The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2)

by Matthew W. Harrill

  Ju looked over his shoulder. “Not often. I forget that it is there most of the time. As I expect you do with the dagger.”

  “Good point,” Zya conceded. “And yes, that phrase was in the dream. I heard it again today, spoken by a man in a card stall at the North Wall Market.”

  “The one with the players?” Ju brightened up at the mention of the place. “I spend every moment I can there, when I am not running around like a blue-assed fly.”

  “Such language is unbecoming,” Zya reproached him.

  “What about the other phrase? The wrong guild?” Ju was becoming adept at turning the conversation, Zya noted.

  “I don't know, Ju. It could mean any number of things. It could mean that I am in the wrong guild. It could mean that a different guild is responsible for what may or may not be happening here. It could even mean that the guild that I collapsed outside is not what we think it is.”

  “Oh, it is what you think it is,” Ju replied in a quiet voice. “I would not go there were I not getting paid for it. The place is full of brutes and madmen.”

  “Don't worry about it now, Ju,” Zya sought to reassure him. “I have enjoyed this evening, and it has reminded me that there is so much out there that really doesn't deserve our attention. There is nothing more important than family.”

  Ju smiled at the implied compliment. “Goodnight sister,” he said, and left her alone as he closed the door.

  It did not take very long for Zya to drop off to sleep that night, so comfortable and relaxed as she was. The thick mattress and downy blankets she covered herself with proved more than adequate to send her quickly slumbering into the world where darkness ruled over all, and images came and went as her unconscious mind was left to wander. She had hoped for a night with no dreams, no images for her to remember. She was not an ordinary person though, not by any stretch of the imagination. As Zya had been told in so many words by her tribal tutor, she would one day be able to see the future through her dreams and the paths that she walked would guide her and copious others to safety. That was the one fact that had decided that she would open herself up to whatever experiences had arisen within her head. It was what was guiding her now. The flickering images gradually became one clear vision, that of a market place. It was so familiar to her that she could have pinched herself and found that she was actually there, only she knew that she wasn't. It did not take long before she realised that he was there with her, as he always seemed to be.

  “So where are we this time?” Ju asked, unsurprised by the whole turn of events.

  “The market that I was supposed to go to the day I collapsed and dreamt of the ships and cat face the pirate.” She realised where it was, even though she had never previously reached the place. The uncomfortable feeling of the mercenary guild was magnified tenfold here in her dream, and she could point out its location and distance with her eyes closed. That was definitely not the reason she was here.

  “What are we supposed to do?” Ju was ever full of questions, though they were much more direct here in their own private world.

  Zya looked over at him. He had his bow ready in one hand, and a quiver of goose-feathered arrows slung over one shoulder. He was also taller here, almost as tall as she. Zya realised with a start that she was dreaming of Ju as she would see him in later life. As much as the fact that Ju was actually there, he was not altogether real. He probably saw himself as he currently was, but to her he was a grown adult. She looked down at her belt, and it was not the belt that she had bought, but the original belt, the one she had attached the dagger to for so long. Her hand rested on the small pommel of the knife. Their connection was unbroken in this place.

  “Well?” He said, the impatience of youth shining through the calm and patient adult face that stood before her.

  “We wait, and watch,” she answered. “This is a dream, not reality. Our path will be shown clearly to us, and all we do is follow it.”

  Almost as soon as she stopped speaking, a wagon rolled past at a pace that was a bit too slow for the team attached to it. The street was wide open leading up to the market, and despite the people crowding the way the wagon could have moved faster. She followed the wagon without thinking. Moving wide of the route taken by the man at the reins, she looked ahead to see what was keeping the speed down. There was one person loping ahead at a fair pace for somebody that walked, and she recognised him. It was Lorn. He was being followed by the wagon and he didn't even realise it.

  “I see him,” the adult Ju said from beside her. “Should we interfere?”

  “We will know if it is our place to take any action,” was all she would say in reply. This was not good enough for Ju and the strain flowed through the link between them. She would not have noticed so intent was she upon the wagon. It was barely loaded, with only a few barrels and items tied down under burlap covers. “This whole set up is too obvious. Lorn would be able to sense any pursuer.” As if on cue, he disappeared into the midst of the market, where the streets were too narrow, and filled with stalls. From her position at the side of the street she saw the driver slow the horses and curse out loud, standing up and straining for a glimpse of his mark. Zya smiled. Lorn had known about this all along. Even now she saw him track back and leave from a different part of the market. He did not make his escape quickly enough. The wagon drover spotted him and yanked the reins of his team, driving them into motion. The horses shied from the crowds, and it was only their attachment to the wagon that stopped them bolting for good. This was enough for Lorn to make good his escape, the wagon lagging back as the driver fought for control of the horses, his wagon and the streets in general as crowds began to take notice of what was occurring. Zya and Ju ran past many of the ghost-like faces, for the people in their dream were little more than spectres, or so it seemed. The wagon driver began to pick up speed, and with curses and grunts he wrestled the horses into the right direction. Lorn was now far ahead, moving at a brisk trot towards a path between two three-story houses that would prove too narrow by far for the wagon to pass through. As she watched from her vantage point behind the wagon, she noticed other men closing on him from the direction that the evil emanated. They were coming from the mercenary guild. Lorn looked like he was close to running a deadly gauntlet. This band of men made no secret of the fact that they were brandishing a variety of weapons, the dull steel heads reflecting light. They were uniform in size, all huge bulking men with faces completely devoid of any human emotion. Lorn would have no chance against them. The wagon drove him towards the narrow street, and now she realised that this was a trap. Judging by his speed, Lorn had still not noticed. She screamed a warning at the top of her voice, forgetting that only Ju and herself were conscious here. “It's not our place to interfere in this scenario,” she realised aloud.

