A Warrior of Dreams (17 page)

"We don't know that Joslyn will try to help Ghost. We don't even know for certain that she can."

"We don't know that she won't," the Dream Master replied. "We don't know that she can't. I underestimated her once and I won't do it again. I'll breathe easier when they're both dead."

*

Things were changing much too fast for Joslyn. First, she was barely used to walking, then she had to adjust to Deverea's windship. Now she was walking again, and the virtues of the windship were becoming clearer with every mile. "Deverea just wanted to be rid of us. She could have brought us closer to Darsa than this."

"Only a few miles. Any closer was too dangerous
—
for all of us."

Joslyn knew that. She also knew that her feet ached. It made being fair a lesser priority. "How much farther?"

Ghost looked up. "Not much."

A bird floated high above them on long, slender wings. It bobbed on the wind like a cork, and it seemed almost familiar to Joslyn, but still she had to ask. "What's that?"

"A gull," Ghost said, "It scavenges along the beach."

"It's pretty."

"If you say so. It certainly needs
some
sort of virtue."

Joslyn looked at Ghost, who was looking at her. He seemed to be waiting.

"You want me to yell at you," she said.

"You made me angry before," he said, wistfully.

"Sorry."

"Sorry... Joslyn, it was marvelous! I didn't know I could be angry."

"Did you enjoy being angry? I mean, before?"

"Not really. I just think it's the only one left. Emotion, I mean..."

"Remember the brigands?" Joslyn sighed, "I've seen you angry, I've seen you worried, and I think frustration has shown up a time or two. You've lost your Nightsoul, not your humanity."

"I've lost the part of me that dreams, Joslyn. And the Nightsoul is different
—
a part of me, yes, but different. And some things belong to that side alone. I borrowed them while it slept. You've proven that to me."

Joslyn's unease was growing. It wasn't that she feared any harm from Ghost, but she didn't like the odd turn his mind was in. It made her think of the Nightsoul now asleep within herself and just how
separate
it might be... Nonsense. When she dreamed,
she
was the Nightsoul. Not separate. Not different. "I think you're wrong. And what do you mean, 'proven?'"

He shrugged. "You're a very attractive young woman, Joslyn."

"Even if true," Joslyn said, "You're old enough to be my father."

"Only if your mother had a taste for pubescent boys," Ghost said, drily, "Many things gray a man, and Time's the least of them. I should be attracted to you, or at least able to... appreciate, your attractiveness. That part of me is gone."

"And a good thing, too. But I see the Nightsoul doesn't own everything
—
there's a little vanity left."

Ghost frowned for a moment, but, when he finally understood, he smiled. And then he laughed. It was little more than a chuckle and died quickly, but for that moment Ghost looked like a man reborn. "Joslyn, you keep me alive."

"I suppose so," she said. "I just wish I could be sure that's a good idea."

*

By late afternoon Ghost and Joslyn were within sight of Darsa. It seemed to rise from the ocean itself, like the large spikes of granite that thrust up from the sand, looking like ruins. Darsa looked a little like ruins too, but Joslyn wasn't paying the city much attention. Her eyes were on the Southern Sea.

It's like in the dream
...

Almost. In the dream the Dark Sea overwhelmed with its sense of depth and distance. The Southern Sea spoke of little but distance. It spread out before her like the Grass Sea but wider, almost impossibly vast. And the white sand beach was bright to the dream's grayness, but still Joslyn felt the sense of
place
very strongly. Whoever controlled that dream
—
and Joslyn knew she didn't
—
this was where the imagery was drawn, not the mountains of Ly Ossia.

Joslyn still wasn't sure what it all meant, but she did know that she was going to find out. She glanced at Ghost. He showed no sign of slowing. "Shouldn't we be looking for a place to hide till dark?"

"Why should we do that?"

"You don't mean to go through the gate in open daylight? Ly Ossia will send word to the city Watchers, I'm sure. They might remember seeing us."

Ghost finally understood. "Oh... I see. There is no wall, Joslyn. Two travelers can enter Darsa at any one of a hundred points without being noticed."

