Dreamer

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FROM SEJAL’S JOURNAL DAY 5, MONTH 11, COMMON YEAR 987

After Mother Ara got me out of the Dream, Harenn showed up at my room to examine me. I could hardly sit still for her on the bed. I had entered the Dream! I was pumped full of energy and I wanted to do it again and I didn’t want Harenn around spoiling the feeling for me. I hadn’t forgotten that she was the bitch who’d told Mom about me tricking, and now she was sitting on the chair in my room with Kendi’s readout unit on her lap.

“You have done something unprecedented,” she said. “There will be much excitement when we arrive at Bellerophon. You must be ready for that.”

That set off an alarm bell. I saw myself standing in front of a big crowd of Silent who all stared at me like some kind of freak.

“What kind of excitement?” I asked, angry at her. “Are you going to tell them about the tricking? You sure couldn’t keep your mouth shut around my mom.”

“Your mother was being uncooperative,” Harenn said. “We had little time, and I took the route that would convince her most quickly that you needed to come with us.”

“It was none of your damn business,” I snapped.

Her hand moved so fast I didn’t even see it. Suddenly my wrist was trapped in a hard grip. It hurt. “Don’t be a fool,” she hissed behind her veil. “You are everyone’s damned business.”

I didn’t like her hand on me. I was going to reach out with my mind and force her to let go when suddenly my empathy talent switched on and I flashed on her. A mix of emotion washed over me, and the topmost one was fear. I gasped. Harenn was afraid of me? Under that I noticed a sorrow and pain so deep and penetrating I was afraid I’d be sucked in. And she was also eager, so eager I was surprised she wasn’t climbing the walls.

“You can possess the non-Silent,” she said, still hissing. “Do you know what that means?”

Still awash in her emotions, I couldn’t do anything but stare at her and shake my head.

“You could assassinate any ruler you choose by making him jump off a building or swallow poison. You could take the mind of any official and use her to spy on her own government. How much do you think anyone will care that you traded simple sex for mere money?”

The emotions switched off as abruptly as they’d switched on. Harenn let go of my hand.

“The Empire of Human Unity knows of you,” Harenn continued, “and they sent a squadron of battle cruisers to take you back. Do you think a backwater gigolo rates that sort of attention?”

“I’m not a gigolo,” I snarled at her, angry again.

“No,” she returned, still calm. “You are far more than that. The problem is, you have been thinking as one.”

“That’s not true!” I snapped.

“Is it not? Tell me, then, why you left the planet that birthed you.”

I felt like my head was blowing up like a balloon. “It was a backwater slimehole,” I yelled. “We lived in a slum and there was no way out of it.”

“You lived in a clean, safe neighborhood,” she countered. “You lived in wealth and comfort compared to many of those around you. But you wanted more. So you sold your body.”

“You’re twisting it. You’re making it sound-”

“And then, when we Children of Irfan arrived and offered to take you away, you accepted without hesitation because we promised to give you what you wanted. How is this different from what you did on the streets?”

“It’s completely different!” I yelled. “It’s not the same at all. I wanted to get Mom off Rust too. I did it to help her!”

She stayed so calm I wanted to slap her. “If we had offered to take your mother off-planet on the sole condition that you remain in your slum on Rust, would you have accepted?”

“I-” I halted, unable to say anything. I should have said yes, but I wasn’t able to Okay. I’ll say it: I wasn’t able to lie that fast.

Harenn nodded. “You were selfish. And it is easy to take advantage of selfish people, Sejal. You are fortunate that the first ones to do so to you were the Children of Irfan.”

My thoughts were swirling around like a pinwheel and I couldn’t do anything but nod.

“Many people will want you,” she continued. “They will seek you out and try to use you. They will tempt you and entice you, and if you continue to think only in terms of a prostitute-and by that I mean in terms of what you can gain-then they will use you indeed, just as they would use a whore. And then they will cast you aside.”

Harenn fiddled the readout unit on her lap, the first fidgeting I had seen her do. Her words rang through my skull like a headache and it occurred to me that I had never asked why Kendi and the others had come to Rust in the first place. Everything had happened so fast, and I had just sort of assumed that Kendi had first found me by accident. A cold finger crept up my back.

“Did all of you go through all that shit on Rust just to find me?” I asked.

