Nightmare

CHAPTER NINE

Mother Ara turned a baleful eye on Kendi and Jeren. Kendi tried to meet it and found he couldn’t. Mother Ara had the best glare of anyone he’d ever met and he still couldn’t stand up to it. Even after repeated practice.

"Didn’t we go through this at Festival last year?" she growled. "I truly don’t know what to do with you two."

"You could-" Kendi began.

"I didn’t mean for you to give an answer," Mother Ara snapped. "I’m tired of all this. You’ve been here for-what? — a year now. An entire year. You’ve signed your contracts with the Children, you have your own teachers, you wear the ruby ring. And still you keep breaking the rules. This may come as a surprise to the both of you, but yes, it is against the rules to hijack an ultralight and buzz a pod of mickey spikes. You caused a stampede, for god’s sake. What if someone had been standing in the way? They would have been killed."

"I-" Jeren said.

"And don’t think I know how it all works by now," Mother Ara continued ruthlessly. "You, Jeren, cook up some cockeyed scheme and you egg Kendi into joining you. Kendi, I’m especially surprised at you. I thought you’d been making real progress. Then you go and do this. What would the Real People say about that kind of treatment toward animals?"

Kendi ground his teeth. That line always got to him, and Mother Ara knew it. He replied with the only defense he knew. "Most of them are dead. They don’t say much."

"Don’t get flip," she answered. "You know I’m right. And you, Jeren …"

In the end, they each got an extra four hours of work detail. As they headed out the door of Mother Ara’s tiny office at the monastery, Mother Ara called out, "Kendi, wait a moment."

Jeren caught Kendi’ eye. "I’ll catch you outside," he murmured, and shut the door.

Kendi turned back. Mother Ara was still sitting behind her desk, her hands folded on top of it. The little room was crammed with …stuff. Kendi couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. Shelves of bookdisks on the walls, a bulletin board covered with cartoons and little comics, two small statues of Irfan Qasad serving as bookends, brightly-woven wall hangings with quilting and tassels, little trinkets-some tacky, some tasteful-and a dozen awards and framed certificates all crowded around a desk top littered with more disks, a data pad, and a portable telephone. Two pots of red and blue flowers had been somehow squeezed in as a concession to Festival. A head-and-shoulders hologram of a teenage boy with red hair and blue eyes occupied the ledge below the room’s only window. The boy was good-looking and bore no resemblance to Mother Ara whatever. Kendi wondered who he was. Nephew? Family friend? He was definitely cute, whoever he was.

Mother Ara gestured to one of two chairs opposite the desk. "Kendi, sit down again."

Kendi obeyed with all the annoyed reluctance he could muster. She had already slammed him with more work detail. Like he had a lot of free time as it was. Now she going to hit him with something more? He mentally reviewed the recent past, trying to remember if he had done anything else she could get him for. He had broken the dorm curfew for underage students twice last week, but no one had caught him sneaking in, he was sure. His grades weren’t great right now, but official reports weren’t due out for almost a month, so it couldn’t be that. Unless one of his teachers had complained about him. He clenched his jaw. That was probably it. Sister Bren must have called Mother Ara again. Sister Bren had had it in for him since the first day of class, and Mother Ara would take her side. She always did.

"I’ve been wondering if you’ve given any more thought to the suggestion I made to you last week," Mother Ara said. "And the week before that. And last month."

The head of steam that had been building up inside Kendi abruptly evaporated. He knew what she was talking about, but pretended ignorance. "Suggestion?"

"Do you think about your family a lot?" Mother Ara asked.

Kendi nodded. "Yeah. So?"

"I’m not accusing you of anything, Kendi. I’m worried about you."

Kendi just looked at her without speaking.

"I said it before-you’ve been through a lot," Mother Ara said. "That kind of thing makes you angry, and the anger doesn’t just go away because you’ve been freed from slavery."

Kendi remained silent.

"You’re not alone, Kendi," Mother Ara continued quietly. She pushed aside a couple data disks and leaned her elbows on the desk. "The Children take care of their own, and you’re one of us. Kendi, please-let’s make arrangements for you to talk to someone about what you’ve been through."