Joslyn had trouble picturing a city without a wall, even one as decrepit as the one surrounding Ly Ossia, but as they got closer, she saw that was indeed the case. Or rather, there had been a wall
—
pieces of it lay tumbled near the edge of the city. Many stones had been cannibalized for building ramshackle cottages, but most lay in disordered rows, pulled down and left to the vines and birds. "What happened?"

"Tagramon. You're too young to remember, but surely you know the Temple was once in Darsa?"

"It seems there is a great deal I don't know."

"There's a profound insight for one so young... No, Joslyn, I'm not trying to start a fight; I'm serious. To most people 'ancient history' is anything that happened before they were born. Nothing to do with them. But this has much to do with you, for obvious reasons."

"Tagramon attacked Darsa?"

"The
Emperor
attacked Darsa, and at about the time Ly Ossia was brought into the Empire. The original Temple was destroyed when the city fell, no one is certain why. Tagramon is one of the few who survived... you already knew about Musa."

"Since yesterday," commented Joslyn dryly.

Ghost just shrugged. "Almost overnight Tagramon went from Temple Dreamer to Dream Master of the new Temple the Emperor ordered built at Ly Ossia. No one quite knows the 'whys' of that, either, but when the Darsans learned the Temple would not be rebuilt at Darsa and its wealth and prestige taken from them, they revolted. The uprising was crushed, of course, a tenth of the population killed as a warning, and the newly repaired walls pulled down. The Emperor has forbidden them to rebuild."

Joslyn frowned. "I'll bet Tagramon affected the Emperor's dreams, planted the seed
—
"

Ghost was shaking his head. "You forget, Joslyn
—
not all dreamcraft is of the Temple. The Emperor's dreams were well guarded."

"How do you know that?"

Ghost stopped. Joslyn stopped, too, and waited. Ghost finally shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Never mind. I'll bet he found a way. He dreams with the strength of an Aversa."

Ghost looked thoughtful, or perhaps the expression was only his perpetual frown, worn as the most natural of the expressions he tried to recreate. "You've met an Aversa? They're quite rare."

Joslyn sighed. "No, I've just heard the stories, like so many others."

Ghost nodded and lapsed into silence, and Joslyn was content to leave him there. They soon came to the perimeter of what had been the city wall, then stepped past Darsa's phantom defense and into the city.

"What in the name of the Dreamer is that?!"

Joslyn's first sight within the city nearly made her ill. It wasn't the ruined buildings that at first made her think of the blighted sections of Ly Ossia or even the refuse in the narrow, crumbling streets. What got Joslyn's attention was a crude shrine of stones and the rough
-
carved wooden idol inside. The figure was cloaked and cowled in black, its face a wooden blank. In its right hand it held a skull; the left hand was empty. And resting before the shrine in the dust was a severed head. It wasn't of wood. The blood was long dried to black, the features eaten away by rats and the remainder left to the flies. Joslyn's nostrils wrinkled at the stench.

Ghost studied the tableau with cold detachment. "It's a shrine," he said.

"Bless you for that insight," Joslyn snapped, "And I suppose next you'll tell me that poor beggar was a sacrifice?"

"That's exactly what he was."

Joslyn stared but she knew that Ghost wasn't joking. That was a talent beyond his present state. She wondered
—
not for the first time
—
what he might be like in his other. The grisly shrine drew her back. "What god takes sacrifices like that?"

"There have been many. Most of them are dead."

They stepped past the shrine and into the city. Remnants of lost wealth and influence were everywhere: dust
-
caked fountains, empty buildings, broken statues. It was as if the Darsans lost more than the temple, more than its butchered citizens, even more than the wall that was the symbol of place and pride of every city. What had been destroyed in the uprising remained destroyed, and the ruins were unhealed wounds.

Something had been nagging at Joslyn's mind. She put it into words. "Ghost, how can a god die?"

"How can a god live? Everything in the dream dies."

"Somna will not die!"

Ghost almost laughed again. "Somna is not a god. Or goddess either, for that matter."