Harenn nodded. “Kendi was the first to feel you in the Dream, but the Unity Silent sensed you as well. Even before we found you, we knew you could perform impossible feats. Now you have pulled someone else into the Dream, and this too was thought impossible.”

“Why is it impossible?” I said. “It wasn’t hard.”

“For you, perhaps.” She paused. “Could you do such a thing for a non-Silent?”

Her eyes looked like hard brown glass. I wanted to squirm. It felt like she was examining me under a microscope. I remembered her eagerness.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“This is my selfishness, then,” she said, as if to herself. Then she took a deep breath. “Could you do it for me?”

I blinked. After her long lecture about my thinking-and I have to admit she hit close-I wasn’t sure how to react.

“You want to enter the Dream,” I stalled.

She closed her eyes briefly. “I am not Silent, but my husband is. I wish to find him.”

“You’re married?” I blurted stupidly.

“I am. I was. My husband visited a Silent son on my body ten years ago. One day I arrived home and saw he and my son Bedj-ka were gone. I have since learned many things about the husband I thought I knew. He was a criminal who hadn’t even told me his real name. I am his fourth wife and his fourth victim.”

“Victim?”

“Yes. My husband carries strong Silent genes. He marries non-Silent women, beds them until pregnancy, then steals the child away for sale into slavery.” Her voice was soft and poisonously calm. “I wish to find him. Other Silent have not been able to trace him in the Dream, but I am certain if I could do it if I could only find a way there. I know his mind. I could track him. And then-”

She made a gesture at my crotch that made me cringe.

“Oh,” I said, not sure what to tell her.

“If you learn to take non-Silent into the Dream, please alert me,” Harenn said, getting up. “I have little to offer you except friendship and gratitude, but I hope you will consider it.” And then she left.

I still have no idea what I’m going to tell her.

DAY 8, MONTH 11, COMMON YEAR 987

Kendi won’t let me back into the Dream. He says I need more controls, more people to watch me in case something goes wrong. But I know what I’m doing. I can feel it. Kendi’s got me doing more meditation exercises now, but I don’t need them. I can breathe and trance like it’s second nature. I don’t even need the drugs he says everyone else needs.

The whispering started again. Kendi says that the Silent are always at least a little aware of other minds in the Dream. That’s the whispering I hear. Traditionally, it means the Dream is calling. Some people are more sensitive to it than others, and I guess I’m pretty sensitive. When you answer by entering the Dream, the whispering ends. For a while, anyway.

Kendi says no one knows how or why this works, though some people say that a Silent’s brain is structured to need other minds around it. The Dream fills that need.

If it’s a need, then why shouldn’t I go?

DAY 15, MONTH 11, COMMON YEAR 987

We’re one day out from Bellerophon, and I did it. I went back. I’m shaky now, but I’m okay. For a minute I thought I was going to die, but It was easy, actually. I just went to bed, tranced as deep as I could, and reached for the Dream.

I opened my eyes in my room back on Rust. For a brief second, I thought I had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Then I realized that this place was too real, more real than a regular dream ever is. I half expected Mom to come walking in. Suddenly I missed her and I hoped she was safe.

I pushed the feeling aside and went exploring. The whispering was still there, but it wasn’t scary. It was comforting, a soothing presence in the background.

I left the apartment and trotted out to the street. It was empty. Kendi says that you can create animals in the Dream, but not people. Again, no one knows why. It may be a subconscious taboo that no one’s been able to overcome.

Maybe I’ll be able to do it one day.

Anyway. At the end of the street was that blackness I saw the other time, the one Sister Gretchen asked me if I was creating. Angry red cracks showed through it, and it felt powerful. It seemed bigger than last time. I stared at it. It felt like any minute the darkness was going to roll up the street like a thunderstorm.

And something in the darkness called to me. It was a strong voice, familiar and lonely. It didn’t call to me by name, but it did call. I wanted to be there, next to the darkness. The desire filled me and pulled at me. And then it happened. The city vanished around me, and I was standing on a flat surface with darkness an inch from my nose. I jumped back, lost my balance, and fell flat on my ass.

I scrambled backward. My heart was beating fast. This close to the darkness, I heard a deep thrumming, a vibration that set my teeth on edge. And the darkness wailed. It cried and screamed. My hands shook. The whole thing scared the shit out of me, but I also wanted to go into it. It’s like the way you want to pull a scab off a sore-you know it’s going to hurt, but you can’t resist.

