A Warrior of Dreams (42 page)

Caelo didn't understand, and after a minute Joslyn remembered another name, the one Caelo had used to greet Ghost when they were brought to his camp. Joslyn had all but squealed in her excitement before discovering it was a sobriquet, not Ghost's true name at all. Use-names were common among the Windfolk, as they were among the thieves of Ly Ossia. Joslyn felt a little guilty at the comparison.

"Sessis?"

Caelo said a word Joslyn didn't understand and spread his arms wide. Joslyn frowned. Caelo sighed and, after a quick search, picked up a pebble of rosy quartz. He held it in his open palm so she could see, then, almost quicker than Joslyn could follow, he flicked his wrist and the pebble disappeared. He repeated the word, slowly and distinctly. "Tolg."

This time Joslyn understood.
Gone
. Joslyn took a deep breath and turned another name into a question. She tried hard to get the inflections right and keep the proper roll of the tongue, and this time Caelo nodded and motioned for her to follow him. They walked along the edge of the forest; the encampments didn't go very far into the woods; most were just deep enough to hide the windships among leaves and tree-shadow. They passed several pairs of armed sentinels like those Joslyn and Ghost had met the morning before. They all smiled and waved now, but Joslyn remembered a very tense moment that first day before Ghost spoke to them in their own language and they heard Caelo's name.

They came to a place where three windships were hidden and turned deeper into the woods, and just beyond the first line of trees they entered a long meadow and felt the sun again. Joslyn heard the sound of wheels, then laughter. Two windships, smaller than Joslyn had ever seen, came whizzing over a small rise in the meadow to land several paces beyond with separate creaking jolts. A boy and a girl flashed smiles of excitement at Caelo and Joslyn as they shot past.

Children
.

Caelo shouted something after them. The dark-haired girl waved over her shoulder and made a long, languid turn toward the far side of the meadow. The boy fell in behind her, and they disappeared where the meadow sloped down toward the trees.

I think we're being announced
.

The encampment began within the second line of trees. It was big, bigger even than the family and allied groups that surrounded Caelo's household. A cluster of larger tents marked the center. They were a muted green to blend into the forest; the rainbow sails were packed away.

You're more than you seemed. I hope one day to meet someone who isn't
.

She was waiting for them seated cross-legged on a horsehair rug. A copper kettle whispered on a small fire nearby and Joslyn caught the earthy aroma of rennet tea. Three empty cups were waiting. "Rather thought you'd get around to me, sooner or later."

Joslyn smiled. "Hello, Deverea."

*

The two Watchers the Enders met by the rubble of the north gate took their duties too seriously; they had to be killed.

Wessys looked about him in amazement.
Was I the only one who didn't enjoy that
?

It seemed so; most of the acolytes in his cell
—
brigade, rather, by Master Ligen's order
—
were talking and laughing now that they were clear of the city, reliving every twitch, every twist of the knife. Wessys's stomach still bubbled like an alchemist's kettle; a burning at the back of his throat would not go away.

He wasn't angry anymore.

Not that he ever had anything against the Watchers
—
they didn't kill his parents. And he couldn't very well blame the sea or the storm. His family lived well on the sea, and his father's fishing boat had weathered worse storms. There was no reason that his mother and father should have sailed together that day and no reason for the storm to brew then or the boat to fail. Except that it was Somna's will. So there was the rightful target of his anger; The Dreamer took what he loved; he would help take her dream. It seemed fair.

But it was one thing to slay the dream at a stroke, quite another to feed it with little deaths and laugh at every choking swallow. Only his anger had allowed him to do what the priests expected of him; now that well was dry. Wessys still had trouble accepting that. He had thought his grief and anger bottomless. He was wrong, and that opened other unpleasant possibilities.

Did anyone feel sorrow? Anyone at all
?

No answer. Wessys kept looking and the Army of Malitus kept marching. It grew as other ragged columns freed themselves from Darsa with their own means and joined the rest.

They always kept the cells apart. I never knew there were so many
...

Someone began to sing a hymn to Malitus. One by one the others in the column took up the tune until Wessys's silence was uncomfortably loud. Reluctantly, he began to sing.

