Dream Finder Read online

  Finally he came to Ciarll Feranc. He looked up into the Commander’s enigmatic face for a long time.

  ‘And even deeper strengths yet,’ he said, finally, very softly. He bowed slowly. ‘Dream in peace.’

  Feranc bowed in reply.

  Antyr turned back to the Duke. ‘If Pandra is willing, he should accompany the Lord Menedrion, to watch over his dreams, sire. His Companion is a kindred spirit to the Lord. Very fierce.’

  Ibris glanced at the old Dream Finder, who nodded hesitantly.

  ‘Menedrion, take Pandra as part of your entourage,’ Ibris said. He gave Pandra an appraising look and added, ‘But he’s no sapling. See that he’s looked after properly. Comfortable wagon, comfortable quarters. You understand? And listen to him.’

  Menedrion looked warily at the old Dream Finder and then nodded. ‘I’m sure he’ll be better company than that Bethlarii bigot with his damned preaching and his endless prayers,’ he said. ‘But who’s going to pay for him? Aaken’s already been complaining about the cost of this envoy and . . .’

  Ibris scowled. ‘We’ll discuss that later, Irfan,’ he said sharply.

  Menedrion grunted suspiciously and then stood up. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else to be decided for me,’ he said, somewhat caustically. ‘May I get back to my duties? There’s still a lot to do if we’re to leave tomorrow.’

  When he had left, Ibris stared at the door for a moment and then turned to Antyr. ‘For a man who minutes ago didn’t know what to do, you seem peculiarly confident all of a sudden,’ he said.

  Antyr shrugged. ‘You’re my Duke and Commander. Your order left me no choice. So I spoke the truth as I felt and as I spoke I realized that what I felt was the truth.’

  Ibris made to reply, but Antyr continued. ‘Besides,’ he said. ‘The . . . attackers . . . failed to reach you when you weren’t even aware of them. Now that you are aware, your strength and control are magnified many times. Add to that the fact they’ve fled before Tarrian and me, twice already, my feeling is that they’ll not be too anxious to return too quickly.’

  ‘But if they do, what of my son?’ Ibris asked.

  ‘I’ve no unequivocal answer for you, sire,’ Antyr replied. ‘But we’re indeed protected in many strange ways. Someone, somehow, protected Lord Menedrion in his moment of need. Probably a close relative who might not even have known what he was doing. Someone accidentally sucked in by the disturbance in the Dream Ways. He, or she, probably thinks it was just a nightmare. But now your son has accepted his own fear and vulnerability, he too will be stronger by far. And should there be any assault on him, Pandra and Kany will waken him on the instant.’

  ‘But . . .’ the Duke said, catching a doubt in Antyr’s tone.

  Antyr pulled a wry face. ‘But who they are. What they want. Why they want it . . .’ He shrugged. ‘All the questions that clouded my sight before, must still be answered sooner or later, because they will return eventually. There was a malevolence there that won’t rest until it’s . . .’ He paused as a grim image came to him suddenly. He voiced it hesitantly. ‘. . . until it’s walked with relish through endless fields of our dead, calf-deep in blood and flesh.’ His eyes narrowed, then closed. Faintly, at the edge of his mind, the word formed. ‘Vengeance,’ he said softly. ‘A dark and ancient malice is seeking vengeance.’

  A deep stillness filled the room again. No one moved, no one spoke until a lamp spluttered noisily, and broke the spell.

  ‘And you, Antyr?’ Ibris said, clearing his throat. ‘What of you? Who will protect your nights?’

  ‘Tarrian and Grayle, and my own wits and awareness,’ Antyr replied. ‘And I shall have my sword and daggers sharpened, and carry them with me from now on in case I’m drawn away unawares.’

  ‘But still, questions, questions,’ Ibris said.

  ‘Yes, sire,’ Antyr agreed. ‘But all we can do now is wait for the night and sleep. We’ve done all that can be done here. Now, with respect, I think that you have more pressing problems with the Sened and the Bethlarii envoy.’

  Ibris stood up. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘A timely reminder.’ He glanced at a timepiece on the wall. ‘And I’ll have to hurry. The Sened will be less than pleased if I drag them into an evening sitting.’

