Dream Thief

by Stephen Lawhead

  It had been years since Ortu called for his disciples. The last time. Fundi remembered, there had been reports of demons loosed in the hills. Sacred cattle had been found dead and calves stillborn, nursing mothers’ milk turned sour, snakes mated in the village squares, and the shrines of the gramadevata were overturned.

  He shuddered to think what might happen this night after Ortu met with his disciples. But he did not hesitate a moment to fulfill his master’s wish. One did not hesitate before such a stern and powerful master.

  He crept to the special room where the stones were kept and drew the key from the leather thong around his neck. The treasure room contained many unusual objects which seemed both exceedingly old and yet new somehow—as if their time of use had not yet come. But he never dallied to wonder at these things; it was enough to be allowed just to see them when he occasionally entered to fetch one or the other of them for Ortu.

  His eyes fell on the large gopher wood chest which contained the six smaller boxes of teak. He picked it up by its brass handles and carried it away to his master.

  Ortu’s eyes flicked open when the last of the boxes had been placed before him. With a twitch of his hand he sent Fundi scurrying away.

  He gazed at each of the black glittering gems as he opened each box in turn. A sound like the hiss of a serpent drifted into the air. He held his hands over the six black stones and, with his head weaving back and forth, began to speak in a strange chirping tongue.

  His lids closed slowly over his enormous yellow eyes and his ancient head, with its skin dry as old parchment, sank to his chest. The odd, three-fingered hands remained outstretched over the gemstones in their boxes.

  The drifting brown haze of incense scattered as hy a cool breeze entering the chamber. A low moan or hum rose into the air; the sustained note came from deep in Ortu’s throat. The thin band on his head—the kastak—began to throb with a bright pulsing light.

  One by one, so softly it could hardly be noticed at first—little more than a stray beam of light striking a facet here and there—the six black gems began to glow.

  “YOU WHAT?”

  “I think I know who’s out to get you—that is, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

  Spence’s stupid expression gave way to one of incredulity. “How?”

  “It came to me just now. Your question sort of triggered it.”

  “Let’s have it!” said Spence excitedly. Adjani leaned forward from his perch on the coffee table.

  “You asked who was here—”

  “Kurt, right.”

  “But that wasn’t the first time he’s been here. He came to see me one other time just after you had left aboard the transport— no, I remember clearly now, it was several weeks after you’d left.”

  “What did he want?”

  “I’m getting to that,” she said a little impatiently. “Let me remember it exactly.” She closed her eyes and her lovely features scrunched themselves into a frown. “All right, yes.”

  “Proceed,” said Spence more calmly.

  “Your Mr. Millen came to me and said they’d just received a communication from you, and you’d given him a message to pass on to me.”

  “What was the message?” asked Adjani.

  “Nothing, really. He said that you’d told him to tell me that you missed me and you’d be seeing me soon—something like that.”

  “Seems pretty harmless to me,” said Spence, “only I never sent any messages.”

  “I thought it was a little odd, but he seemed like such a nice guy, and there was really nothing unusual about what he said. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, though.”

  “Uncomfortable how?”

  “Well, I was under the impression when you left that if any messages were going to be sent they’d be sent to me.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  “Why was this?” asked Adjani.

  Spence replied, “We had agreed before I sneaked aboard the transport that if anything happened I’d contact her and no one else.”

  “Actually, there were to be no messages at all unless something important came up,” continued Ari. “But Kurt seemed so nonchalant about it—he knew all about the trip and everything and he knew that… that you and I were seeing each other.”

  “He knew that?”

  “He seemed to know so much I figured you’d told him. I thought maybe you really had sent a message and explained everything to them. Why not? It made sense after all. He said you’d told him your work was going smoothly and everything was fine. I figured maybe you were … you know, feeling better. So I just accepted what he said.”

  “Did you tell him anything?”

  Ari gave Spence a perturbed look. “I hope I’ve got more wits than that! Besides, it wasn’t like he was looking for information anyway. He asked me if I knew you were going on the Mars trip. I told him I supposed I did, but that you didn’t confide in anyone very much. It’s true, Spence, you don’t.”

  “Is that all? Apart from the fact that I never sent any message, you’d think it was all on the up and up. You’re right.”

  “No—that’s not all. Here’s the thing that I just remembered.” Ari grew very intense. The other two waited to hear what she would say. “Spence, they knew about the birthday gift.”

  “That little paperweight I sent to my dad?”

  “That’s right. I haven’t mentioned it, but they caught me when I went to get it from your room. Remember? You asked me to send it for you.”

  “I remember. What happened?”

  “Nothing, really. They came in as I was leaving. I told them I was just looking for you.”

  “Good. And then?”

  “And then I left. But they saw the paperweight.”

  “So?”

  “So, that’s just it. They saw a paperweight. But when Kurt came to see me he said birthday gift. Spence, I never told them that. I called it what is was, a paperweight. I swear it.”

  Spence’s eyes grew round with recognition. “You’re right! Good Lord, you’re right! But how could they know?”

