A servant appeared in the doorway. “She’s here, your Grace.”
He stood. “Escort her in.”
The man hesitated. “She’s with someone—”
“I know who she’s with,” he said sharply. “The dead have already informed me. Show them both in.”
Isaac was here. That infuriated Antonin, but he had to admit that he had opened the door for it himself. When he’d given the Dolan girl permission to bring someone with her, promising safe passage, he hadn’t set any restrictions. Honor now required that he make good on his word, even if the last person he wanted to see right now was his failed progeny.
When they entered together, Antonin got his first good look at the girl who had orchestrated the tower battle. She looked young, defiant, and very tired. The last was hardly a surprise, given her recent events. Any sane man would be exhausted in her place. As for Isaac, the sight of him standing next to her, the mark of shame emblazoned on his forehead, awakened an anger that was not easily dismissed. Only the memory of what happened to Hawkins enabled Antonin to keep his emotions in check. “Jennifer Dolan, I assume.”
“Yes. You are Guildmaster now?”
He nodded and gestured for her to take a seat, then resumed his own. Coldly he asked, “Do you understand the status of your companion?”
“He’s here as a translator, nothing more. I thought that if you and I needed to discuss something that involved sensitive Guild information, he could represent me. That way your secrets wouldn’t be threatened.” She glanced as Isaac. “He was the only one I knew who could play such a role, so I asked him. He wasn’t present at the tower battle, and he hasn’t acted against your Guild in any way.”
Except by shaming us with his presence. “Very well. You wished to discuss our situation.”
She nodded. “As you know, centuries ago your Guild fought a genocidal war against my people. The world may have forgotten your motives—or perhaps it never really knew them—but records were left behind. I found them. There are fetters which contain witness testimony from the Dream Wars, revealing what really went on. From them I learned that the Shadows never believed we were mad, but spread that rumor to turn the other Guilds against us. I learned that your Guild bound the spirits of Dreamwalkers in order to steal their Gift, and that those spirits are still bound. And I saw Virilian with some of them at the tower battle, so I know how they’re being used.” Her eyes narrowed. “How they’re being devoured.” She leaned forward on the conference table. “End it, Guildmaster Antonin. End it all. Allow us to return to the light of day and free our captured people, and we’ll forget that those fetters ever existed. History will be a clean slate between us, and the other Guilds will never know how you manipulated them, or why.” She leaned back in her chair. “Those are my terms.”
He considered her words in silence for a moment. If her story about the fetters was true, and there really was hard proof that the Shadows had lied to the other Guilds to convince them to participate in genocide, she had the ability to destroy his Guild’s reputation. True, she couldn’t diminish its actual power—the Shadows would still control passage through the Gates—but socially, politically, they’d be finished. He couldn’t even argue that the Shadowlords who had overseen that genocide were dead and gone, because anyone who knew about Communion would understand that their memories and motives had since been absorbed by others. In the eyes of the outside world those ancient offenders were still alive, and in many cases running the Guild. Every act of Communion from now until doomsday would be read as support for their crimes.
There would be no recovering from that. Ever.
“Even if it were possible to release such spirits,” he said evenly, “I doubt it would accomplish what you’re seeking. The mind of a wraith is destroyed when it’s bound. And with these in particular, passed from master to master down through the centuries, there’d be nothing left but vague fragments of human awareness. I doubt they even know who they originally were.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “Virilian made a point of showing me what you use them for. Do I have to explain why that needs to stop? I’m sure if you know how to bind ghosts, you can figure out how to unbind them.” She paused. “I’m not asking you to restore them to their former state, or take any kind of responsibility for their finding peace. Just let them go free. They can search for peace on their own.”
“So those are your terms, then. Anything else?”
Her expression hardened. “Yes. Cease to use our Gift. I realize there are Shadowlords who’ve learned how to see the dream realm as we do, and that can’t be changed, but no new ones should be taught our ways.” She paused. “Respect that our Gift is not yours to steal or imitate, and we’ll show equal respect for yours.”
For a long moment he looked at her. Then he turned to Isaac. “I believe we have come to the moment when your services are needed.” He looked at Dolan. “There are some things I cannot discuss with an outsider.”
She nodded and rose. “As I said, we anticipated that might happen.” She touched Isaac gently on the shoulder. “Let me know when you’re done.”
When the door shut behind her Antonin looked at his son. Isaac was thinner and more haggard than when he’d left home, and his skin was blistered and peeling in several places. Still, there was a strength about him that had not been there before. “She’s talking about Communion,” Antonin said.
Isaac nodded. “I know.”
“To give that up would be to give up the method by which we transfer knowledge from one generation to the next. It’s not going to happen.”
“But what kind of knowledge are you transferring? You told me once that after Communion an umbra maja could hear the music of the spheres. That’s a Dreamwalker talent. Being able to see the patterns that bind the worlds together is also a Dreamwalker talent. Shadows can’t do any of that on their own. So what’s really being transferred?”