There were other people around, some in clumps, others alone. Lots of them weren’t human. I stared. The Unity doesn’t allow non-humans, not even as slaves, and I’d only seen aliens in pictures or holograms. Most of them had too many legs or eyes or were weird colors or actually had tentacles. After a second I realized I was staring and I made myself stop.

The humming and wailing continued, like a nail dragging across glass. Something moved inside the dark, and that desire to go in filled me. I moved toward it again, ignoring an alien standing only a few yards away, and slowly put my hand out. My fingertips crept closer and barely entered the black area.

Instant cold swept my hand and arm. Some kind of force grabbed my hand and yanked me forward. I screamed. I dug in my heels and fought, but whatever it was had me good. I tried to leave the Dream the way Mother Ara had taught me, but I couldn’t think straight enough to concentrate. The force dragged me in up to my elbow.

And then two other people were beside me, pulling me back. They grabbed hold of me hard. All three of us dug in and pulled. It felt like my arm was coming off, but we didn’t stop pulling. Finally my arm wrenched free. We toppled backward into a pile with me on top and lay there breathing hard. After a second, we all rolled apart. I got up and turned to help the others up and thank them. That was when I noticed only one of them was human. The other had four legs, two arms, and a long neck with a big head. The other was a human woman with dark hair and eyes. She wore a brown robe and a gold disk on a chain. A Child of Irfan.

“You are uninjured?” the alien asked.

I tried to answer, but only squeaked. Whether it was from what had just happened or from the fact that I was facing a real alien, I’m not sure. I cleared my throat and tried again.

“I’m all right,” I said. “Thanks.”

“What possessed you to do something so foolish?” the woman asked.

I shook my head and gestured at the darkness. “What is that?”

“Is this the first time you view it?” the alien said. “You must be new in the Dream.”

“Kind of.” It suddenly occurred to me that if the woman was a Child of Irfan and she recognized me later, I might get into trouble for entering the Dream without permission. I thanked both of them again, pulled my thoughts together like Mother Ara taught me, and suddenly I was back in my room on the ship.

I sat up and looked at my arm. It still ached, and I felt bruises forming where the alien and the woman had hauled on me. Kendi had warned me this would happen, that any injury I received in the Dream would carry over into my physical body. I went down to the bathroom and took a hot shower, and that helped. I can’t ask for painkillers without Harenn asking why.

Speaking of Harenn, she hasn’t asked me again if I would take her into the Dream, though she nods when I meet her in the corridor or at meals. Part of me says I should do it and make her owe me, but then I realize I’m thinking like a gigolo again. Part of me says I should do it because it would help her. And part of me says I should just stay out of the whole thing.

When I was little and saw Mom making big decisions for the community, I thought it must be great to boss people around. I couldn’t wait to be an adult so I could make big decisions too. Now that it’s happening, I don’t want it.

Sometimes growing up really shits.

Kendi tapped the final keys that brought the Post Script into orbit around Bellerophon. Ara was engrossed with receiving last-minute landing instructions, Gretchen was relaying sensor information to Kendi’s boards, and Ben Ben bent over his console, not looking in Kendi’s direction. It was as if he and Kendi had never spoken. Ben had gone right back to avoiding Kendi, refusing even speak to him except as ship’s business required. It was driving Kendi insane. He’d tried to push Ben out of his mind by putting all his energies into teaching Sejal. It didn’t work.

On the viewscreen, Bellerophon showed dark green continents and bright blue oceans beneath dramatic spirals of sweeping white clouds. Kendi sighed. After so much time on red Rust, the green, cool forests of Bellerophon called to him, making him long to vanish into emerald leaves and silver mists.

“He’s doing it again, Mother,” Gretchen said from her boards.

Ara looked up. “Who’s doing what?”

“Kendi. He’s making cow eyes.”

“I never made cow eyes in my life,” Kendi protested. “I’m just glad to be home.”

Gretchen snorted. “Uh huh. In a month, all you’ll be complaining about the humidity and how the trees get in the way of the view.”

“You need to shave your mustache more often, Gretchen,” Kendi said. “You’re coming across all prickly.”

