Fearsome Dreamer (22 page)

‘You are correct,' said White. ‘Do as you will.' He turned to leave.

‘Wait! Why do you care what I do?'

‘The reputation of my students reflects upon me,' was his sharp reply.

Of course. How stupid to think that it could be anything else. Rue stood her ground and gave him a defiant look, but it was an empty gesture and she knew it. However she felt about him, she did not want him thinking of her like that. She wanted him to like her.

She hated that about him, too.

She watched White walk away. The more she knew him, the more confused she became about him. His stiff and formal behaviour was so much a part of him that no amount of provoking could dislodge it. He obviously disliked her teasing manner but made little attempt to correct her behaviour, which only made her do it more. She knew nothing about him as he volunteered no information whatsoever, and whenever she questioned Frith on him, Frith smiled and said she should ask White whatever she wanted to know.

She had never seen White in public before. It was quite extraordinary how much attention he attracted. She watched people turn their heads as he walked past them. No wonder he never went out much. She knew his lily-white skin was put about as a birth defect, but she wondered how many people actually believed that.

It was funny how people looked at him, as though they were trying to make it seem like they weren't, as if he was just another face in the crowd. But he wasn't; he could never be that. Not here. As he stopped in the middle of the hall and turned back, she saw them all hurriedly avert their gazes in case he caught them watching him. Which was stupid, because only someone very drunk or unaware would have missed those collective stares.

It was then that Rue realised White was walking back towards her. Inexplicably, her heart jumped. What was he doing?

As he reached her, he bowed his head shortly.

‘Zelle Vela,' he said. ‘Would you please join me in the next dance?'

‘What?' said Rue, astonished.

‘Dance. You mentioned you wish to dance tonight.'

‘With you?'

White gave her one of his silences.

‘Yes,' he said eventually.

‘But that's … is that allowed?'

‘I am unmarried,' he said. ‘And a viable chaperone. Of course it is allowed.'

Rue waited for more, but he said nothing else.

‘Er,' she said. ‘I accept.' She strained to remember the correct reply. ‘With thanks.'

White held out his hand. She stared at it.

‘The next dance will start soon,' he said. ‘We must go to the correct hall.'

Rue was paralysed. Touch him. Touch him as if he were an ordinary person and not her odd, daunting, enigmatic tutor.

Touch his hand.

They had never touched each other, not once. Not even accidentally. She'd wondered if it was because he found physical contact repulsive for some reason. She'd even teased him about it once. He had given her a White silence, and then changed the subject.

Yet here he was, offering his hand out to her.

‘Come,' he said. ‘We must go.'

She slid her hand into his. It was warm. His fingers curled around her palm and held it tight. Then he was walking, practically pulling her along. She could see faces turned towards them, rivers of people watching. She prayed she wouldn't trip.

When they reached the dance hall, couples had already lined up in their places. The pattern they were standing in was unfamiliar.

‘Wait,' said Rue. ‘Which dance is this? I won't know the steps!'

‘I will lead you,' said White. There was a place open near the back of the set – in truth it was not very busy. Many people had migrated to the food tables in the dining hall by now.

White led Rue in front of him and stood her there. They waited for the music to start.

‘I'm nervous,' said Rue. She could feel the stares of the dancers around them, like hot sunlight on her face.

‘Ignore them. You will be perfect,' said White.

Before she could react to this, the music started. White stepped forwards and took her hand.

‘First it is a box step,' he said, above the noise. ‘You know it?'

‘Yes,' said Rue. The box was easy, the first thing she had been taught. Most steps were built on it, she remembered.

‘Four box, two linked, three box, and then change sides,' said White.

‘All right,' said Rue. The steps were easy enough. She tried to concentrate on her feet, but her worry about the dance was nothing in comparison to being close enough to smell him. She watched the creases of his shirt, for safety; it was too difficult to look up into his face.

‘Why are you here?' she blurted suddenly, as they moved through a link. She was conscious of his hand on her back as he guided her through it.

‘To socialise.'

‘But why? You don't go out around the city much. I've never seen you. Frith says you hardly ever go out at all.'

They passed, and then moved through the second link.

‘Frith is the one who encouraged me to come out. To remove the mystery, so he said,' White replied, his voice dry.

‘So people will get used to you,' said Rue.

White said nothing.

‘Does it bother you that people treat you different?'

‘It does not.'

‘It doesn't bother me when people do it to me, neither,' said Rue.

‘Yes it does.'

