Dreamer (31 page)

The darkness was definitely bigger. The line of Silent he had seen the last time he had gotten this close to it was nowhere to be seen. After it had expanded so quickly last time, no one dared get close to it. Except Sejal.

The throbbing hum continued, like constant thunder. Sejal backed away from it, feeling oddly at a loss. Finally he turned his back and ran until he was a safe distance away. The wailing receded. He thought about calling up his beach again, then decided to give it a miss. The gray sky and ground fit his mood better than the beach. He was still worried about his mother. Was she all right? Had she been arrested? She had promised to find a way off Rust and get to Bellerophon, but what if she couldn’t and got caught? Even if she did show up at the monastery, Sejal wasn’t there, and Sejal hadn’t given Kendi enough information to let anyone locate him.

He tried to scuff some of the hard ground with one shoe, but the flat surface wouldn’t scuff. What was it made of, anyway? He wished he could ask Kendi about it, but Kendi wasn’t here. Sejal grimaced. He didn’t know how to feel about Kendi. On the one hand he was angry at him for not warning him about Ara and the Empress. On the other hand, he still liked Kendi and wanted to be his student. But what kind of teacher didn’t warn you that someone would try to kill you? The betrayal hurt.

Then he heard Sufur’s voice among the muted whispers around him. He cocked an ear, trying to locate the direction. Sufur sounded agitated, and that made it easier to follow the sound. Sejal eased softly closer and the terrain changed. A dozen marble steps sprang up, serving as the base for a multi-pillared hall beneath a cloudy sky. Sufur’s voice came from inside.

“—not going to lie to him about it,” Sufur was saying. “He’ll find out eventually. Besides, lying to my employees is unpleasant.”

Another voice, this one softer. Sejal couldn’t make out the words.

“They’re safe,” Sufur replied. “The lab is well-hidden. Chin Fen ran interference to keep it from being discovered before, and nowadays the Unity isn’t paying much attention to the oceans. Sejal’s parents and sister should be fine until I can get another mole into the system. But Sejal will want to see them, I’m sure.”

Sejal’s heart skipped. Sufur had information about Mom? And his dad? And his
sister?
He charged up the steps.

“You’d better go, then,” Sufur’s voice continued. “We’ll talk later.”

Sejal burst into the hall at the top of the stairs. A tall, willowy being with shockingly white hair turned in surprise. No one else was in the room. He hadn’t felt the ripples of anyone disappearing, either.

“Where’s Sufur?” Sejal demanded.

“Sejal,” the creature said in Sufur’s voice. “I was just talking about you. I have some news.”

Sejal froze in confusion. “Sufur?”

“I don’t suppose,” the creature sighed, “you could put a ‘Mister’ in front of that name. I
am
paying you a hellish amount of money, even if you don’t have any duties.”

“Uh, sure,” Sejal said, still confused. “Mr. Sufur. But what—?”

“I don’t take human form in the dream, Sejal,” Sufur explained. “Do sit down.” He gestured with long fingers at a padded chair identical to the one Sufur himself was using. It was a good five meters away from Sufur’s chair. Sejal sat, then almost immediately stood up again.

“You said something about my family,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve received word that they’re safe,” Sufur told him. “Your mother found a...facility I fund on Rust. Your father and sister are there as well. It turns out they’ve been employees of mine for quite some time.”

“Employees?” Sejal said excitedly. “What do you mean? What do they do? I need to see them!”

Sufur held up his hands. “Calm, calm. They’re doing research into the Dream. But as I said, they’re all back on Rust. You’re a wanted criminal there.”

Sejal paced in both relief and agitation. “I have to see them. I can’t stay here. It’s my mom. And...and my dad and sister. All my life I’ve wondered what my dad is like. I’ve got to see him.”

“The Unity,” Sufur pointed out, “makes that a difficult proposition.”

“No it doesn’t,” Sejal said. He circled behind the chair and grabbed the back with both hands. “I can get us through any inspection. And
you
aren’t wanted. They don’t even know about you. Do they?”

Padric Sufur shrugged thin brown shoulders. “They might, though as far as I know I’m not wanted by the Unity for anything.”

“Then let’s go.” Sejal dug his fingers into the upholstery. “When the customs people inspect, I can make sure they don’t even notice me. If you’ve got a medical kit on board, we can change my face like Harenn did and I can go anywhere I want. Come on, Mr. Sufur. We have to go.”