This argument would have gone further, but Ara firmly put an end to it and Kendi turned his full attention back to piloting. Ben had already put the sound-dampeners on full, and the power drain made the ship sluggish. The Unity didn’t care how much noise a ship made, making the spaceport a deafening place. Things were different on Bellerophon.

After only a tiny bit of wrangling with customs, the Post Script crew was given official permission to disembark. Kendi, who had stuffed his few belongings into a single satchel, stood at the hatchway with Sejal beside him. Sejal’s possessions consisted of a single computer button with his journal on it and the collapsible flute in his pocket. He was fidgeting restlessly as Kendi opened the hatchway.

A breath of cool, damp air redolent of moss and green leaves wafted over Sejal. He inhaled deeply. His first alien breath. Kendi had landed the ship at the edge of the airfield, and the wide brown trunk of a tree dominated the view from the hatchway. It was so tall, Sejal couldn’t see the top. Between the ship and tree was a transparent chain link fence, probably to keep unauthorized people off the airfield. A light fog hovered lazily among the trees like a tattered white cloak. A bit awed, Sejal could do nothing but stare.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Gretchen ordered from behind them. “Some of us have lives, you know.”

Sejal took another humid breath, then stepped forward with an oddly stiff gait. He almost paraded down the ramp, then hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Kendi asked beside him. Gretchen pushed past them, satchel in hand, and disappeared around the ship.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been on another world,” Sejal said. “I seems like…I don’t know…like it should be something special.”

“Take a look around you,” Kendi laughed. His white teeth shone against his dark face. “Does this feel ordinary?”

Sejal looked. Ships of all shapes and sizes rested on reinforced gray aerogel just as they did in the Unity, but beyond them loomed the forest. The trees stretched as high as Unity skyscrapers, and they were so wide that thirty humans couldn’t join hands in a circle around one. Green ground-hugging vegetation misted the ground beneath them. The lowest tree branches were several stories above the ground. It was breathtaking. Sejal, a child of streets and skyscrapers, had never been outside the city, and though he had seen images of forests, he had never imagined them as looking like this.

“It’s amazing,” Sejal said, awed. “And it’s so quiet.”

As if on cue, a booming roar shattered the air. Sejal jumped. The sound was echoed by another in the far distance.

“What was that?” Sejal whispered.

“A dinosaur,” Kendi told him absently. He kept throwing glances over his shoulder as if he were looking for someone.

“A dinosaur?”

“A prehistoric lizard from Earth. The dominant animals on Bellerophon are big lizards, so the first colonists started calling them dinosaurs.”

Sejal peered nervously toward the trees. “Do they hurt people?”

“That’s what the fence is for. It keeps the dinosaurs from squashing the ships-and vice-versa.”

Kendi lead Sejal across the airfield, into the spaceport, and through another customs check. Kendi had to invoke his authority as a Child of Irfan to get Sejal, who didn’t have any sort of passport, through this stage, but Sejal barely noticed. Like the Unity port, the Bellerophon port was extremely busy. Small carts and platforms zipped by. Speakers blared announcements. Restaurants filled the air with food smells. None of this was what distracted him, however. It was the aliens. They were everywhere, walking, lurching, or slithering in shapes and sizes Sejal had never imagined. More than once he saw the creatures like the four-legged one that had saved him in the Dream. He couldn’t help staring, and Kendi had to yank him forward several times.

“I’m not used to all these aliens,” he said in apology. “Do they all live here?”

Kendi shook his head. “Most of them are just passing through. Humans and Ched-Balaar-the four-legged aliens-are the main people on Bellerophon. There’s a fair chunk of other races at the monastery, though.”

“Aren’t the Ched-Balaar the ones who showed humans the Dream?” Sejal said, again awed.

“That’s them. Come on. There’s a train to the city leaving in a few minutes, and I don’t want to miss it.”

He hustled Sejal out the port’s main entrance. A monorail train waited on a track, and the last people from the platform had boarded. Kendi and Sejal leaped aboard just as the doors were sliding shut. The train slid soundlessly forward, then uphill. Vegetation blurred into a green wall.

“Why are we going up?” Sejal said.

“The monastery-and the rest of the city-is built in the talltrees.”

“How come?”

“Easier on the ecology and easier to avoid getting eaten by a dinosaur.”

