Dreamquake: Book Two of the Dreamhunter Duet (29 page)

Again the boot prodded Laura. “Who are they? Your accomplices?”

Another man said, “How did they know what they were looking for? What have you got to say for yourself, girl?”

“Let her alone,” another man said. “She’ll tell us afterward anyway.”

After what? Laura thought, and bunched herself up into a tight, defensive ball.

The handcar bounced as two men jumped off it. Laura
heard the sloshing of water skins being settled. One of the men who was leaving said, “Be as quick as you can. Those gates will have to be fixed as soon as possible.”

Laura wondered where her sandman had hidden. The cage would have been on the summit when the rangers reached the cable car—after passing through two broken gates. Not just broken but exploded. Laura remembered the stretched-licorice look of the smoking chain. Nown would be burrowed in somewhere probably, with only his roughly made back exposed. He could look as natural as a big stone when he really needed to.

The four remaining rangers settled themselves on the handcar. Laura heard a spring squawk as someone sat on one of the seats, preparing to work the levers. She mustered her courage. She unclenched her body, rolled onto her back, and looked up at one of the men.

He met her eyes, and his face creased with worry. “You’re really only a baby, aren’t you?”

“How far is it if you go around the long way?” Laura asked him.

“How far to where?” one of the other men said, impatient.

The handcar was moving now. The landscape slid by, faster every second. None of the crankshafts or levers made a noise; all were too well greased. The only sound was the creak of springs in the seats as the rangers’ weight shifted while they worked. That, and the ponderous rolling noise of steel wheel rims on steel rails.

The man who was looking at Laura said, “She means, is there another way around The Pinnacles? She’s hoping her friends will be able to follow her on foot.”

The other man laughed. “There’s no long way, girlie,” he said. “Only a wrong way.”

Laura never did learn how long the journey was. They removed her watch, so she couldn’t tell the time. They didn’t try to talk to her anymore. She sat slumped against a basket.

The rangers worked the levers in shifts. The Pinnacles faded into mistiness before they fell behind the horizon. The plain across which the handcar moved was bald and seemed to swell toward the sky as though showing the curve of the planet. Hours went by, and Laura fell asleep. She ran through some colored rags of dreams, too fast to take in anything from them.

When she woke up, stiff, her face numb on one side and printed with a pattern of basketwork, one ranger remarked, “It would have been easier for you if you’d stayed asleep for just another half hour.” He pulled her to her feet. She stood propped and teetering between the stacked baskets as the handcar reduced speed and rolled in among some buildings.

The ground was dusty and lightly embossed all over by footprints—boot prints and bare feet. The compound consisted of a cluster of huts, several long, barrackslike buildings, and shelters with canvas roofs and walls, the walls rolled up like window blinds to reveal rows of pallet beds. Some of the beds were occupied by people, either sleeping or reading. They were all wearing yellow cotton pajamas. More yellow-clad figures sat around on benches, or stood where the grass began again, facing away from the buildings, or lay on their backs gazing up into the unremarkable white sky. There was even a group of pajama-clad young men playing a not very energetic ball game, all barefoot and scuffling in the dust.

The handcar pulled up at a platform. More rangers appeared
and began unloading the supplies, carrying everything into one of the huts. Laura was lifted like baggage and put down on the platform. She waited as people went by her with boxes and baskets. She ignored the rangers and tried to catch the eye of one of the people in yellow. Most were men, but Laura did see a few young women among them. They all looked well fed, well rested, and reasonably clean. They were not at all interested in Laura’s appearance. Their eyes went across her as though she were no more surprising than anything else they looked at.

Laura didn’t like their yellow uniforms or their vulnerable, unshod feet. But she could see that none of the people seemed sedated. They were all active and coordinated and clear-eyed, only strangely calm.

Several more rangers emerged from one of the barracks and came over to Laura. The one wearing a white coat and stethoscope frowned as he came up and said, “Untie her immediately.”

When her hands were free, Laura pulled the gaping front of her shirt together.

“There’s no need to do that, young lady. I want to look at your license,” the doctor said.

“She’s Tziga Hame’s daughter, Laura,” one of her captors said.

The doctor gave Laura a careful, appraising look.

“She was walking Inland along the rail line about an hour from the tower. The gate at the beginning of The Pinnacles was hanging off its hinges. The detour gate was smashed to bits. But the girl was on her own when we found her.”

The doctor looked into her eyes. “Did you break the gates, Laura?”

“They were already broken,” she said. “I wondered
whether there was some emergency. I went in to see if I could be of any assistance.” She lifted her chin and stared at him, cool and defiant.

One of the rangers snorted in disbelief. “Who worked the cable car, then?”

Laura said, “I was so determined to help, I went up the cable hand over hand.”

The ranger hissed in anger and reached for her, but the doctor fended him off. “There’s no need to press her. We’ll know her story soon enough.”

