and pulled herself out. She wrung most of the water out of her hair, dried herself off, then slipped the chemise over her head and wrapped the towel around her head. Her waist-long smoke-gray locks had so little body that it wasn't worth her time trying to brush them out.
She decided not to redress; she saw no point to it since she planned to retire right after supper. She walked back to the fire and knelt down as he dished up plates of what looked like a thick stew, with rice, vegetables, and meat in a reddish-brown sauce. He also had coffee going, and she poured herself a cup.
He handed her a plate. "Help yourself to seconds."
She scooped up a forkful and took a bite. She didn't expect it to be terrible, but she had been prepared to make a fuss over it regardless. Instead, she felt surprised at how good it really tasted.
"This is excellent!" It reminded her of Aelfraed's recipes, but then her butler had been trained at Le Cordon Bleu.
"Why, thank you. The ingredients are nothing to boast about, just standard travel food, and they contain a lot of salt. So I liven them up with infused oils, spiced sauces and gravies, and a little cooking sherry as needed. Onion, garlic, and curry help, too."
"I doubt I could have done better."
As they ate, they talked about themselves. He had been a Dreamer like her, until he died in the Waking World from complications due to his progressive chondrodystrophy, which also accounted for his dwarfism. For some reason, in the Dreamlands his body was fully normal except for its small size and odd proportions.
"I've often wondered if that was because as a child I used to wish for a normal body."
He loved entertaining people with his singing, playacting, and piano playing. He had started off as a nightclub performer partnered with a beautiful normal lady, then progressed to stage, cinema, and television acting. He mentioned a number of movies and shows he had been in, including the one that had garnered him an Academy Award nomination.
"I'm sorry, but I've never seen any of them."
He looked disappointed for a moment, but then shrugged it off with a grin. "We probably moved in very different circles."
He went on to describe how in the Dreamlands he supported himself as a raconteur and minstrel, as well as carrying messages for people and delivering items or papers they could not take care of themselves. His biggest client was King Kuranes.
That piqued her interest. "You know Kuranes?"
"We've been friends for years, ever since I first started coming here."
She didn't pursue the subject, but it made her wonder if their meeting was really as coincidental as it seemed.
As they ate seconds, she told him about herself. Though careful not to reveal any identifying information, she described her first visit to the Dreamlands, when she crossed over physically through a transient gate. Then she told of her second visit, due to a magic spell, to help stop a threat to Ooth-Nargai. That was when she had learned how to Dream and began coming on her own. And she related how she met and married her husband. She almost gave the show away by saying his true name, but she caught herself in time and stated it was Edward.
"It hasn't been easy maintaining a relationship, especially with our time apart, and it's worse for him being as he has to wait nearly four Dream-months, whereas for me it's only a few Waking-hours. And then I can only stay for nine Dream-weeks, assuming something doesn't wake me up sooner."
"He must love you very much."
"I have no doubt of that, but it's still a strain on both of us."
"It shouldn't be; you're both extremely lucky." She realized that for all of his lecherous parody, he wished he had that kind of love for himself.
After they finished eating, she helped him clean up--she insisted over his protests--and opened and spread her bedroll in the back of the lean-to. She took one of her pistols from the harness and placed it under the head roll that served as her pillow, then removed the towel and rubbed her hair in a vigorous manner to smooth it out as best she could.
She opened her pack to remove a roll of toilet paper before she refolded the towel and gave it back to him. "Is there a place where..." She couldn't finish. Despite the primitiveness of the toilet facilities in the Dreamlands, she still felt too embarrassed to ask where she could relieve herself.
He winked, a mischievous smile on his face. "If you're asking about the little girls' room, euphemistically speaking..." He pointed towards the foot of the deer trail. "On the other side is a stout tree branch that overhangs the chasm. You can sit there, assuming you're not afraid of heights. Just sit far enough back that you don't soil the bark." He then went off to prepare his own bed.