A few minutes later, Kendi and Sejal disembarked on a wooden platform high above the ground. The track and platform were partly supported by the massive branches of the talltree and partly supported by thick cables drilled into the trunk itself. The monorail slid quietly away and vanished into the leafy branches. Between the cracks of the boards under his feet, Sejal could see the empty air that dropped several hundred meters straight down into gray mist. Green leaves and brown branches surrounded them. Behind him lay the station, a building that curved around the talltree. Platforms, ramps, ladders, and staircases formed a network further up the trunk, connecting the tree to others in the forest.

“Where’s the city?” Sejal asked.

“You’re in it,” Kendi said. “This is the town center. Over there’s the town hall.”

Sejal blinked. Now that Kendi had pointed it out, Sejal could make out other structures built into other tree canopies. They were all but hidden by thick foliage.

“Come on,” Kendi said, plucking at Sejal’s elbow. “We need to go up a couple more levels to catch the shuttle back to the monastery.”

Sejal tried to obey, but it was difficult. Everything was so strange. He had no idea where he was or how to get around. With a pang he realized that if he and Kendi got separated, he wouldn’t have the faintest idea where to go or what to do.

They trotted up a wide wooden staircase. All the buildings and platforms, in fact, seemed to made of the wood instead of aerogel. When he asked about this, Kendi replied that talltree wood cured hard as steel, making it an ideal building material.

Humans and Ched-Balaar strolled the platforms. In contrast to the spaceport, no one here seemed to be in any hurry. The Ched-Balaar, in fact, were particularly slow-moved and graceful. They moved in pairs or small groups, often with humans. An odd chattering noise followed them, and Kendi explained that the Ched-Balaar spoke by clacking their teeth together. Classes in the Ched-Balaar tongue would be part of Sejal’s education at the monastery, though the instruction would be limited to understanding the language; no human could produce Ched-Balaar sounds.

They arrived at another platform and boarded another monorail. A while later, they disembarked along with a dozen or so other passengers. Sejal couldn’t keep his eyes off the Ched-Balaar in the group. Their long, mobile necks made a slow sort of dance when they moved their heads, and their hand gestures were smooth and languid.

A clattering sound brought Sejal’s head around. A Ched-Balaar stood next to them, apparently saying something, though Sejal had no idea what it was.

“Ched-Hisak!” Kendi said, and grasped both the alien’s hands enthusiastically. “Great to see you! Let me introduce my student Sejal Dasa. Sejal, this is Ched-Hisak.”

The Ched-Balaar turned to Sejal and held out its hands. Nervously, Sejal took them in his own. The palms were smooth and soft, like fine suede, and they engulfed Sejal’s hands. As they did, a jolt shot down Sejal’s spine and he gasped. Sejal had almost forgotten what happened when two Silent touched the first time. Ched-Hisak chattered at him, unfazed by the sensation.

“He greets you as one Silent to another,” Kendi said. “You can answer-he’ll understand.”

“Hello,” Sejal said uncertainly. “Pleased to meet you.”

Another monorail pulled up and Ched-Hisak released Sejal. Chatter chatter chatter.

“Thanks,” Kendi said. “We should get moving ourselves.”

They both bid Ched-Hisak good-bye. Ched-Hisak boarded the monorail and Kendi lead Sejal up the platform.

“He was one of my first instructors at the monastery,” Kendi explained. “You’ll probably have him, too.”

Sejal’s stomach tightened. “I thought you were going to be my teacher.”

“I can’t teach you everything,” Kendi said with small laugh. “You need to learn history and literature and computers and mathematics and a bazillion other things.”

“Music?” Sejal said hopefully. The monorail doors started to slide shut, then paused as a man darted into the car. Kendi and Sejal found seats in the nearly-empty car as the train slipped forward and the leaves outside made an emerald blur. The man who had boarded at the last minute stood blinking by the door. He had snowy hair and a few wrinkles. Sejal met his eyes for a moment. The man looked away.

“You mean your flute?” Kendi said. “Sure. ‘The greater your knowledge, the smaller your risk,’ as Irfan said. Once you complete the basic requirements for your degree, you can study anything you want.”

Sejal’s head was suddenly swimming. “My degree?”

“Without a degree, you can’t work in the Dream, at least not for the Children.”

