by Roger Taylor
With the unerring knack of a stranger in a strange place, he sought advice mainly from those who knew little more than he did.
‘How do you find your way around this place?’ he asked one red-faced individual he found himself walking alongside.
‘With great difficulty, Dream Finder, great difficulty,’ came the reply. That he was known to this stranger was by then no surprise. However Andawyr had spread the news about him through his domain it had been singularly effective. It was just one of a mounting list of questions that he had about the place. A brief conversation identified the man as a novice of barely a week and the two of them parted firm friends in adversity and still lost.
Eventually his wanderings brought him through a suddenly widening corridor and into a spacious communal area of some kind. For a moment he thought he had stepped outside, as along much of one side was a vista of the mountains and the broad plains beyond. The sight brought him to an abrupt halt.
There were many people there, talking, reading, dozing, though the place was so large that there was no feeling of its being crowded. An abrupt silence greeted him as he became the focus of a collective inspection but it lasted for only a moment as the looks became as many smiles and several hands were raised to attract his attention. A hand on his elbow spared him the difficulty of making a choice about which to accept.
It was Usche.
‘I’m sure you’d like to sit down,’ she said, her voice full of laughter. ‘You have the despairing look of an irredeemably lost novice.’
‘I’ve met one of those,’ Antyr replied. ‘You’re probably right.’
Usche motioned him to a group at the far end of the room. She shooed one of them out of the way and placed Antyr on a low couch. He sagged into it with conspicuous relief and rubbed his ankles. His reaction provoked a response similar to Usche’s initial greeting. ‘You’ll get used to the place,’ was the common advice, but Usche shook her head.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘It’s never easy, and the Beacons aren’t much use to him. Antyr seems to be closed to the Power.’
The group was suddenly alive with interest. It found its consensus in the questions, ‘How can that be? What does it mean, anyway?’
Usche could add little. ‘I’m not sure, but that’s what Andawyr said, anyway. He did a simple teaching transference when I was demonstrating something and . . . nothing. Andawyr thinks it’s perhaps something to do with Antyr’s ability to enter dreams but, whatever it is, I’ve no doubt that it’ll be the subject of considerable debate shortly.’ She gave Antyr a guilty look. ‘I’m sorry, we’re talking about you as if you weren’t here, aren’t we?’
‘It’s all right,’ Antyr said, content just to be sitting and with someone he knew. ‘I can understand your curiosity and I’m gradually growing used to the idea that everyone here knows who I am and asks questions incessantly. I’ve never encountered anything like it before and it’s a very peculiar feeling. But it’s reassuring in a way.’
‘I wouldn’t say everyone knows who you are,’ Usche said. ‘They know your name and a little about your unusual ability, but mainly they know to leave you alone if you’re found . . . unconscious.’ Her face looked pained, as if she were seeking confirmation of this. Antyr gave it.
‘Yes, that, above all, you must do,’ he said insistently, briefly taking control of the group and looking at each of them in turn. ‘You’ll put yourselves and quite possibly me in great danger if you don’t.’
‘It seems an odd thing to do,’ said a young man sitting next to him.
His earnest manner provoked a soft laugh from Antyr. ‘From what I’ve heard about this Power of yours – and seen,’ he acknowledged Usche, ‘I’d say you should be used to odd things by now.’
Flustered, the man said, ‘I meant, oddly callous – just to leave someone lying there.’
Antyr regretted his laughter and gripped the man’s arm, at once fatherly and man to man. ‘It would be, normally,’ he said. ‘But not in this case. You’ll just have to take my word for it. It really is important that everyone understands this.’
‘The wolves are dangerous, then?’ someone asked.
Antyr gave his usual homily about Tarrian and Grayle. ‘It’s in their nature to protect me, but they’re their own animals. They go their own way, beholden to no one for anything. They’re neither trained nor tame. Don’t make any attempt to touch them unless they seek you out, which, generally speaking, is unlikely.’
