Seven Dreams (11 page)

‘
You
mean you all have people who were deaded?’

‘
Right. Deaded.’

‘
Who?’

Serena narrowed
her eyes. ‘People.’

‘
Tell
me this one thing and then we can go on with the lesson.’ Iyamar
smiled hopefully and added, ‘Please?’ in a wheedling
tone.

‘
Teyo’s parents were killed when their house was robbed,’
Serena said rapidly. ‘Egg lost most of her family, though she still
won’t talk about how it happened. And Fabe and me, we lost our
father when he... well, he killed himself.’

Iyamar blinked.
‘Oh.’

‘
Right, so. Nobody wants to do any of that... that violence
stuff.’

Iyamar thought
about that for a while, and finally nodded. ‘Okay. You can keep the
rapier.’

‘
That’s lucky,’ said Serena with a crooked smile, ‘because I
already threw it away.’

Iyamar glared at
her. ‘You had no right to do that!’

‘
Nope,’ Serena agreed, ‘but I didn’t want it in the
house.’

‘
Meh.’

‘
What
was that?’

‘
I
said, “Meh.”‘

‘
Lovely. Can we get on with the lesson now?’

‘
Woar,
me-lady, to be sure’n we can.’

Iyamar’s queries
put Serena in mind of a duty she had been postponing. That evening,
she detoured past Fabian’s room on her way to rest and knocked.
Receiving a grunt of invitation (or she hoped that was what the
ungracious sound meant), she went in.

Fabian was lying
sprawled upon his bed, still fully dressed. He looked truly like
himself, which was a rare event these days, for he delighted in his
characters even more than Serena did. She sometimes wondered
whether he took pleasure in being someone else because he found it
difficult to be himself.

He did not look
best pleased to be interrupted, and she realised with dismay that
he was having one of his difficult days. He gazed at her out of
shadowed dark eyes, his near-black hair hanging in a tousled and
unwashed mass down to his jaw. ‘What is it?’ he
muttered.

Serena stepped
quickly inside and shut the door behind her. ‘How bad is it?’ she
said quietly.

He shrugged.
‘I’ve had worse.’

She nodded,
studying him for signs of trouble. After a few seconds of this
scrutiny, he snorted with annoyance and threw a pillow at her.
‘Stop it,’ he growled. ‘It won’t kill me.’

She returned only
a crooked smile to this sally, and sat down gingerly on the end of
the bed. ‘I was thinking... we ought to pay a visit, tomorrow. If
you think you’re going to be up to it?’

Fabian considered
that in silence, and finally shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ll
try.’

Serena nodded
once and got up. Fabian hated to be cossetted, no matter how bad he
felt. Privately, she thought that company was good for him on his
dark days; the way that he pushed people away only worried her
more. But to linger when he clearly wanted solitude would only
irritate him, so she made her way briskly to the door. ‘You know
where I am if you need me,’ she said on her way out. Fabian sighed
heavily, and said nothing.

She knew that his
ungraciousness betokened frustration with himself, not with her,
though it still disheartened her sometimes. Fabian had been prone
since childhood to dark, dark days, and this tendency had only
grown worse since... well, several years ago. At such times, he
said, he would awake to a mire of self-hatred and despair, and
nothing helped except to wait for it to pass. He despised it as a
weakness; feared, sometimes, that even his friends would imagine he
was being self-indulgent and feeble. Serena knew better, and so did
Egg and Teyo. Nothing could exceed Fabian’s own hatred and
resentment of this aspect of his character. If he could change it,
he would.

She only wished
there was more she could do for him. There was nothing, save to go
to bed and hope that, in the morning, he would be restored to his
livelier self. But she left her door slightly ajar when she
retired, just in case.

