Falcons of Narabedla (9 page)

Adric's lean non-human face peered over Narayan's shoulder. He looked subdued, and spoke with a curious humility. He sounded sane. “There
will
be a way, some day. It will take time to find it, now, but—there will be.”

Spontaneously we grinned at each other. I could not hate this man. I knew him too well. I knew, suddenly, that we would be friends. Which, indeed, is what happened.

Narayan looked from one to the other of us, troubled; then Gamine's intent face was at his elbow.

“I'll see to these men,” she said quietly. “Narayan, they need you, and it's your responsibility. They have to be told why they were wakened, and how; there are slaves to be freed, armies—”

Narayan glanced guiltily over his shoulder at the other Dreamers who stood huddled together in a bewildered little knot. “That's so,” he acknowledged gravely, and went to his people. I watched him, feeling as if my one friend here had deserted me; but it had to be that way. Narayan was not our kind. He was the sort of man who could remodel a world; but the look he sent us over his shoulder told Adric and I that we should, if we liked, have a share in that work.

“Now Mike Kenscott,” said Gamine, “I want to talk to you.”

We left Adric and Cynara in that place, and I cast a wistful glance back at them. Cynara was lovely, and very human, and I suppose I had hoped that in some way she would compensate for my enforced stay in this world. But there was Adric—

Gamine and I stood on the steps of the Dreamer's Keep, and her voice, soft and wistful, mourned in the grey dawn. “No one ever knew I had the Dreamer powers—except old Rhys. Rhys and I were bound together—he knew, and kept me close to him, hid me and helped me. One day Adric found out. It—changed Adric. He—we freed Narayan together. Then Karamy made me what I was—what you saw. It hurt Adric—hurt something in him. I could have cured him, in time, but Karamy had him bewitched. She stripped him of power, of memory. I do not know, but perhaps some day, Adric may remember that I was—I was—”

“Gamine! Gamine!” Adric's voice cried from within, and the next moment he rushed forth—caught the Dreamer woman in his arms, and his mouth met hers and she stood swaying in his arms, laughing and crying together. Cynara, following slowly, smiled with gentle satisfaction. I said, stunned, “What—”

Over Adric's shoulder Gamine's blue eyes met mine in liquid satisfaction and she finished her interrupted sentence. “I was Adric's wife,” she said, gently.

Cynara's voice was tenderly humorous as we left them together in the glory of the rising sun. “Poor Gamine,” she said, “and poor Adric, too. I was sorry for them both. But I wish these men would make up their minds!”

I had an idea.

“Adric's made up his mind,” I said, turning my head a little toward the couple who stood, clasped, as if they could never let go. “I suppose—” I came a little closer to Cynara, who stood looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes and lips ingenuously parted, “I suppose that gives me the right to make up my mind. Doesn't it?”

She smiled. “Does it?” But her bright eyes had given me my answer, and I never had to make up my mind again.