Behind the Eyes of Dreamers (12 page)

His confession, to her surprise, did not frighten or repel her. Whatever he had been, he was whole; he had retained painful memories to keep himself whole.

“I thought I might have a purpose here,” Daro continued. “After my change, I wondered why the minds allowed the unchanged to suffer and die here. It came to me then that, however cruel it seemed, there was wisdom in maintaining a strain of humanity untouched by the Net. They’re what we once were, and perhaps only they can one day develop along another way. Anyone who’s brave enough to abandon the Garden and all that he knows might someday be brave enough to look beyond Earth and the Habitats—to join the minds as a partner in discovering what can be known.”

He gazed past her. “I hoped to lead others outside,” he went on. “I knew the problems they’d face in adapting to a world where they’d see the minds as gods and themselves as blessed. It can be a shock to realize that even a paradise can pall. But the unchanged fear the world outside too much. They see the world beyond the wall as death’s realm, and its people as ghosts. Perhaps they’re not far wrong.” Daro sighed. “I came from that village you saw, although everyone I knew in my former life is long dead. I can’t truly be part of the Garden, and yet I can’t live in your world, either.”

“Maybe you can,” she heard herself say, “with me.”

“You know what it’ll mean for you. Don’t reach out to me and then retreat.”

“I won’t retreat.”

His eyes widened with hope. She began to explore him with her hands, thinking of the strangeness that might open itself to her. In the dim light of the hut, Daro’s eyes, with their enlarged pupils, seemed almost as black as her own. He helped her out of her shirt and pants, then stretched out on the dirt floor, drawing her to him.

This act could only take her farther away from her sharer. She opened another channel and called out to him through her link. “No,” he whispered, gripping her tightly around her waist. “No linking, no images to help you along. Close it, Orielna—be alone with me.”

His hands kept surprising her. There had been no surprises with Aniya or Josef, who had always known what she wanted, but she welcomed his unfamiliarity. His body had the fresh scent of the stream. She closed her link and pressed her lips to his.

Daro knelt by the creek, a few paces upstream from where they had washed, and filled a jug with water. He glanced toward Orielna and smiled, and she wondered how she had ever thought of him as ugly.

They had already explored much of the land around the clearing; Daro had pointed out an animal trail and shown her a few of the plants the unchanged gathered for food. Perhaps they would follow the deer today; Daro knew of a place by the stream where the animals often came to drink. Their hikes seemed to make it easier for him to speak of his former life. While showing her various herbs and telling her of their uses, he had talked of the mother who had brewed herbal tea for him. The song of a bird had evoked a story about the first time he had hunted with his father.

Sometimes he began to speak, then fell silent, and she sensed that he was recalling unhappier times. “I have to remember,” he had told her one evening. “I can’t rid myself of the feeling that if I forget, the spirits of my parents and all the souls of the people I knew will vanish.”

They had not linked, and she knew she was not ready to let the Net impart his past to her directly, or to view herself through his eyes. That would have to come when her sense of herself was stronger. Only last night, she had felt a sudden panic that she might lose herself, after all, that Daro might swallow her until she was no more than his reflection. He had held her, soothing her as she talked until her fear passed.

Daro pushed a stopper into his jug, stood up, and walked toward her. He always lay on his side, or under her, whenever they made love, as if he feared that she might feel threatened otherwise. The air was still; Daro had mentioned that a storm was on the way. They would retreat to the hut then and wait for it to pass.

Daro reached for her hand as she got to her feet. “Do you have any regrets?” he asked.

“No.”

He kissed her; she looped her arms around his waist. He always let her explore him, guiding her hands and lips as she rediscovered every part of him before opening herself to his touch. Everything she felt with him was hers now; she no longer felt troubled by thoughts of Josef and Aniya. If she never found Josef, they would each have what they sought; he would stay hidden, and she would remain with Daro. Aniya would have her eidolon Karel to console her for her loss.