To Laura he said, “I’m sure you understand that you’re in trouble. You’ve trespassed. And there’s the matter of damage to property.”

Laura didn’t like to meet his eyes. There was a look in them, a cold, stripped-down look, that frightened her. Instead she turned her attention to the rail line, which, she saw, didn’t end at the platform but went away, dead straight, Inland. She asked, “Is this the Depot?”

“Yes, it is. But where did you hear that name?”

“I don’t remember. What’s out there?” Laura pointed along the line.

“The railway is being extended solely in the interest of exploration. Believe me, the farther you go, the less memorable it is. But I suppose you are one of those dreamhunters with romantic ideas about the hinterland? About a dream like Koh-i-noor? A big, matchless diamond of a dream.”

He was making fun of her. He was all scorn and cynicism; a fortress defended, but defending only emptiness. That was what she could see when she looked into his eyes. He knew he was doing wrong, and meant to go on doing it, but was still capable of feeling resentment when anything reminded him of it.

Laura remembered seeing a similar expression in Maze Plasir’s face when she’d asked him about supplying nightmares to the Department of Corrections.

As these thoughts went through her mind, she began unconsciously pursing her lips and shaking her head.

“Are you about to
scold
us?” the doctor asked, sarcastic.

The look she gave him. The doctor remembered it all his life. She met his eyes, her expression icy and knowing. It wasn’t bravado. She didn’t strike him as brave. She was still shivering and clutching her torn shirt closed over her tiny breasts. Fear was there in her body, frank fear in her tremors and whitened knuckles. But she looked like someone who couldn’t feel her own fear, because it was being interfered with by faith. Faith was pouring out of her face at him, bigger and louder than anything. She looked like a saint.

It was very impressive. But being impressed only made this man feel spiteful. He leered at Laura Hame. He said, “I’m pleased to see you’re not afraid. You have no reason to be, as you’ll soon learn.” He nodded to the rangers she’d come with, one of whom laid a hand on her shoulder while the other knelt to unlace and remove her boots. The doctor smiled more widely and added, “I know you’ll be very happy here.”

The hut had a wooden floor, and white dust had gathered in its corners. It had a window with bars on it but without glass. There was no need for glass, no cold to combat, or wind to screen. A thin mattress was set square against one
wall. There was a bucket: clean white enamel, with a lid. There was no other furniture.

An hour after Laura was put into the room, the door was unbolted and a tray delivered to her. On it were a mug of water and oatcakes topped with honey. There was also a bowl full of some kind of cold tomato concoction and an orange.

Laura sipped the water slowly. She wasn’t so much planning an escape as just meaning to. Because she meant to escape, she would take every opportunity to store water in her body. She drank slowly with the idea that she, like an indoor plant, would absorb more water if watered gradually. As she sipped, she looked through the window at the people in yellow.

She saw one she recognized. It was Maze Plasir’s apprentice, Gavin Pinkney. Oily, snide Gavin—who had passed in the Doorhandle Try last autumn, and who was licensed before Laura since he didn’t catch dreams about convicts.

Gavin was sitting, holding his bare toes in either hand and rocking gently back and forth.

Laura put her face against the bars and called to him. “Gavin!”

He was slow to react to his name but turned to her smiling already, then beamed. He got up and came over wearing a goofy but completely genuine grin. “Hello,” he said.

“Gavin, how long have you been here?”

He shrugged. “It’s great here,” he said. “Though I could
murder
for a bit of cooked meat.”

“A while, then?” Laura said.

“I’m so glad you’ve come,” he said. “You’ll find you feel better almost immediately.”

Laura nodded to encourage him, and he began to echo her nod, his eyes creased with smiling. “It’s wonderful that we’re together,” he said.

“You and me?” Laura was astonished. He’d shown no sign of liking her before.

“All together,” he said, in a singsong voice. “It was all worth it.”

“What was?”

“The work, the chances I took. Time well spent, to end up with this—this full well of time.” Gavin’s voice was nasal—his usual quacking voice, but his tone was so serene he sounded mesmerizing. “And we have the whole day ahead of us,” he said. “This beautiful day.” He looked around, his face shining, as if illuminated by brilliant spring sunshine.

Laura covered her mouth with her hand. She retched, and some of the water came back up from her gullet tainted with bile. She swallowed and tried to control herself.

Gavin went on. “There’s my mother waiting for us—still in the best of health. And my grown children, favored by fortune, he prosperous, she generous. How foolish I was to worry about them. And the grandchildren—here they come up from the beach, the girls practicing cartwheels and the boys carrying the canoe paddles—”

“It’s a dream, Gavin,” Laura said, to put a stop to his rapturous chanting.

“A dream …” His eyes flickered.

“Contentment,” Laura said, guessing.

“Yes.” His face cleared. Then he said, puzzled, “Don’t you want to be happy?”