They left the
apartment before dawn on the following morning, moving as quietly
as they could to avoid waking the others. The Day Cloak still
blanketed the city of Iving in the gentler, soothing glow Serena
liked so much. Sometimes, when she was not too busy or too tired,
she stayed awake well into the Evenglow hours just to savour the
ambience. She took little pleasure in it today, however. Her errand
was not a happy one, and though Fabian assured her he was up to
making the visit, Serena was not so sure. There was still that
shadow behind his eyes, and he spoke very little as they rode the
railcar across the city.

Their destination
was a tall building on the outskirts of Iving. It was not quite a
hospital, but not quite a home either, though it was well-kept and
pleasant enough inside. Serena and Fabian climbed the stairs up to
the fourth floor and made their way to a room with the number
eighteen set into the door. Serena knocked, and a cheery female
voice bade her enter.

She did. The
speaker was a uniform-clad carer of middle years, her chestnut hair
bound up into a neat bun. She made an admirable picture of
efficiency, but Serena loved her for her smile and welcoming
manner.

‘
Good
to see you!’ she said, her hands full of blankets. ‘She’s on the
balcony. Here, why don’t you take her these?’ She offered the
blankets to Serena, but Fabian stepped forward and claimed them
with a nod of thanks. The carer — her name was Ferna, though they
had never learned her surname — smiled upon them both and quietly
left the room, closing the door discreetly behind her.

Serena made for
the narrow door that led to the balcony, frowning slightly. The
weather was too cold for sitting out there, surely? But then, the
blankets. Ferna knew best, of course, but still, the wind was chill
indeed.

A forlorn figure
sat huddled in a rocking chair just outside the door. She was
wrapped up to her chin in a huge woollen shawl which she clutched
tightly to herself, as much for security as for warmth, Serena
guessed. Her grey hair was tousled from the wind, and hung loose;
she had not permitted Ferna to braid it today, apparently. She
looked up as Serena arrived, and stared at her for several
agonising seconds without a trace of recognition in her
eyes.

‘
Good
morning, Ma,’ said Serena with her warmest smile.

Serena and Fabian
were both undisguised today; they never pretended, when they came
here. It only confused and frightened their mother, who struggled
to recognise them even without the complications of wiggery and
make-up. It was one of the things that saddened Serena the most,
for she had once delighted in their playacting. Now, Serena even
tried to keep her curly, dark brown hair in the same simple
hairstyle when she visited, afraid that even the smallest
alteration might be enough to hopelessly befuddle her
mother.

Fabian devoted
himself to spreading Ferna’s blankets over Theresa Carterett’s
knees and tucking them in. He was always so gentle with her, even
though it terrified him to see her. He feared that, someday,
whatever it was that afflicted him with dark moods and
self-destructive thoughts would turn into whatever it was that
robbed their mother of her memory and her personality. Nobody,
least of all Serena, could truly reassure him, for nobody knew if
the two things were connected.

Theresa turned
her eyes away from Serena’s face without seeming to know her, and
watched Fabian’s endeavours with dreamy detachment. Disappointed,
Serena pulled up a chair and sat nearby, drawing her own coat
closer around herself. The view was appealing from up here, she
could not deny. A little of the city was visible to the left of the
little balcony, and to the right were spread an array of fields
interspersed with hedgerows and little copses, their leaves burning
golden in the rising sun.

‘
Are
you warm enough?’ Fabian murmured, and was rewarded with a sudden,
glowing smile.

‘
Why,
yes, dear,’ she said, and Serena’s heart leapt. She knew him!
‘Thank you,’ continued her mother. ‘What a kind man. You remind me
of my son.’

There was silence
for a moment, and then Fabian smiled awkwardly and touched her
hair, very gently. ‘I’m sure he’s a fine fellow,’ he
said.

Their mother
nodded her agreement and began to reminisce in a low voice. All of
her memories of Fabian were from his childhood; she seemed to
recall nothing at all from the many years that had since passed.
But a smile often touched her face as she recounted his adventures
and escapades, and then she began to talk of Serena, too, in
similar style. Neither interrupted her, choosing to allow her to
enjoy her memories as she chose.

