Perilous Dreams

by Andre Norton

“My Lady.”

  The voice startled her so quickly out of that study that she gave a gasp as she turned her head. It was the Elder Follan who had followed her here. And he was watching her with an intentness which matched that Rhuys had earlier turned upon her, yet this study had no twinge of malice such as she knew moved Rhuys whenever he thought or looked at her.

  “Follan,” she asked, “what else do you know of these ships of Quinquare?”

  “No more than I told our Lord, Lady. It was a puzzle which had no ending that I have ever heard.”

  “But how can men vanish from the deck of a ship, one in tow, and no way known?”

  “I do not know. With Landsmen… yes, a sudden panic, a quick squall which might threaten a ship with upturning… even a madness of mind to grip one and all, sending them plunging to their deaths. There is such a madness which comes with the eating of spoiled grain. Men can list such explanations. But those would not account for what happened to Pihuys’s men. And the Captain is a wary and careful ship master. There might be some hidden place on board which searchers could not find…”

  “With what menace in that?” Tam-sin urged when Follan hesitated.

  “Lady, there are a many things in this world, or in the sea of which there has never been any report. But…” again he paused and then added somberly, “Lady, you are faithful to my Lord in all things and his chosen. Now I must warn you: walk carefully.”

  “Well have I guessed that, Elder. I am not loved elsewhere in LochNar.”

  There was a shadow of relief on his face as if he were glad that she accepted his warning so promptly.

  “There is always talk,” he said. “And for thoughtless hearers talk holds a shadow of truth, or so they believe. You are an out-craig, and there are those who believe, and now say, that our Lord could have done better. Nor does one who is a Tide-Singer seem close to others.”

  “Follan, my thanks for your plain speaking. I had already known there were those who wished me away from this place. But I had not thought they were becoming so open.”

  Her hand clenched tightly. Rhuys had supporters, but had she ever believed that he did not? What sort of tale could he spin for her undoing? What if Kilwar did not return?

  “You are our Lord’s chosen,” Follan returned. “As such, Lady, you have only to command, you will find the most of us ready to harken to those commands.”

  She smiled a little thinly. “Elder, such words are as a shield and a blade to me. I only hope that I shall not have to take up such weapons.”

  But his expression remained troubled. “Lady, walk carefully. After our custom the Lord Rhuys commands while our Lord is gone. He is maimed and we would not choose him Sea King, but that fact adds to his desire to give orders while he can.”

  V

  Tam-sin lay within the shell bed. Her eyes were wide open but she did not see the intricate mosaic of shells set in the ceiling over her. Rather she drew upon that other sight of hers so that Kilwar was before her, standing brace-legged on a ship’s deck which was never still. Around him wreathed tendrils of fog, gray as the bones of men long dead.

  So clearly was he in her mind that it seemed she need only reach out her hand, which arose a little from the bed cover at her thought, and lay it upon the well-muscled arm of the Sea King, to make him turn and look eye to eye with her. Yet there were distances separating them in body, if not in mind.

  “Kilwar,” her lips shaped his name, though she did not speak it aloud. And she was sure that somehow he heard her summons, soundless, as it was, for his head turned a little as if to glance over his shoulder.

  But at that very moment he started and his body tensed. So Tam-sin was aware he must have heard something which she did not. For it was the nature of this mind-linkage that it could not carry any sound, only sight with it. Sight, and a kind of nonverbal communication which she was still hesitant to use, lest she distract him from what must be his primary concern.

  Another man loomed out of the wreathing mist, and Tam-sin could see it was Pihuys, even though his image wavered and did not show as plainly as that of Kilwar, perhaps because there was no true linkage.

  The Captain waved an arm toward the left, as if calling his Lord’s full attention to something there. And, when Kilwar strode to the rail to peer into the ever-thickening fog, Tam-sin could see it, too… the narrow prow of a vessel piercing the folds of the mist as a needle might prick cloth.