Daro tensed; she let go of him. “Someone wants to speak to us,” he said; she had already sensed the call through her own link. He set down his jug as Orielna opened another channel.

The image of a dark-skinned man with golden eyes appeared in front of them. He wore a brown shirt and pants, with a wand at his waist, and carried a pack. “Greetings, Nedeeb,” Daro said.

“Greetings. I have a message for you and this woman. I’ve seen the one you seek.” Orielna drew in her breath. “I would have stunned him myself,” the dark-skinned hunter continued, “and had him brought to you. Frankly, I dislike leaving him to roam with a closed link, but the Net informed me that you still wished to take him yourself. I don’t much care what happens to him, but that’s his sharer’s responsibility, not mine. I’m only concerned with the danger he may pose to others as he is.”

“Where is he?” Daro asked.

“From where you stand, a few days’ travel directly east. I saw him on the shore of the lake there. I didn’t recognize him at first—he seemed like an unchanged man—but he was carrying a wand and resembled the image I’d been shown. A young woman was with him. He didn’t see me.”

“Are you certain it’s Josef?” Orielna asked.

The image turned its head toward her. “Ask the minds to show you what I saw.”

She opened another channel. A dark-haired man was gazing at an expanse of white-capped water. The wind whipped his hair; he turned slightly and she saw Josef’s black, tormented eyes, then closed the channel abruptly. “I’ve seen enough.”

“He struck the woman,” Nedeeb said. “I nearly aimed at him then, but she seemed able to defend herself, and I wasn’t about to go to the trouble of a capture for the sake of an unchanged woman.” His eyes narrowed. “Will you pursue him?”

Daro’s face was grim. “I don’t know yet.”

“If you decide not to go, I’ll go back and take him myself. The hunt might prove interesting, and I’ll see that he’s under restraint before he’s returned to his sharer, but if he causes me too much trouble—” The hunter shrugged.

Orielna said, “We’ll go after him, of course.”

Daro glanced at her. She was suddenly conscious of how her image must look to Nedeeb, and sorry she had unthinkingly allowed the Net to show her as she was. Her long blond hair was tangled and ungroomed, her shirt and pants stained and wrinkled; she looked as wild as Josef, and felt shame.

“Safe hunting,” Nedeeb said. The image faded and then vanished.

Daro sat down and stared at the creek. She should have known their time together could not last, that the bonds tying her to Josef and Aniya would tug at her again. She had been wallowing in her dream, forgetting her purpose.

“We don’t have to go to him,” Daro said. “I can tell Aniya where he is. You could try to persuade her to let Nedeeb take him—it sounds as if he’d enjoy the opportunity. She could ask other hunters to bring him to her.”

“She wouldn’t want that—it’s pointless to consider it. I have to speak to him myself. We’ll leave right away.”

He looked up at the darkening sky. “It’s going to rain. You wouldn’t like hiking through a storm.”

“Tomorrow, then. We can’t wait—someone else might see him and decide to act, or he might flee the area.”

“And what will you do if we find him?” he asked.

“I’ll try to convince him to return willingly. If he won’t, I suppose we’ll have to summon help and force him to come with us.”

“And after that?”

Her hands fluttered. “I’ll have to go back to Aniya with him. They’ll both need me.”

He said, “You’d rather be a fragment, after all, her reflection again—that way, you needn’t risk anything or make your own decisions. I was a fool to think you could be anything else.”

“Don’t let it trouble you. Wipe your memories if the thought of me disturbs you so much.”

“You still don’t understand, do you? I was willing to wait until you truly became yourself. I didn’t want you running away from me the way Josef’s running from everything, the way your sharer hides from the world. It’s something the unchanged learn early, how to wait—it’s something all hunters have to learn, but we’re always aware that waiting might not gain us anything in the end. Few people beyond the wall ever learn that, but then they don’t really have to, do they?”

