Steven Harper - Dreamer

“Kendi?” she said dangerously.

“Check the seamier parts of town,” he said. “Get started while you talk to the Empress.”

He was about to mention the orange when a falcon screamed overhead. Kendi held out his arm. The falcon landed, and new knowledge instantly flooded his mind. For a moment there were two of him, one standing next to a burbling fountain, the other perched on a wiry forearm.

“Did she-you-find Rustic Silent?” Gretchen asked.

Kendi nodded, and the falcon duplicated the movement. For a moment he lost his balance, then regained it as the disorientation passed. He flung his arm up, tossing the falcon to the skies. She beat her wings to gain altitude, then circled overhead.

“I’ll let her lead you to them,” Kendi said. “We’ll go through my turf, all right?”

“Why can’t you just take us to them directly?” Gretchen grumbled.

Kendi shook his head. He knew that distance had no meaning in the Dream. He knew that the need to walk to other “places” through his own Outback was purely artificial. All this his conscious mind knew. It seemed, however, that his subconscious held more sway.

“Sorry,” he said, rising. “That’s the best I can do.”

“Just make sure you conjure me some decent clothes, then,” Gretchen told him. “I’m not going on a nude walkabout.”

“Be careful,” Ara cautioned.

“I’ll make sure we’re wearing clean underwear,” Kendi said solemnly, and trotted off before Ara could reply. Gretchen scrambled to follow while the falcon flew ahead. Kendi heard a heavy sigh from Ara before the fountain disappeared behind them and he smiled quietly to himself.

A moment later, the landscape changed back to the scrubby plain. Hard heat and sunlight beat down from the cloudless sky. Kendi’s clothes melted away until he wore only a loincloth, and that only because he knew Gretchen didn’t want to see him naked. Gretchen’s robe reformed itself into a khaki explorer’s outfit, complete with pith helmet and hiking boots. They walked in silence, following the falcon toward the Silent on Rust. After a moment Kendi realized he hadn’t mentioned the rotten orange to Ara. He paused to turn back.

“Now what?” Gretchen asked, annoyed.

Kendi glanced in the direction of Ara’s garden, then resumed walking. Ara was already in a bad mood. There was no point in making it worse. He could ask her about it later.

THE DREAM

Mother Adept Araceil sighed as Kendi and Gretchen vanished into the trees. Both of them were odd in their way. Gretchen had a mouth, and Kendi was, well…Kendi. He had some strange views. What she knew of the Australian aboriginal tribes of Earth did not quite paint a picture that resembled her best and most powerful student.

Ex-student, she reminded herself. Kendi had taken his vows to become a Brother almost a year ago, but Ara still hadn’t made the mental adjustment. He was certatinly powerful. She knew of no one else who could split his mind into two pieces in the Dream. But his attitude!

At least he’s better than he once was, she thought ruefully. It’s hard to remember sometimes.

Ara stood up and concentrated for a moment. Her mind cast out, searching for a pattern she had been given. When she found it, she willed herself to let go of her garden.

She found herself in a grand hall with polished floors of gray marble and soaring pillars. The pressure of someone else’s Dream perceptions pushed on Ara’s mind, ordering her not to dictate reality. With a deep breath, Ara forced herself to comply. It was like making herself let go of an ocean life raft. Even after decades of Dream experience, it was hard for her to give up control.

It had been pure hell keeping this fact from Kendi.

A furious tapping of footsteps clicked toward Ara, and a clawed creature the size of a small bear approached. It had a flattened head and rounded body, with furry arms that ended in stubby fingers. A silver Seneschal’s chain ringed its neck.

“Who are you and what do you need?” the creature asked. It wasn’t speaking her language, of course. Language did not exist in the Dream. Here, the Silent communicated by direct exchange of ideas. Ara’s mind, however, automatically transformed the concepts she received into language.

Ara bowed and gave her name. “I need to send a report to her Imperial Majesty. Is a Silent messenger available, Seneschal?”

The Seneschal clacked its claws on the polished floor. “I have instructions to convey you directly to her Imperial Majesty for any report, Mother Adept.”

Ara blinked, then hurriedly followed the Seneschal, who was already clicking across the hall to a great set of double doors. Ara gathered her robes, wishing she had more time to prepare. She wasn’t ready for another Imperial audience. Her knowledge of Imperial etiquette was limited, and the idea of looking the fool filled Ara with dread.

The Seneschal opened the great doors and guided Ara inside. The room beyond was midnight dark except for a dozen tiny lights floating that floated slowly about like fireflies.

“Choose anyone you like,” the Seneschal said. “The Empress awaits.”

Ara made herself reach for one of the lights at random. It-he-froze at her touch.

May I use your body, Silent brother? she asked.

I live to serve, came the reply. Count to ten that I may position myself.

Ara counted, then pushed. She found herself kneeling on a pillow. Green-blue grass covered the ground, and a fresh summer breeze wafted around her. Ara’s head was bowed low, all but touching the ground.

“You may rise, Mother Adept,” said a female voice.

Ara brought herself to a kneeling position and used the time to take stock of the body she possessed. It was a well-muscled male. Brown hair dusted his forearms, and his torso was lean and strong. He wore voluminous black trousers and a collar, the marks of a Silent slave. A thrill rippled through Ara. No matter how often she did it, she always found it incredible that her body was light-years away while her mind was here, on another world in the body of another Silent.

Ara snuck a glance at her surroundings. Her first audience with the Empress had taken place in a small room, when her Imperial Majesty had personally informed Ara, one of the Children’s most successful recruiters, that she was to lead an expedition to find the body behind the mind Kendi had sensed in the Dream. This time Ara was in a white pavilion large enough to shade two or three acres. Several slaves stood poised with food and drink while a handful of others knelt on pillows similar to Ara’s. Armed guards were posted all about the pavilion.

Directly before Ara was the Imperial Majesty herself, the Empress Kan maja Kalii. She sat on a pillow which sat, in turn, on a raised dais. The Empress was close to Ara’s height, but angular and lean, with ebony-black skin and equally dark hair piled high on her head. Tiny jewels orbited her head in lieu of a crown. Silky blue robes cascaded down her shoulders. Ara couldn’t even hazard a guess at her age. The air around both Ara and the Empress shimmered slightly, meaning Kan maja Kalii had activated a sound dampener to ensure their words remained private.

“Speak, Mother Adept,” the Empress said. “You have a report?”

“I have, Imperial Majesty,” Ara replied, and explained what had happened when the Post Script arrived at Rust. The slave’s deep voice sounded odd in her ears. “The government is surely suspicious of us, but we’ve already begun searching for the child,” she finished. “I doubt the Unity Silent have uncovered its presence. My stu-that is, Brother Kendi will look for it in the underground slave market while Sister Gretchen and I explore the legal venues.”