by Roger Taylor
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘But nothing,’ Andawyr repeated. ‘Would you say you’re a man bowed down by burdens?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘No. You’re a man doing something about what he perceives to be his burdens. Searching. Far from your home. Looking for a light you can shine into their hearts.’ He pushed his chair back precariously near to its point of balance and putting his hands behind his head, cocked it on one side to look at Antyr.
‘Why did you choose to fight the blind man?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t choose,’ Antyr replied indignantly after a startled pause. ‘I was there through no fault of my own. And it was a matter of opposing him or being bound to his will for ever. And who could say what hurt would have come of that? Not least to me.’
Still balancing his chair dangerously, Andawyr turned his attention back to the view. The sky was darkening and the mountains were beginning to throw long shadows across the valley. A skein of birds fluttered urgently over the scene.
‘Aha,’ he said, with an air of someone reaching a conclusion. ‘There you are. You did what you did because you’re who you are and because you were where you were. That’s something that three of us here understand all too well. And even Usche understands it with her head if not yet with her stomach.’
Another skein of birds flew down into the valley.
Andawyr’s voice fell. ‘I don’t belittle your pain or your needs, Antyr. As I’ve said, what we can do to help you, we will. But mainly you’ll help yourself. And ponder this, for I’m sure you already know it. And I’m certain your two Companions know it. There’s only here, now. If we’re sensible we learn from what has been, and it’s in our nature to plan what is to be, even though we know that almost certainly reality will be different.’ He laughed softly. ‘What calculation could’ve told me this morning that you’d be here today, opening up so many fascinating avenues of search for us? What calculation before I met you could’ve told me I’d decide to go to Anderras Darion and that that would be what you’d need as well? But still there’s only here, now, and it’s only a failure to appreciate that that can truly burden us. If we cloud our minds, our hearts, with the shades of an immutable past and the looming clouds of unknowable futures then we miss the scents, the sounds, the colours of the valley and the flight of the birds heading home. And, too, because we’re elsewhere all the time, our enemies catch us unawares and unready. We bring on ourselves the very doom we most fear.’
No one spoke.
He turned back to Antyr. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid Jaldaric’s right. I can be a little . . . lengthy . . . at times. It’s very remiss of me, especially to a welcome guest.’
Jaldaric was about to say something but thought better of it.
‘No apology’s necessary,’ Antyr said. ‘You’ve taken my breath away, that’s all. What you’ve described, I suspect, is what I aspire to, though I’d never thought of it quite like that. It’s just difficult at times. The past is so intense it’s not easily let go, nor is it always easy to know what you’ve learned. And the future’s so uncertain.’
Andawyr swung his feet down from the sill and spun his chair around in a manoeuvre that made Usche draw in a sharp breath and the three men start forward in anticipation of a catastrophic fall.
‘Well, it’s not so uncertain for the next few days,’ he said heartily before Usche could utter the rebuke forming in her expression. ‘You can sleep, eat, wander about, ask questions, read, do nothing, whatever you wish. Then we’ll set off for Anderras Darion.’ He held up a reassuring hand. ‘Don’t worry. Incidentally, the journey’s nothing like the one you’ve just made. And the company will be better. Which reminds me, I’d like you to come as well, Usche. You’ve been before, haven’t you?’
Usche’s eyes widened. ‘Only once, quite a long time ago, when I was a novice,’ she said. ‘But I’d love to go again. It’s a marvellous place.’
Antyr, however, had some reservations. ‘I appreciate your kindness and your hospitality, Andawyr. You’ve made me so welcome that I’m forgetting my manners and I’m beginning to feel rather awkward about just arriving here uninvited and accepting everything you’ve offered. I’d feel much easier if there was something I could do to repay you – anything. I doubt there’s any need for my Dream Finding skill around here, but I’ll sweep, chop wood, whatever you want.’
Andawyr puffed out his cheeks. ‘We have guests coming and going constantly,’ he said. ‘And we stay with others in the same way. It’s nothing unusual. The Riddinvolk in particular do it all the time. They’re . . .’ He floundered for a moment. ‘You’ll be repaying us just by telling us about your profession. It sounds extremely interesting. I told you, we thrive on learning.’ He clapped his hands. ‘In fact, perhaps I could impose on you this very night. Do you think it would be possible for you to . . . enter . . . into one of my dreams?’