Sufur shook his head. The mop of pure white hair contrasted sharply with the nut-brown skin and enormous dark eyes. “It might be dangerous. And you’re young.”

“What does that matter?” Sejal almost yelled. “I have to see my family. Don’t you have a family?”

“No,” Sufur replied quietly.

Sejal deflated. “Oh. But I—”

“I do, however,” Sufur continued, “see your point. My drugs are wearing off, and I need to leave the Dream. I’ll think about this matter further.”

And he vanished. The hall instantly followed suit, leaving Sejal on the empty plain again. Sejal punched his palm with his fist. He was about to let go of the Dream when a rumble shook the plain. The whispers around him instantly went silent and Sejal automatically turned his eyes to the chaos.

It was moving forward again. Red lightning lashed out like scarlet tentacles dragging a black octopus. Sejal heard Silent shouts and screams as they fled it. Some voices vanished, swallowed into it. Thunder boomed. Sejal watched, horrified and fascinated. It was less than a hundred meters away, then fifty, then twenty. It loomed over him like a juggernaut, sucking up all the light. The screams grew louder and more intense, and it wasn’t just the darkness wailing. Sejal heard thousands, millions of voices crying out with every passing second. He felt the Dream disappearing wherever the darkness touched. Sejal turned and ran, but the darkness was faster. Lightning arced overhead and stabbed the ground ahead of him. Thunder smashed into Sejal and nearly knocked him down. He flung a glance over his shoulder. The darkness was gaining. He had to leave the Dream, but he couldn’t concentrate.

A tingle charged the air. Sejal threw himself flat and a scarlet streak of lightning flashed through the spot where he’d been standing. Another crash of thunder boomed into him. The voices rose in agony. Sejal huddled on the flat, hard ground with his hands over his ears. He forced himself to concentrate on his body. Something cold touched his foot. There was a sharp jerk.

Sejal opened his eyes. He was safe on his bed in his room on Sufur’s ship. Slowly he rolled over and sat up, trying to calm his pounding heart. There had been no sense of the darkness calling to him when it moved forward like that, only a sense of terrible hunger and angry pain. What was going on?

After a while he noticed an insistent noise. The door chime was repeating over and over.

“Come in,” Sejal called.

The door slid open, revealing the spider alien. Its—his—name was Chipk. It moved its multi-joined legs and waved its antennae. The computer came on line.

“Translation,” it said. “We have changed course. Mr. Sufur has ordered us to head for Rust. We will arrive in two days.”

Elation poured over Sejal, washing away his earlier terror. “Thanks, Chipk.”

Chipk withdrew and Sejal grinned from ear to ear.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

PLANET BELLEROPHON

BLESSED AND MOST BEAUTIFUL MONASTERY OF THE CHILDREN OF IRFAN

Let us go on committing suicide by working among our people, and let them dream life just as the lake dreams the sky.

—Miguel de Unamuno

Kendi’s mouth opened and his eyes went wide. Then he screamed.

Ben dropped his fork. Similar howls went up all over the restaurant. Several people, all of them wearing the medallions and rings that marked them as Children of Irfan, fell to the ground and curled into a fetal position. Every one of them was screaming. The people who weren’t howling, about half the population in the room, stared in stunned amazement.

Ben forced himself to move. He leaped to his feet, knocking his chair over, and rushed around to the other side of the table. Kendi continued to scream. Ben grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Kendi!” he shouted over the din. “Kendi, what’s wrong?”

But Kendi didn’t seem to hear. Ben cast about, not knowing what to do. The other unaffected restaurant patrons were similarly confused. Like Ben, some tried to help. Some sat in dumbfounded astonishment. Others bolted for the exit.

A woman scrambled to her feet and ran toward the glass doors that opened onto the restaurant balcony, her gold medallion glittering on her chest. The doors were closed but the woman smashed straight through them. Crying and bleeding, the woman reached the edge of the balcony and leaped over the edge. Her sobbing scream faded into the mist.

Ben slapped Kendi’s face and shouted his name, but Kendi still ignored him. A young man snatched up a steak knife. He slashed at the veins on his wrists, and blood splashed over his table. A waiter wrenched the knife away from him. The screaming continued, a roar that pounded at every square inch of Ben’s skin.

