The Dream Master

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘They gave me a sleeping potion to drink and left me to await death. Then they carried me here with all the other goods so that I would disappear and no-one would know where. I did not know that they would put me in the Pharaoh’s burial place.’ He looked around slowly. ‘I suppose it is a great honour.’

  From beside Cy the dwarf snorted.

  ‘We must get you out of here,’ said Cy.

  ‘Can’t you think of a more original line than that?’ muttered the dwarf.

  Aten looked puzzled. ‘The priests and the slaves seal the entrance. There is no way out.’

  ‘I can make a doorway,’ said Cy. He stared at the nearest wall and concentrated hard. Slowly, very slowly, a door appeared. ‘See?’ He stood up, torch in hand, and started to walk towards it. He had only taken a few paces when it disappeared again.

  ‘Hey!’ Cy turned to the dwarf. ‘What gives?’

  The dwarf held up the edge of his cloak. The rippling black silk was edged with grey. ‘The dream’s fading,’ he said. ‘It’s time to go.’

  ‘No,’ said Cy. He stared at the wall and determinedly thought of a door. This time the image barely lasted a few seconds before it shimmered away. He turned to the dwarf in alarm. ‘We need a door to get out of here.’

  ‘Dreams don’t last for ever, Cy,’ said the dwarf.

  ‘This one has to go on a bit longer,’ said Cy. ‘I must help Aten.’

  The Dream Master’s cloak spun out behind him. It was pearly translucent.

  ‘We have to go back now.’ The dwarf spoke urgently.

  ‘I can’t leave Aten,’ said Cy.

  The cloak was changing as they spoke. The material was almost transparent.

  ‘Make your choice, then,’ said the Dream Master. ‘Go now, while you can. Or stay here with him, walled up in this tomb for three thousand years.’

  Chapter 8

  Cy turned to Aten. ‘I’ll come back,’ he said. Fear grew in Aten’s brown eyes. ‘Do not leave me.’

  The dwarf tugged at Cy’s sleeve. ‘Look at your torch,’ he said. ‘You’re losing your energy.’ Cy looked down. He could barely feel the torch in his hand, and its light was growing dim. ‘Leave now, Cy! This very instant! Immediately! At once!’

  Cy shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. The Dream Master’s voice was getting fainter. ‘My dream cloak is fading, I must leave. If you do not come with me now, then I cannot help you.’

  Cy felt his strength ebbing away. There was a place where the dream had thinned out and he could see his bedroom. He tried to focus his eyes. Yes . . . there was the chest of drawers, the bed, walls and carpet. They were all moving slowly, with a gentle swaying motion. And then Cy realized what was happening. His dream was drifting away, and if he stayed he would be carried off inside it. He had to return to his own room in the next few seconds, or he would never get another chance. And now in front of him there was a tear, a ragged hole in the fabric, which he could pass through. Cy stretched out his fingers.

  ‘Do not depart, O great God Osiris,’ begged Aten.

  ‘I am not a god,’ Cy said wretchedly. He moved towards the space in his dream and then stopped. He turned to the dwarf and shook his head. ‘I can’t go.’

  ‘Oh, yes you can.’ The dwarf stepped forwards to give Cy an almighty push in the back.

  As he did so, Aten suddenly noticed the amulet looped around Cy’s wrist.

  ‘My ankh!’ he cried. ‘You must not take away my spirit! Give me back my amulet!’ And, at the very instant Cy fell through the gap in his dream back into his own bedroom, Aten lunged forward and grabbed hold of his wrist. The two of them landed in a desperate tangle of bedclothes, and tumbled onto the floor.

  ‘Cy!’

  ‘Shhh!’ Cy told Aten as they struggled to their feet.

  ‘I did not speak,’ replied Aten. He looked around him in disbelief. ‘This is your home?’

  ‘Cy!’ came the shout once again, more urgently, and Cy recognized his mother’s voice. She was right outside his room!

  Cy glanced around wildly. ‘The cupboard!’ And opening the door of his bedroom cupboard he bundled Aten inside.

  ‘Cy, we’ve all overslept,’ his mother said as she came into his room.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ said Cy, his head still inside the cupboard. ‘I was just getting my gear together.’ He grabbed a hanger, and slamming his cupboard door shut, he turned with his back against it and a manic grin on his face. ‘I’ll be right there.’