"You mean a therapist. Someone who talks to crazy people."

"A counselor," Mother Ara said. "Someone who listens and helps you through-"

"I don’t have time," Kendi interrupted. "All that work detail."

"If you’ll agree to see someone, I’ll cancel the work detail."

"Is that why you gave it to me?" Kendi snapped back. "To blackmail me into seeing a therapist?"

Mother Ara’s face clouded and she looked ready to give a sharp retort, then stopped herself. "You know that’s not the case, Kendi. I want to help you. The pain you’re in is-"

"— is none of your business. Look, can I go now? I have stuff to do."

Mother Ara sighed. "All right. But at least think about what I said, all right? And don’t forget your lesson this afternoon."

"Yeah, sure," Kendi said in his least convincing voice. "Can I go?"

Mother Ara nodded and Kendi quickly left the office. Who did she think she was? Who did she think he was? Some kind of loony? Yeah, he was angry, but he was angry at Mother Ara for giving him work detail, at Sister Bren for getting on his case all the time. If they just left him alone, he’d be fine.

Outdoors, Kendi wandered over to a railing and peered down into the green depths of the forest below. Festival flowers and decorations had sprouted on houses, balconies, and walkways everywhere. It was sunny, the first sunny day after a solid week of clouds, and the air was balmy and warm, exactly as it had been on the day he had first arrived on Bellerophon last year. A lot had happened in that time. Kendi had gained several centimeters of height and survived a year of classes without exactly failing any of them. It hadn’t been easy. More than once he had been tempted to take the free one-way passage Mother Ara said he could use whenever he wanted and run off to search for his family. But each time he hadn’t gone through with it. Part of it was practicality-he had no idea where to start looking. There was also the fact that he knew his mother was Silent. The most viable place to find her, it seemed to Kendi, was the Dream, with the Children to help him. That meant working hard to reach the place himself. More than once, however, he lost sight of this and Mother Ara was always there when it happened.

"So what’d she want?" Jeren asked at his elbow. Kendi jumped.

"Don’t do that," he said. "All life, you scared the shit out of me."

Jeren grinned. "Good. So what’d she want?"

"She wanted me to see a therapist. Like I’m some loony head or something. I told I didn’t have time because of all the work detail she laid on me."

"Good one," Jeren said. His green eyes darkened with anger. The white scar still framed his left eye, and he still favored dressing in black leather, even though it was summer. "My teacher’s been the same way. Wants me to spill my guts to some total stranger and think that’s going to make me a model citizen. Fuck that."

"Yeah." Kendi paused. "So what’ve you got on your plate this afternoon?"

"Besides work detail? More Dream practice, natch." His grin grew wolfish. "Yesterday I found this orgy-no lie, guy! Whole group of people rolling around on this giant mattress. I was gonna ask if they’d let me join in-" he groped his crotch "-because I’m hung like a donkey, and I know they’d want it, but my drugs were wearing off and I had to quit. You gotta get there, man."

Kendi nodded glumly. He didn’t believe half of what Jeren told him about his adventures the Dream, but even so the subject depressed him. Jeren and Kite both had reached the Dream last month. Dorna, of course, was in and out of it all the time. Willa hadn’t gotten there yet, but that didn’t make Kendi feel any less like he was failing. He was one of the Real People. Walking the Dreamtime should be easy for him. Why was it so hard?

Jeren gave him an odd look. "What’s up with you? Old lady Rymar didn’t get you down, did she? It’s not like we did anything really wrong, no matter what she fucking says."

"I just don’t want to get into more trouble, Jeren," Kendi said. "You can do what you want, but I’m-"

"Hey guys," said a new voice. "What’s going on?"

Kendi turned. Pitr Haddis stood behind them, one hand in his pocket. He wore brown from head to foot, and an orange topaz ring graced his finger, indicating he had finished his student training and was now an apprentice to someone ranked Parent or higher. He had earned the ring only last week. Kendi, who was now certified for light aircraft and now took lessons in heavier craft from Toshi, smiled at Pitr. He’d definitely been smart to keep his mouth shut and avoid potential embarrassment. That seemed to be the best policy for this kind of thing.

