Seven Dreams

by English, Charlotte E.

  Fabian considered that in silence, and finally shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ll try.’

  Serena nodded once and got up. Fabian hated to be cossetted, no matter how bad he felt. Privately, she thought that company was good for him on his dark days; the way that he pushed people away only worried her more. But to linger when he clearly wanted solitude would only irritate him, so she made her way briskly to the door. ‘You know where I am if you need me,’ she said on her way out. Fabian sighed heavily, and said nothing.

  She knew that his ungraciousness betokened frustration with himself, not with her, though it still disheartened her sometimes. Fabian had been prone since childhood to dark, dark days, and this tendency had only grown worse since... well, several years ago. At such times, he said, he would awake to a mire of self-hatred and despair, and nothing helped except to wait for it to pass. He despised it as a weakness; feared, sometimes, that even his friends would imagine he was being self-indulgent and feeble. Serena knew better, and so did Egg and Teyo. Nothing could exceed Fabian’s own hatred and resentment of this aspect of his character. If he could change it, he would.

  She only wished there was more she could do for him. There was nothing, save to go to bed and hope that, in the morning, he would be restored to his livelier self. But she left her door slightly ajar when she retired, just in case.

  They left the apartment before dawn on the following morning, moving as quietly as they could to avoid waking the others. The Day Cloak still blanketed the city of Iving in the gentler, soothing glow Serena liked so much. Sometimes, when she was not too busy or too tired, she stayed awake well into the Evenglow hours just to savour the ambience. She took little pleasure in it today, however. Her errand was not a happy one, and though Fabian assured her he was up to making the visit, Serena was not so sure. There was still that shadow behind his eyes, and he spoke very little as they rode the railcar across the city.

  Their destination was a tall building on the outskirts of Iving. It was not quite a hospital, but not quite a home either, though it was well-kept and pleasant enough inside. Serena and Fabian climbed the stairs up to the fourth floor and made their way to a room with the number eighteen set into the door. Serena knocked, and a cheery female voice bade her enter.

  She did. The speaker was a uniform-clad carer of middle years, her chestnut hair bound up into a neat bun. She made an admirable picture of efficiency, but Serena loved her for her smile and welcoming manner.

  ‘Good to see you!’ she said, her hands full of blankets. ‘She’s on the balcony. Here, why don’t you take her these?’ She offered the blankets to Serena, but Fabian stepped forward and claimed them with a nod of thanks. The carer — her name was Ferna, though they had never learned her surname — smiled upon them both and quietly left the room, closing the door discreetly behind her.

  Serena made for the narrow door that led to the balcony, frowning slightly. The weather was too cold for sitting out there, surely? But then, the blankets. Ferna knew best, of course, but still, the wind was chill indeed.

  A forlorn figure sat huddled in a rocking chair just outside the door. She was wrapped up to her chin in a huge woollen shawl which she clutched tightly to herself, as much for security as for warmth, Serena guessed. Her grey hair was tousled from the wind, and hung loose; she had not permitted Ferna to braid it today, apparently. She looked up as Serena arrived, and stared at her for several agonising seconds without a trace of recognition in her eyes.

  ‘Good morning, Ma,’ said Serena with her warmest smile.

  Serena and Fabian were both undisguised today; they never pretended, when they came here. It only confused and frightened their mother, who struggled to recognise them even without the complications of wiggery and make-up. It was one of the things that saddened Serena the most, for she had once delighted in their playacting. Now, Serena even tried to keep her curly, dark brown hair in the same simple hairstyle when she visited, afraid that even the smallest alteration might be enough to hopelessly befuddle her mother.

  Fabian devoted himself to spreading Ferna’s blankets over Theresa Carterett’s knees and tucking them in. He was always so gentle with her, even though it terrified him to see her. He feared that, someday, whatever it was that afflicted him with dark moods and self-destructive thoughts would turn into whatever it was that robbed their mother of her memory and her personality. Nobody, least of all Serena, could truly reassure him, for nobody knew if the two things were connected.