  “Yeah, right,” Ju retorted. He drew and let fly in one smooth motion. His arrow arched up into the air, its mark having not a clue that he was already dead. The arrow plunged down with deadly accuracy, and clattered on the cobbles as it passed right by the foremost mercenary.

  Ju looked like a man in shock. “That arrow was as true as any I have fired, and it missed.”

  “There is nothing we can do.” Zya's voice gave away her impending panic. She had been shocked with surprise in previous dreams, but never before had she ever had this sense of mounting nervous tension. She wanted to help, but could do so in no direct way or form. Suddenly Lorn realised what was happening, but instead of turning to fight, he ran straight towards the pathway. The driver let loose, whipping the horses in frenzy while the mercenaries rushed without any pretence of hiding who they were. They yelled, swinging their war hammers as they ran. Lorn however was quicker, and gained the pathway first. Zya ran as fast as she could, despite the benign nature of her presence. The wagon driver got there before her and jumped down, wielding a nasty-looking rusted meat hook. The horses milled about, directionless and without a sure hand to guide them. One tried to bolt, and the pair only succeeded in wedgi
ng the wagon across the entrance. There was no easy way for Zya to cross. When she tried to look down the pathway, the noises of close-quartered fighting were accompanied by darkness. There was nothing she could see. “Lorn!” She screamed, desperate for a response but knowing she was not going to get one. Only the signs of fighting reached her as a reply, clashes of metal and screams of pain. Nothing more was she going to get, and well she knew it.

  “We must go in there!” Ju yelled.

  “No we must not. We can not,” she replied, “do you not understand? This could be the future. That is the point of the path of dreams, to show me, us, what may be. It is up to the dreamer to act upon it.” She took one more look at the alleyway, with the shadows and the tall buildings, and she remembered no more.

  If Zya dreamt again that night, she could not remember it. The details were still vivid in her mind when she awoke, as well as the difference in the dream that had made it all the more real. Never before had she been given independence in a dream. This had been more like a different reality. Its meaning was clear. Lorn could not approach the mercenary guild, or even the area surrounding it without risking his life. Zya decided to tell him after breakfast. When she eventually reached the table in the pantry, it was already laid out for their early morning meal. Zya remembered that she would have been up for a long while already if they were still on the road. She missed that about herself and it added no small measure of guilt. The city ways were habit forming, and not all good. Had she been more of a cynic, Zya would have denounced the city folk as downright lazy, but she had been taught from an early age when to keep her mouth shut and when to voice her opinion. Chewing on a bread roll covered in jam, Zya was lost in her thoughts when Ju entered the pantry. He looked terrible. His brown hair was a mess and his eyes were hollowed, ringed with the dark marks that indicated a prolonged lack of sleep. Still, he looked like his youthful self once more, that child just becoming the man she had seen in the dream. “What happened?” She asked.

  “What, after the fun and games we were having last night,” he replied angrily. “I couldn't sleep after that, for fear that we had lost Lorn into some abyss of darkness full of hammer wielding madmen.” He sat down and started helping himself to food. “I sat there the entire night looking out of the window, praying for the dawn. I don't think I shall ever sleep again, not if I have to endure that.” He shifted his shoulders to make the bow move to one side, and then set about his meal.

  Midway through their feast, Lorn entered the pantry. Immediately Ju sprung to his feet and poked Lorn in the stomach, causing the fisherman, as he had once been known to double over. “What on earth was that for?” He wheezed.

  “Just checking you are here and real, sort of in the flesh.” Ju answered.

  “Last time I looked,” he answered, and then glanced at the two of them. “What is it?”

  Zya took in a breath and told him of the dream that she had shared with Ju the previous night. Lorn listened patiently, looking at both Ju and her as she told him of what she had seen. “Lorn, please do not go there, not to that region of the city. Not after this.”

  “You are sure that it was the same place? Remember you have not actually been there.”

  “It was, I know it was. Lorn, I could not stress this any more if I tried. The ill feeling was there, nearby, just like the mercenary guild. It was the same place.”

  Lorn did not look convinced. “I have never known a tribal seer to be wrong, but if you say that I should avoid that place to save my own life, then so be it. But do not think for a second that I would not risk my own life if one of you two happens to go there and end up in trouble. As it happens I was going to suggest a walk there on the way back to your guild, via a different route of course.”