‘Yes, yes!’ Tarrian’s and Grayle’s voices burst into Antyr’s mind simultaneously, making him wince.
‘I’d be more than happy to,’ he said, shaking them away. ‘Though I doubt you need any help I could offer.’ He nudged the two now wide awake wolves with his foot. ‘And I have to warn you that these two seem unusually enthusiastic about the prospect.’
‘This is bad?’ Andawyr asked, eyebrows raised.
‘This is suspicious,’ Antyr replied. ‘They’re nothing if not hedonistic.’
Andawyr held out his hands to them. ‘Well, so am I. And they won’t harm me, will they?’
‘No, of course not,’ Antyr said. ‘It’s just that they’re very nosy, that’s all. They like to wander the dream ways.’
‘Which means nothing to me,’ Andawyr retorted. ‘And if it doesn’t hurt I don’t mind.’
‘It doesn’t hurt. You’ll probably enjoy it.’ It was Yatsu.
Andawyr looked at him askance. ‘You did this?’ he inquired.
‘And me,’ said Jaldaric. ‘It’s interesting. Try it.’
‘You’re not the exclusive repository of curiosity, you know,’ Yatsu said smugly.
‘Well, well,’ Andawyr muttered. ‘What did you find?’ he asked Antyr.
‘You’ll have to ask them about that,’ came the reply. ‘What passes between a Dream Finder and his client stays between them.’
‘I stand corrected,’ Andawyr conceded. ‘A little thought and a little less excitement would’ve told me that, wouldn’t it? Anyway, what do we have to do?’
‘Nothing yet,’ Antyr laughed. ‘Unless you’re particularly anxious to get to bed.’
‘Hardly,’ Andawyr replied, glancing over the valley as the daylight faded.
‘You’re due for a long night, Dream Finder, he hardly ever sleeps,’ Jaldaric chimed in, standing up and stretching. He waved what appeared to a completed letter in anticipation of any further ripostes by Andawyr. ‘And unless you want us for anything special, we’ll go and eat.’
‘Don’t get lost,’ Andawyr chided caustically as they were leaving.
He stared at the door for some time after it had closed. ‘It’s so good to see them back safely,’ he said reflectively. ‘I’m afraid we’re none of us totally immune to those looming clouds, Antyr.’
‘You’ve many out searching for those who fled after the war?’ Antyr asked.
‘Yes. And as many just out rediscovering the world.’ His brow furrowed. ‘And we’ve precious little idea where most of them are. All we can do is put the head in charge of the heart and keep telling ourselves they’re all more than capable, and doing what they want to do.’ He slapped his legs. ‘But that’s the way it is, so we have to cope with it.’
Usche cleared her throat.
‘Ah yes. I’m sorry, Usche. I’m intruding on your time.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Usche replied. ‘But if you don’t need me, I’ve plenty of things to do.’
Andawyr drew in a breath. ‘First corrected now reproached. This is turning into a chastening day for me.’ He cast a glance over his shoulder at t
he darkening valley then reached out to touch the edge of the sill. With barely a sound, the surrounds of the window became alive with movement as a series of small panels began to unfold and move towards the centre. Antyr could see no pattern to the movement, but quite suddenly, with a final soft sighing turn, the whole became a seemingly solid shutter, elaborately decorated with intertwined leaves and stems. At the same time lights around the room bloomed into life.
Antyr could do no other than touch the shutter. ‘Marvellous,’ he said. Then, staring round at the lights, he added, ‘And I presume you have no Guild of Lamplighters here.’ He looked at Andawyr. ‘Doubtless you’ll tell me this is all the result of clear thinking, ingenuity and determination, but it looks magical.’
‘You’re showing me the world through your eyes, Antyr, and I suppose it does,’ Andawyr replied. ‘But to other matters. Matters that look magical even to me. Usche, before you go, explain to Antyr about the Power.’
