Dreamwalker

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Dreamwalker Page 20

by C. S. Friedman


  I handed over my bag and hat to Rita and looked for a suitable spot. She muttered something under her breath about the stunning magnitude of my idiocy, but took the items. The look in her eyes was plain to read: God help you if we have to go in there and rescue you.

  God help us all, in that case.

  I found a place where the landscaping outside the fence offered some cover, so that my act of insanity wouldn’t be in plain view of everyone walking down the street. There was a cluster of trees with thick, heavy branches near the fence, and only if you ducked down low could you see past them. It was as good as I was likely to get.

  The fact that I’d decided to do something crazy didn’t mean my body was happy about it. There was a knot of fear in my gut, clenched so tightly I thought I was going to vomit. I’d been in a pretty constant state of dread since coming to this world, but this was a whole new level. When you are actively fleeing alien pursuit and being hunted by shapechangers and diving into unknown worlds, you don’t have any choice about the matter. They’re coming after you, so you run. End of story. It all feels unreal while you’re doing it, like everything is just a bad dream, and any minute now you’ll wake up and find yourself home safe in bed. But this was different. This was real. This was a conscious choice that I was making, and if anything bad came of it, I’d have no one to blame but myself. This fear was an abyss that I was daring to vault across, without safety net or harness.

  But it had to be done.

  Drawing in a last deep breath for courage, I wiped nervous sweat from my palms and looked at Isaac. With a grim look on his face he crouched down by my side and offered me his cupped hands to step into. He managed to hoist me up high enough that I was able to get a firm grip on the top rail of the fence, and I swung my right leg over it. Then I struggled to achieve the precarious ballet needed to turn around without impaling myself on any of the spikes. Rita and Isaac watched in silence as I finally managed it, lowering myself down on the other side of the fence as far as I could, and then—muttering a prayer under my breath—dropping the rest of the way.

  It wasn’t far, but I landed on rocks that shifted beneath my feet, and my ankle twisted, throwing me to the ground with a loud thwunk. We all froze in place, and I waited breathlessly for the sound of someone coming to investigate. But seconds passed, and no one did. Finally I struggled back to my feet. My ankle throbbed but it wasn’t broken; I could still walk on it, thank God. I winced slightly as I stepped forward to part the wall of branches—slowly, oh so slowly—hoping that anyone who saw the motion would ascribe it to the wind.

  The estate I could now see was mostly open land, with a single imposing building at its center. It was a large structure, temple-like, with broad marble stairs leading up to a columned porch. A pair of golden statues of Egyptian cats anchored the lower corners of the staircase, and some of the carved figures in the frieze over the entrance looked Egyptian as well. It reminded me of a Masonic Temple I’d once seen in DC. From the center of the roof rose the tower we had seen from the park. Thank God there was no one out on the observation deck right now, because anyone up there would have a bird’s eye view of the entire estate … and me.

  The open land surrounding the building was meticulously landscaped, and tall flowering hedges of at least a dozen different types crisscrossed the grounds in complicated patterns. I wondered if, when viewed from overhead, those designs had some special significance.

  Suddenly I caught sight of two people off to my right, talking beneath a vine-covered trellis. Their faces moved in and out of shadow as they spoke, but there was no missing the gleaming white of Morgana’s ensemble or the intensity of their conversation.

  They were still too far away for me to hear what they were saying. Heart pounding, I studied the terrain between us, wondering if I could get any closer without being detected. The hedges between us were tall enough to conceal me, at least from the two women. But if someone looked out an upper-story window all bets were off.

  Time was running out. Every minute that passed meant they were more likely to wrap up their discussion of the issues that interested me, after which spying on them would have little value. If I was going to do this insane thing, I needed to do it now.

