"Sounds like our families need to trade places," Kendi said when he had finished, and Ben smiled. Kendi stared at him, still perched on the rail.
"What?" Ben asked. A strange feeling fluttered around his stomach.
"I-no, it’s nothing." Kendi looked away.
"You what?" Ben persisted lightly, though he felt something heavier in the air. "What is it?"
"Uh oh." He jumped off the rail and the moment was broken. "Someone’s coming."
Ben turned. A figure was making its way toward them.
"Hey, Dorna," Kendi said when the figure got closer. "What’s up?"
"Just wondering where you two have gotten off too," Dorna said. Although the night was warm, she wore a short cloak with the hood pulled over her dark hair. "The party’s still going strong back there. A bunch of us are talking about going to see the fireworks."
"We’re just talking," Kendi said. "How’ve you been?"
"A little weird, actually." Dorna sat down on a bench near a potted blueflower bush. Ben abruptly wished she would go away and leave him alone with Kendi. "I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately."
"How come?" Kendi asked.
Go away, Ben thought.
"Nightmares." The word came out almost dreamily. "I have nightmares about people dying in the Dream."
"The Dream stalker?" Kendi said.
Dorna shrugged. "Maybe. Do you think it’s a premonition?"
"The Silent don’t get premonitions," Ben put in. "That’s not the way Silence works."
"I know that," Dorna said. "But don’t you believe that people can have dreams that come true whether they’re Silent or not?"
Ben shrugged.
"Who dies?" Kendi asked.
"I don’t know. I can never see her face. I just wake up scared it’s going to be me." She gave a little laugh. "Isn’t that stupid? The last murder was a year ago. The Dream stalker is probably long gone."
"It’s not stupid," Kendi said. "Maybe you should talk to a Parent about it."
"Maybe." Dorna gave herself a little shake. "Well, I’m going home. Maybe just telling you about the nightmares will make them go away."
And to Ben’s relief, she got up and left, vanishing into the gloom. Kendi stared after her.
"What’s the matter?" Ben asked.
"I’ve known Dorna for a year now," Kendi said pensively, "and something always bothers me about her, but I can never figure out quite what it is."
"She talks funny," Ben said.
Kendi turned. "What?"
"She talks funny," Ben repeated.
"You know, Kite said the same thing, but neither of us could describe it better than that."
Ben shrugged, not wanting to talk about Dorna. "She uses different words."
Kendi stared at him. "Say that again?"
"She uses different words."
"That’s it!" Kendi grabbed Ben’s shoulders and danced him around. "Ben, that’s it! Her words change. All life, but I’m dense."
"Okay, okay," Ben laughed, almost losing his balance. "It’s not that big a deal."
Kendi dropped his hands. "Right. Sorry. It’s just that it’s been bugging me since I met her, but I couldn’t figure it out. I wonder why she does it-or even if she knows she does it."
"Dunno. Maybe it just depends on what mood she’s in." Ben scratched his nose in consternation. His shoulders tingled from the heat of Kendi’s touch. "What was all that about nightmares and the Dream stalker?"
"No idea." Kendi cracked his knuckles. "I hope we never need to find out."
"We should probably get back to the party," Ben said reluctantly. "After all, you’re a guest of honor."
"Yeah." Kendi paused. "Hey, you want to get together some time this week?"
Ben’s heart pounded. "And do what?"
"I don’t know. Hang around. You can show me your weights."
There was a note in Kendi’s voice that Ben couldn’t read. Was Kendi offering friendship? Or more than that? And which one did Ben want? His heart was beating so fast, he was sure his shirt was shaking. Kendi looked at him, waiting for an answer.
"Sure," Ben said casually. "Whatever."
Far overhead, a firework burst into a bright orange flower.
Kendi looked around his cave in satisfaction. Everything was in place. The dry, sandy floor and smooth walls were exactly as he expected them to be, and the fire burned low below the smoke hole. He felt happy here, safe and secure. Father Ched-Hisak would not be visiting him this time-after several practice sessions, Kendi had received permission to enter the Dream unsupervised whenever he wished. Ara, in fact, had encouraged him to do so.
"Practice," she had said, "is the only way to perfect what you learn."