  ‘Good boy. It’s all your dad’s fault. He said he had an odd dream. That he was a Pharaoh in Ancient Egypt . . .’ His mum peered at the hanger. ‘Haven’t you got a clean school shirt?’

  Cy looked down at the hanger and the Frankenstein T-shirt draped across it. ‘Yes.’ He flung the hanger on the bed and snatched a shirt from among some clean laundry which his mother had placed in his room days ago. ‘Got it right here. Absolutely, no probs,’ he babbled.

  ‘Right, fast as you can. I’ll make you a sandwich to eat as you walk to school.’

  Aten stepped slowly out of the cupboard, and gazed in bewilderment at Cy’s bedroom. His look took in the piles of clothes, books, magazines, CDs, tapes, spaceships, models, boots, games, rucksack and, in the corner, a sportsbag spewing football kit.

  ‘The priests have lied to us,’ said Aten. ‘This is not the Afterlife as they said it would be. The land of the gods should be peaceful, with green oases, running water and fountains.’

  ‘Well,’ said Cy, rushing around trying to find his trousers and tie. ‘This isn’t the afterlife, exactly. It’s more the . . . the . . . forward-life.’

  Aten stepped carefully over a stack of comics. ‘Why do all your garments lie upon the ground?’

  ‘You sound like my mother,’ said Cy, pulling on his trainers.

  ‘Why do you have so many clothes?’ asked Aten. ‘Why are they so heavy? Are your winters very cold?’

  ‘And the summers,’ said Cy. ‘Look, don’t ask me so many questions. It’s nearly time for school and I haven’t a clue what I’m going to do with you. You’ll have to stay in my room today. Hide in the cupboard until Mum and Dad leave for work and then you can come out.’ He looked at Aten’s short linen kilt, and started pulling open drawers. ‘I’ll need to find you something to wear in case anybody sees you.’ He held up trainers, a sweatshirt and jogging bottoms. ‘What about these?’

  ‘The shoes are a good size,’ said Aten. ‘But the clothes will not fit very well. I am a bit taller than you.’

  ‘CY! HURRY UP, WILL YOU!’

  Cy leapt in panic as Lauren’s voice screeched right outside his room door.

  ‘Don’t come in!’ Cy shouted, but he was too late.

  His bedroom door crashed open, and his sister Lauren stood there. ‘Mum says—’ She broke off in mid-sentence, then she pointed a bright blue fingernail at Aten. ‘Where,’ she demanded, ‘did he come from?’

  Chapter 9

  ‘Get out of my room!’ Cy yelled.

  Lauren held up her hands. ‘Take it easy, Cyberman. I was sent to hurry you up.’

  ‘Well, you knock first in future,’ shouted Cy. ‘Aten was . . . was . . . trying out his Egyptian costume for the school show.’

  ‘I didn’t hear him come into the house,’ said Lauren, backing out of the door.

  ‘I let him in the front door,’ said Cy. ‘Not that it’s any of your business. Tell Mum we’ll be down in a minute,’ he shouted after her.

  When his sister had closed the bedroom door behind her, Cy turned to Aten. ‘I thought that you could stay in my room for the day. But now that Lauren’s seen you, you’ll have to come to school with me.’

  ‘School?’ said Aten. ‘I did not hope for school in the land of the gods.’

  ‘For the nineteenth time! This is not the land of the gods!’ Cy sat down on the edge of his bed. How could he prepare an Ancient Egyptian for modern life in . . . he glanced at his watch . . . in about sixty seconds? ‘Do you know anything about science?’ Cy asked
Aten. ‘About how things work?’

  ‘I know a little. Scientists are very clever, so I do not understand all of it.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Cy. ‘But there are lots of things around because of science, or scientific inventions. Like . . . like . . .’ Cy tried to think of something that the Ancient Egyptians used. ‘For instance saws, to saw wood. Right?’

  Aten nodded slowly.

  ‘So, as we’re a bit further on than you, we’ve invented more things. OK? Everything you’ll see and hear today is just science. It is very advanced science. And . . . and I’ll try to explain later how it all works.’ Cy looked at the books on the shelf above his desk, and grabbed one on transport. ‘When we go outside,’ he went on, ‘it will be very loud. There are chariots without horses, hundreds of them. They have lots of different shapes, some are huge. And they make a lot of noise. Look.’

  Aten’s eyes opened wide as he looked at the illustrations and the text in the book. He fingered the pages, he touched the surface and rubbed at the print. ‘What ink is this?’