  Taking Antyr by the arm, he moved towards the door. Feranc fell in beside them. ‘You must keep me informed of anything untoward that occurs in this strange business,’ he said. ‘I’ve arranged for you to have access to me at all times, for that purpose – I know it’s not a privilege you’ll abuse. Likewise I must know where you are at all times. And go nowhere without Estaan. Do you understand? There are other, more prosaic forces than dream demons and Bethlarii who have little love for me, and to be of value to me is sometimes to attract unpleasant attention.’

  ‘Yes, sire,’ Antyr replied, opening the door to let the Duke and Feranc through. As he passed by, Feranc looked at him briefly, and gave a small, satisfied nod.

  ‘You’ve made an impression on the Commander,’ Estaan said, when Antyr had closed the door.

  ‘I’ve made an impression on myself,’ Antyr replied ruefully as he sat down again. ‘Ye gods, my legs are shaking. What possessed me to speak to the Duke and Menedrion like that? And now I’m involved in palace politics.’

  Tarrian and Grayle moved over to him and Tarrian sat down and leaned against him. He did not speak, but his satisfaction and approval filled Antyr’s mind. He reached down and held both the wolves tight.

  As he did so, he looked up at Pandra, standing silent by the wall. Remorse struck him at the sight of the frail old man.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘If I’ve done you a bad service, perhaps I can still remedy it. I’m sure someone else can be found to guard Menedrion if you think it’ll be too much.’

  The remark galvanized Pandra. ‘No, no,’ he protested. ‘This is splendid. I’ve spent my whole life pottering about through my craft always feeling that something, somewhere, was missing. Always half wondering whether I wasn’t in fact just a charlatan myself. Now I’m walking by the side of a Master. The Threshold itself beckons. No, you did me no disservice.’

  Antyr’s remorse did not recede. ‘They killed Nyriall, you know,’ he said. ‘Killed him.’

  ‘Killed him here,’ Pandra said. ‘But not there. There he was alive. Moving from world to world . . .’

  ‘Because they were hunting him,’ Antyr exclaimed.

  Pandra, however, was not to be deterred. ‘But he escaped,’ he declared. ‘Besides, he went there by accident. I may not be a Master, but if I’m drawn there inadvertently, at least I’ll know what’s happening. And I too shall be carrying my sword and daggers in future.’

  Antyr sighed and sat up. ‘Kany, what do you think of your Finder’s enthusiasm?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, nice of you to ask,’ came the instant, and peevish, reply. ‘Do feel free any time to volunteer us to wander about the Threshold tackling sinister Master Dream Finders and cracked Mynedarion dragging thunderstorms and legions of shadows in their wake. It’s just what we need to while away the tedious hours of our retirement.’

  Antyr opened his mouth to reply, but Kany continued, gathering momentum.

  ‘And what do you mean by calling me a kindred spirit to that uncultured lout Menedrion?’ he went on. ‘That’s very respectful of you.’

  ‘He’ll get used to the idea,’ Pandra intervened reassuringly.

  ‘You’re only guarding Menedrion,’ Antyr said by way of mitigation.

  ‘Make your mind up,’ the rabbit snapped. ‘Are you glad or sorry you talked us into this job?’

  Antyr made to reply again, but no wisdom came to guide him and he wilted before Kany’s displeasure.

  ‘Take no notice,’ Pandra said. ‘You’d no choice but to do what you did, and I’m well pleased at the prospect. As is Kany, really. Though he’s loath to admit it. Besides, I can’t see that there’s any danger in just guarding, but, to be blunt, if there is, I’d rather go with a flourish than a long si
gh. Old age doesn’t suit me.’

  ‘A long sigh suits me well enough,’ Kany muttered. ‘The desire for death or glory is one of many human traits that I consider myself fortunate not to understand.’

  Antyr decided to let the matter lie. Another matter occurred to him.

  ‘What about the Liktors who arrested us?’ he asked Estaan. ‘I’d forgotten about them. I should have mentioned it to the Duke.’

  Estaan shook his head. ‘I’m glad you didn’t,’ he said with a smile. ‘I don’t think he’d be too impressed by my care for your welfare if he heard we’d been arrested for assault and being involved in a suspicious death.’

  Antyr was not reassured. ‘Your friend vouching for you only got us Liktor bail, you know,’ he said. ‘We’re technically under arrest.’