Rue did look up at him, then. ‘Why do you say that?'

‘You have spent this evening attempting to be as everyone here. Did you not say to me earlier that you wanted to feel normal?'

‘That's not the same thing,' said Rue, momentarily forgetting her nervousness in outrage. To her everlasting shock, White was smiling.

‘Yes it is. If it comforts you, we both lie. I would like to be treated as normal. But I also think to myself that I do not want to be anything like everyone else. It is hypocritical, and human, to feel both of these things.'

Rue thought about this. ‘Why did you come here?' she said. ‘To Angle Tar?'

The smile dropped from White's face, and Rue was sorry to see such a rare and magical thing go. Now he was himself again.

‘I'm sorry if you think I'm rude,' she said. ‘I know you don't like me much because of that.'

White looked as though he was about to open his mouth, but the set broke to change sides, and when they came back together to start the first box, he said nothing. Rue's heart had fallen into misery. Just when she thought the rest of the dance would be spent in silence, he spoke.

‘I came to Angle Tar because it is so different,' he said. ‘There is not another place like it in the whole world. That is a valuable thing.'

She wanted to ask him what it was really like outside of Angle Tar. What it was like in this strange-sounding URCI place. If they really did have boxes out there with whole worlds in them. If anything the silver-eyed boy said was true.

‘Do you know a place called Iceland?' she said.

White looked at her. ‘What do you know of Iceland?' he said.

‘It's full of snow. They have things there that can make food out of air.'

‘You have not told me this dream.'

Rue squirmed. How to get out of this? ‘I had it last night,' she said. ‘For the first time.'

‘We must speak of this in your next lesson in detail.'

Rue looked away.

She had to keep the silver-eyed boy to herself.

The more she dreamed about him, the more she realised that he was something more than her. Something outside of her. She supposed it had to be a Talented thing, but she was afraid that he represented a defect in her, somehow. No one else in the group saw strange silver-eyed boys in their Talent dreams; or if they did they weren't telling. So neither would she. White didn't need to know every little secret thing about her, did he?

‘Syer,' she said.

‘Yes.'

‘In this dance we don't change partners.'

‘No. It is not a mixer.'

‘What's it called?'

White paused. Rue watched him, puzzled. He seemed uncomfortable.

‘It is called an Intentional,' he said.

‘Oh. Why?'

‘I am not sure.' White looked away from her.

‘What's the last step?' she pressed, aware that of the dances she had learned, there was usually a last step different from the rest.

‘A two-turn round, and then finish.'

A moment later, they moved into it. White was extraordinarily good at dancing for someone who never socialised at balls. Rue wondered if he had had private training. When he led her he did it smoothly and she had no trouble understanding where he needed her to go. They turned once, and then again, circling back. Then he took both of her wrists in his hands and pulled her gently towards him until her arms were resting up against his chest.

‘What are you doing?' she said, suddenly afraid.

‘This is the last step,' he said. When she turned her head, she saw that he was right; the couples either side of them had pressed together in a similar fashion. Then she saw the man nearest to her lean down into the girl in his arms and kiss her.

She looked back at White, a horrified blush creeping across her face.

‘Are we meant … to do that?' she managed.

‘Of course not,' he snapped. ‘It is optional.' His face was turned outwards, away from her.

Rue had never felt so awkward in her entire life. This was some kind of nightmare. She was standing so close to White that their bellies practically touched. When would the stupid music end?

Thankfully, a moment later, it did. Before they broke apart, though, she realised something. Her palm had been resting on his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat underneath it. It was pounding so fast she thought he might suddenly collapse there and then in the dance hall, but when she looked up into his face he seemed the same as ever.

Then he stepped away from her, and it was over. He bowed his head, and she remembered that she should do the same. Before she could say anything more, there were people all around them, swarming across the floor now that the dance had finished. Lea had appeared out of nowhere, and Rue could see just behind her stood the rest of the Talented group – none of whom she had seen all evening.

‘Threya take us! What by all the gods were you
doing
with him?' squealed Lea.

‘You were watching?' said Rue. Her voice sounded whispery and weak, and she cleared her throat in annoyance.

‘Rue, half the
university
was watching.'

‘I think it's disgusting,' announced Lufe.

‘It's just a dance,' Rue said irritably. ‘I was all alone and he offered to dance with me. It's the sort of thing he'd do to seem proper.'

‘You were dancing an Intentional, Rue.'

‘So? So what's that?'

Lea giggled. ‘You don't know much, do you?' she said.