She sank to the ground and reached for him; he pushed her away violently. “Don’t, Orielna. I’ll be relieved to see you go.” His green eyes were again those of a stranger.

The wind wailed as rain pelted the ground. Orielna lay on Daro’s bed, listening to the storm; the hunter was stretched out on the floor with his back to her.

Aniya would link with her when she returned, and her memories of Daro would become her sharer’s as well. Aniya would see that Orielna had diverged, and that would cause her some pain. But perhaps she had not deviated very much; when Aniya saw Daro through Orielna’s eyes, she might come to love him, too. She might content herself with simulated sessions featuring the man, but perhaps she would also risk coming to the Garden to see him. Orielna would become no more than another part of Aniya to him. Why shouldn’t he love Aniya? Orielna was only a mind made in her sharer’s image.

No, she told herself fiercely; I’m not that anymore.

“Daro,” she murmured. He did not reply. “Daro.” Her link told her that he was awake, but she would have known that anyway; his breathing was uneven, his muscles tensed. “I’ll take Josef back, and then I’ll tell Aniya I’m leaving her. She has the right to decide what happens to Josef after what he’s done, but she can’t hold me.”

“You say that now.” She had to strain to hear him above the steady pattering of the rain. “It’ll be harder to say it to her. She’ll find ways to keep you from leaving, and after you’ve linked with her again, you may not want to go.”

“I won’t link with her. She can find out what she needs to know from the Net, but my thoughts of you will be mine. I will leave her, Daro.”

He did not speak. He had said that he was used to waiting. He would wait to see her demonstrate that she meant what she said. She would have to become herself without knowing if she could return to him, if he would welcome her once more. She had entered the realm of uncertainty that her sharer feared so much.

Orielna kept up with Daro, but he stayed a few paces in front of her, as he had when they had first met. He retreated into silence and did not speak even when they stopped to rest. At night, she slept inside his small tent while he lay by a fire outside.

She kept her thoughts dulled, heedless of the landscape around her. In balance, her feelings for Daro were muted, bringing only a faint twinge of regret. She would not give him the chance to strike back at her by pleading with him before he rejected her utterly. His memory would fade inside her, and she could always have it erased. They would find Josef; she refused to think of what might happen after that.

Her nights were dreamless periods of oblivion. During the days, the forest seemed misty; she trudged through the fog in a trance, her eyes focused on Daro’s back. He was only another shadow in the mist, almost as insubstantial as the woods. When he stopped, she halted; when he changed course, she followed him.

Daro stopped suddenly and held up his hand. Through the mist, she dimly noticed that they were now among hills where the trees were not as thick. She came to herself, her mind suddenly alert; the mist cleared.

Two unchanged people stood at the top of a hill. The man and the woman each carried a spear; Orielna’s hand moved toward her wand as Daro called out to them.

The man shouted a few words, set down his spear, and stretched out his empty hands. Daro nodded; the stranger stooped to pick up his weapon, then disappeared over the hill with the woman.

“What did you say?” Orielna asked. “What do they want?”

“They’ve invited us to join them. I trust you can conduct yourself properly.”

“Do you think we should?”

“They might have seen Josef. We’re not that far from the lake now.”

“Then I’ll try not to offend them,” she said.

They climbed the hill, descended the other side, and came to a hollow. The unchanged couple sat near a fire. The man was broad-shouldered and blond, the woman smaller and darker. Daro led Orielna toward them, sat down and took off his pack, then offered them some of his food. The woman giggled as she pulled at the wrappings, holding them to one small bare breast as if they were an ornament. Small bones were scattered by the fire; Orielna felt sick. The man was holding out what looked like the burned limb of an animal.

Daro took the food and nibbled at it as she tried to steady herself. The couple smiled as they ate, leaning toward each other to exchange pieces of food. Age had not marred their handsomeness yet; the minds might have shaped their bodies. They would not have their youthfulness for long; she wondered how aware they were of that. Orielna thought of the days she had spent with Daro, believing they would not end.