  Estaan laughed. ‘And rightly so too,’ he said. ‘What would you have done with two disreputable individuals found with a dead body and claiming to be there on the Duke’s business?’

  ‘Well I suppose . . .’ Antyr began.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Estaan said dismissively, but sympathetically. ‘I’ll sort it all out when I arrange for Nyriall’s body to be collected. There’ll be no problem.’

  The mention of Nyriall’s body, however, brought dark thoughts back to Antyr. ‘I find it hard to imagine that he’s still alive somewhere, right now, wandering through those sunlit fields, while at the same time he’s lying cold and stiff in that poky little room.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll still be hunting for him?’ The voice was Grayle’s and it was fretful. Antyr reached down and stroked the wolf. ‘I don’t think so, Grayle,’ he said. ‘I think that my intervention gave them more serious things to think about. Don’t be too concerned. He was pleased at the prospect of a new start in a new world. He said he doubted he could have survived another fog-choked winter.’

  A wave of sadness passed over him. It was the wolf’s, he knew.

  ‘He was sorry to part from you though,’ he went on. ‘Said he’d miss you a lot and that I was to thank you. He couldn’t have had a finer Companion.’

  Grayle let out a little whine, and then lay down, resting his head on his forepaws. Antyr continued to stroke him.

  ‘I let him down at the end,’ Grayle said. ‘He slipped from me somehow. I don’t know how. He was there, then he was gone. In an instant. Just gone.’

  Before Antyr could reply, there was an interruption from Tarrian at a level beyond his awareness. He reached out to them tentatively, then withdrew, leaving the two brothers to their own discourse.

  ‘Well, I suppose the rest of the day’s my own,’ he muttered ironically.

  Scarcely had he spoken, however, when the door opened and the Duke reappeared. ‘A thought just occurred to me, Antyr,’ he said. ‘I’d like you to watch the Bethlarii envoy’s dreams tonight. Is that possible?’

  ‘Yes, sire,’ Antyr said with a slight shrug. ‘Providing he’s nearby.’

  Ibris nodded. ‘I thought so,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange it.’ He looked at Antyr, stern again. ‘And, Antyr, this concerns the needs of the state. You owe this man no duty of confidentiality. I want to know whatever he dreams about. Does that present you with any difficulties?’

  Antyr recalled his protestations to the bodyguard when he had sought out the Duke the previous evening.

  ‘Yes, sire,’ he replied. ‘It does. It’s contrary to all my teachings. But war gives me greater difficulties – far greater – and if I can give you information that might prevent one, then I’ll do it.’

  Chapter 24

  Tarrian and Grayle walked some way ahead of Antyr and Estaan through the busy afternoon crowds. Grayle kept a fraction to the rear of his brother, but matched his stride exactly.

  Antyr looked up. The grey clouds had been lightening all day and were now breaking up to reveal a watery blue sky. Occasionally, bright waves of light from the low sun washed over the city, patterning the streets with long unsteady shadows and cutting golden chasms through the haze.

  The small procession had no goal at the end of this journey. Antyr had expressed a need to walk and think for a while and this was the consequence. Pandra had remained at the palace to rest a little and to luxuriate in the rooms and the new status that had been allotted to him.

  Both Antyr and Estaan, however, were now rapt in thought.

  Antyr was surprised at his own easy acquiescence with the Duke’s suggestion – order – that he spy on the Bethlarii envoy’s dreams. Dreamers allowed a Dream Finder access to their deepest and most private thoughts and however the craft might have declined over recent years, the respect for confidentiality was as strong as it had ever been, even gaining protection under Serenstad’s law.

  And it was deep in Antyr also. That fact he had never doubted throughout his ragged, sour career. The idea of divulging a client’s dreams was unthinkable, physically distressing.

  Now, quite willingly, he had agreed not only to divulge the contents of a man’s dreams, but to enter them unasked; an even greater breach of his craft’s time-honoured constraints. What surprised him most, however, was that he felt barely the slightest twinge of remorse or hesitation.

  The logic of his case he had stated spontaneously and with great clarity when the Duke asked him to undertake the covert search of the envoy’s dreams, but he felt strangely uneasy about the fact that he was suffering no emotional rejection of the idea. Indeed, he was actually looking forward to the venture.