  I started to creep forward, keeping as low to the ground as possible. For the first few yards there was no cover, so all I could do was crouch-trot to the nearest hedge as quickly as I could, praying that neither of them would look in my direction. My heart was pounding so loudly I was surprised no one inside the house could hear it. Or maybe they could. Maybe there was a Seer watching me right now, like a hawk watches a hare as it moves out into the meadow to forage, waiting to choose the right moment to strike.

  Focus, girl. Focus.

  Once I reached the first line of hedges the tension in my body eased a bit, and I took a moment to breathe deeply and stretch out a nascent cramp in my leg. Then I began to edge forward once more. My progress was blind, as I didn’t dare raise my head over the top of the shrubbery to see where I was going. I just tried to head in the general direction of the women’s voices, by whatever path allowed me to do so safely. Now and then I could hear tantalizing bits of their conversation, though still not enough to make sense of it.

  …not a good move …

  …yes, but who … ?

  …and maybe tell them …

  …not interested in excuses …

  Suddenly there was a sharp sound from above. Startled, I looked up and saw that a man was standing on the observation deck of the tower. No! I despaired. Not now! I pressed myself close to the nearest hedge, trying desperately to sink into its foliage, but the dense evergreen branches were too closely packed for that to work. If he looked down he was sure to see me. And then I would have to do—what? What on earth could I do to save myself?

  Nothing. Nothing at all.

  Heart pounding, I watched as he began to circle the tower. When he passed out of sight behind it I had a sudden mad impulse to dash for better cover. But that kind of movement might draw the attention of those on the ground, so I just waited, breath held, body shaking, until he appeared again on the other side.

  He paused to look out toward the main gate for a few seconds, and almost looked my way, then disappeared through a door leading back into the tower. It shut behind him with a thud.

  I allowed myself to breathe again.

  Slowly, my whole body trembling, I began to move once more, struggling to focus on the women’s conversation. I was getting close enough to make out most of what they were saying, though now and then a phrase was voiced too quietly for me to hear. Finally I found a good hiding spot behind a bank of laurels, and I crouched down to eavesdrop.

  “… not like it hasn’t been done before.” That was Miriam Seyer’s voice. Hearing it again invoked chilling memories of the night my house had burned to the ground.

  “But not for so weak a cause.” The other woman’s accent was the liquid, elegant drawl of Virginian aristocracy, with just a faint hint of Masterpiece Theater. It was a voice rich in confidence and power, suggesting a speaker who could get others to do her bidding without ever needing to raise her voice.

  “Master Virilian might not agree with that,” Seyer responded.

  An edge of scorn crept into Morgana’s voice. “The Shadowlord is a man of passion. Sometimes that outweighs his judgment.”

  “Which is why he answers to the Council.”

  “Who are less and less willing to rein him in.”

  “Because they fear his power, or his madness?”

  “Anyone with a brain would fear such madness,” Morgana said quietly. “But that’s true for all the umbrae majae, isn’t it? There’s no way a Shadowlord could be anything other than stark-raving mad, given what Communion requires of them.”

  “You really think he would call for a full Cleansing?”

  “Why not? He’s already called for a partial one. And the Shadows who called for genocide in the past may still be around, whispering advice into the d
epths of Virilian’s soul. That’s the true curse of their kind, that even death can’t free them from the madness of their predecessors.”

  Cleansing? Genocide? The words hit me like electric shocks. What the hell had I stumbled into?

  “At least Jessica is on this side of the Gate now.” I gasped as Seyer spoke my name. “So whatever happens on Terra Colonna won’t affect her.”

  “Yes.” There was a pause. “She seems to be quite resourceful, doesn’t she?”

  Seyer chuckled softly. “She takes after her mother.”

  My mother! Too much, too much! Bits of information were pouring into my brain at such a pace that I had no time to assemble them into a meaningful picture. Only one thing stood out, bright and clear: Whatever the mystery was that tied me to this world, these two women were at the heart of it. They knew who I was and why I’d been abandoned on a foreign world.

  They knew who my real mother was.