  ‘Special ink,’ said Cy.

  Aten spread his fingers and traced the shapes of the letters. ‘What does it say?’

  Cy leant over and read, ‘Modern roads are now clogged with so much traffic that, during the rush hour in major cities, people progress more slowly than if they were using horse-drawn vehicles in the Middle Ages.’ He stopped reading and frowned. ‘I didn’t realize that,’ he said.

  Aten looked at the page and then back to Cy. ‘You can read these symbols so quickly?’

  ‘My reading is not too bad,’ said Cy. ‘It’s my writing that’s the problem.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Aten. ‘Malik, the chief scribe, told me I was the worst pupil he had ever taught.’

  Cy grinned. Where had he heard that before?

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Put on those clothes and let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Mum,’ said Cy, as he opened the kitchen door, ‘Aten’s here. He came round for me this morning.’

  ‘Oh, right. Hello . . . er . . . Aten,’ said Cy’s mum as she handed Cy his sandwich. Then she caught sight of Lauren as she slid past her towards the back door. ‘Do you have to wear so much eye-shadow to school, Lauren? I’m sure it’s not allowed.’

  Cy’s dad dragged a wad of paper hankies from a box on the worktop and pressed them into Lauren’s hand. ‘Remove aforesaid make-up before exiting building,’ he instructed her.

  ‘You two are totally boring,’ Lauren complained loudly, as she dabbed at her eyelids. She flung the tissues in the bin and flounced out. ‘BORING!’

  ‘Try to catch her up, boys.’ Cy’s dad winked at them. ‘But don’t get too close.’

  When they reached the main road Lauren ducked into the first bus shelter, took out her make-up mirror and began re-applying her purple eye-shadow.

  Aten stopped and stared at her. ‘Your sister is like a wondrous goddess,’ Aten said to Cy.

  Lauren turned around. ‘What did you say?’ she demanded suspiciously.

  ‘That you are most beautiful,’ Aten repeated sincerely. ‘Queen Nefertiti herself did not have colours of such brilliance.’

  ‘What?’

  Aten nodded solemnly. ‘The plumage of the birds in the bulrushes by the great river fade beside your glory.’

  ‘Eh?’ said Lauren, whose face was now pink.

  ‘Cool it,’ said Cy from the side of his mouth.

  Aten stared up at the cloudy sky. ‘I am not warm,’ he said.

  ‘It is nothing to do with being warm. It means . . .’ Cy stopped. What did ‘cool’ actually mean? ‘I’d better teach you a few things to say when people speak to you,’ he told Cy. ‘First of all, if anyone says “What’s the story?” you say, “Morning glory”, and, if you want to be really friendly, you slap them hard on the back.’

  Aten looked again at the sky. ‘Your morning is not glorious.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ said Cy. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with the time of day.’

  ‘Cool is not the opposite of warm, and morning does not mean morning.’ Aten spoke slowly. ‘Your language is very strange.’

  ‘Our language is . . .’ Cy stopped as a thought occurred to him. Language . . . ‘How is it that you can speak my language, Aten?’

  ‘I am not speaking your language. You are speaking mine.’

  ‘No,’ said Cy. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘But I understand what you say to me,’ said Aten. ‘At least, I recognize some of the words. Most of what you tell me does not make sense. I am very confused. However, it is more pleasant to be here than in the tomb.’ He smiled happily.

  Cy shook his head. He didn’t like to tell Aten that most of what was happening to him at the moment didn’t make sense.

  ‘Just go with me on this,’ said Cy. ‘They are ways of saying things. But they don’t exactly mean what they say, it’s a . . . a . . . figure of speech, or like . . . slang. You must have used slang when you spoke to your friends.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Aten. ‘I know what you mean. In our town one of the favourite expressions of the young scribes was: “And the water buffaloes will dance with the crocodiles in the corn under a harvest moon.”’

  There was a silence.

  ‘And what does that mean, exactly?’ enquired Cy after a few moments.

  ‘Well, it indicates that the person has lied or is exaggerating.’ Aten looked at Cy. ‘I didn’t think about it before, but language is very peculiar. There is another popular saying which is used in many ways: “The length of a man’s life in the desert is measured by the amount of water in his camel.’”

  ‘Really?’ said Cy politely. ‘Em . . . ours is shorter. We have one word to cover every situation. If in doubt say “cool”.’

  ‘Shool,’ repeated Aten.