Lufe was smiling in his predictably superior fashion.

‘Oh, Grad suck your bones,' said Rue, in high temper. Her pulse was still racing, and White had disappeared. What was she supposed to think about all this?

‘Well, there's no need to be so rude. I want another drink, anyway. This is boring now. Lufe, get one for me, will you?'

‘I've got you three already. Find another boy to be your garçon.'

Rue turned away as they started to argue. Marches had wandered off, and Tulsent stood to the side, looking awkwardly at Lea and Lufe.

They'll end up getting married for sure, Rue thought wearily.

She needed to get out of here.

She searched the corridors leading off the halls until she found a room thick with quiet and only a small, dim lamp for company. She sank down into a stuffed armchair, curling her legs under her, and stared at the paintings on the wall opposite until her eyes ached.

If only he would come in right now, as if he had been searching for her in every room. Then she could ask him what had happened. She could pin him down, alone, and demand that he tell her why he had done that. Why he behaved the way he did. Why and why.

Then, of course, he would kiss her.

She closed her eyes.

When Frith opened his eyes, he saw a stone wall.

Stone walls only ever meant one thing.

Oh no, his heart whispered, and sank miserably, hiding itself away.

He levered himself up from the floor. The air was freezing. His skin furred protectively. The ground slabs were hard and cold against his palms.

As usual, there was no door to the room. Just four blank and bare walls.

This is a dream, said his mind. Remember?

I know that. But.

No. Listen. You've just been to a Castle meet. You always get these dreams after a Castle meet. You know this.

But it didn't matter that he knew. The stone room was diseased, infecting him with fear.

‘Frith,' came a familiar voice.

He looked around.

Ghost Girl stood a few feet away, her hands clasped primly before her.

This was strange. She wasn't usually in this dream. The only other time she had been was in the first one he'd ever had. The one that had convinced him to work for her. The one he had carefully locked away in a part of his mind that he never wanted to visit, ever again.

‘We need to talk,' she said. ‘Away from a meet.'

It was so hard to keep control in this place. He felt like a child again, swallowed up in the dark, waiting to be eaten.

‘Do we have to talk here?' he said. The whine in his voice dismayed him.

‘Yes. This is the Castle. This is the only place we can meet outside of Life.'

Silence.

‘All right,' he managed.

The girl stretched out a hand, her little fingers stroking the wall. She stroked as she talked, as if it helped her think.

‘When we first came to you,' she said, ‘we showed you what was going to happen to you. What was coming. We asked you to help us. You said yes.'

Frith's heart was pounding. God, it was so difficult to
think
straight in here.

‘I did.'

‘It's been a while now. Your programme is going well.'

‘Thank you.'

‘Yours is a small nation compared to World. We know this. Despite your disadvantages, yours is the programme we are currently the most interested in.'

‘You flatter me.'

‘It's because of White, Frith.'

Frith felt an icy thrill run gently along his skin.

‘He's –'

He stopped. Tried again.

‘He's doing well. He's progressing each student I send to him at an extraordinary rate.'

‘I know. We've been watching him,' said Ghost Girl.

He couldn't stop a sudden dark wave surfacing on his face. ‘You've been …'

‘Watching him.'

Ghost Girl's black holes for eyes were fixed on his face.

‘Are you keeping him close?'

‘Yes.'

‘Because you didn't keep Wren close. You lost him.'

That was too far, even for her. ‘I didn't lose him. World has him now. Snearing has him. He's still in the programme, then, isn't he? Besides, you told me to let him go!'

‘No. I just said not to stop him if he wanted to leave.'

God, she had a politician's love of carefully chosen words. Frith remembered the conversation with her very well, just after Wren had had his tantrum and gone to World. She'd all but ordered him to stop trying to find Wren. At the time, he'd thought she was trying to smooth the situation over and stamp out any potential retribution between agents.

But occasionally, he wondered if she'd had a different motive. He wished he knew what it was. He wished he knew all her secrets. He was so powerless.

‘It's different with White,' he said. ‘He has nowhere else to go.'

Her little frame rippled. ‘Yes he does. All that's stopping him is fear. You must give him good reasons to stay here, Frith. Don't drive him away.'

‘I'm not going to!'

Silence.

Frith gathered his courage around him, as if it could protect him from the cold and the fear like a cloak.

‘You don't tell me why I have to keep him close,' he said. ‘All you say is that he's powerful. He's dangerous. But you tell me nothing more about him.'