‘You come with a lot of warnings hung about you,’ said his neighbour, making Antyr laugh again.
‘I suppose it seems like that,’ he conceded. ‘But there’s only the two, really. Leave me to lie and leave the wolves.’
‘Where are they now?’
The question prompted some anxious head turning.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Antyr replied. ‘Except that they won’t be lost. And by now they’ll probably know every source of food in the entire place. Don’t worry. As I said, they avoid getting involved with people as a rule. To be honest, they think we’re rather an inadequate species.’
‘Splendid,’ came an acid comment from someone. ‘First we have the felcis treating us as inferiors, now we have wolves. I think Andawyr should bar any more animals coming into the place before we end up at the very bottom of the mammalian ladder.’
‘What are these felcis like?’ Antyr queried.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough,’ said the man sitting next to Antyr, echoing Andawyr’s earlier comment. ‘In fact, with all the talk there’s been about you, I’m rather surprised they’ve not been round to look at you. They’re nothing if not nosy.’
‘Inquisitive is a kinder word,’ Usche said.
‘Nosy feels better.’
Before the argument could continue, there was a flurry of activity at the far end of the room and the sound of raised voices.
Chapter 10
There was a quality about the noise that Antyr immediately associated with Tarrian: the clatter of people suddenly obliged to jump aside and loud voices raised in an explosive mixture of alarm and anger. Even without looking he could see the wolf, and presumably his brother, barging through anything that was in the way in their haste to get somewhere. An excited bark and the crash of something falling over, followed by a string of oaths, confirmed his assessment.
‘I think they’re here,’ he said, levering himself up off the low couch wearily. Then another sound reached him that was quite new. A swooping and remarkably loud whistling. Curious now, he joined the others in craning to see what was happening. As he did so, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a brown, sinuous animal, flitting rapidly through the confusion. Involuntarily his feet came together protectively and preparatory to jumping on to the couch.
They must have flushed out a rat, he thought. And a big one, by the look of it.
A combination of relief and embarrassment swept over him. At least it wasn’t anything more serious they were up to, but then it was hardly the mark of a good guest to expose the more unsavoury inhabitants of his host’s dwelling, still less to engage in a frantic pursuit through it.
Abruptly the animal was in front of him. Before Antyr could stop it, one of his feet came up and rested on the couch. Only an apparent lack of concern by Usche and her friends kept the other one on the floor. And, indeed, the animal was not moving. It was sitting back on its haunches with its forelegs dangling. Slowly it tilted its head on one side as it looked at Antyr intently with bright, penetrating eyes.
It looked remarkably composed.
And whatever it was, it wasn’t a rat.
It must be a pet, Antyr realized in terror as Tarrian and Grayle arrived, cascading to a claw-skittering halt on the polished floor. A vision of a violent, bloody and very public skirmish resulting in the brutal destruction of someone’s dearest filled him. It was followed immediately by a clutch of the dire and humiliating consequences that must surely ensue for both him and the wolves if this happened. He was just ab
out to call out to Tarrian and Grayle when the animal, still on its haunches, calmly looked over its shoulder at the panting pair.
‘This is him, isn’t it?’ it said, in a languid but quite clear voice.
Tarrian and Grayle were quite still now except for their lolling tongues and wagging tails. Antyr caught a hint of a reply from one of them and the animal returned to its scrutiny of him.
‘Hm. Gapes rather, doesn’t he?’
Through the bewilderment rapidly taking possession of him, Antyr became aware of Usche standing close beside him. Her hand on his arm, she had the protective aura of a guide particularly anxious to ensure that an inadvertent but important meeting should be carried off successfully. As casually as he could, he removed his errant foot from the couch.
‘This is Kristabel,’ Usche said quickly and with heavily forced geniality. ‘She’s a felci. I gather from what you were just saying that they’re not an animal you’re familiar with.’
‘Close your mouth.’ Tarrian’s voice hissed unexpectedly in Antyr’s mind. ‘You look ridiculous.’