  ‘No,’ said Cy. ‘Like this. Cool. Say it as if it begins with a K.’

  ‘Chay?’ said Aten.

  ‘Try again,’ said Cy. ‘C-O-O-L.’ He spelt it out. ‘But it’s got a hard C so you pronounce it as if it begins with a K.’

  Aten gave him a puzzled look. ‘You say it begins with a C but I have to pretend that it begins with a K? If you pronounce it as a K then why not spell it with a K? Why should it be different? Your language is strange. In our picture writing it is the same symbol – a basket.’

  ‘Well, your writing is much more sensible than ours,’ said Cy. ‘Ours is really stupid. You’ll never believe how they spell “thorough”. The whole writing-spelling thing is an absolute mess. The best thing is not to think about it too much, just do it.’ He gave Aten an encouraging smile. ‘Try again. Cool.’

  ‘Call?’ Aten tried cautiously.

  ‘Cooooool,’ said Cy.

  ‘Coo-el,’ Aten repeated.

  ‘Great! Now, nod your head when you’re saying it.’

  Aten wagged his head up and down frantically.

  ‘No, more relaxed, and kind of side to side,’ said Cy. ‘And try to look casual when you’re doing it.’ Cy stuck his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders and lolled against the bus shelter. ‘Like this.’

  Aten copied Cy carefully. He slouched against the bus shelter, and shook his head, slowly from side to side while moving it up and down.

  ‘Cool.’ He rolled the word out proudly. ‘Coooooool. Cool-elll.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Cy.

  Lauren lowered her make-up mirror and stared at them both. ‘What on earth are you two doing?’

  Cy and Aten straightened up at once. ‘Nothing,’ they said together.

  ‘Come on, then,’ Lauren said impatiently. ‘I can’t wait any longer for you.’

  Aten raised his eyebrows and Cy shrugged.

  ‘We have another phrase,’ said Aten as the boys hurried after Cy’s sister. ‘“By the walls of the temple the cats are wailing.”’

  ‘Which means?’

  Aten gave Cy an innocent smile. ‘It means that the cats are wailing by the walls of the temple,’ he replied.

&nbs
p; Cy stared at Aten. ‘Eh?’

  Aten started to laugh. ‘I make a joke,’ he said. ‘Egyptian humour. Ha! Ha!’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Cy.

  Aten laughed even louder. He pointed at Cy. ‘Your face,’ he said. ‘The expression is so funny.’

  Ahead of him Cy could see the road junction and the crossing patrol. Now he had to think of a way to get Aten into school for the day. He glanced at Aten, who was still guffawing with laughter. Cy tried to smile, but didn’t succeed. One of his dad’s favourite expressions had just popped into his head: ‘This is no laughing matter.’

  Chapter 10

  It was in fact Mrs Chalmers, Cy’s teacher, who came to the rescue. She was usually in class before the bell rang and Cy went straight there with Aten.

  ‘Mrs Chalmers,’ Cy took a deep breath. ‘Would it be OK if Aten stayed in your class in school today? He’s visiting. My mum wrote a note. I’ve got it here somewhere.’ Cy started to search in his pockets . . . very slowly.

  ‘I didn’t realize the foreign exchange pupils had started to arrive already.’ Mrs Chalmers smiled at Aten.

  ‘Foreign exchange pupils,’ Cy repeated. ‘Of course! Aten is a . . . yes . . . a bit early arriving here. There . . . there was a mix up with his travel arrangements.’ Cy uncrossed his fingers behind his back. That last bit was true anyway. ‘My mum was hoping he could spend some time in school with me while she sorted things out for him.’ He began to empty his rucksack onto his desk. Orange peel, pencil case, carton of juice, crisps, books, jotter. Hopelessly, Cy prodded among them.

  ‘It should be all right,’ said Mrs Chalmers. ‘I’ll take the letter along to the office and check with the Head.’ She came to help Cy look for the letter, picking up his books and fanning out the pages. ‘Did you see Cy’s letter from his mum?’ she asked Aten.

  ‘I cannot say that I did,’ Aten replied carefully.

  The first bell for assembly rang. Mrs Chalmers glanced at her watch. ‘We’ll find it later. Cy, you run along quickly and I’ll take Aten to sign in and get a visitor’s badge.’

  ‘I’ll come and help,’ said Cy. ‘Aten’s English isn’t good, and . . . and he’s never been in a foreign country before.’