But Jeren’s remarks had dampened Willa’s excitement. She shrugged and toyed with the ruby student’s ring on her left hand. Kendi glared at Jeren.
"I know," Dorna continued as if nothing were wrong. "Shopping! Time to rack up some serious debt. You boys coming?"
As one, Jeren, Kendi, and Kite backed away. Dorna’s power shopping trips were legend in the student community, and they all knew from experience that they would be drafted into bearer duty. Dorna laughed and lead Willa off. Kendi watched them thoughtfully.
"Something’s weird about Dorna," he said. "Seriously weird."
"What do you mean?" Pitr asked.
"It’s hard to put my finger on it," Kendi replied. "It’s not weird in a bad way. Just weird."
"Kite’s weird, too," Jeren said. "He talks funny. All the time."
Kite, who had spent considerable time with a speech therapist and no longer tore through sentences like tissue paper, punched Jeren on the shoulder like Kendi had done. A friendly scuffle broke out between the two of them. Kendi and Pitr ignored it.
"Is it something we should talk to a Parent about?" Pitr asked.
"No," Kendi said. "It may be just the way her personality is. Let’s get some lunch."
Ara pressed the tip of the dermospray to Kendi’s upper arm and pressed the release. There was a soft thump as it shoved the drug through his skin. Swiftly, with the ease of much practice, he slipped his red spear beneath his knee and assumed his meditation pose. Despite his careful breathing, a small knot of tension formed in his stomach.
"What if it doesn’t work?" he said.
"It will work eventually," Ara told him patiently. "We haven’t lost anyone yet. Ched-Hisak is the teacher on duty in the Dream right now, so if you get there, he’ll be waiting to catch you. And don’t worry so much, Kendi. There’s no pressure. I’m not worried. You shouldn’t be either."
Kendi closed his eyes. His meditation skills had increased to the point where the only thing that could wake him was a double snap of Ara’s fingers or his conscious choice. He never lost his balance on the spear anymore, and at night his dreams were so vivid that he awoke confused about who and where he was. This, Ara told him, was a sign that he was moving closer to touching the Dream. Kendi had never again seen the Real People in any of his nocturnal dreaming, however.
Colors flickered behind his eyes. The dermospray was a cocktail of drugs mixed to react to his own physiology, a recipe refined over many centuries of experimentation. Very few people, Ara said, could reach the Dream without some kind of pharmaceutical aid.
Kendi concentrated as a hypnotic rainbow swirled in the darkness around him. The drugs induced a pleasant, floating feeling but were designed not to inhibit thought processes or become physically addictive. Kendi let himself float about at random for a while, then forced himself to concentrate. His body dropped away until he was no longer aware of the spear under his knee or of his breathing or his heartbeat. Ara had said he needed to create a personal place for himself, a place where he felt safe and happy. Kendi imagined the Australian Outback with its hot breezes and dry, rocky earth. He caught a whiff of desert air, but when he turned toward it, it disappeared. A flash of sunlight caught his attention, but it too vanished when he reached for it. A falcon cried on the high wind, but the sound faded when he tried to sense what direction it came from. Voices whispered all around him, just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to understand. Kendi ground his teeth in frustration. It was just like every other time. He couldn’t seem to-
Make a place for yourself, said the memory of Ara’s voice. A place where you feel safe and comfortable.
And then it came to him. The Outback had never felt safe and comfortable to him while he had been in it. He had hated it. Only recently had it had any kind of allure for him. Maybe he needed to try something else. Kendi cast his thoughts back to his childhood. When he and Utang had been little, they had played at pirates and convicts, people on the run. They had used an abandoned building just up the block as a hideout despite the fact that they had been forbidden to play there. Their imaginations had turned the basement into a cave, and Kendi had liked hiding in the cool, safe darkness. In the games he hadn’t seen cracked concrete walls and a collapsing staircase. He had seen smooth stone, an arched roof, and a clean, sandy floor. A hole in the roof let in dim light and provided an egress for smoke from the campfire he and Utang would have. Ancient cave art danced on the walls instead of graffiti. It was a place to stash treasure and hide from marauding bands of British convicts, broken chains still clanking at their wrists. They would never find the entrance. It was a safe place.
