Steven Harper - Dreamer

Padric sighed heavily. He could no longer reach the Dream, or even sense it directly, but, he mused, it was a small price to pay. His fortune was safe. He had moved all his assets to series of banks within easy reach of a slipship long before the Despair, as everyone was now calling it. There was also the fact that his messenger fleet was in the best position to take control of a sizeable chunk of what he was sure would become the new communication network. No human ever did anything for purely altruistic reasons. Padric knew better than to try to be an exception.

All this was thanks to Sejal.

For the first time in his life, Padric raised his glass in silent toast to a fellow human being.

How Kendi decided on a wake, Ben didn’t know. It didn’t strike him as particularly Australian. True, Kendi liked to drop odd bits of Aboriginal culture like a sower dropping seeds, but no matter how hard Ben tried, he couldn’t imagine a tribe of Aborigines standing around a piano singing “Danny Boy.”

Still, he thought, sipping from an enormous beer mug, Mom would have laughed and joined in.

The house, once Ara’s and now Ben’s, though he couldn’t bring himself to live there yet, was crammed to the rafters. People-human, Ched-Balaar, and other races-occupied every inch of floor space, and the crowd overflowed onto the wraparound balcony. It felt like the entire monastery was there.

At first Ben had been surprised at the turnout. During the Despair, dozens of people had died at the monastery alone, never mind the hundreds in the main city. It didn’t seem to Ben that there would be many in the mood to celebrate the life of a single Mother Adept. But as Ben circulated, he realized that people were remembering not only his mother, but their own dearly departed as well. He even heard people mention Pitr and Grandfather Melthine, who had slipped from his coma into a quiet death before the Despair fully struck.

Ben accepted condolences and hugs from various monks and listened to the stories they told about his mother. He hadn’t realized how many people her life had touched. Several people had clearly held her in awe, and one man told Ben that although he had never met Mother Adept Araceil in person, she had been a role-model to him all his life and he regretted not having the chance to tell her.

“I feel the same way,” Ben replied around an unexpected lump in his throat.

Ben’s aunt, uncle, and cousins were nowhere to be seen. They had lost all ability to enter the Dream and had so far refused to leave their homes. Ben’s grandmother Salman was there, however. She caught Ben’s eye across the room and raised her glass. Ben returned the salute. She couldn’t enter the Dream either, but it didn’t seemed to faze her. Now that Bellerophon had lost touch with the Independence Confederation, the planet’s council was already constructing a senatorial form of government, and Salman Reza had thrown herself into the middle of it. Ben could see where Ara had gotten her determination.

Sejal, Vidya, Prasad, and Katsu were also present. After Kendi had come out of the Dream, he had insisted they immediately set course for Rust. The planet was in chaos. A hundred factions had sprung up and the planet was almost frantically carving itself into separate countries. The Unity guard had made a half-hearted attempt at keeping order, but many of its own soldiers deserted, and there was no way to send for more.

Kendi embarked on some extensive Dream experimentation. He learned that he was one of the few Silent who could still reach the Dream, though he could no longer keep human shape there or conjure up perfectly-formed landscapes. He scoured the Dream until he ran into Sejal, who was happy to see him. Sejal, apparently, could still enter the Dream at will and was thus able to tell Kendi where on Rust to find him.

Sejal and the others with him wanted off Rust-Sejal so he could study music and Vidya so she could escape various memories. Kendi was startled to learn that Vidya’s husband Prasad and her daughter Katsu had turned up alive, and it took some time to get through all the stories.

Kendi also told Ben about his meeting with the Real People. Uncharacteristically, Kendi came to the conclusion that the “family” the Real People referred to was metaphorical. He and the Vajhurs shared a common experience that made them family, which was why the Real People had told him to go to Rust.

Ben set down his mug and took a chair. Partygoers were trickling away. A pair of drunken Ched-Balaar staggered toward the walkway as if they had trouble figuring out which of their eight legs belonged to which body. Eventually, only the Vajhurs and the original crew of the Post Script were left. Gretchen and Trish had weathered the Despair, though only Trish could still reach the Dream. Gretchen had put on a brave face, but it was clear she wasn’t taking it well.

The group sat around on couches, chairs, and the floor, talking comfortably. Kendi, cross-legged on the floor in front of Ben’s armchair, leaned back between Ben’s knees. Ben, enjoying the warmth and closeness, rubbed the back of Kendi’s neck. Kendi sighed. An emerald ring gleamed on his finger, proclaiming his recent promotion to Father.

Sejal, meanwhile, got up and crossed over to Harenn. He said something to her that Ben couldn’t hear. She stiffened and her eyes went wide above her veil. They both came over to Ben’s chair.

“I need to talk to you, Kendi,” Sejal said in low, urgent tones. “Ben too, I guess.”

“What about?” Kendi asked.

“It’s private. Can we go somewhere else?”

With a shrug, Ben got up, pulled Kendi to his feet, and lead the little group toward one of the guest rooms. A little ways away, Vidya and Trish were involved in an animated discussion about the job training program they were setting up for the slaves the Vajhurs had rescued from Rust, and Prasad occasionally put in his own comments. No one glanced their way.

Ben shut the guest room door. Stray glasses and snack plates indicated the room had been used during the wake. Harenn perched on the edge of the bed, and Sejal’s face was serious. Kendi looked mystified but curious.

“I’ll come straight to it,” Sejal said. “In all the fuss, I forgot to tell you guys about it and I only remembered just now.”

“What?” Kendi asked.

“It’s about your family,” Sejal said.

Ben stiffened. He and Kendi were just settling in together. Kendi had quietly moved his few possessions back into Ben’s little house, and Ben found it comforting beyond words to wake up next him. He didn’t want to hare off to unknown parts on another wild hunt. But a quick glance at Kendi showed only polite interest, not thirsty curiosity, on the other man’s face.

“What about them?” Kendi asked.

“And why am I here?” Harenn put in.

“When I was in the Dream and gathering everyone together,” Sejal said, “I felt every Silent in the galaxy. It was weird. We were a group, but I could still feel individuals. Three minds felt familiar to me, even though I had never touched them before. Everything got really busy after that, and I sort of forgot about it.”

“Felt familiar?” Kendi repeated slowly.

Sejal nodded, his pale blue eyes full of adult seriousness. “Two of the minds felt similar to yours, Kendi. I can’t describe it better than that. One of them was a man, the other was a woman, and they’re both slaves on a planet named Drim.”

Kendi’s arms crept around his body until he was hugging himself tightly. “Drim,” he whispered.

Sejal nodded again. “I think you need to go there. You can probably track them through sales records, and they might know where the rest of your family is.”

Harenn leaned forward and grasped Sejal’s arm. “And the third one…was it my son?”