  Yet the strange vessel did not keep its course, but shifted with every wave. And she could believe there was no helmsmen in control. She saw Kilwar’s head turn again, the movement of his lips. Men appeared on the deck behind him, a small boat was loosed, lowered over the side. So her Lord had indeed come upon the ghost ship of the mists!

  At that moment a stab of terror struck into her so deeply that she lost control. Kilwar, the mist-hung ships—all were gone and Tam-sin lay panting, her palms damp, her mouth feeling dry. This fear… she assessed it as well as she could. It was not the normal fear of one who faces an unknown danger. No, it was a panic which she had not felt before. As if there was some charnel house emanation from the strange vessel which had struck directly at the seat of her own sensitive talent.

  No, she must go back, see Kilwar, even though her flesh crawled and her body shook as if she lay bare under the ice-rimmed wind of full winter.

  Kilwar! Once more she strove to steady herself, to push away the fear and renew the linkage. There was… death? No, something else, but as devastating for her kind, which crouched waiting on the half-visible ship. Tam-sin knew that as well as she had seen a monster rise up behind the rail, reach forth claws to capture its prey.

  Kilwar! Tam-sin summoned her nearly demoralized forces, built his image in her mind. There was a queasy shaking of the world, and she was back, but in a different place. For with the Sea Lord she stood on what could only be the deck of the derelict.

  It was a vessel, she judged from what the fog would allow her to see, of a size between that of Pihuys’s ship and the battle one her Lord commanded. Nor did it have the clean lines of a sea-folks’ design, but was rounder, fashioned to carry more cargo than any Sea King’s possession. There was a hatch before Kilwar, the rope fastenings of which were stoutly tied and impressed with a seal as big as her palm. When Kilwar went down on one knee to inspect the pattern on that, she was not in the least surprised to see the impression Pihuys had drawn for them.

  Kilwar gestured, gave orders, she could not hear. Men climbed from the boat below, spread out, going in pairs and with drawn weapons, to the search. As Kilwar himself ventured into the officers’ quarters drawing far sight with him.

  There was the table, bolted to the floor for safety in times of storm. A single-backed chair, a bench, and against the far wall a bunk covered with salt-stained crimson cloth. On the deck rolled a jar which had dribbled its contents long since in a meaningless, sticky swirl across the planks. And there was a rack in which hung swords, none missing; set upright below those a stand of double-headed boarding axes. But there was no trace of any living thing save Kilwar and the men who had come with him. And, as the Sea King sat in the chair and men reported to him, coming in pairs, Tam-sin could tell from his expression that he was learning nothing save that which Pihuys had already reported: the ship was empty.

  Yet that menace which she had felt with the thrust of panic, still lurked here, and she held linkage only by all the willpower she could summon. It seemed to her that it was unbelievable that she did not sight some lurking thing which was more substance than shadow. Yet, for all the determined use of her powers, she could fasten on nothing concrete, save the knowledge that it was indeed present.

  The last pair of searchers had reported. Now Kilwar sat, elbow planted on the table, his firm jaw supported by his fist, a considering look about him. When he spoke Pihuys made a gesture of dissent. It was apparent he launched into some vehement argument. But Kilwar cut him off with a word or two. And, looking beyond the Captain, he pointed to two of the waitin
g warriors, both of whom the Tam-sin part of her recognized as being men long battle-bound to their Lord. At his gesture they raised naked blades to salute him.

  Once more Pihuys made protest but at Kilwar’s manifest order he tramped from the cabin. With him went all but the two the Sea King had selected. Tam-sin could guess what Kilwar’s orders were. He, himself, chose to remain on board the haunted ship, seeking to solve its mystery. Again that panic overwhelmed her, so that her talent failed, returning her to the keep and to another battle with that strong fear.

  This time her struggle was more protracted. Perhaps her will had been a little weakened in the first encounter. Yet she fought valiantly, with all the strength she could summon. When she at last won to Kilwar it was to see a shadowed cabin. Two ship’s lanterns were set on the table, the light flaring low within them, giving radiance only to the section immediately about them. She could see Kilwar who was still, or again, seated in the chair.