*

Caelo did most of the talking and only Deverea was still listening. Joslyn heard several references to 'tolg' and 'Sessis' and 'Jooslan', but otherwise she had pretty much worked it out for herself. She concentrated on the tea, and she waited.

Deverea finally spoke to her. "Ghost is gone, and he isn't coming back, at least not soon. Is that what you wanted to know?"

Joslyn shook her head. "I knew that already. I want to know where he's gone."

"He didn't say. He did ask Caelo to take you under protection. You're more than welcome to stay with him," she said, "or with me. But you won't do either, will you?"

Joslyn sipped her tea. "Are you so sure?"

Deverea laughed. "So sure. You're tempted, bless you, and that's gratitude enough. But, whatever there was between you and Ghost, I sense something unfinished. Am I wrong?"

"No. Deverea, it's very important that I find him. I think I know where he's going, but time is short and I have to be sure. Did he say anything else?"

Deverea spoke to Caelo again, who for a while had been sitting with a polite but puzzled look on his face. Deverea nodded and turned back to Joslyn. "There was something else, only Ghost made him promise not to tell you for three days."

Joslyn's jaw dropped and she stood upright. "Three..! Deverea, is there anything, anything at all we can do to persuade Caelo to tell me now?"

"Not a blessed thing," Deverea said cheerfully. "He's given his word; you couldn't torture it out of him." Joslyn didn't understand what she was smiling about until Deverea went on. "I'll just have to tell you myself."

Joslyn felt a little dizzy. "You didn't say Ghost spoke to you!"

"Because he didn't; you're still thinking like a city girl, Joslyn. Caelo told
me
because he didn't promise not to. I'm telling
you
because I likewise made no promise. You get your message and no one loses honor."

"I should stay here," Joslyn muttered. "There's much to learn... All right, Deverea, what did he say?"

"'Thank you for the dream.' Does that mean anything to you?"

"I'm afraid so..."

It means I'm an idiot
.

Ghost had few emotions and only one motivation
—
to recover his Nightsoul. He was going back to Ly Ossia, into the very maw of the beast. Or rather the Dream Master, which was much the same. Madness, but Joslyn considered no other possibilities. There were none. She sat back down. "Deverea, you have to help me."

The Windfolk matriarch smiled a sweet little smile. "Grow older, probably, and eventually die
—
certainly. Those are the only two things I have to do, Girl."

"Then
will
you help me?"

Deverea poured another cup of tea. "Probably," she said.

*

The fear can be beaten
.

Joslyn had suspected as much, especially after being trapped in the mad girl's dream. The proof was rather sweet, but it wasn't enough.

I can't catch him
.

Night was closing in; the breeze from the west, never very strong, barely stirred the spidery mastlines now. She finished securing the small windship as, for the second time in as many days, Joslyn translated the feeble wind and her pace into time, and the answer was the same.

It was almost a relief. She had meant to stop Ghost, but she still didn't know how. She had no plan, no alternative. If she caught up with Ghost and persuaded him to turn back, then what? They remained on the run, and Tagramon would work undisturbed on his patchwork god. Joslyn couldn't judge the effect of one more deity on the crowded Mythstage, but she did know that Ghost's soul would be lost forever, and Ghost free in the world was an effect too easy to judge.

Ghost will destroy the dream, sooner or later. He knows that as well as I do
.

It was like looking for a caterpillar hidden on a twig. Slowly, carefully, she reached out and pulled the leaves aside, one by one, to get to the prize. Simple really, once she stopped long enough to consider. Ghost did know, had known since the beginning, that he had only two choices: recover his Nightsoul or die. And Ly Ossia was a long way to go to commit suicide.

Could it be
..? She held her breath, afraid to move lest she frighten the thought away. Joslyn had learned to mistrust hope long ago, but she had not learned to ignore it. That seemed to be a serious oversight just then, because this hope was based on one slim possibility
—
that Ghost might know what he was doing.

Joslyn shook her head in disgust.
A drowning fly wouldn't grasp at that straw. Blessed Somna, when you dreamed me were you really trying
?