  “I’m impressed by how quickly she got her bearings,” Morgana continued. “I feared for a while we might lose her.” She paused. “Of course, with the Shadows hunting her, we still might.”

  “They don’t suspect what she is, do they?”

  “Heavens, no. They called me in for an official Assessment, and I told them what they wanted to hear: that the boy was a latent dreamwalker. Who among them would dare doubt the word of the Mistress of the Guild of Seers? I even tried to convince them to kill the boy—the neatest solution from our standpoint—but I doubt they’ll do that. Most likely they’ll study him for a while, seeking insight into the ancient curse he supposedly carries. The boy’s mind is filled with wild fantasies, so if he’s resourceful enough to figure out what they want, he may be able to last for a while. Meanwhile, he’s a true Colonnan by birth, so nothing they find out about him is going to put our project at risk.”

  “Unless they get hold of Jessica herself.”

  “Ah.” Morgana’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Then we’ll see how resourceful she really is, won’t we?” There was a pause. “You’re sure she’s outside the Warrens right now?”

  “Yes, your Grace.”

  “The Lord Governor told me he’s going to ‘flush out that rat’s nest once and for all.’ I smell Virilian’s hand in it. Let’s keep her out of there for as long as we can.”

  I heard Seyer hesitate. “You know that my methods don’t lend themselves to guarantees. If you want me to act more directly—”

  “No. No. You’re right; we can’t risk her catching on. Try to keep her aboveground until nightfall, if you can. The worst should all be over by then. Though if she returns after that, what she finds may be … disturbing.”

  I didn’t hear what they said next. Something about dreams and strong negative emotions and how trauma might open a door for me. Fear could be a good thing.

  They were going to raid the Warrens. Right now.

  Devon was still down there. So were all those children. Orphans of this heartless culture, cast adrift to live in squalor, now due to be exterminated like rats—or maybe something worse. In this crazy place even death wasn’t certain.

  I hesitated only an instant. True, I’d learned more in the last half hour than in all my previous time on this world. These women clearly knew the answers to my most burning questions, and once I left here I might never have another chance to get them. But… .

  Devon.

  Ethan.

  Moth.

  I had to go back. I had to warn them all.

  I started to head back the way I’d come. My limbs felt numb, as if the informational overload had somehow seeped into my arms and legs and clogged my veins. I tried to focus on moving quietly, keeping my head low, and not thinking too hard about what I’d just heard, but the last was impossible. The women’s words echoed and remixed in my head, drowning out all other thoughts.

  I tried to convince them to kill the boy …

  Those who called for genocide are still around …

  She takes after her mother …

  When I finally got to the open stretch just before the fence, I peeked up over the bushes one last time to make sure the two women were turned away from me, and then I bolted. Or tried to bolt, anyway. The damage to my ankle turned the motion into a feverish stumble, and my attempt to dive neatly into the juniper branches nearly turned into a belly-flop. That kind of stunt isn’t as easy as it looks in the movies. I saved myself at the last moment by grabbing on to a handful of scratchy branches, and I didn’t stop to listen for pursuit, just kept going. If someone was following me, I wanted to at least pass a warning on to Isaac and Rita before any pursuer caught up with me.

  I didn’t emerge at the same location where I had entered the estate, but my companions saw me through the fence and came running. I almost blurted out something about the raid then and there, but I realized that if I did, Isaac might not want to wait for me to climb the fence again, just run off to warn his people. I wasn’t sure I could manage the climb with only Rita to help me, and even if I did, that would still leave us in the middle of this strange city without a guide. So may God forgive me for my selfishness: I kept my silence while he thrust his hands between the bars and cupped them to give me purchase. Rita grabbed hold of whatever part of me was within reach, to help steady me as I climbed. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold onto the bars, and as I pulled myself over the top of the fence I felt one of the iron finials scrape across my stomach. I didn’t dare look down to see if I was bleeding but fell heavily on the other side, taking Rita and Isaac down with me.