  Theresa turned her eyes away from Serena’s face without seeming to know her, and watched Fabian’s endeavours with dreamy detachment. Disappointed, Serena pulled up a chair and sat nearby, drawing her own coat closer around herself. The view was appealing from up here, she could not deny. A little of the city was visible to the left of the little balcony, and to the right were spread an array of fields interspersed with hedgerows and little copses, their leaves burning golden in the rising sun.

  ‘Are you warm enough?’ Fabian murmured, and was rewarded with a sudden, glowing smile.

  ‘Why, yes, dear,’ she said, and Serena’s heart leapt. She knew him! ‘Thank you,’ continued her mother. ‘What a kind man. You remind me of my son.’

  There was silence for a moment, and then Fabian smiled awkwardly and touched her hair, very gently. ‘I’m sure he’s a fine fellow,’ he said.

  Their mother nodded her agreement and began to reminisce in a low voice. All of her memories of Fabian were from his childhood; she seemed to recall nothing at all from the many years that had since passed. But a smile often touched her face as she recounted his adventures and escapades, and then she began to talk of Serena, too, in similar style. Neither interrupted her, choosing to allow her to enjoy her memories as she chose.

  At length, she fell silent. She had grown tired, Serena judged, for she was drooping into her shawl. Serena rose to leave, bestowing an affectionate embrace upon her mother. It made her happy, even if Theresa didn’t realise from whom it came.

  But as she straightened, her mother’s eyes fixed upon her face with an expression of startled recognition. ‘Serena?’ she whispered.

  Serena’s heart leapt. ‘Yes!’ she said, smiling. ‘It’s me, Ma. And Fabian, too. We’re here.’

  Theresa stared unseeingly at Serena, and then at Fabian, her mouth slightly open. Then she said: ‘Where is your father?’

  Serena bit her lip. ‘He’s dead, Ma,’ she said, as gently as she could.

  Theresa’s face crumpled, and she began to cry. ‘Why won’t he come back?’ she sobbed.

  Serena exchanged an agonised look with Fabian. Theresa persisted in the belief that her husband had left her, and would someday return; she could not be persuaded that he was gone forever. There was nothing to be done but comfort her as best they could.

  When Serena and Fabian finally took their leave, it was in silence and with subdued spirits. They wandered down two streets, despondent and dismayed, before Serena finally spoke.

  ‘I need ice cream,’ she said.

  Fabian nodded. ‘Lots of it, and quickly.’

  Chapter Seven

  Two days later, Serena took her usual walk into the centre of Iving to peruse the news. A set of large bulletin boards occupied one side of the central city square, displaying all of the latest headlines, and towards these Serena directed her steps. The boards were fashioned via a mixture of Irbellian engineering (unrivalled across the Seven, naturally) and the more ethereal talents of their sorcerers. The ones in the city square were, of course, the very latest example and very impressive indeed. They were enormous, and the quality of the pictures they displayed was remarkable. Serena paid a visit every day, if she possibly could, to keep abreast of the latest news.

  Usually there was little of any particular interest, but today swiftly proved to be different. She perused three of the four boards rapidly, finding nothing remarkable, but the fourth... it was devoted entirely to a single story, which was unusual. The bottom two-thirds was given over to a cycling
display of pictures, bright and vivid, and the headlines screamed in huge letters across the top.

  Ancient Site Discovered at Balbater!

  The report, though brief, was packed with information. Serena read it quickly. A new archaeological dig had opened up near the town of Balbater in southern Irbel, and it was proving to be extremely interesting to academics across the realm. More than that; they were fevered with excitement, babbling about the site’s total dissimilarity to anything that had been discovered before. The pictures showed what appeared to be an underground cavern, but curiously it was filled with what appeared to be living vegetation, and of a kind Serena had never seen before. Looping vines of a curious, vivid aquamarine hung down from a rocky ceiling, decked with blue-and-purple leaves and golden flowers. Trees and bushes of myriad shapes and sizes clustered in groups, their foliage dazzling in cerulean and hyacinthine hues. The floor was carpeted in a strange kind of grass, much of it jade or teal in colour. There was even a river running through some part of it, the water black and darkly sparkling.