Kendi made his way up the spiral to the mouth of the tunnel. The Outback, hot and dry, lay before him. The wind carried countless thousands of whispers, and each voice was a Silent operating somewhere in the Dream. Kendi closed his eyes and listened. After a moment, he was able to sort some of the voices out. He recognized several people-students and teachers both-from the Festival party three days ago. If he concentrated harder, he could narrow his focus to a single voice and follow it through the Dream to find whoever it was.
Father Ched-Hisak had been impressed with the speed at which Kendi had picked up this ability. Most Silent, he said, went through months, even years, of practice before they could sense and track particular people in the Dream.
Unfortunately, no matter how long or hard he listened, he never heard his mother.
Another familiar voice caught his ear. It sounded like Dorna. She must be practicing as well. On a whim, Kendi decided to go find out what she was up to. He concentrated, listening for the direction her voice came from, then opened his eyes and trotted off.
The Outback sun lay down a hard, heavy heat that baked Kendi’s naked skin. Spiny plants tried to slash his feet, but here in the Dream, Kendi’s soles were protected by a thick slab of callus and they did no harm to him. Overhead screamed a falcon, and Kendi gave it a little wave. His mind, it seemed, ran to creating animals. This was another sign of Kendi’s power. No Silent could create people in the Dream-controlling a Dream person was more than even the most potent subconscious mind could deal with-and only a few Silent could handle animals. The falcon, however, always appeared overhead without even conscious effort on Kendi’s behalf.
Kendi followed the whispery sound of Dorna’s voice and wondered how long it would take him to learn teleportation. Distance, Ara said, ultimately meant nothing in the Dream. Carving the Dream up into different territories was merely for the convenience-and privacy-of the individual Silent. Every Silent mind in the Dream overlapped with every other mind. Most Silent’s subconscious, however, couldn’t handle that much input all at once and they therefore created artificial barriers of illusory space to separate themselves from everyone else. Once Kendi had achieved enough mastery of the Dream, Ara told him, he would be able to overcome part of his subconscious and instantly take himself to other "parts" of the Dream without having to walk there.
Kendi clambered over a pile of rocks. One of them was a shade of brilliant red that matched the color of Ben’s hair. Kendi ran a hand over his face. Ben. In the last three days, he had found himself constantly thinking of Ben. They had spent several hours together the day after the party. Ben had shown Kendi his weight machine and the computer system he had cobbled together out of spare and rebuilt parts. They had played a few sim games and then had traipsed down the stairs all the way to the bottom of the talltree forest. The cool, slightly gloomy depths with its waist-high ground cover and loamy earth made a stark contrast to the wooden walkways high in the air. They had hiked aimlessly about, keeping a sharp eye out for dinosaurs and seeing none, talking about nothing in particular.
Twice Kendi almost put his arm around Ben’s shoulders, then held back. Pup and Pitr had taught him it wouldn’t be a good idea. When Ben had smiled on the walkway outside the party that night-
Kendi swal
lowed. That smile, rare as a winter flower, had gone straight through him. He could still picture it when he closed his eyes at night, and it kept reappearing in his dreams.
All life, he thought. You’ve got it bad.
He forced himself to concentrate on Dorna as he walked. Her voice was growing louder now. As he got closer, he took several deep breaths and gradually relinquished his expectations of the landscape. He did not expect dry, sandy soil or a blue sky or spiny spinniflex plants. He expected nothing. This was hard to do, and it slowed Kendi down. If he came into Dorna’s space without releasing his own expectations of the environment, his and Dorna’s minds would end up fighting for control. The stronger mind would win out, and the losing mind would feel a certain amount of discomfort, or even pain. Dream etiquette demanded that the Silent moving into the other person’s turf released all expectations, just as a visitor in a solid world home would adapt to the rules and customs of the host. To newcomers like Kendi, however, this wasn’t always easy.
Kendi eased forward another step and another. The Outback melted slowly away. Kendi worked hard to keep his mind blank. Twice rocks and scrubby plants faded into view around him and Kendi took several breaths to banish them. More steps forward, and Kendi finally found himself at wrought-iron gate set into a stone wall. Clothes faded into existence on his body until he was wearing khaki trousers and a flannel shirt. Clothing, of course, was always provided by the host Silent.