Sejal fell silent for a moment. He was going to college? The idea hadn’t occurred to him, not with everything else that had been going on. Excitement filled him.

“When do we get started?” he demanded.

“As soon as you get settled in,” Kendi said. He crossed his legs at knee and ankle and suddenly Sejal wondered what it would have been like if Kendi had come on to him as a jobber. An image of the two of them in bed together with Kendi handing Sejal a fistful of kesh flashed through Sejal’s mind. He grimaced. That was behind him. He didn’t need to do that anymore.

The white-haired man settled himself in the seat next to Sejal despite the plethora of empty seats elsewhere in the car.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Does this train go to the monastery of Irfan?”

“Sure does,” Kendi replied. “And it’s the last stop, so you can’t overshoot.”

“Is that where you youngsters are going?”

Kendi nodded and stuck out his hand. “Brother Kendi Weaver. This is Sejal Dasa.”

The man flicked a glance at Sejal, then stared at Kendi’s hand as if it were a piece of rotten meat. With a curt nod, he rose and changed seats. Sejal noticed he sat close to a pair of Ched-Balaar who sat chattering on their haunches in an open space further ahead in the car.

“What the hell was that about?” Kendi said, dropping his hand. “Rude son of a bitch.”

Sejal shrugged. People were always rude at the market. Why should anything be different here? He shot a glance at the old man, but he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Sejal.

Kendi continued to chat but Sejal only listened with half an ear. It seemed like every time he looked away, he could feel the old man’s eyes on him. Whenever he checked, however, the man was invariably staring out the window or at his fingernails or at the ceiling.

After several stops, the monorail halted one more time and Kendi got up.

“We’re here,” he announced.

The old man was still on the train and he rose as well. As they and the other passengers moved to the door, the old man stumbled and reflexively caught Sejal’s bare elbow. A small shock traveled up Sejal’s spine.

“Sorry,” the old man muttered. He hurried off the train and disappeared. Sejal narrowed his eyes. The move had clearly been calculated. If Sejal had been in the market, he would have suspected a pickpocket. Sejal, however, had nothing in his pockets to steal except his flute and computer journal. A quick check showed both were still there. So what was the old man up to?

“Who is that guy?” Kendi grumped, hoisting his satchel.

“He’s Silent,” Sejal said. “I felt it when he touched me. I think he did it on purpose.”

Kendi looked at him as they exited the train. “On purpose? What for?”

“I don’t know.” Sejal scanned the platform for signs of the old man, but he was gone. “He didn’t want to touch you but he wanted to touch me. Is he a Child?”

“Doubtful. He didn’t know this train goes to the monastery. If you see him again, say something.”

The platform was like the others-wooden, wide, and surrounded by leafy branches. The station was also like the other buildings Sejal had seen-a wooden half-circle that curved around the tree. Between the leaves the sky was gray, and the breeze had turned chilly. Sejal, still dressed in thin clothes fit for Rust’s gentle climate, shivered and clasped his arms around his chest. From the platform spread a network of staircases and walkways. The stairs lead to other levels in the tree while the walkways connected the platform to other talltrees. Buildings of many sizes nested among the branches like roosting birds, and the wooden walkways clomped and thumped beneath the feet of human and Ched-Balaar alike. Other races were visible here and there, and almost everyone wore the simple gold medallion that marked the Children of Irfan. The atmosphere was relaxed and unhurried, much different from the frenzied pace of the Ijhan market.

“Come on,” Kendi said. “We need to get you settled in.”

Kendi selected a walkway seemingly at random. Sejal was a bit nervous at first-the walkway was made of wide boards suspended by cables overgrown with ivy, and it swayed beneath the rhythm of the feet that traveled it. What happened if someone tripped? It’d be all too easy to slip between cable and board and plummet to a mossy death below. When he got closer to the walkway, however, he saw that the empty spaces were covered with the same near-invisible netting that had made up the fence around the airfield. Still, looking down made his head swim.

Kendi started fearlessly across the walkway. Sejal swallowed and forced himself to follow, one hand firmly on the cable. The walkway lurched and swayed beneath, the gray sky swooped above. It was wide enough for four humans to walk side-by-side, so Sejals’ hesitant pace didn’t halt traffic, though Kendi gained quite a bit of ground before noticing Sejal was no longer right behind him. He slowed and let Sejal set the pace.