Kendi brought the image of the cave firmly into his mind. He could almost feel the sandy floor beneath his feet, feel the cool air, see the bright paintings, smell the campfire smoke. Whispering voices swirled around him in a strange wind. The arched roof, the entrance tunnel, the ring of stones around the fire.
A subtle shift came over the space around his body. There was a sense of vastness, an echoing space. Kendi’s eyes opened and he gasped in utter astonishment. He was standing in the cave. It was absolutely real. The cave was dim, just as he had imagined it, with a single beam of sunlight stabbing down from the hole in the high roof. A smoldering fire lay at the bottom of the sunbeam, and the sharp smell of wood smoke tanged the air. Kendi made a strangled noise, and it echoed about the cave. His bare feet whispered over dry sand as he staggered around the cave. It was big enough to park a dozen cars in, and at least five stories tall. And it felt safe.
Kendi whooped with glee and hugged himself as the sound caromed wildly off stone walls. He had done it! He had entered the Dream!
Something touched him. Kendi froze for a moment, then spun around. The touch hadn’t been a physical one. It was something else. Someone was walking toward him, and he could feel the footsteps on the ground as if the sand were his own skin. It frightened him at first, but then he knew, somehow he knew, that the touch was friendly, even familiar. A shadow moved in the tunnel that lead into the cave, and instantly Kendi knew who it was. He turned to the entrance and pressed fingertips to forehead.
"Father Ched-Hisak," he said. "I’m here."
A Ched-Balaar stepped into the cave, his head low on his serpentine neck. His blond-brown fur gleamed in the castoff sunlight from the center of the cave, and his eyes were wide and happy. He opened his mouth to speak, and Kendi braced himself for a dizzying barrage of clattering teeth and strangely-toned hooting. He had been studying the Ched-Balaar language for a year, but his understanding was severely limited. Conversing without a translator would be difficult, but he would manage. They would-
"I congratulate you, Kendi Weaver," Father Ched-Hisak said a in clear voice. "You have made yourself a fine place in the Dream."
Kendi stared, fingertips still on his forehead.
"You are surprised to understand me?" Father Ched-Hisak said, amused. "But you know to speak in the Dream is a mere exchange of ideas. You read my thoughts but you hear them as words."
"I forgot, Father," Kendi admitted. "So to you I’m chattering my teeth?"
"Indeed. You have a strange accent, but intelligible at every word. Come, then. I want to see the world you have created."
He took Kendi’s hand. Father Ched-Hisak’s palm was firm and soft as suede. That was when Kendi noticed he was naked. He looked down at himself uncertainly. Father Ched-Hisak noticed.
"You may wear anything you like," he said. "Your clothing is unimportant to such as I, but if it is important to you, then only think of what you want to be wearing and it will be so."
Instantly, Kendi was clothed in a knee-length shorts and a simple shirt. This, however, felt wrong, confining. He realized that in this place he didn’t want to wear clothing at all, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to continue appearing naked in front of Father Ched-Hisak. His clothing wavered, shrank, expanded, and shrank again until Kendi settled on a simple loincloth.
Father Ched-Hisak ducked his head in ap
proval. "Now. This is your safe place, the place in the Dream where no one may enter unless you allow such. The tunnel I entered led me inward from your public place, where you will eventually conduct business. Please. Here in this part of the Dream you must lead me. It is more polite."
Heart beating with exultation and excitement, Kendi lead Father Ched-Hisak up the tunnel. It was just tall enough for him to stand upright, though it was pitch black. Kendi wished he had a torch or something, and in an instant he held one in his hand. He was so startled, he almost dropped it.
"You must take care," Father Ched-Hisak warned. "Here in the Dream, thoughts become reality."