  Zya breathed out a deep sigh of relief. “Then it is settled. We will definitely not go to that market. I really do need to get back to the guild. There are things I need to learn, and right guild or not, I can learn them from the Earthen Clerics. How to properly wield a focus stone is the very least of my needs. Perhaps I can find out more about what is going on in the city from them. If I can discover the cause behind the ill-feeling I have been getting from the mercenaries by means of a focus stone, then perhaps I can make more use of the Feast of Growth.”

  “You are going there?” Ju exclaimed.

  Zya looked at him as if she had explained all of this before. Then she recalled who was actually with her as she had told them; Ju had missed out on nearly all of her experiences. Quickly she outlined them for him, finishing with her invitation as a guild novice to the feast.

  Ju's face paled somewhat. “I have heard a lot of this Feast of Growth. People throughout the mercenary guild speak of it, to the point that the name rings around the building while we are running in and out. The people we deliver to harp on about it non-stop.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Ju looked out of the pantry window, as if it would give his memory inspiration. “They are going. I have heard them talk about it. There are many of them attending, for I think they belong there.”

  “What do you mean, belong there?”

  “Well, from what I have heard, they think that it is their right to be there, and they don't need an invitation, nor does anybody else that goes with them.”

  “Why would they say it is their right to attend, when the only people not invited…”

  “…Are the hosts in the Ducal Palace.” Lorn finished the sentence for Zya.

  She looked at them both in stunned silence for a moment. “You cannot mean that the leaders of this city are in league with O'Bellah?”

  “Who knows what is possible? The fact is that you are going to be in the same place as some very unsavoury people in a few moons time. You might want to learn all that you can just to be in the position to take a few precautions.”

  Zya nodded at the wisdom being imparted. “Ju, I need you to listen very carefully when next you go into that place. See if you can find out any more about what they intend. The very fact that such people are going to an event like this worries me, perhaps more than it should. I have a feeling that I cannot shift now. Something is up.”

  Ju laughed at this. “With you, something is always up.”

  “True. Tell me Ju, do you agree with the danger inherent in me going to the merchant's guild?”

  “Absolutely.” He replied without even a moment to reflect on the question. “I may not be a wizard or whatever, but I know what I saw last night. It scared me half to death. Lorn, If Zya says that you shouldn't go near the guild, then listen. What we saw last night showed you in great danger if you go back there.”

  “I think anybody that crosses anywhere near that place is asking for a certain amount of danger.” Lorn continued. “You included, Ju.”

  “I am safe as houses,” Ju replied, fiddling with his breakfast. “They are too busy to notice me, consumed with whatever it is they are hiding from everybody else. I run the messages from the palace to the guild and back, and get paid well to do so.”

  “Profitable work for one so young.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Zya remembered how he had been as a child. Even in the normally reserved tribal society, it had been important to gain approval in whatever way possible. He had done that by hunting his first deer at an incredibly young age.

  “It won't last,” Ju said as he reached for a cup of milk. “We will be gone from here one day soon, so it is best to do what we can to ensure that things will go well for us.”

  “And that includes getting money?”

  “Yes. I believe it does. How are we supposed to survive otherwise? We have lived on luck and goodwill for a long time now, but one must always be prepared in case the luck runs out.”

  Zya was surprised at the depths of thinking from the boy, and the foresight he had gained. “I had never considered it that way.”

  “Well we all do what we can to survive. I may be able to fire an arrow, but in this city that is not of much use. What I ca
n do is use my feet, such as I used to do back home.”

  Ju had grown up so much in the past few moons that it was difficult to believe that she had only known the boy for a season or so. “Do you miss it? Home, I mean.”

  “Compared to this?” Ju laughed. “Not for a moment. At home I looked after stabled horses, and spent my nights hiding from those out for an easy target, one who was smaller than they. Since leaving Hoebridge I have learned to ride, shoot, cook and although I am ashamed to admit it, pick a pocket. I have no regrets about leaving that place, though I would have loved to have seen what happened when O'Bellah visited that little village.”

  “Because he might be after Zya?”

  Ju shook his head. “Nope, that's not it. There were several of the councillors that sought O'Bellah's favour. They sucked up to him.” Ju appeared confused. “I'm sure that there is a word for that.

  “Sycophants.” Lorn replied. “Hangers on that curry favour from those in a position of power.”

  “That's the one. Anyway, they were supposed to keep any outsiders from leaving so that O'Bellah could decide what to do with them. It sounds like the travellers were exactly the type of people they had been told to detain, and they lost them. I would love to have been a fly on the wall when that went down.”

  “O'Bellah doesn't seem much like a man to accept failure,” Zya agreed, “nor one to be told what to do.”

  Lorn leaned in close, prompting them to do the same. “You be careful when you go back to that place, Ju, and you to the palace Zya. Keep your eyes open, and your ears open wider. If what you say is right, and O'Bellah is related to all that seems to be bubbling just below the surface of this city, then we have landed right in the middle of a hornet's nest, and we had better watch our backs.”

  “I will do, Lorn.” The boy replied.

  “And you promise that you will stay away.” Zya reminded him. “That dream was too vivid, and there was nothing we could do to help. It might mean all of our lives if you get caught, or worse.”