  “They must have had it traced somehow,” put in Adjani. “Are you quite positive there was not another way they could have innocently received this information?”

  “I’m positive I didn’t tell them,” she said a little crossly. “Well, this is interesting,” said Spence darkly. “Very interesting,” murmured Adjani.

  For a moment they all sat ticking over the facts in their minds. No one spoke. Finally the silence grew unbearable. Ari said, “What happens now?”

  Spence shook his head slowly. “I wish I knew.”

  17

  I JUST DON’T GET it,” muttered Spence. “Oh, I’m not doubting your story. It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would Tickler and Millen be out to get me?” The initial shock had worn off and the three were once again lost in conversation, trying to untangle the deepening mystery.

  “You have to admit their behavior certainly seems suspicious,” said Ari.

  “For a fact.” Spence scratched his jaw absently. “But it seems beyond them somehow—I mean. Tickler’s not the kind of man to plot sabotage. He’s nothing but a fussy old grudger—a drone.”

  “What about the quadriplegic?” asked Adjani.

  “I could believe anything of him,” said Spence. “He gave me goosebumps.”

  “What quadriplegic?”

  “I’ll tell you,” said Spence, turning to Ari. “But first I’d like to know why Kurt came to see you again just now.”

  Ari lifted her shoulders. “Like before, there didn’t seem to be any particular reason. At least, he made it seem as if it was not at all important. He just said he’d heard you were missing from the Mars expedition; he stopped by to pay his respects. That’s all. And to see if I knew any more about it.”

  “It seems innocent enough.”

  “Of course they would want to give that illusion,” offered Adjani. “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him that I
was very sorry and that I didn’t really know any more about it either. The whole thing being so sudden and all, and the formal reports not being filed yet.” She glanced at the two men worriedly. “Did I do right?”

  “You did fine. Its hard to see what they could have learned from that.” Spence reached and took her hand.

  “Don’t be too sure.” Adjani raised a warning finger. “They may not have been after information at all, but were looking for an emotional reaction to confirm what they already knew or suspected.”

  “Blazes, Adjani! You seem to have quite a talent for this espionage stuff.”

  The Indian smiled broadly. “It is part of the oriental mind, sahib. But from now on we are all going to have to adopt this way of thinking. We must suspect everyone and trust no one. Do not accept anything at face value until you have probed below the surface. We must become very sly dogs if we want to catch these foxes.”

  They fell to discussing various theories as to why anyone would want to meddle with Spence’s work, or with Spence himself for that matter. But the talk proved pointless since no one really had anything more than bare speculation to go on. Spence explained to Ari about his chance encounter one day with a quadriplegic in a pneumochair at a lecture. He finished by saying, “What I’d like you to do is check the records of personnel and visitors for anyone answering that description.”

  “That’s easy, Spence. I can tell you right now there isn’t anyone like that on GM. I’ve been updating the personnel files for the furlough assignments for next year. Anyone with a special disability like that would have been in the primary group—that’s the high-stress group who must be considered every quarter regardless. They can put in for furlough at any time and not wait for the rotation. There are a few partially disabled—but no one that severely handicapped.”

  “From what I saw of him he wasn’t at all handicapped.”

  “What about visitors?” asked Adjani.

  “Possibly, but I don’t think so. Any visitors like that would have to be cleared. Sometimes, you know, their devices interfere with certain radio frequencies and such. You two would know more about that than I do, but I know they have to get advance clearance from the director’s office. No one like that has come through since I’ve been here. I usually handle Daddy’s correspondence myself—things of that nature, anyway.”

  “Well, could you check it out again just to be sure? We need to be positive.”

  “All right. No problem.” Ari smiled cryptically.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help thinking that this really is a mystery, isn’t it? An adventure.”

  “Not to me it isn’t.” Her glib tone offended Spence.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it, Spence. You know that. It’s just that I’ve never been involved in anything so exciting.”

  “I hope the excitement doesn’t prove fatal,” said Adjani.

  Ari’s eyes grew round. “Do you think there’s a chance of that? Is it that serious?”

  Spence nodded solemnly. “Until we figure out what’s going on we’ll all be in danger. We still don’t have the slightest idea what this is all about. Not really.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Adjani, sitting back casually, swiveled toward Ari and abruptly asked, “Ari, was your mother ever in Sikkim?”

  “M-my mother?” she managed to stammer out.

  Spence was about to protest this ill-advised and rough handling of an obviously delicate subject, but Adjani held up a hand and kept him silent. “Sikkim is in India. A small province in the north, high in the foothills of the Himalayas.”

  Ari bent her head as if examining her fine long nails. “I know where it is.”

  “Oh? Not many people do.”

  “Yes, my mother has been there. You might say she grew up there.”

  “Tell us about it, please.”

  “Is this—” Spence started. Adjani cut him off with a sharp look.

  “How did you know?”

  “You mentioned the Dream Thief to Spence. He told me you said it came from your mother. And since it is a fairly obscure local legend, I assumed she must have been there at some time or known someone who had.”