  Serena was entranced. She sometimes thought that, had things turned out differently, she might have applied to the University of Iving’s archaeology programme and taken up the life of an explorer and academic. She suffered more than a little envy of the people who were, even now, exploring this miraculous site, learning about it and preparing their reports for the elucidation of the world. Too bad that she had no reason whatsoever to go.

  The picture of the black river popped up again, and Serena froze. Something had caught her eye, so tiny an image that she had missed it before. She darted closer to the board, scrutinising the image as closely as she could. No, she had not been mistaken.

  A fierce excitement blazed in her heart, and she stepped back with a huge smile. Taking her voice-box out of her pocket, she switched it on and waited. When it lit up, she spoke.

  ‘Fabe?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Get everyone ready. I’m going to see Oliver, and then I think we’ll all be taking a little trip south.’

  Wisely, Oliver did not attempt to interfere with Serena’s plans. It might have been the shine of enthusiasm in her eyes, or possibly the way she threatened to pelt him with custard if he refused; either way, he took her ideas seriously and made no opposition to her going. He did note, in a dry tone, that one or two obstacles stood in her way.

  ‘It’ll be swamped,’ he observed. ‘You’ll never get in as you are.’

  Serena merely nodded. She’d already anticipated as much, and had relayed instructions to Fabian accordingly.

  And he had done an admirable job of preparing her team, she found on her return to their apartment. She arrived to find that Teyo and Egg had donned their LHB uniforms once more and bore convincing-looking credentials. Fabian and Iyamar had taken the guise of a pair of university academics from, they informed her, the history faculty of a tiny university in far eastern Nimdre which nobody had ever heard of. Their identification documents looked real enough, though; Fabian had dashed them off in record time, but he had done a typically excellent job on them nonetheless. They had prepared a matching costume for Serena, who donned it hastily but with care. When she was finished, Serena Carterett had disappeared in favour of a slightly dumpy Nimdren woman approaching middle years, her light brown hair untidily drawn up into a bun, her clothes simple and serviceable.

  ‘Very good work, Mr. Trall,’ Serena said to Fabian, practicing her Nimdren elocution.

  He bowed with the stiff, somewhat imperfect grace of a stuffy older man, his brittle grey-locked hair flopping slightly into his eyes. ‘You are too kind, Miss Huandre.’

  ‘Mrs,’ Serena corrected.

  Fabian coughed. ‘Forgive me.’

  She gave him a regal nod of forgiveness, the majesty of the gesture mildly belied by the twinkle in her eyes, and hefted her pack full of Emergency Things. ‘Off we go!’

  They took the railcar southwards, and within a few hours they disembarked on the outskirts of Balbater, prepared to walk the rest of the way. Though as it happened, they weren’t obliged to. News of the site had spread fast, and, as Oliver had predicted, there was a great deal of traffic on its way from Balbater to the site, which lay a mile or two to the west of the town. Some enterprising souls, particularly quick off the mark, had set up a nivven-and-cart relay service from the town to the dig, and Serena found two waiting. She sent Egg and Teyo on ahead in the first cart, and followed a couple of minutes later in the second with Fabian and Iyamar.

  They were both excited by the prospect of the site, she judged, though Fabian hid it well. Iyamar really did not, though Serena was too touched by the girl’s enthusiasm to correct her demeanour. It was Iya’s first real mission, even if there was little for her to do but show up. Serena remembered all too well how she had felt on her first expedition, several years ago now, and took more than a little pleasure in the sparkle in Iya’s eyes as the younger girl took in the countryside.

  Soon, the fields gave way to jagged hills and the road narrowed. Serena sat with barely concealed impatience as their driver was obliged to slow for the passage of other carts trundling back and forth. Then, as they approached the site itself, they had to crawl their way through crowds of people. Serena cursed the boards just a little. If they hadn’t made such an event of it, most of these people — bored bystanders, for the most part — wouldn’t be here. Then she remembered that she wouldn’t have known about the site either, and swallowed her irritation.