The tunnel formed a spiral that lead up and out. After a few moments of walking, the spiral ended and Kendi found himself standing on a flat, rocky plain that stretched before him from horizon to horizon. Scrubby plants and ground-hugging vegetation made green-brown patches here and there. Voices whispered on the breeze, and Kendi knew they were other Silent, present but not visible to him, or he to them. Behind him rose a high cliff that seemed to touch the pure azure sky. A falcon cried overhead and dove toward the ground. A moment later, it rose again with a small animal wriggling in its talons. It was the Outback, exactly as Kendi remembered it. For the first time, it felt like home. And somewhere out there, his mother waited for him. He had but to find her.
"Come," Father Ched-Hisak said. "Show me this place."
Kendi squeezed the alien’s hand and stepped with joy into his own Dream.
Ben sat on the floor in the corner of the living room and looked longingly at his bedroom door. It was shut, and he had firm orders from Mom that it was to stay that way, with Ben on this side of it. Ben shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of his drink, trying to look interested in his surroundings when he would far rather have been somewhere, anywhere, else.
The house and balcony were crowded with teenage students, teachers from the monastery, and even a few Ched-Balaar. Conversation, both murmured and loud, filled every corner. The dining room table was laden with food and drink, and the computer played bright music from every speaker in the house. Paper Festival lanterns hung from the eaves, granting cheerful yellow light to the balmy summer darkness, and the house was filled with Festival flowers, banners, and decorations. The biggest banner said, Congratulations Jeren, Kendi, Kite, amp; Willa.
Ben hated parties, especially ones like this, where he didn’t know much of anyone. The guests were all Silent, and they didn’t often mingle with the non-Silent. There was no rule about this-it just happened that way. Ben supposed it made sense. The Silent all had something in common, so why wouldn’t they tend to stick together?
There were actually many more non-Silent on Bellerophon than Silent. However, Bellerophon’s economy centered around the Children of Irfan. In the shadow of the ecological disasters that had befallen Earth, mining, farming, and talltree harvesting were all strictly regulated. Most of what the planet produced was used by its own populace. As a result, Bellerophon’s economy depended on the income brought in by the Children of Irfan in order to obtain the goods and services Bellerophon couldn’t produce for itself. The Children of Irfan, in turn, depended on the non-Silent for food, clothing, medicine, and other necessities. It was an equitable arrangement which, in theory, fostered an atmosphere of tolerance and respect between Silent and non-Silent alike.
It didn’t, however, necessarily foster a lot of friendships. Ben lived among the Silent, attended some classes with them, but he had no friends among them. Come to that, he had no real friends even among the non-Silent. Sure, he knew people at school, but no one well enough to invite to a party, especially a Silent party.
All four of the slaves Mom had rescued last year had managed to enter the Dream. The last one, a guy named Kendi, had done it the day before yesterday, and Mom had decided to change family tradition and throw a party on Festival to celebrate. Ben, however, suspected an ulterior motive. Mom knew very well that Ben wasn’t very social, and he was sure she was hoping he’d make some friends. Festival-time of new beginnings. As a result, Ben sat stubbornly in a corner and refused to talk to anyone, except as politeness required. He knew he was being contrary, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
The party did produce one bit of good-it swallowed up Aunt Sil, Uncle Hazid, and his cousins. He hadn’t seen them all evening.
Ben’s blue-eyed gaze drifted over the crowd, most of whom were dressed in brown. Across the room, Kendi Weaver laughed at something. Ben stared at him uncertainly. He seemed so at ease in the crowd, completely sure of himself. And he was handsome, with his dark skin, tightly-curled black hair, and tall, lean build. Ben looked away quickly, but after a couple minutes found himself looking at Kendi again. He hadn’t actually met Kendi, had been actively avoiding him. Ben always avoided his mother’s one-on-one students. It was awkward all around. There was also a lingering feeling of jealousy that Ben couldn’t deny. Mom’s students were Silent. Her son was not. Which of the two, he found himself wondering, would end up having the closer relationship?
Kendi turned and caught Ben looking at him. Ben instantly glanced away, feeling unsettled and not knowing why. He sipped fruit punch from the glass on the floor beside him. What the heck was going on? Ben had never stared at someone like that before, certainly not another-
Someone plunked down on the floor next to him. Startled, Ben turned. It was Kendi. And Ben’s heart jumped into overdrive.