She walked over to the spot he indicated and found a giant, gnarled oak that grew out of the corner where the shelf connected with the ridge. It had a massive trunk, but appeared stunted, with numerous boughs and branches growing out over the valley. It reminded her of a playground jungle gym, and she climbed through to a sturdy location, sat down, pulled up her chemise, and tried not to look down. She remembered when she had first entered the Dreamlands and discovered that Dreamers could 'retire' there after they died in the Waking World. Eile and Sunny had been amused when she questioned what kind of afterlife would include bodily functions.
After she finished, she made her way back to the shelf and wiped herself off, throwing the paper over the ledge. At least that was one advantage of the Dreamworld: everything was biodegradable. She then headed back to the camp. The sun had long since set and the shelf and cave rapidly fell into shadow. He rummaged through his pack, putting some items away and getting others out, probably for the next day. He turned as she approached and held up a bottle of amber liquid.
"Care to join me?"
She considered herself a teetotaler most of the time, but she could be a social drinker when circumstances demanded it of her. "I would be delighted. Do you mind if I smoke?"
"Not at all." As he stood up she saw he had a pipe and a pouch of tobacco.
"Just give me a minute." She went to her pack to put away the toilet paper and took out a tin of cigarillos. She had them hand-rolled in Ulthar and picked up a fresh supply every night when she arrived.
She returned to the fire and sat down. They each lit up and he pulled the cork in the bottle, offering it to her. She smiled at the lack of glasses and took a swig.
She handed it back. "My word, that's smooth." It reminded her of the 50-year-old single-malt Scotch she paid through the nose for.
"Sarrubian whiskey is the best, in either world." He took a swig of his own and gave it back.
"So, what takes you to the abbey?" She took another drink.
"In the Waking World I had toyed with the idea of becoming a monk, but I couldn't handle the physical exertion."
"Exertion?" She took another drink.
"They expected novices to perform the bulk of the manual labor, and for obvious reasons much of it was beyond my abilities." Then he winked. "Besides, no elevators."
She laughed and took another drink. "I imagine that would be an inconvenience." She handed the bottle back.
"Naturally." He took a sip. "Well, in any case, here I'm having too much fun to consider the ascetic life, but occasionally I need a respite, and that's a perfect place for rest and meditation." He handed the bottle back.
"They offer sanctuary, then?" She took a swig.
"To people they know and trust, yes. I also do some minor work for them, and they love my stories and songs, though I tone some of them down, of course." He winked again.
She chuckled and took another drink.
"And what about yourself? Why are you going there?"
She took a sip, and handed the bottle back. "I have letters and proclamations from Kuranes he asked me to deliver. I also thought I might use it as a base from which to explore the area."
He took a sip. "Indeed? I'd be glad to be your guide, if you like." He passed the bottle back.
She nodded and took a drink. "I would like that; thank you. But would they let me stay?"
> "I would vouch for you."
She took another drink. "You barely know me."
He smiled and winked. "I think I know you well enough."
She took another drink. "But I'm a woman; wouldn't that be a problem?"
He chuckled. "They're celibates, and half their members are women."
She laughed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." She took another drink, and felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.
"Bollocks, this is bloody strong stuff." She handed him the bottle.
"Just one more." He pushed it back.
"No, I think I've had enough." She urged it on him.
"I thought a toast would be appropriate, in honor of our first meeting." He pushed it back again.
She flashed a lopsided grin. "Hmph. Why the bloody hell not. Then, to friendship and adventure, the staples of a good life." She tipped the bottle back and took a long swallow.
She handed it over and he raised it in salute. "To friendship and adventure." And he took a quick sip.
She threw the remnants of her cigarillo in the fire. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe it's time for bed." She stood up, swaying a bit, but got herself under control. "Coming?"
He shook his head, grinning. "Not in your condition. Besides, I want to finish my pipe."
She nodded and flourished a wave. "Then good night, good Michael."
"Good night, my dear Flynnette."
She turned and made for the lean-to, walking steady despite her light head. She pulled back the blanket and lay down, then rolled over onto her right side and pulled the cover to her shoulder. She took a
A Little Hospitality Page 4