At length, she
fell silent. She had grown tired, Serena judged, for she was
drooping into her shawl. Serena rose to leave, bestowing an
affectionate embrace upon her mother. It made her happy, even if
Theresa didn’t realise from whom it came.

But as she
straightened, her mother’s eyes fixed upon her face with an
expression of startled recognition. ‘Serena?’ she
whispered.

Serena’s heart
leapt. ‘Yes!’ she said, smiling. ‘It’s me, Ma. And Fabian, too.
We’re here.’

Theresa stared
unseeingly at Serena, and then at Fabian, her mouth slightly open.
Then she said: ‘Where is your father?’

Serena bit her
lip. ‘He’s dead, Ma,’ she said, as gently as she could.

Theresa’s face
crumpled, and she began to cry. ‘Why won’t he come back?’ she
sobbed.

Serena exchanged
an agonised look with Fabian. Theresa persisted in the belief that
her husband had left her, and would someday return; she could not
be persuaded that he was gone forever. There was nothing to be done
but comfort her as best they could.

When Serena and
Fabian finally took their leave, it was in silence and with subdued
spirits. They wandered down two streets, despondent and dismayed,
before Serena finally spoke.

‘
I
need ice cream,’ she said.

Fabian nodded.
‘Lots of it, and quickly.’

Two days later,
Serena took her usual walk into the centre of Iving to peruse the
news. A set of large bulletin boards occupied one side of the
central city square, displaying all of the latest headlines, and
towards these Serena directed her steps. The boards were fashioned
via a mixture of Irbellian engineering (unrivalled across the
Seven, naturally) and the more ethereal talents of their sorcerers.
The ones in the city square were, of course, the very latest
example and very impressive indeed. They were enormous, and the
quality of the pictures they displayed was remarkable. Serena paid
a visit every day, if she possibly could, to keep abreast of the
latest news.

Usually there was
little of any particular interest, but today swiftly proved to be
different. She perused three of the four boards rapidly, finding
nothing remarkable, but the fourth... it was devoted entirely to a
single story, which was unusual. The bottom two-thirds was given
over to a cycling display of pictures, bright and vivid, and the
headlines screamed in huge letters across the top.

Ancient Site
Discovered at Balbater
!

The report,
though brief, was packed with information. Serena read it quickly.
A new archaeological dig had opened up near the town of Balbater in
southern Irbel, and it was proving to be extremely interesting to
academics across the realm. More than that; they were fevered with
excitement, babbling about the site’s total dissimilarity to
anything that had been discovered before. The pictures showed what
appeared to be an underground cavern, but curiously it was filled
with what appeared to be living vegetation, and of a kind Serena
had never seen before. Looping vines of a curious, vivid aquamarine
hung down from a rocky ceiling, decked with blue-and-purple leaves
and golden flowers. Trees and bushes of myriad shapes and sizes
clustered in groups, their foliage dazzling in cerulean and
hyacinthine hues. The floor was carpeted in a strange kind of
grass, much of it jade or teal in colour. There was even a river
running through some part of it, the water black and darkly
sparkling.

Serena was
entranced. She sometimes thought that, had things turned out
differently, she might have applied to the University of Iving’s
archaeology programme and taken up the life of an explorer and
academic. She suffered more than a little envy of the people who
were, even now, exploring this miraculous site, learning about it
and preparing their reports for the elucidation of the world. Too
bad that she had no reason whatsoever to go.

The picture of
the black river popped up again, and Serena froze. Something had
caught her eye, so tiny an image that she had missed it before. She
darted closer to the board, scrutinising the image as closely as
she could. No, she had not been mistaken.

A fierce
excitement blazed in her heart, and she stepped back with a huge
smile. Taking her voice-box out of her pocket, she switched it on
and waited. When it lit up, she spoke.