Kendi pushed the gate open and stepped into a lush, well-kept garden. He looked around curiously. So this was Dorna’s turf. Flowering bushes and shrubs were everywhere, and the grass was clipped so that every blade was the same length. Flowers were laid in rows with military precision. Not one stray leaf marred the perfect lawn.
On a stone bench sat a figure with her back turned to Kendi. She wore a half-cloak with the hood drawn over her hair. Dorna. Kendi smiled and strode toward her. Abruptly she twisted around on the bench. Kendi hissed and backed up a step.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
Kendi stared. It wasn’t Dorna at all. The woman on the bench was old, with wild white hair and snaggle teeth. She even had a wart on her nose like a fairy tale witch.
"Sorry," Kendi stammered. "I was looking for someone else."
"You’re intruding in my garden," the old woman screeched. "Get the fuck out of my garden!"
"Hey, it’s all right," Kendi said, still backing away. "You don’t have to freak. I was just leaving."
"Get out!" howled the woman. "Get him, boys!"
Kendi wondered who she was talking to. Then a rosebush lunged for him. Thorns raked across Kendi’s arm, tearing his shirt and leaving a set of white-hot scratches along his skin. Ivy twirled around his feet and ankles. Kendi turned and ran, tearing up the green vines and losing a shoe in the process. Another thorny bush scored his cheek. The grass lengthened and threatened to trip him. He dove for the gate, fear clutching his stomach.
"That’s right," cackled the woman behind him. "Run from Zelda and her garden. Get out, you little shit!"
Kendi shoved the gate open and fled, bleeding and trailing bits of ivy. He ran until his legs ached and his lungs threatened to burst. When he finally stopped, he was back in the Outback. His clothes had vanished, but his arm and cheek were still bleeding.
"All life," he muttered. "What a bitch." It wasn’t as if he had trespassed on purpose. He had thought she was Dorna. Obviously his tracking needed a little work, but that didn’t mean the old lady-Zelda, she’d said her name was-had to shape her garden to attack him like that.
His arm and cheek hurt like hell. Kendi stared down at the scratches, willing them to disappear. His body was whole and unharmed. It was so and would be so …now.
Blood continued to flow. It dripped from his face down to his shoulder. Kendi was pretty sure that his body was bleeding as it lay on his bed in his room. Psychosomatic wounds, Ara called them. Whatever harm the Dream body encountered was usually visited on the solid one. Some Silent could overcome this, but not many. Kendi, obviously, wasn’t one of them yet. Maybe he should leave the Dream and get some medical-
A wave of nausea washed over him. Kendi staggered, regained his balance. What the hell? he thought. Then he felt it, a …disturbance. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. It was as if someone had just dropped something disgusting into a pool of water and Kendi could feel the ripples. He turned toward the feeling. A bad taste rose in his mouth and he spat. What was going on?
Curious despite the discomfort, Kendi trotted against the ripples, following them to their source. As he moved, the Outback faded again, this time with little effort on Kendi’s part. That meant, he knew, that a very strong mind was at work, one that could easily shake off Kendi’s puny attempt to hold onto his desert. An archway stood before him in the middle of a featureless plain. The disturbance was on the other side of the arch. Kendi stepped through.
He found himself in a giant living room. A hodge-podge of furniture-fainting couches, end tables, a variety of chairs and sofas, and low bookshelves-stood on a crazy quilt of mismatched rugs and carpets. Kendi came to an instant halt and almost cried out. On one of the sofas lay a woman. She was blond and middle-aged, with plump arms and a heavy chest. A gold medallion hung between her breasts. Chains that seemed to have sprouted from the couch itself held her down. Blood from a dozen dripping cuts and slashes covered her body, and she made faint mewling noises. Standing over her with his back to Kendi was a tall man. As Kendi watched in frozen horror, he made a swift slash with the knife. There was a snapping noise. The woman cried out, but only weakly, as one of her fingers dropped to the cushions. The man caught it up and held it like a pencil. Kendi still couldn’t move. With deliberate care, the man wrote 14 in blood on the woman’s forehead. The woman convulsed once, then went still.