  “There’s going to be a raid,” I gasped. “The Warrens. They’re going to clean it all out …”

  They helped me to my feet, and then Isaac looked in my eyes and said, “I’ll take care of this. You head back to the plaza for now; the crowds will keep you safe. We can meet up at the Elemental’s pavilion”

  I knew he meant it well, and was just trying to protect me, but he had no personal investment in Devon’s safety and I doubted he would take personal risks to save him. I had to go myself.

  “We have people down there too,” I reminded him. Not to mention I don’t want to be left up here without a guide. What if you don’t come back?

  We started running. Or rather, they started running, and I started lurching quickly. Each time my left foot hit the ground there was a sharp pain; what would happen if it got so bad I couldn’t keep up with them? In my mind’s eye I could see Devon peering out from the shadows of the Warrens, and the thought that he might be swept up in some terrible pogrom was more than I could handle. Not to mention that the thought of dividing our party terrified me. In the movies that’s always when disaster strikes, when people split up. Driven by fear I struggled on, trying not to let the others see how injured I was.

  But Isaac could see that I was having a hard time. He hooked an arm around me, letting me throw my left arm over his shoulder so that I could transfer some of my weight to him. With his support I was able to move more quickly, and the pain muted slightly. His body was warm and firm against mine, and the contact was comforting. It shouldn’t have been. Nothing should have been comforting at a time like this. But he was strong and confident, and he seemed to know what he was doing, and some of his certainty seeped into me through the contact.

  Everything is going to be all right, I told myself. Over and over again. Everything is going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.

  But try as I might, I couldn’t make myself believe it.

  21

  THE WARRENS

  RUN TO THE WARRENS AND WARN EVERYONE turned out to be a task more easily described than accomplished.

  Isaac led us to the nearest entrance he knew of, which turned out to be a manhole in a dingy alley. He stopped a block away from it, ostensibly so we could catch our breath, but also because he wanted to get the lay of the land before moving in closer. I wasn’t about to complain. The pain in my ankle was becoming more intense with every step, and it was getting harder and harder to kee
p up with my companions. It helped to have a few moments to hang my head and catch a deep breath, while he went on ahead to scout our route.

  Soon he returned, and his dour expression said it all. “Too many people around,” he told us. “More than should be here. I don’t like it.”

  “They’re covering the exits,” Rita said quietly.

  I remembered how alert she was when we first met at IHOP. I remembered the look in her eyes as she checked out all the exits in the place, before committing herself to a defensive position at the table. Always wary. Always ready to run.

  She looked like that now.

  Isaac led us to several other access points. The story was the same at each one: too many people nearby, an unexpected obstacle in our path, or something else unexpected and ominous. Clearly, people and equipment were being moved into place so that when the raid went down any kids who tried to escape would run straight into a trap. Or maybe the raid was meant to drive them topside, so they could be scooped up more easily.

  Flush them out, Morgana had said.

  I felt sick inside, and not just from pain.

  What if the raid had already begun, deep underground? Isaac told us he didn’t think that was the case, because the people standing near the access points didn’t look particularly alert. They hadn’t yet been cued to spread their nets. But that could change at any moment.

  Devon, please tell me you haven’t wandered off somewhere. Please tell me you’re sitting in the middle of the magpie room, bag packed and ready to go …

  Finally Isaac found a route that the raiders didn’t seem to know about. We had to burrow under a collapsed storage shed to an uncovered drainage pipe, which headed down into the earth at a steep angle. It would serve us as an entrance, Isaac warned us, but not an exit. That’s probably why no one was watching it.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. His eyes were fixed on me.

  I nodded. But in truth, I was no longer sure of anything. The pain in my ankle was growing so intense that I was beginning to wonder if I could keep my footing in the treacherous labyrinth. But what was the alternative? Let Isaac go down alone, and entrust Devon’s fate to him? Send Rita down with him while I waited up here, defenseless and alone? Each option was worse than the last.

 

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