“The echo of their Gift, most likely. But it’s part of our Guild identity now, and I tell you bluntly, no arguments from me or threats from the Dreamwalkers will convince the Shadows to give it up. Especially when that would require abandoning the method by which so much of our other knowledge is transferred.”
“Father, there’s a force in the Badlands that sometimes allows a person to glimpse hidden truths. I had a vision there. I saw that the ancient Shadowlords not only bound Dreamwalkers to them, but were bound by them in turn. When we stole their Gift, we corrupted our own. Now, I don’t have enough education to know what the Shadows were like before the Dream Wars, so I can’t tell you how we changed, but I’m sure there are historical records a Guildmaster can access. So check out what we were before that, and then ask yourself what we lost. And ask if it’s really in the Shadows’ best interest to continue on this path . . . especially when it may cost us so much with the Dreamwalkers now.” He paused. “Will you do that?”
How strong his son seemed now—how unlike the fearful child who had once struggled so hard not to offend his father! Exile had tempered Isaac’s soul. “I’ll research the matter,” he promised. “But will that be enough for your Dreamwalker friend?”
“What she wants is freedom. Lift the ban that has driven her kind into hiding. Free the Dreamwalkers that our ancestors enslaved. Give her those two things and I think she’ll be reasonable about the rest.”
“And what do you think will happen to our Guild if the Dreamwalkers return? Right now we’re the only ones who can cross between worlds freely. It gives us control of the portals. What role do you imagine we will play when another Guild can do those same things?”
“Dreamwalkers see the paths between the worlds, but they can only travel them in dreams. And they’re visionaries, not bureaucrats; I doubt they have any interest in controlling transportation hubs. They might serve some role in interworld communication, but they can’t cross back and forth between worlds like the dead can. Shadows would
still be needed as messengers, scouts, explorers, and guides. Not to mention, we’d still be necromancers. That’s what we were originally, right? Very little would need to change. Other than the fact that there would be people with greater vision than yours to help develop proper codexes.”
“And if we don’t agree to this path?”
“Then I believe she will indeed lay the past sins of this Guild bare. And she has patrons powerful enough that her accusations will be taken seriously. Not to mention the fetters.”
“Those are real? You can vouch for that?”
He nodded.
With a heavy sigh Antonin sank back in his chair. “So is this how you think the Antonin story should end. We are the ones who must declare defeat, sue for terms, and dictate submission for our people. After centuries of leading this Guild, our family will be responsible for its downfall. Because that’s what this would lead to, don’t mistake that. The Dreamwalkers were condemned because people believed their madness made them dangerous. In order for them to return, we would have to reveal it was never true. That we condemned an entire people with a lie. How do you think that will play out in the political arena?”
“If you don’t agree to her terms it will happen anyway,” Isaac warned him. “So what’s the alternative?”
Slowly Antonin steepled his fingers before him. Maybe it’s a good thing the boy is here, he thought. She’ll listen to his counsel. “We weave a story between us that gives her what she wants, without doing harm to our interests.”
Isaac looked surprised. “A fictional history?”
He shrugged. “We’ve done it before.”
He shook his head. “Lies to cancel out lies—”
“The truth is a tool, nothing more. Sometimes lies are a better tool. Do you think she would be willing to go along such a plan?”
He hesitated. “I think she would probably go along with anything that gave her what she wants. Terra Prime politics mean nothing to her.”
“Excellent.” He nodded toward the door. “Then perhaps you should fetch her back now. Do take your time, though. You two might want to discuss a few things along the way.”
Isaac stared at him for moment, and then, without further word, rose and left the chamber.
In his absence, Antonin shut his eyes. As always, he could hear the sounds of ghostly suffering around him. Normal wraiths were simple servants, freed when their masters died. Their suffering was moderate, and they rarely complained. So if the Dreamwalker wraiths went away, would the sounds of misery leave with them?
It darkens the human soul to hear such suffering, he thought. There can be no denying that.
Footsteps approached the door. He opened his eyes again, nodding to the two as they entered and resumed their seats. “Let me make one thing clear,” he said. “I do not rule over the Shadows. No one person does. If we make an agreement here today, I can guarantee that the Shadows of Luray will honor it, and I have enough influence in neighboring regions to expect support from them as well—especially as you drew Shadowlords from Front Royal and Richmond into your battle. Beyond that, I can only promise to do my best to present our treaty to the others and convince them to honor it. There are no guarantees. That said, I am the head of a powerful family, with members in key cities throughout the Empire. If I order them all to support your cause, that’s no small thing.”
“Understood,” the girl said. “And I likewise have no official authority over the Dreamwalkers. I expect those who stood with me at the tower will honor my word, but it’s the next generation, raised in freedom, that will shape our politics. I’ll do what I can to make sure they understand the importance of peace between us, and honor the terms of that peace, but I, too, can make no guarantees.” She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “I understand you have a proposition.”
“Virilian was preparing an army of the dead to send against you. You saw them on the field of battle. I believe his intent was to muster thousands, enough to scour all the human worlds for any Dreamwalkers who might still be in hiding. The elders of my Guild were aware of this plan. Some were asked to help with it.