"Shit!" Kendi gasped.
The man dropped the finger and spun. He was wearing a hat with a wide brim that was pulled low. Kendi couldn’t see his face. Before Kendi could react, the man lunged.
CHAPTER TEN
I witnessed it once but it stayed with me forever.
— Irfan Qasad
Kendi backpedaled, fear humming through his veins. The brim of the hat cast a shadow that hid most of the man’s face, but Kendi could see his mouth twisted into an animal snarl. Kendi whirled and dashed for the arch. Abruptly the arch snapped shut. Kendi slammed into a solid wall. Dazed, he felt hard hands grab his shoulders. They spun him around and a hard blow drove Kendi to his knees. Blood dripped from his nose, mingling with the blood from the cuts on his cheek. All Kendi could see was a pair of shins in front of him. One of them drew back to deliver a kick. Kendi drove himself forward, slamming into the man. Surprised, the man went over backward with a grunt. Kendi scrambled over him. He caught a blurred glimpse of the woman’s bloody corpse on the sofa.
Then the room came to life. The rug he was standing on ripped itself out from under him and Kendi flew sprawling into a pile of cushions. Instantly they molded themselves around him, piling about him and suffocating him. Kendi clawed at them ineffectually and wished for a knife, glittering and sharp. In that moment, he had one in his hand. Kendi cut and slashed until the stuffing flew and he came free, though he was still on the floor.
The man loomed over him. Kendi lashed out with the knife. The man leaped back. A table rushed at Kendi like a battering ram. Kendi ducked, and it slid over him. While he was still underneath it, Kendi stood up and flung the table at the man. It caught him squarely in the chest. Without looking to see more, Kendi dove for one of the windows. It shattered around him. Flying glass slashed his face and forearms as he landed on hard, flat ground, but Kendi scarcely noticed. He had to get out of the Dream, get back to his body, but he needed time to concentrate. Should he take the time now or try to get away?
The man appeared at the window, face still in shadow. He was holding a needle gun. Kendi shut his eyes and yanked his thoughts together.
If it be in my best inter
ested and in the best interest of all life everywhere, he pleaded, let me leave the Dream.
The gun went off with a phut. Kendi braced himself for pain and felt none. He opened his eyes and found himself on his own bed in his own room. Pain scored his face, arms, and most of the rest of his body. He tried to sit up, but the room spun dizzily and he fell back. Blood stained his pillow and blanket and slicked his hands. Kendi felt dazed, as if he were only half there. He should call someone for help. But who? The room darkened around him.
"Baran," Kendi croaked. "Baran, call Mother Ara. Emergency!"
The computer connected the call and a moment later Mother Ara’s face appeared on Kendi’s white wall. Her eyes widened when she saw the blood. "Kendi! What-?"
He passed out.
The ceiling was made of beige tile. That wasn’t right. The ceiling was supposed to be white plaster. Kendi blinked, trying to figure out why it looked wrong. He put up a hand and saw it was swathed in soft bandages. Other bandages covered parts of his face and upper body. He was lying on a bed, but it wasn’t his own. How had he gotten here? He tried to sit up. A gentle hand came down on his shoulder to stop him, and Kendi looked up into Mother Ara’s concerned face.
"How do you feel?" she asked. "Are you in pain?"
Kendi checked. "No. Where am I?"
"Medical center. I called an ambulance. Can you talk? Can you tell me what happened?"
"Just a moment now." A man whose hair was as white as his coat bent over Kendi. His name tag proclaimed him Dr. Benjamin Yarmul, and Kendi immediately thought of Ben. "Can you follow my finger?"
Kendi tracked Dr. Yarmul’s finger, wiggled various bandaged appendages, and assured the doctor that he felt no pain anywhere. Another person was in the room, an Asian woman Mother Ara’s height with a carefully-woven black braid trailing down her back. She didn’t speak as the doctor examined Kendi.
"The damage was superficial," Dr. Yarmul said. "All of it psychosomatic, but still damaging nonetheless. We’ve closed your wounds and there won’t be any scars, but you’ll need to keep the bandages on until tomorrow morning just to make sure, all right? We’ll have to keep you here overnight for observation anyway."
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