Chapter 6
‘What!’
Usche’s manner thus far had been pleasantly and politely attentive. Now she was bolt upright and gaping.
‘Tell him about the Power,’ Andawyr repeated.
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that. There’s nothing like teaching to help you get to grips with what you think you know. And you’ll be doing a lot more soon.’
There was a flicker of stark panic across Usche’s face that left her cheeks coloured slightly as she recovered. She made a strange whimper and, with an apologetic sidelong glance at Antyr, asked in a half whisper, ‘What does he know?’
Andawyr seemed to be quietly enjoying himself. ‘Listen carefully,’ he said.
Then, very quickly and very succinctly, he repeated Antyr’s story to her. Both she and Antyr were wide-eyed when he finished. She with the story itself, he with the grasp that Andawyr had shown of everything he had told him.
‘Did I miss anything out?’ Andawyr asked him.
‘No, no,’ Antyr stammered. ‘It was very accurate . . . very clear. Better than the way I told it.’
‘Now you know what I know, Brother Usche, but all questions are for later. Tell him about the Power. Keep it general, no maths.’
Usche was still wide-eyed as she turned her attention back to Antyr. She coughed and swallowed nervously, said ‘Yes’ meaninglessly and swallowed again before beginning.
‘This blind man attacked you with the Power?’ she asked almost disbelievingly.
‘No questions,’ Andawyr insisted, but she scowled at him. She was about to speak when Antyr answered her.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘At least that’s what I presume it was.’
‘And you . . .’ Usche gesticulated vaguely. ‘Sent it back to him.’
‘Yes.’
Usche shook her head. ‘If you could do that then I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you. You should be teaching me.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Antyr replied. ‘Although I remember much of what happened, far more has slipped away from me, rather, as I’m told often enough, dreams usually fade on waking. And as for how I did what I did, I’ve no idea. It was almost as if something woke inside me and took charge.’ He frowned as memories of the terrifying confrontation returned to him, suddenly vivid. With them came a familiar aching feeling of loss. ‘For the briefest of moments I knew . . . everything. Everything that had ever been – that could be – known. But it was so short – almost as though it had been trapped between the moments.’ He indicated the book on her lap. ‘It was like looking at the edge of a page, yet seeing everything that was written on it.’ He gave a fatalistic shrug. ‘I’ve no words for it, I’m afraid. Whatever it was, it wasn’t to be mine. Perhaps some part of me held enough of it to save my life, I don’t know.’ Then he smiled to encourage his still reluctant teacher. ‘I’ve heard a lot about this Power and I’d be very interested to know more about it, but I can see you’re having the same problem in finding words for it. Just try. I’ll ask if there’s anything I don’t understand but I’m sure the world won’t come to an end if I don’t grasp the matter fully.’
His manner relaxed Usche a little. She straightened her robe and carefully placed the book and papers she was holding on to a small table standing nearby.
Andawyr was sitting slightly behind Antyr and, though Antyr could not see him, he knew that he was watching Usche intently. It gave him a welcome sense of familiarity.
There is a hierarchy here, then, he thought. It’s just more subtle than I’m used to.
Conspicuously plucking up courage, Usche began. ‘Unfortunately, it doesn’t help that we use the term “Power”, but it’s so rooted into our ways of speaking and writing that any more appropriate term would be unlikely to dislodge it.’ Antyr sensed that a point was being made here that was not particularly for his benefit, but Usche continued without a pause. ‘It’s actually a relic of times long gone when this . . . pervasive phenomenon . . . which we still call the Power – or, rather, the ability to use it – was thought to be magical – something that was beyond rational explanation – something that came from a vague “other place” peopled by gods and spirits and the like.’ She took on a schoolteacher’s tone. ‘Now we’re a little more enlightened, and we also know much more about it. Much more.’ She looked at Andawyr pointedly. ‘Largely due to a certain person’s considerable courage, the full extent of which I’ve only recently begun to learn about.’
‘You should be concentrating on more important matters, young woman, not tittle-tattling in the recreation rooms.’ The comment came from over Antyr’s shoulder, though it patently did not impinge on Usche who calmly turned her gaze back to Antyr.