Caught between Tarrian’s indignation, Usche’s anxiety, this strange creature’s inspection of him, and the incipient suspicion that he was perhaps being made the butt of some elaborate prank. Antyr smiled weakly and uttered a brief string of incomprehensible sounds before managing to say, ‘Hello, Kristabel.’
The Felci nodded with each word like an adult coaxing a carefully rehearsed greeting out of a child. ‘Very good. I didn’t quite catch the first part of that but the rest was fairly intelligible. He seems personable enough. Do you have much trouble with him?’
Tarrian carefully kept his reply from Antyr. but Kristabel gave a knowing nod. ‘I understand,’ she said.
‘Kristabel, behave yourself,’ Usche said through clenched teeth. ‘Antyr’s our guest.’
The felci gave her a long look, then dropped on to all fours. Following the wolves’ spectacular entrance, the group had become the focus of everyone in the room and a substantial crowd was now standing around them, awaiting developments. Usche sat down and motioned Antyr to do the same. As he did so the felci – to his considerable alarm – clambered on to his knee. After an elaborate and disconcerting adjustment of her position, she squatted on her haunches again and continued her study of him.
‘Antyr, eh? Strange names you creatures give yourselves. I thought maybe the pups had got it wrong, but there you are. I should have trusted them a little more, shouldn’t I?’ Kristabel’s voice was deeper and more resonant than might have been expected from such a comparatively small animal. It was also unusually powerful and, the creature being immediately in front of his face, indicated to Antyr that if he was indeed being made the butt of a joke it was an extremely well-made one. Was it, perhaps, someone giving him a benign demonstration of this Power that so dominated everything here? It seemed improbable; the creature, its mannerisms, its voice, were all very realistic. It did not help him, though, that he could clearly sense a faint suggestion of amusement behind the voice.
‘Kristabel!’ Usche hissed. ‘Stop that!’
As before, the felci ignored her and continued its study of Antyr. He found her bright-eyed, intelligent gaze disconcerting.
‘You are a strange one, aren’t you?’ she concluded eventually. Her tone was serious and intrigued and the faint touch of humour had gone. She curled her lip back and absently tapped one of her teeth with a forepaw. Antyr noticed that the teeth and the claw protruding from the paw both looked very powerful. Coupled with the musculature he could sense beneath the creature’s sleek fur he decided that this could be a frighteningly ferocious animal if need arose.
‘There are depths here. There’s something very old about you, young man. Very old. Well, well, how interesting.’ Humming tunelessly to herself she bent even closer, her eyes searching deep into his. Then they closed, the humming stopped, and she was sniffing at him, her nose twitching energetically.
Abruptly, she was conversational. ‘The pups tell me that you and they roam the dreamways. Tell me, how do you think you do that?’
‘Kristabel!’ Usche brought her determined face next to the felci’s. ‘I’m sure if Andawyr wants you to interrogate our guest, he’ll ask you.’
‘He’d be wise to, child,’ Kristabel replied. Antyr felt Usche stiffen at the word ‘child’. ‘He won’t make much of him if I’m not there, believe me.’ She gave a laugh that ended in a joyous whistle. ‘Poor Andy, he’s going to have real trouble finding this one in his calculations, I can tell you. I’ll make a point of speaking to him about it, otherwise he’s likely to be lost without trace.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be indebted.’
Kristabel looked at her, then clambered down from Antyr and on to Usche’s lap. She gave a low reproachful whistle and clicked her tongue. ‘Sarcasm really doesn’t become you, child.’
‘Don’t call me child,’ Usche muttered darkly. It was obviously not a new injunction, but even as she spoke it she was stroking the felci affectionately.
‘Sarcasm and such over-sensitivity. Not endearing traits in a young woman, Usche my dear. Don’t you agree, Dream Finder?’
Antyr found himself stammering again at being suddenly dragged into this private and very female exchange.
‘I think perhaps Usche is trying to be – is being – a good hostess. Helping me to adjust to the . . .’ He was about to say ‘strange’ but caught himself in time. ‘Unusual . . . things that are to be found in this place.’