"Hi," Kendi said. "You’re Ben, right? Your mom is my teacher?"
"Uh, yeah. I guess," Ben stammered, and silently cursed himself. Why was he always so stupid when it came to talking with strangers? And why did this particular stranger make him blush like this?
"I’m Kendi Weaver." He held out a hand. Ben set down his glass and shook it. Kendi smiled. "Oh, that’s right. Mother Ara mentioned it, but I’d forgotten. You’re not Silent."
Mom talked about him to her students? Ben didn’t know how to feel about that. Annoyed, maybe?
"No," he said. "I’m not."
"What a relief," Kendi said, pumping Ben’s hand energetically. "All life, you have no idea what a relief it is."
Ben blinked. "Sorry?"
"Just about everyone at this party is Silent," Kendi explained, "and they’ve all been shaking my hand. I’ve been jolted so many times I feel like a lightning rod. It’s nice to shake hands with someone who isn’t going to zap me."
"Oh." Ben noticed his hand was still in Kendi’s, though they had stopped shaking. Their eyes met for an instant. Then Ben broke away and took his hand back. He swallowed hard, floundering for something to say. Kendi leaned back against the wall.
"So what’s it like growing up on Bellerophon?" he asked.
"I dunno," Ben said, and cursed himself again. But why did he care if Kendi got up and walked away?
Kendi laughed. "Yeah, stupid question. It’s not like you’d know what it’s like growing up anywhere else." He drained his glass. "You want some more to drink? I was going to get some."
"Uh, sure."
Kendi took their glasses and left. Ben watched him weave easily through the crowd, admiring the way he moved and realizing that he was looking forward to him coming back. What if he didn’t come back? Would that mean he didn’t like Ben? Would that mean he-
"Here you go." Kendi handed Ben a full glass and joined him back on the floor. "It’s a great party. Are you having fun?"
"No," Ben blurted. "I mean-it isn’t that-" He gave up. "No, not really."
"How come?"
"I don’t like parties very much." He gestured at the moving sea of humans and Ched-Balaar. "Too many people, you know?"
"You want to go for a walk, then? Maybe get away from the crowd? I wouldn’t mind either. It’s really annoying getting zapped all the time."
Ben’s instincts told him to say no. Kendi seemed loud, open, and forthright. Ben barely knew him. It would be easy enough just to refuse and things would stay the same. They would stay safe.
"Sure," he heard himsel
f say. "Let’s go."
Kendi planted his elbows on the railing and stared off into the warm night. Ben stood beside him, leaning backward and holding the top of the rail with one hand to keep his balance. The party, loud with voices and music, lay several walkways behind them and they were at a wide space, a platform with benches and several potted plants. The scent of summer flowers lingered in the air. Insects chirped and night animals occasionally called. In the distance, Festival music played.
Ben decided it was a fine night after all. The conversation between him and Kendi had died down-or rather, Kendi had stopped talking-but Ben didn’t mind the silence. It was a comfortable silence. Usually Ben felt awkward unless the empty spaces were filled with equally empty words, but he could never think of anything to say. With Kendi, he didn’t feel like he needed to have anything to say. Ben had never felt that before with anyone, and he liked it.
Kendi pulled himself up on the rail and perched on it. Still leaning back, Ben switched hands with a small jerk. His hand ended up very close to Kendi’s, and he was filled with a sudden urge to touch Kendi’s arm, feel the smooth dark skin on his own. Confused, he switched hands one more time so he ended up a little farther away.
"Sitting on the rail will get you more work detail," he said.
Kendi shrugged. "If someone comes, I’ll jump down." He paused. "Have you ever thought of leaving Bellerophon?"
"Sometimes, yeah. You?"
"All the time. I need to find my family."
Ben snorted. "You can have mine."
"Don’t you like your mom? She’s pretty cool, even if she hands out work detail sometimes."
"I like my mom. It’s everyone else I can’t stand."
"What do you mean?"
And Ben found himself telling Kendi about the problems he had with his extended family. It was the most talking Ben had done all evening, perhaps in his entire life. Kendi listened without interrupting.
Nightmare se-2 Page 17