  Who am I to set aside the practice of centuries so casually, even for such an important need? he thought.

  ‘Probably the first who’s had the chance.’ Tarrian was unequivocal in his opinion. ‘Ibris is nothing if not an original thinker. Besides, what are you fussing about? What he’s asked you to do is no different from crawling through hedges and ditches to see the strength and disposition of an enemy’s forces. You don’t all march to the battlefield wearing blindfolds and then whip them off and start fighting on the stroke of the hour so that no one has an unfair advantage, do you?’

  Antyr rebelled at Tarrian’s mockery. ‘No,’ he began. ‘It’s not the same at all . . .’

  ‘Of course it is, you jackass,’ Tarrian said brutally. ‘This envoy hasn’t asked you to search his dreams so you’re not betraying any special confidentiality. You’re merely peeping into his documents. Under other circumstances, it’d be tortured out of him, you know that. This is a war you’re talking about, and spying’s an infinitely lesser evil that fighting. We might find things that’ll save hundreds of lives. Look around you. Some of these people – these people – will be killed if there’s a major war; particularly the young ones. Many of them will lose someone they know or love, and every one of them will suffer some form of hardship, whether it’s shortage of food or just extra taxation. Where’s the problem?’ He did not wait for a reply. ‘And if we come across nothing worthwhile, then where’s the harm?’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Antyr admitted, looking round at the late afternoon crowds. ‘You’re only echoing my own thoughts, but it still feels strange that I don’t feel strange about it.’

  ‘Too complicated for me, I’m afraid,’ Tarrian said with a dismissive grunt. ‘I suggest you enjoy the fresh air and the walk, it might be a busy night.’

  Antyr nodded. There was no point in prolonging the debate, if debate it was, with so little being spoken for the defence of the envoy’s rights. He would do what the Duke had asked for many reasons, but high among them was a determination that if he could use his skills to spare others the experiences that he had had on the battlefield then he would. Perhaps, indeed, that was what such skills were truly for.

  His left hand moved across to his right, not for the first time, to fiddle with the ring that Feranc had given to him before he had left the palace. ‘This is a token of high office, Antyr,’ he said. ‘Don’t hesitate to use it when you need it.’ Surreptitiously, Antyr glanced at it again. It bore the Duke’s insignia.

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he said out loud.<
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  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Estaan said, starting from his own reverie and turning to him in some surprise.

  ‘No, I beg yours,’ Antyr replied hastily. ‘I was talking to Tarrian privately. I won’t do it again. We won’t do it again, will we, Tarrian?’

  ‘No,’ echoed Tarrian’s voice in his head. ‘I’m sorry, it was thoughtless of me to leave you out, Estaan.’

  Estaan’s head twitched slightly and he looked at Antyr. ‘It’s a strange sensation this speaking into the mind without sound. How do you do it?’

  Antyr laughed and raised his hands in an admission of ignorance. ‘How do you walk? How do you breathe?’ he asked. ‘I’ve no idea how we do it. It’s just something we were born with. An ability to see a little way into one another’s minds, and to speak without talking. Many things about Dream Finding are profoundly strange and not remotely understood.’

  Estaan’s eyes narrowed. ‘You can see into people’s minds then,’ he said, as if confirming a suspicion. There was a slight edge to his voice that made Antyr suddenly nervous.

  It was Tarrian who answered however. ‘No, he can’t,’ he replied. ‘Except in so far as I enable him to. But I can.’

  ‘How much, how easily?’ Estaan asked, almost sharply.

  ‘It depends,’ Tarrian replied quietly. ‘Sometimes the house is open, lights blazing, and I can wander easily from room to room. Sometimes it’s locked up tight and I can scarcely peer through the windows.’ His voice became firm. ‘But I don’t look unless I’m asked to, or unless I think someone represents a danger.’

  Estaan looked down at him suspiciously. ‘How do I know you’re not searching my mind right now?’ he asked awkwardly.

  ‘You don’t,’ Tarrian replied bluntly. ‘You have to trust me. You have to ask, is this wolf an honourable man? and then weigh the implications of your answer.’

  Estaan paused and looked at Tarrian again. ‘You’re teasing me, I gather,’ Estaan said.

  ‘Only a lot,’ Tarrian said, with a laugh. ‘But, I’ll answer your real question if you wish.’