Kristabel’s gaze returned to him. ‘Ah, a gallant. How refreshing.’ She looked round at the watching Cadwanwr significantly, before speaking to Antyr again. ‘You find me unusual?’ she asked.
In some desperation and aided by a prompt from Tarrian, Antyr opted for the truth.
‘Yes, to be honest, I do,’ he said. ‘I’ve never even heard of . . . felcis . . . before, still less seen or met one. In fact, I’ve never met an animal that could actually talk.’
‘Really?’ Kristabel said. ‘Well, your frankness does you credit, but I presume you mean you’ve never met anything other than human animals that talk your rather awkward and inadequate language.’ A paw indicated the still-watching group.
Antyr gave up. ‘I suppose so,’ he conceded.
Kristabel was reassuring. ‘Don’t fret, young man. I wouldn’t dream of reproaching you. You’re not alone, by any means. I’m afraid there’s many a dim creature out there that thinks its own kind are the totality of everything. And you, at least, can speak to the pups.’
Before Antyr could say anything, Kristabel had jumped down from Usche’s lap and was scratching vigorously. ‘Well, well. Must be off. Things to do. A delight to meet you, Antyr. Truly. We must talk. At length. You’re more interesting than you know. You could even be one of us. There’s a thought.’ Her voice became suddenly softer. ‘Dar-volci would have been so excited to see you. I wish he . . .’ She stopped and was silent for a moment. Then she was brisk again. ‘Still, he’ll be back when he’ll be back and fretting won’t make that any earlier, will it?’
To Antyr’s alarm, she stood on her hind legs immediately in front of Tarrian. His alarm, however, became surprise as the wolf lay down and rolled over submissively. Grayle did the same, flattening himself low and pushing his muzzle gently between the two of them.
‘And lovely to see you two again, pups,’ Kristabel said, tickling Tarrian’s stomach and making his back leg twitch. ‘You’ve grown into fine animals. And you’ve done well for yourselves finding this . . . Dream Finder – very well. I’ll tell everyone you’re back. And the Alphraan. They’ll be delighted. Splendid, splendid. We’ll sing soon.’ And she was gone, slipping between the legs of the crowd, whistling and laughing.
‘Pups?’ Antyr said to Tarrian and Grayle witheringly as the sound of Kristabel’s departing faded. ‘What was all that about?’
‘Later. It’s too complicated,’ Tarrian replied as he stood up and shook himself noisily. Antyr did not pursue the matter. He could fee
l something rising from the wolf that he had never known before. It carried too much of the animal’s deeper nature for him to be able to identify it, though it was unmistakably joyous in character. He knew that the two animals were sharing this with him deliberately and that they could say nothing more about what they were experiencing. He bent low and stroked both of them by way of acknowledgement.
‘Are you all right?’ It was Usche. As was invariably the case when he had touched near the wolves’ true self, the human voice sounded harsh and crude. For an instant he understood Kristabel’s remark about their language being both awkward and inadequate.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I was just talking to Tarrian and Grayle.’
Usche was brushing hairs from her robe. She stopped and looked first at him and then at the two wolves. ‘Well, I suppose if our felci surprised you by talking out loud, we’ll have to get used to your talking silently to your Companions,’ she said. ‘Although, I have to say, I think it’s the stranger of the two.’ Then she asked the question that Oslang had asked. ‘Could they speak to me like that?’
‘They could, but they won’t,’ Antyr said, anticipating Tarrian’s refusal. Usche’s brown eyes looked at him, disappointed.
‘I don’t know why they won’t,’ he felt obliged to add. ‘And it wouldn’t do any good for me to press them.’ Then, unable to prevent himself from explaining further, ‘I think they find our thoughts unsettling. There’s something about us – something they can’t reach, just as I can’t reach fully into them – something that frightens them.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s only a thought. It’s a subject I’ve learned to avoid over the years.’