“I’d forgotten how weird the walkways are if you’ve never done it before,” Kendi said. “Once you get used to them, you won’t even think about them.”

A Ched-Balaar galloped past. The walkway lurched and swayed sickeningly, and Sejal clutched the cable with white fingers until the boards settled down again. “Why don’t they make these things solid?” he asked hoarsely.

“Flexible walkways withstand the weather better.” Kendi grinned a wide grin. “You should try getting around during a big storm. The walkways are a real challenge then.”

Sejal didn’t want to think about that. Instead he worked on simple walking. After a while, he found he was able to forget the drop and walk a little more briskly if he didn’t look over the side.

As they walked, Kendi stopped several times to exchange greetings with other pedestrians, both human and alien. Kendi shook hands, exchanged hugs, and slapped palms with at least a people. Although he introduced Sejal as his student, he didn’t let anyone touch him, explaining that a Silent greeting would only add to Sejal’s vertigo. Sejal merely nodded, suddenly shy under the blur of names and faces. Back in the neighborhood, he had known everyone by sight and name. Here, he knew no one, and it was disconcerting. He felt like a balloon anchored by the thinnest of threads.

Eventually, they reached what Kendi said was the student dormitory. Sejal, engrossed in watching the boards as they went by beneath his feet, looked up and gasped.

The place was enormous, several stories high with balconies jutting out like dozens of cupped hands. Warm brown wood and clinging green ivy made the place seem friendly and home-like despite its size. Stairs, ramps, and even climbing ropes and sliding poles ran every which way. Even as Sejal watched, a teenage boy dropped from one balcony to the one below.

“They’re not supposed to do that,” Kendi said wryly. “But everyone does. Just don’t get caught, all right?”

Sejal could only nod. He wouldn’t get caught, largely because there was no way in hell he was going to do that

A great curving balcony held the main entrance of the dormitory. Kendi took Sejal inside. Sejal’s thin shoes came down on freshly-scoured wooden floors. The ceiling of the entry area was high, with bare beams and a great many windows. Two humans staffed a wide desk near the front door. Kendi introduced Sejal, and they registered his thumb- and voice prints. Kendi had apparently sent word ahead that Sejal was coming, for there was no hemming or fumbling for paperwork.

“Linens and such are already in the room,” one of the clerks said. “The computer will let you in. Its name is Baran.”

Sejal’s room was on the third floor. On the way up, they passed other students, all human. They nodded at Sejal and pressed fingertips to forehead at Kendi. When Sejal looked at Kendi in surprise, Kendi explained that it was a ritual salute from any student to any Child. Sejal would be expected to do the same except when it came to Kendi.

“Your fingers would eventually fall off if you saluted every time you saw me,” Kendi said.

They came upon a corridor faced with several doors. Kendi gestured at one, and Sejal pressed his thumb to the lock plate. The lock clicked and Sejal opened the door. The room beyond was cozily small, with the same scrubbed wood floor as the dorm lobby. A bed piled with white linens sat across from a desk which had a computer terminal set into it. An easy chair sat next to the closet. The room’s white walls had been freshly painted and a pair of French doors opened onto a wide, sweeping balcony. Beyond the balcony was the by-now standard view of heavy branches and thick foliage.

Sejal stared. He had been expecting a dark, closet-sized room with bunk beds and half a dozen roommates. He poked his head out the French doors. The balcony, it turned out, serviced several rooms, like an outdoor hallway.

“Bathroom’s up the hall,” Kendi said. “You’d think with all the billions brought in by our Dream communication work, they’d spring for individual facilities.”

“This is great,” Sejal said. “It’s a lot better than my room back on Rust.”

“We also need to take you clothes shopping,” Kendi said. “Then we’ll get you enrolled in classes.”

“I don’t have any money.” Sejal tested the bed by sitting down hard. It was springy but firm. “How do I pay for stuff?”

“The monastery gives all its students a small stipend. A lot of people get here with little or nothing, especially Silent who used to be slaves, so you also get a little bonus when you first arrive. Don’t get excited, though-you have to pay it all back when you graduate and start working for the Children.”

“It beats…other work,” Sejal said.

“That it does,” Kendi agreed. “Let’s go.”