  At last, they were set down near the base of a rocky hill that rose abruptly away to the west. Serena paid their driver while Fabian collected her bag. Iyamar, dressed once again as a boy, jumped down with alacrity and stood staring around herself in high anticipation. She was playing the student to Serena’s professor, so her eagerness was not at all out of place.

  Serena looked around for Teyo and Egg, but couldn’t see them. She hoped they had already gained access to the site. She couldn’t see the entrance to the dig itself amidst the throng of people, and it took some minutes before Fabian discovered it and led Serena and Iyamar there.

  Two LHB agents stood guard over it on high alert, their eyes ceaselessly scanning the crowds. As she watched, two daring enthusiasts approached the guards, talking animatedly, but they were briskly turned away.

  ‘I didn’t expect the LHB,’ Serena muttered to Fabian. ‘Do you think Egg and Teyo made it through?’

  Fabian gave a minute shrug. ‘Couldn’t say. Let’s try our luck.’

  Serena let Fabian take the lead, following closely behind him with Iyamar. He addressed the nearest LHB agent in his thick Nimdren accent, and waved his fake identification documents. There followed a conversation which Serena couldn’t hear over the tumult of the crowd, but it appeared to be successful, for Fabian gave her a nod and gestured forward. Serena allowed the agent to glance at her and Iya’s documents, which he did with gratifying brevity, and they were through.

  The dig site was situated underneath the rocky hill, Serena surmised, for the entrance was a jagged crack in the side of the hill. She wondered, briefly, how the crack had come to be there; it must, surely, be newly-made if the site had been but just discovered. She expected to find some kind of natural passage on the other side, but instead, and to her great surprise, she found a staircase of stone blocks, neatly made and showing no signs of wear at all. What was this place, that someone had taken the trouble to build stairs but few people had ever used them?

  Fabian led the way down, and Serena motioned Iyamar to go ahead of her. She brought up the rear, pausing occasionally to examine her surroundings. The staircase wound around and steadily downwards; someone had scattered light-globes all the way down, so the stairs and walls were properly illuminated. At the top, the rock appeared natural enough in its dark grey hue and blocky appearance. But as she climbed down, she noticed that the appearance of the surrounding walls — and the stairs beneath her feet — was changing. Colours began to creep in: dark shades of blue and purple at firs
t, so dark that they could barely be discerned against the solid, deep grey. They began to grow brighter and more vivid, and developed veins of something that shone white in the light. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, the walls around them were turquoise, violet and gold.

  Fabian stopped, so abruptly that Iyamar almost collided with his back. He had not seen the pictures, Serena realised, so the site was a complete surprise to him.

  She swiftly discovered that the images she had seen did little justice to the reality. A large cavern opened up ahead, so crowded with incongruous vegetation that Serena could only guess at its true size. The vines and foliage that had appeared so sumptuously tinted in the pictures were infinitely more so now that she stood before them herself. Cerulean and deep purple leaves shone in the radiance of the light-globes; the grass underfoot, in its many luscious green tones, resembled the finest plush velvet; and the river, part of which passed by almost directly ahead, glittered darkly, the deepest black Serena had ever beheld. Everything shimmered and pulsed with a kind of energy that she didn’t understand at all; she felt it beating upon her skin. The atmosphere was warm and humid, and the air heady with fragrance.

  She could not even begin to imagine how such a place could exist underground. As far as she could tell with a cursory examination, the verdure around her was no sculpture; it lived, and grew.

  ‘Wow,’ whispered Iyamar.

  ‘Wow,’ agreed Serena.

  An air of hushed expectancy hung about the place, so heavy that Serena felt they might even be alone down here. As they advanced into the cavern, however, she soon began to see other people. Scholars from, no doubt, many universities were at work all over the site, examining and discussing everything that they saw, making sketches and taking pictures and samples. For the first time, Serena wondered at its classification as an archaeological site. Nothing that she saw appeared to be ancient, or even aged.