“So let us say . . . this had been going on for some time. Virilian’s first crop of war wraiths proved a serious enough threat that your people felt it had to be dealt with. The battle at the tower was your response to that threat. There you showed us that you had weapons of your own, equally lethal, and that a continued war between our peoples would involve losses on both sides. And so we negotiate peace today, equal partners in ending a conflict that has grown too costly for both of us.”
“I see your interests in this more than mine,” she said. “But go on.”
“To seal that peace, the Guild of Shadows offers the release of all Dreamwalker spirits in our custody. Understand, it will take time to get all Shadows to comply, but we will work steadily toward that goal. The Dreamwalkers, in turn, offer to leave control of the Gates to us. That doesn’t mean you can’t communicate freely between worlds, but the business of interworld commerce will remain in our hands. Dreamwalkers will not challenge us for it. If you have information we need, or we have services you need, we will handle that as an exchange between equals.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And our legitimacy?”
“It seems the Shadows have uncovered evidence of an ancient division within the ranks of Dreamwalkers. Only one strain was prone to madness. It’s a terrible tragedy that we didn’t know this at the time, so our efforts to eradicate that strain cost many innocent lives. But now that the mad ones are gone, such extremes are no longer necessary.” He smiled slightly. “With this new evidence in hand, and the reputation of my Guild behind it, there should be no problem getting the other Guilds to accept your return—and no need for us to admit that our old reports were mistaken.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Evidence?”
He shrugged. “I can have something convincing forged by morning.”
She was silent, considering his offer. At one point she glanced at Isaac, which was a good sign; his son must have argued in favor of accepting it. “If we do this,” she said at last, “that will be the official explanation for why you claimed we were all insane. The fetters won’t be a threat to you anymore.”
“That is indeed the case,” he agreed. “Anything else?”
For a long moment she just looked at him. “No.” She shook her head. “There’s nothing else.” She held out her hand to him. “I believe we have a deal.”
He wasn’t accustomed to the living seeking contact with him, so it felt strange to take her hand. He saw her shudder slightly as she felt the unnatural cold of his flesh, but for the most part she did a good job of hiding her response. He knew Guildmasters who might not do as well.
The three of them rose then, and Dolan and his son headed toward the door. But as they reached the threshold Antonin said, “Isaac. A moment alone.”
Startled, the boy looked back at him. Then at Dolan. “I’ll wait for you,” she said, and she left the two of them alone together in the room.
Isaac turned to his father. “Sir?”
“It was Virilian who banished you,” Antonin said.
Isaac nodded.
“I’m Guildmaster now. I could undo that banishment. I could remove the mark of shame from your forehead. I could even have Virilian’s Domitor undo his work, as a gesture of the Guild’s faith in you. Yet you don’t ask for any of these things. Why?”
Isaac looked away. “We both know what my situation is. We both know what you could do to make it better. My father . . .” His voice caught for a moment. “He taught me to bear myself with dignity at all times. I can’t say I’ve always managed that, but I do recognize the wisdom in his words. So I won’t beg. No matter what that costs me.” He met his father’s eyes. “You’ll do what you think is best for the Guild. As always.”
Antonin watched in thoughtful silence
as his son left the room.
34
SEER GUILDHOUSE IN LURAY
VIRGINIA PRIME
JESSE
THE FOYER OF THE SEERS’ GUILDHOUSE was much as I remembered it: cavernous, full of echoes, and refreshingly cool. I walked to the center of the inlaid marble floor and gazed down at the pattern in its center, a sigil that echoed the pyramid-and-eye design on US dollar bills. I remembered that when I first saw it I’d wondered about the connection. Had someone from the Seers Guild influenced the design of American currency? But now I understood how such things worked. Somewhere near a shallow, a sleeping human mind on one world had dreamed about that symbol; somewhere on another world, a sleeping human mind had sensed it. Thus it was with designs, philosophies, passions, traumas: they seeped from one reality to the next through dreams, with no one aware it was happening. No world was truly independent. No human civilization could escape being influenced by those that surrounded it. The universe was one vast ecosystem.
“She’ll see you now,” a servant said.
Morgana and Seyer were waiting for me in the study. Now that I knew what their relationship was, I was struck by the deliberate visual contrast between them: one draped in pure white and crowned in golden curls, the other all in gothic black. Seyer’s appearance was a statement of rebellion, a reminder that though she was bound in service to her mother, she was also an independent human being with tastes and desires of her own. Morgana could not look at her without being reminded of that.
I respected such a statement.
Morgana greeted me and gestured toward the sitting area. I still didn’t trust the woman, but as I took a seat opposite her I discovered that my hostility had lost a bit of its edge. I was furious with her for manipulating my life the way she had, putting my safety and that of my family at risk as she ran experiments on me, trying to mold me into a proper tool for her purpose. But it was her notes on the Shadows that made it possible for me to defeat them. And to be honest, she had never actually forced me to do anything. My choices had always been my own. If I chose to go back to Terra Colonna now, and demanded that she stay out of my life forever, she would probably respect that.
Dreamweaver Page 30