Joslyn was annoyed, but mostly at herself for forcing Ghost to state the obvious. Of course Somna was not a god
—
Somna was the Creator, the One Outside the Dream. Most gods were petty things by comparison, spoiled children demanding what they didn't need for one more proof they were really loved. Like the faceless god of the shrine. Joslyn wondered what Deverea's Ajel Kar demanded in exchange for her divine lightning. She shook her head in disgust. "I wonder why Somna bothered to create the gods. They distract attention from Somna
—
where it rightly belongs
—
and are no end of trouble. It's a mystery..."

She stopped, surprised to see Ghost smiling again.

"Not a mystery, Joslyn. A riddle. The Riddle of the Gods. You don't know of it?"

"No. Is it a game?"

"Like any other... meaning scholars play it for fun or blood, but they do play."

He wasn't making sense. Joslyn told him so.

"Perhaps it'll make more sense when you hear it. '...on the second night of Eternity Somna dreamed the Aversa, then Man, then the Riddle. Man toys with the Riddle while the gods toy with man...'"

"Every child knows that myth," Joslyn sighed, "It mentions a 'Riddle' but doesn't say what it is."

"That's where you're wrong," Ghost said. He seemed to be enjoying himself, as much as he ever seemed to enjoy anything. "The Riddle of the Gods is complete in those two lines, but don't feel bad about missing it. Meldon of the Caves was the first to discern it and that a mere hundred years ago. It seems so simple, now
—
"

"Ghost!"

"Sorry. The story mentions the Aversa and Man as Somna's creation; nowhere does it say when or if she created the gods. And even Deverea mentioned that the origin of the gods was uncertain; I'll wager she knows of the Riddle."

"Of course Somna created the gods! Who else?"

Ghost looked thoughtful. "Who indeed?"

*

Tagramon loved maps. There was magic in learning to read them, more so in their mastery. With a pointed finger, he could brush distances away and put kingdoms and cities under his thumb. With time and patience, nothing could remain hidden for long.

Belor appeared at the door to the study, more rolls cradled in his bony arms. "This is the last of them, Master."

Tagramon paused to consider. "We've covered Telyn and all the southeast. That leaves the coast and the western forests."

"Would they hide there?"

The Dream Master shrugged slightly. "Ghost? I doubt if any place would draw him in or drive him away. Joslyn is another matter. The city is all she knows
—
I'll wager she'll find another to crawl into."

"That would be fortunate. We've not so many dreamers that we can cover the entire world stage."

"So we'll focus on the cities." Tagramon took the map of the coast, followed the twisting line of the Southern Sea. "Tephis... little more than a fishing village. The like for Ly Manes, these days. It's half-taken by the sea. That leaves..." He stopped.

Belor noted where his finger rested. "Darsa? Why would she go there? Even the Watchers see it as punishment."

The Dream Master smiled. "Not a plum assignment, true. Still, we can't afford to ignore it."

Belor nodded. "Have you charged the dreamers with their holy duty yet?"

There was something in Belor's tone that Tagramon didn't like. Perhaps there was an odd inflection about 'holy duty.' Perhaps he was just tired. "No," he said, "That can't be hurried. Most of the journeys will strain them; the searching more so. The motivation will have to be great."

Belor turned at a sudden flare of yellow through the high window. "The evening beacon."

Tagramon leaned back in his chair. "Bring them in one at a time. We'll start with Alyssa."

*

Long shadows crept into the streets before Ghost and Joslyn got much closer to the place they were seeking. Musa's directions were practically useless, and the people they asked weren't much better. Some answered hardly at all; others took pleasure in leading them astray. The first time it happened Joslyn was furious. By the third time anger gave way to bewildered fascination. "What's wrong with these people?!"

Ghost shrugged, said nothing. They finally found an old woman at one of Darsa's few street markets just as she was packing her bundles for the day.

"I'll talk to her," Ghost said.

Joslyn was grateful. She had a deep sense of futility hanging over her that made civil conversation chancy.

Ghost stopped at a respectful distance from the woman. She was about Deverea's age but didn't shoulder it so well. Her back was stooped; she moved as if one of her legs no longer carried its fair share of weight. She wore a plain blouse and skirt of blue linen, old but well
-
kept. Her hair was covered.

"Good evening..." Ghost began.

"Closed," the woman said, moving a large roll of yellow cloth onto her cart. "Come back tomorrow."