‘That’s not to say that we understand it fully. Far from it. There are many aspects of it that are deeply strange. At its heart, things happen in ways that are quite contrary to what we would expect in our everyday lives. However, let me show you something.’
She pulled the table between them and moved the book so that it was in front of her. She gave Andawyr an inquiring look and, apparently receiving his consent, opened the book and sat back. She became very still and, as Antyr watched, the pages of the book slowly began to turn, apparently of their own volition.
Antyr frowned and shot a suspicious and rather embarrassed look at Usche. He turned the same expression towards Andawyr, suddenly very uncertain.
‘What’s the matter?’ Andawyr asked, obviously surprised at this response.
Antyr’s embarrassment deepened. ‘This is just a . . . trick.’ The words came out in a half whisper, as though they were reluctant to be heard. It was Andawyr’s turn to frown, though in confusion, not anger. The book was still now and Usche was watching the exchange with great concern.
‘I don’t understand what you mean,’ Andawyr said into the awkward silence.
Unhappily, Antyr turned the book around to face him and leaned forward, his head resting on his hand as though deep in thought. As before, the pages of the book began to turn.
‘Good grief,’ Andawyr exclaimed, leaning forward himself and watching intently. ‘How did you do that? You certainly didn’t use the Power.’
Antyr put his fingertips to his mouth and splayed them apart rapidly as he puffed out noisily. ‘Breath control,’ he said. ‘Silent, focused. It takes quite a lot of practice to do properly, but I can do it well enough for a party trick. My father taught me when I was a child. He learned it from a friend who was a market trader. He used tricks like that to gather a crowd. He could do the most amazing things. I’m so . . . I . . .’
Completely discomfited by what he now realized was an ill-judged and wholly inappropriate intrusion, Antyr stammered to a halt. Andawyr’s face contorted alarmingly but when it resolved itself it was not into indignation and anger but into laughter. It proved to be beyond his control though eventually he managed, ‘You’re right. That’s a good trick. But it’s not what Usche was doing.’ As the laughter threatened to take over again he waved to her to continue.
Usche, however, did not appear to be amused. Jaw set and eyes now grim, she closed the book and turned it so that its spine was towards her. Slowly she lifted its heavy cover a little way, then slammed it shut with a vigorous slap, making Antyr start. Pausing only to shoot a dark look towards the still laughing Andawyr, she sat back in her chair as she had before. Very slowly, the cover swung open until it was vertical. Then, equally slowly, it continued opening until it was resting on the table. A good half of the pages then opened and followed it in the same manner. Throughout, Usche kept her eyes fixed sternly on Antyr.
‘Blow that!’ Andawyr whispered loudly in Antyr’s ear.
His laughter escaped his control again and bounced around the room. It was infectious and, for a moment, it seemed that Usche’s glare was going to disintegrate under its onslaught. She crushed the impulse. ‘One of our beloved leader’s more peculiar traits, Antyr, is that he laughs a lot – and very easily,’ she glowered.
Andawyr’s hand landed on Antyr’s shoulder. ‘And one of Brother Usche’s many charming traits is that she can be remarkably solemn. A trait which you can see your confusing her with a market pedlar has brought out to its full.’ Still chuckling, he spoke to her kindly. ‘Worse than that can happen, Usche. Remind me to have Oslang tell you how a demonstration of the Power he once gave nearly got him his throat cut.’
‘I’m awfully sorry,’ Antyr began. ‘I didn’t mean to . . . it’s just that you caught me unawares . . . I . . .’
A gentle pressure from Andawyr’s hand silenced him. ‘You’ve done no hurt, Antyr. You reacted openly and honestly which, I told you before, I – we – value, and value highly. What Usche’s just shown you is a small example of what a trained person can do with the Power. It’s a basic exercise to test skill, control, many things. Let me show you.’ He laid his hand over Antyr’s and nodded to Usche.
As slowly as it had opened, the book closed itself. Andawyr removed his hand and looked at Antyr expectantly. ‘Did that help you understand?’ he asked.