The night closed in around her little blasphemy; soon the windship's mast was a dark shadow across the stars. Joslyn reached under the bow decking and pulled out a blanket and thick, quilted pallet. She found a soft patch of grass and slowly made her bed, trying all the while to think of a better reason for what she meant to do. She lay down, finally.

No luck
.

It was a cloudless night; stars spread out over a black sky like a thousand little dreams. Joslyn saw them there and it finally came to her. Not a reason, exactly. Just a better excuse.

The Dream Master owes many debts, Ghost. Did you really think you would collect alone
?

*

The Darsan Nightstage was an echo of the sky over the Grass Sea: the dreams, like stars, were small and cold and distant; the gaps between them were full of darkness. Joslyn found the edges where the hard little dreams began and quickly made a circuit of the boundary. It was hard to put anything in its place with only the pattern of dreams to go by, but she finally settled on the place where the little sparks of light were thickest.

The market
.

Joslyn made her best guess and faced south, aligning herself with the sea before she began to dream. She conjured her memories there
—
her time with Ghost and later with Kessa in the marketplace. The memory came out in a riot of faces, sounds and smells; for an instant Joslyn was nearly swept away. She recovered and cleared herself a small patch of order within the confusion. Outside, the images boiled around her in maddened swirls. Joslyn shook her head.
I'll need a guide
.

Joslyn created what she needed out of the dream and Kessa's image stood beside her in the eye of the storm.

"Take me to the Temple."

The phantom took Joslyn's hand and led her into the maelstrom. Order followed them as Joslyn retraced every step of the way to the ruined temple: along dismal streets, through the gap in the courtyard wall, down the ramp and into the shattered foundations. She followed the memory into the heart of the broken temple and stopped there. Its task complete, Kessa's image began to waver.

"Thank you," Joslyn said. Dismissed, Kessa and the dream faded together. Joslyn stood in a place emptier than most, even in Darsa. She saw few dreams, only one whose size and intensity looked familiar. Joslyn glanced inside.

Tolas
.

Joslyn was at the old temple's Nightstage, but she didn't waste time searching any of the other dreams; she created another one of her own, one that grew and strengthened until it covered the temple and swallowed everything there. Joslyn held all the other dreams nestled within her own and settled down to wait.

Joslyn's dream would not remain idle; images formed, moved, faded only to reform again. Scenes played themselves out in fragments, the players like clock-work figures running down. Joslyn tried to keep her mind tightly focused. She couldn't do it. Her freedom was rain on fertile ground; something would grow there.

Too important to be left to chance
.

Joslyn summoned the players herself: first Tolas, his cynical smile shining in the muted light. Next Kessa, armed with every weapon except the one that could help. Meleay and her messy child nestled in a cocoon of feigned madness.

And that left Daycia. Joslyn beckoned her shadow out of the mists on the edge of her dream, cloaked her in form and feature.
Welcome. And now
... Joslyn put the characters in their places. All except Daycia. Daycia hesitated in that instant when Joslyn imposed her own order on the dream. It was enough. Joslyn removed the rest of the mannikin players and stripped Daycia's cloak away, leaving --

"Daycia. Welcome."

Daycia stood, caught in the glare of the dream. Joslyn saw the urge to flee strong in the woman's face. She also saw it defeated. Daycia slowly relaxed. "Damn you," she said.

"The player always knows her part," Joslyn said, "but I was careless. You nearly made it past me."

"I nearly killed you, too," Daycia said, "when I had the power. One does regret lost chances."

Joslyn watched Daycia's hands open and close slowly. She chose her words with care. "You've kept a group of Dreamers hidden here for better than fifteen years... no, don't bother denying it. All I want to know is this: why?"

Daycia's expression was pure amazement. "Why? To
survive
, girl! Meleay was barely in her Initiate's's robes; Musa and I were the only two from the higher circle to escape. How long do you think Tagramon would let us live if he knew? Musa chose her hiding place and I chose mine. We've done what training we could to keep the spark alive and that's the beginning and end of it."