And then Ben felt it. A slight, subtle twist in his head. He was abruptly so alone, so achingly, horrifyingly alone. It was as if the people around him didn’t exist. A lassitude dropped over him like a heavy blanket. Just standing beside Kendi’s chair cost great effort. It took some time before he noticed that the screaming had stopped. The waiter dropped the bloody steak knife. The quiet was deafening, but Ben didn’t care. Kendi put his head down on the table. He was sobbing like a child. So were most of the other Silent in the room. The non-Silent stood or sat around looking tired and apathetic.  Scarlet blood dripped in a steady flow from the wrists of the young man. Ben shook himself. This wasn’t right. He should do something.

Ben took up a napkin from his table and went over to the bleeding man. He bound the bleeding, unresisting wrists as best he could. Every motion cost him effort. It was like his clothes were made of iron. He went back to Kendi, who was still crying quietly.

“Come on,” Ben said. “We have to go.”

He hauled Kendi to his feet and lead him out the of the restaurant. The air was brisk and the mist was heavy. Soon full summer would come, bringing gentle rains and warmer temperatures. For now, however, everything was chilly and damp. Sounds filtered through the distance-distorting mist. Ben heard weeping and shouting. A single scream rang out and abruptly hushed itself. An empty gondola coasted by. The lonely feeling welled up in Ben so strongly that tears gathered in his eyes. Kendi seemed impossibly far away, even though Ben’s skin was touching his.

Ben forced himself to keep moving. The monastery felt like a war zone after the bombs had stopped falling. People wept on the walkways or stared in shock. Some moved around trying to help, but it clearly took them a lot of energy to do so. Once they passed the body of a boy who had knotted a rope around his neck and jumped off a branch. The corpse swung gently at the end of the creaking rope.

Somehow, Ben managed to get them back to his house and up all the stairs to his front door. He let Kendi drop to the couch. Ben collapsed beside him, exhausted. Clutter had already piled up—clothes, disks, computer parts. The room was warm, however, and Ben tried to soak in the feeling. He felt detached, even uncaring. Bandaging the bleeding man and bringing Kendi to the house had been acts of reflex. There had been no emotion behind them. At last, Ben turned to Kendi.

“Kendi, what happened?” he asked. He had to shake Kendi’s shoulder before getting a response.

“I can’t feel the Dream,” Kendi answered hoarsely. “I can’t feel anything at all. It’s horrible, Ben. I don’t—”

There was a pounding at the door. Kendi fell silent. The pounding came again. Ben blinked, then found the energy to go and open the door. Harenn stood on the landing, her veil drawn haphazardly across her lower face.

“You have seen everything?” she said without preamble.

Ben nodded. “Kendi’s pretty bad. Some people committed suicide. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“When you saw the people who committed suicide,” Harenn said, “it did not much bother you, did it?”

“No,” Ben answered automatically, then realized what he was saying. It
hadn’t
bothered him. The boy who had hanged himself couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old. The image should be haunting Ben, even make him ill. But Ben simply couldn’t feel worked up about it.

“Yes,” Harenn said, echoing his thoughts. “Other people are of small interest.”

“Why not? What’s going on?”

“I will come in, first.” She brushed past Ben and came into the house. It hadn’t occurred to Ben to ask her inside. In the living room, she surveyed Kendi, who was still on the couch. “For the first time,” she said, “I believe I am glad not to be Silent.”

“What’s going on, Harenn?” Ben asked. “Do you know?”

She shrugged. “I have an idea. The darkness that everyone speaks of in the Dream has engulfed Bellerophon.”

Ben sat down heavily on his weight bench. “You’re sure?”

“It would make the most sense. I have witnessed many Silent in aparthy, just as Kendi is. They have been dealt a terrible shock.”

“Kendi says he can’t feel the Dream,” Ben said.

Harenn nodded. “Exactly. He has effectively been struck deaf and blind. The non-Silent are affected, too because our minds make up the Dream itself, but we are not as sensitive to it. We can therefore function, though it is difficult.”

“You don’t seem affected at all.” Ben had to force every word and his body felt as heavy as the weights stacked in the machine behind him. Kendi stared bleakly into space.

“I learned to cope with deep depression long ago,” Harenn said softly.

A problem stirred in Ben’s mind. He tried to focus on it, but the effort was costly. Slowly, like a bubble rising through quicksand, it came to the surface.

“What,” he asked, “about Mom?”