  On the board before him lay not only a bared sword, but two of the double-headed axes, also placed close to his hand. The rack wherein those and the swords had been was now empty. Tam-sin guessed that he had taken the armament, determined that no one, or nothing, could secretly equip itself from that collection.

  His attitude was one of listening, though she believed he had not yet heard anything suspicious but waited for such to manifest itself. Now and then his mouth opened and she believed that he called to his men, doubtless checking them at sentry posts without.

  It seemed as if time dragged on thus forever. The lantern light flickered. Sometimes Kilwar arose to his feet and tramped back and forth. When he did so he went sword in hand, as if he did not intend to be caught unawares by the unknown enemy.

  Suddenly he shouted again, whirled to the table and snatched up one of the waiting axes with his left hand. Then he leaped into the shadows beyond the reach of the lantern light. The deck, was he bound for the deck?

  That must be so, for now Tam-sin saw a curtain of mist, silvery light. This was no normal mist, that she knew, for within it were small motes of glitter which were like insects flying back and forth. Through this blundered a dark form, staggering. The shadow man fell just as Kilwar broke into the thickness of the mist. He made a second leap, until he stood one foot on either side of that supine body, his sword ready to slash, and his head a little bent as if he had difficulty in seeing.

  At that moment the terror which had exiled her twice struck full. Tam-sin was swept into a darkness of sheer horror, racing ahead of that which she dared not see, could never hope to imagine. Until, at last, she knew nothing at all, taking a last refuge in mindlessness.

  VI

  “Lady!”

  It was a calling from far off; she would not listen. Here was safety… there…

  “Lady!”

  Tarn-sin became aware of her body, though not yet would she open her eyes. Memory had returned to her bringing the last mind picture of her Lord wrapped round by that mist sparkling with unholy light. But there was a hand on her shoulder and for the third time the voice came urgently:

  “Lady!”

  Reluctantly she opened her eyes. Althama, who was her own waiting woman, leaned over her, her face showing distress. Behind her shoulder Tam-sin saw Follan. That the Elder would come thus into her inner chamber argued some dire happening.

  Tam-sin sat up. “Our Lord…” she croaked the words as if for too long she had been without speech. “He faces the danger.”

  “Lady,” Follan replied somberly, “word has come by hawk that when he of Lochriss and he of Lochack came to the meeting place, our Lord was gone to gather with two of his men, and the derelict drifted, empty of life.”

  “He is not dead!”

  “Lady, they have searched the ghost ship once again. They found no life, no sign of any on board her.”

  “He is not dead,” she repeated sharply. “For that I would know, Elder. When one is mind-linked and death comes, then there is such a shock of loss as no one can mistake. I stood mind-linked when our Lord went to battle…”

  “To battle what?” Follan demanded eagerly. “What saw you then, Lady?”

  “Naught but a mist filled with whirling specks of light. But it was not of any energy that I know. And I was cut off—”

  Follan shook his head. “Lady, the news has been too clear. Our Lord is gone from us, dead or no, yet he has gone. Now it is Rhuys’s day, for when the message came he proclaimed a regency. A man of twisted body may not rule the keep, but he can hold the power until time passes and men at last agree our Lord is truly dead.”

  “But I shall say that our Lord lives.”

  “Lady, which one of the men now pledged to Rhuys will harken to an assurance they believe you make only to hold sway here? Rhuys has spoken much during the past hours. It is his tale that you have laid a bewitchment upon our Lord since your first meeting, and that it is because of this bewitchment, Kilwar went to his death. He tells a logical story and one those without your talents can well believe.”

  Tam-sin ran her tongue across her lips, lips which suddenly felt dry. She could, indeed, see the logic in Rhuys’s argument and what had she to stand against it? She was a Tide-Singer right enough, but those who had not such gifts were wary of the ones who had, resenting often their own lack.

  “What would he do with me?” she asked directly of Follan.

  “Lady, there are already two guards without your door. What lies in his mind I cannot say, save that it means no good to you.”