She lowered her hand, watching him.

‘He's the key,' she said at last. ‘The key to what's coming. That's all you need to know.'

‘I realise that. When I found him, I could see how import--ant he was to you. You think your avatar is so anonymous, but you might as well have screamed it out loud. He's what you've been waiting for, isn't he? Why? Because of what he can do?'

She stood by the wall like a statue.

‘If you don't want the assignment,' she said quietly, ‘I could have him taken away from you and given to someone else.'

Frith felt his heart skip in fright. He fought from showing it.

‘I won't let you do that,' he said.

‘Why not? It's all the same, surely. And if you don't feel you can handle him …'

‘I didn't
say
that –'

‘Then I'll give him to World.'

‘They'll kill him!' Frith shouted.

Silence.

‘Do you care for him, Frith?' came her little voice.

It shouldn't have unbalanced him, her needling. But here, where everything was a hundred times itself, he was a spinning top, unwinding, wobbling wildly.

‘You owe me,' he said. ‘I do your work for you, in the dark, stumbling blindly towards something I'm not even sure of. You don't tell us who you are and how you know the things you know. Are you Talented? Where are you from? Are you all Worlders? Another nation? Which one? China?'

But she said nothing at all.

He spread his hands. ‘Is any of this even real?'

‘Yes. In a sense,' she said. ‘Not in a sense you'd understand.'

‘Try me!'

‘You're wasting time.'

‘How the hell should I know that? Sometimes you say It's coming in the next few years. Sometimes you say it could be as long as twenty. Tell me.
Make
me understand!'

Outside the room, there came an ominous, deep-bellied, rolling boom.

The sound of buildings falling. Felt, rather than heard.

Frith's insides squeezed.

‘Don't bring It here,' he pleaded, whispery. ‘Why are you bringing It here? To scare me?'

‘We don't have control over It, Frith. It roams the Castle, looking for a way in. We can't let It find a way in!'

Another boom. Closer.

Oh god. Oh no.

He didn't want to see It again. Once had been enough.

Another boom.

He sank to the floor, clenching every muscle he had to stop himself from leaping into full-blown panic.

You can't frighten me into doing what you want!

‘We don't have the luxury of playing nice, Frith,' said Ghost Girl, as if he had spoken out loud. ‘Everyone will die. You
know
this!'

The walls of the room actually shuddered.

Frith felt a moan trickle out of his throat.

‘Stop this,' he said. ‘Stop.'

She was still talking, but her words were getting lost, sucked into the gaping roar of sound outside.

‘Tell me the truth about White!' he shouted. ‘Stop tricking me!'

No, you don't.

No one controls me.

But she did. She did it with fear.

She had moved closer, bending down to his crouched figure, her thin, bony arms resting on her knees.

The booming was closer, and impossibly loud. His ears tried to shut down.

‘It isn't real!' he screamed. ‘None of it is! It's just a dream!'

‘If you believe that,' came her tickling voice in his ear, ‘then we're all dead.'

He didn't believe it. He knew it was real.

In his soul, he knew.

But they couldn't keep playing him like a harp, and they couldn't play with White's life like this, and they couldn't threaten things. Not any more.

He'd never had anyone of his own, and White was his.

Outside the room came a wet, bone-crunching roar.

‘Frith, listen to me,' said Ghost Girl. He thought he could hear something in her voice. Urgency. Fear?

Wake up now, Frith. Wake up. God, wake up.

‘Frith, listen to me!'

He buried his head on his knees.

Wake up wake up.

WAKE UP WAKE UP!

WAKE

The roar had gone, cut off mid-fury.

It was dark.

It was warm.

It was his room.

He had curled in a ball in the midst of his bed. He unclenched.

His body was shaking. He stopped it.

They couldn't be angry with him. He was doing what they wanted, after all. He would continue to keep White close. He would watch. He would know what White did before he did it. And whatever plan they had for White, Frith would make sure he was there to protect him from it.

He sat, clutching his bed blanket, thinking madly.

He had to find out everything he could about them. He had to know what they didn't want him to know. So he hadn't had much luck gaining information so far, but then he hadn't even spoken to the only people who knew anything about them – the other agents they had recruited.

Which meant that now he had to try like hell to forge some sort of alliance with World, and with that awful bastard Snearing, to see what they knew. For now, they were his only source of information.

And if the Castle brought him more nightmares, trying to screw him into his place with terror, well, then.

He just wouldn't sleep.

That was all.