What does this represent?”
Maryon held my gaze as she answered. “It is a recurrin’ nightmare.”
“By recurring, you mean…”
“In this case, it means a nightmare experienced by many people. We noted it only because recurrent nightmares usually plague a single dreamer. If a number of people share the same nightmare, ’tis generally a warnin’ of an event that will affect many—like a firestorm, or a roof fallin’ in. But this particular nightmare does nowt concern anythin’ like that. It centers on a great flyin’ reptile that swoops or manifests suddenly in some threatenin’ manner, then vanishes.”
“Wait a minute,” Alad said. “Maryon, are you saying other people have dreamed of a great red flying beast?”
Gevan gaped at him. “You? A couple of my people dreamed of a savage red-winged beast, but I thought it was because of the masks we have been making for our plays….” He frowned at Maryon. “I think you might have told us about this.”
“To what end? Until recently, I knew only that my guild were dreamin’ of th’ same beast. But knowing we are all dreamin’ the same thing doesna help in learnin’ what it means.”
“Still…,” Gevan began, but Roland rose with an unusual look of mingled embarrassment and worry.
“Perhaps it is I who should have spoken sooner,” he said. He glanced at me in apology, and I nodded for him to continue. “I had no idea others were dreaming of this creature. I thought it was only healers. Because of the proximity…”
“Proximity to what?” Gevan demanded.
“To her…” Roland sighed. “To Dragon.”
“Dragon? Little Dragon?” the coercer said. “Are you telling me we are all dreaming of a monster created by a comatose girl?”
“If I am understandin’ correctly, Roland is saying that the beast is Dragon,” Maryon said. “And we are nowt so much dreamin’ of her as bein’ invaded by her.”
Roland inclined his head gravely. “We believe the beast is the shape her mind, or part of her mind, has assumed. As I said, we had no idea anyone else was encountering her, and there seemed no point in upsetting everyone by speaking of it. You see, at first we thought it was her reaching out to us—asking for help. But very soon we learned that the flying beast does not know it is Dragon”
“I should have guessed,” I said sorrowfully. “I have dreamed several times of it. Maruman sometimes wanders in my dreams, and he saw it, too. He said it lived behind a fortress with no gates.”
Roland looked interested. “I don’t know about any fortress, but it is highly likely that it represents the barrier that divides her madness from her sane mind.”
“If this beast is part of Dragon, why can’t we reach her through it?” Miky asked.
“Don’t you think we’ve tried, lass?” Roland asked wearily. “It’s no use. The beast is mad. It can’t be reasoned with, and when we tried, it fled or swooped at us.”
“It is dangerous,” Maryon said. “And if I do not miss my guess, it is getting stronger.”
Roland nodded morosely. “I’m afraid that’s true. As the beast gains strength, so Dragon must be losing the battle she fights behind her fortress wall.”
“Maryon, what do you mean by saying it’s dangerous?” Alad asked.
“She means dangerous to Dragon, surely,” Angina murmured.
“I mean to her an’ to us,” the futureteller said.
The others all spoke at once then, objecting to the idea that Dragon’s manifestation as a mythical beast in our dreams could do more than disturb our sleep. Maryon cast a brooding glance at me, then spoke coldly and clearly. “Th’ delvin’s of my guild are difficult an’ dangerous in themselves, but th’ disturbances we have encountered, which seem to be a direct result of this dream dragon’s presence, would be fatal if we had nowt all but ceased our activities. In addition, you, Roland, have just been sayin’ that th’ dragon is interferin’ with your healers’ work. Isn’t that a real danger? I think it will not be long before this beast disrupts th’ coercers’ activities an’ possibly th’ empaths as well, which means we would have trouble defendin’ ourselves or keepin’ a watch.”
“I can see that,” Roland said impatiently. “I was under the impression you were trying to say the dragon could harm us in our dreams.”
“Maruman seemed to think so. If he hadn’t been in my dream when the dragon attacked…”
“Attacked!” Roland barked. “The beast has not attacked anyone in my guild. The worst it did was shriek at us or swoop….”
“Dragon wouldn’t attack ye, Elspeth,” Ceirwan objected. “She loves ye.”
“That is exactly why she would attack Elspeth,” Maryon said. “Think on it. Dragon was abandoned as a wee child. We can assume that because she was little more than a savage when Elspeth found her and brought her here after winnin’ her trust. Now Dragon is again severed from all she has come to care about. From us an’ from Elspeth.”
“But she did the severing,” Roland objected.
“The part of her that is still that tiny abandoned child doesna ken that. It only grieves an’ rages, an’ th’ red beast is th’ child of that rage. If Dragon can nowt reach Elspeth, whom she loves, it can only be that Elspeth has deserted her. The greater th’ love, th’ greater th’ rage.”
I could have wept at the unfairness of it. “What can we do to help her?” I asked, my voice a dry rasp.
“Nothing,” Roland said flatly. “That is why we did not speak of this to you. Dragon is unreachable. Knowing she is appearing in our dreams changes nothing.”
“That is nowt true,” Maryon said. “Since th’ child’s manifestation as a dragon is affectin’ our dreams an’ indirectly our Talents, nowt to mention th’ fact that she is a danger to Elspeth, we can no longer afford to look upon her as simply a sleeper. Dragon must now be considered a problem that we must resolve.”
I felt a surge of anger at the futureteller’s cool summation. “She has not harmed me,” I snapped.
“Not yet,” Maryon said.
“What do you suggest?” I demanded. “Should she be killed so that you can futuretell unhampered and I can feel safe?” They all stared at me, and I felt my face drain of blood at the awfulness of my words. “I’m sorry. That was unforgivable and unfair. I…I just can’t bear to think of her having suffered so much and now…Is it nothing that she saved Obernewtyn?”
“I am nowt suggestin’
any hurt be done her,” Maryon said. “I would merely advise that she be moved away from th’ building. Mebbe she could be kept in th’ Teknoguild caves, since th’ teknoguilders’ work is unlikely to be affected….”
“Her range can easily encompass the distance back to the main house,” Roland objected.
“What about the city under Tor?” Alad said slowly. “I’m sure Garth would jump at the chance to build a permanent safe house there. Or maybe we could take her to Enoch’s farm.”
“There is no need to send her away just yet.” I heard the pleading note in my voice.
“Not yet, but, Elspeth, you must be sensible about this,” the Healer guildmaster admonished.
“With your permission,” Angina said, looking from me to Roland, “I’d like to sing to her. Maybe she will hear. Or the red-beast part of her will.”
“I have no objection,” Roland said. “But maybe you should wait until Maruman has wakened.”
Angina shook his head so decisively that in spite of my despair, I wondered if the soft-spoken empath was finally feeling at ease in his interim duties. He said, “I’d like to begin immediately, because if Maruman is watching her somehow in his dreams, he can tell us if the music has any impact.” He looked at me, a question in his eyes.
I nodded. “Play. Sing to her of the princess that will be wakened by a kiss….”
He sent a surge of gentle comfort and left with Miky at his heel.
I composed myself and turned to Gevan. “I would like one of your people and one of the futuretellers to sit with Dragon constantly and monitor her.”
“I’ll have Dell set up a roster,” Maryon said, rising. I asked if she would leave the dreamscape for me to examine, and she shrugged elegantly and left it.