  “Yet you came hither to warn me.”

  “Lady, I have known you since the first day my Lord went wooing. You are his chosen and to my mind you have never worked any mischief. Now you say my Lord lives, but where is he?”

  He leaned forward, his eyes holding her. There was something fierce and demanding in his gaze. Just so did the sea eagles look upon one.

  “I do not know, only am I sure he is not dead. And now there is that I must do… go in search of him. We have been mind-linked; there must lie some trace on board that evil ship which I can trace. But I cannot do it from here. And you say there are guards without the door…” Now she looked swiftly to her maid.

  “Althama, how much will you serve me?” Tam-sin demanded bluntly.

  “Lady, I am your woman,” the maid replied simply. “What is your wish is my desire.”

  “Will they let you go forth?”

  “I think so, Lady. After they make sure that I am no messenger.”

  “What do you plan?” the Elder wanted to know.

  ’That which is my only hope. Follan, you have ever shown yourself a true liegeman to my Lord, how stand you for me?”

  “You say our Lord is not dead, and yours is said to be the talent which can separate life from death in such matters. Lady, I am with you. What is your plan?”

  “There is this,” she looked again to Althama, “I can use my talent to set upon me the look of Althama. Such a disguise cannot be long held, but perhaps it would get me out of here. And that she may not be held by Rhuys for my escapement, I shall leave her bound upon this bed. How say you?”

  The maid nodded vigorously. “Lady, if you can do this thing, then do it speedily. There are many whispers among the women and some of them are ill to hear. Lord Rhuys holds power now and you he fears and hates. But where will you go? There cannot any ship set forth from here without the knowledge of those who will speedily tell him of it, or prevent its sailing.”

  “I will not go by ship. And, Althama, neither shall I say how I go, thus they cannot press you for such an answer. Put on the pretense of hatred for me, saying that I am wild of thought because of my Lord’s loss and that you believe I have taken the Dark Road of self-destruction because of my love for him and my fear of Rhuys. To think that I fear him so much will be pleasant hearing for that one.”

  She arose from the bed and it was Follan who made tight the bonds about Althama’s wrists and ankles, also putting a gag of cloth within her mouth, but in such a way that she co
uld work that out and then call to the guards for deliverment.

  Tam-sin set on the maid’s kilt and then she stood with closed eyes for a long moment, willing upon herself the dream talent to be what she was not. She heard a gasp from Follan as she opened her eyes once again.

  “Lady, had I not seen this, I would have said it could not be so.”

  “I cannot hold the illusion long,” she told him. “Let me get to the beach where they glean among the storm wrack.”

  “That I can insure you will do,” he replied readily.

  So, wearing the illusion of Althama, she went along the corridors a respectful two paces behind the Elder who brushed past the guards as if they were unseen. Down they traveled by a narrow stair, and then by a wider one. She could hear now the calls of the women who were busy with the storm gift upon the shore as they came out into the open. There Tam-sin hurried before the Elder, as if, having been somehow kept from this treasure hunt she was now the more eager to reach the debris. But since all that nearer the keep entrance was already well swept she needs must hunt farther toward the point.

  Once there she clambered up over a tumble of rocks which were water washed, to find beyond a pocket of cover wherein but two women tugged and pulled apart the water-sodden strands of weed to see what might lie within its broken folds.

  Follan caught up with her. “Lady, there is no ship to be launched from here.”

  She nodded. “Well do I know that. Elder. But I have my own talents and such can bring me to where my Lord disappeared.” She went again toward farther rocks about which spray tossed, wetting their surfaces and streaming from their sides.

  As Tam-sin climbed up on the outermost of those she looked down and back at Follan.

  “Elder, what will Rhuys do if he finds you have given me such countenance.”

  Follan smiled wryly. “Nothing. I shall be witness to your giving yourself to the sea, Our Mother, in your frenzy of mind. But be sure of this, my Lady, Rhuys will not find it easy to rule in LochNar, regnant or no. And I shall not give him any countenance at all.”