  “My grandfather was a professor of hermeneutics at Rangpo Seminary. They lived there for twelve years and left when he became dean of West Coast Seminary. She was sixteen when they came back to the States.”

  “Do you know anything more about it?”

  “Not really. She never really talked much about it—it’s just something she said.” Ari’s voice had become almost a whisper, her tone strained.

  Spence wondered at the transformation in her; it had happened so swiftly. Only a moment ago she had been her lighthearted, enchanting self. Now she appeared pale and shaken under Adjani’s questioning.

  Adjani, eyes intent, watching her every move, asked gently, “When did your mother pass away, Ari?”

  The girl was silent for a long time. Finally she raised her head slowly and looked at the two men cautiously as if trying to decide how to answer the simple question. Spence saw something in her blue eyes that told him she was fighting a bitter battle somewhere inside her.

  “She—” Ari started and then stopped. Her head fell once more. Whichever side had won the battle, it appeared to Spence that Ari had lost. “My mother isn’t dead.”

  “What?” Spence could not help it; the admission took him by surprise. “You told me she was.”

  “I said she was no longer with us—and she isn’t. I wanted you to think she was dead, I admit it. That’s what I always say.”

  “But why? I don’t understand.”

  She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  Spence was mystified. He could never have believed this bright, angelic creature capable of such duplicity.

  “About eight years ago my mother became ill—her mind started going. She began having these attacks of insanity. She’d be perfectly calm and normal one moment and the next she’d be screaming and crying and carrying on something terrible. It was frightening.”

  Ari, avoiding Spence’s eyes, drew a long shaky breath and continued.

  “There was nothing to be done for her. Daddy took her to all the top doctors in the country. No one could help her. Oh, it was awful. We never knew when another attack would come, and they got worse and worse as time went on. She would run away sometimes and it would be days before we found her again. She wouldn’t know where she’d been or what she’d been doing or anything.

  “Gradually her good periods shrank away and we couldn’t watch her anymore. Daddy was up for the promotion to director and wanted to accept the job—it was his life’s goal. There was nothing to be done for Mother but put her in an institution. She’s been there ever since.”

  “But why let everyone think she was dead?”

  “I don’t know. It just seemed easier at first, telling people that… Then they don’t ask questions. It was Daddy’s idea, really.

  I think he couldn’t stand the idea that Mother would never be right again. He preferred having the uncertainty settled one way or the other.

  “Then, after it got started we couldn’t very well tell everyone that she was really alive. So we kept it up. I think Daddy was a little afraid that if anyone on the Board ever found out different there’d be an investigation and the whole thing would come out.”

  “Would he lose his directorship?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe—if someone wanted his blood badly enough and there was a scandal or something.”

  Adjani, eyes narrowed, had listened to every word Ari said without moving a muscle. “When did she tell you about the Dream Thief?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. That was what she always told me when she wanted me to be good. She said if I didn’t behave the Dream Thief would get me. Like the bogeyman or something. Later, when I was a little older, she’d put me to bed and say, ‘Don’t let the Dream Thief get you,’ like that. It was just
something she said. I didn’t know where it came from.

  “One time I asked her about it. She said she’d heard it when she was a little girl in India. There was some kind of superstition connected with it, but she didn’t know or remember what it was.”

  “That was all she told you?” asked Adjani. He peered at her over his laced fingers.

  “That’s all. She ordinarily didn’t talk much about India and growing up. I gather she didn’t like it there very much. She was sick a lot as a little girl—once, when she was twelve she almost died. She was in a coma for a month.”

  “How did this happen?”

  “Fever, maybe. She never said.” Ari, more at ease now that the secret was out, glanced at her inquisitors and asked, “Is this important, do you think?”

  “It may be,” said Spence. Adjani nodded. “See, when you mentioned those words to me in the garden yesterday something snapped—like a rubber band stretched too tight. I had never heard of this Dream Thief and then here, both my best friends were talking about him. It seemed like too much of a coincidence.”

  Ari cast a questioning look at Adjani. He answered it, admitting, “Yes, I know about the Dream Thief. But what I know goes beyond children’s tales of bogeymen and superstition.” He told Ari the story he had heard on his visit to his homeland, and related the things he had seen.

  When he finished Ari shook her head. “No wonder you nearly jumped out of your skin. I don’t blame you. I would have, too.”

  “You couldn’t have known what you were saying,” Spence soothed. “But it still doesn’t add up at all. Instead of arriving at an answer we seem to be creating more questions, more loose ends.”

  Adjani shrugged. “That is to be expected. Difficult problems are not solved by easy answers. Very likely we will have to work very hard to penetrate this mystery.”

  “Where do we start? It seems like we’re kind of out on a branch right now.”

  “True, you cannot go back to your lab just yet—not with those two skulking around,” said Ari.

  “Perhaps it would be best to follow the thread Ari has given us,” said Adjani, “to see where it will lead.”