"We’re bitching about Mother Ara," Jeren told him.

Kendi punched him on the arm, not hard enough to hurt but too hard to be just friendly. "We aren’t. You are."

"Yeah, well maybe you should-"

He never finished. Willa, in her modest brown dress, rushed up to them, face flushed with excitement. Dorna and Kite were right behind her.

"I did it!" Willa shouted. "You’ll never believe it, but I did it!"

Kendi stared. Willa shouting? "Did what?"

"She got into the Dream!" Dorna crowed.

A round of congratulations and hugs, including one from Pitr, who barely knew Willa. Kendi himself would barely have recognized her. Her eyes sparkled with energy and happiness and she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. She was completely unlike her normal mouselike self.

"And so close to Festival, too," Kite said. "That’s supposed to be good luck."

"What was it like for you?" Kendi demanded. A finger of jealousy poked at him.

"It’s magic." Willa leaned on the railing and the soft breeze stirred her fine brown hair. "You can make whatever you want there. I wanted it to be sunny, and it was sunny. I wanted green grass and I got green grass. It all felt completely real. I want to go back again."

"Not scared of the Dream killer, huh?" Jeren said with a malicious gleam in his eye.

"Jeren!" Kite said. "Leave her alone. The Dream killer’s gone. No one’s been attacked for months."

"Doesn’t mean anything," Jeren said. "He might be lying in wait even now, looking for just the right-"

"Let’s talk about something else, yeah?" Dorna interrupted firmly. "Come on, Willa. We need to celebrate, hey? What do you want to do?"

But Jeren’s remarks had dampened Willa’s excitement. She shrugged and toyed with the ruby student’s ring on her left hand. Kendi glared at Jeren.

"I know," Dorna continued as if nothing were wrong. "Shopping! Time to rack up some serious debt. You boys coming?"

As one, Jeren, Kendi, and Kite backed away. Dorna’s power shopping trips were legend in the student community, and they all knew from experience that they would be drafted into bearer duty. Dorna laughed and lead Willa off. Kendi watched them thoughtfully.

"Something’s weird about Dorna," he said. "Seriously weird."

"What do you mean?" Pitr asked.

"It’s hard to put my finger on it," Kendi replied. "It’s not weird in a bad way. Just weird."

"Kite’s weird, too," Jeren said. "He talks funny. All the time."

Kite, who had spent considerable time with a speech therapist and no longer tore through sentences like tissue paper, punched Jeren on the shoulder like Kendi had done. A friendly scuffle broke out between the two of them. Kendi and Pitr ignored it.

"Is it something we should talk to a Parent about?" Pitr asked.

"No," Kendi said. "It may be just the way her personality is. Let’s get some lunch."

Ara pressed the tip of the dermospray to Kendi’s upper arm and pressed the release. There was a soft thump as it shoved the drug through his skin. Swiftly, with the ease of much practice, he slipped his red spear beneath his knee and assumed his meditation pose. Despite his careful breathing, a small knot of tension formed in his stomach.

"What if it doesn’t work?" he said.

"It will work eventually," Ara told him patiently. "We haven’t lost anyone yet. Ched-Hisak is the teacher on duty in the Dream right now, so if you get there, he’ll be waiting to catch you. And don’t worry so much, Kendi. There’s no pressure. I’m not worried. You shouldn’t be either."

Kendi closed his eyes. His meditation skills had increased to the point where the only thing that could wake him was a double snap of Ara’s fingers or his conscious choice. He never lost his balance on the spear anymore, and at night his dreams were so vivid that he awoke confused about who and where he was. This, Ara told him, was a sign that he was moving closer to touching the Dream. Kendi had never again seen the Real People in any of his nocturnal dreaming, however.

Colors flickered behind his eyes. The dermospray was a cocktail of drugs mixed to react to his own physiology, a recipe refined over many centuries of experimentation. Very few people, Ara said, could reach the Dream without some kind of pharmaceutical aid.

Kendi concentrated as a hypnotic rainbow swirled in the darkness around him. The drugs induced a pleasant, floating feeling but were designed not to inhibit thought processes or become physically addictive. Kendi let himself float about at random for a while, then forced himself to concentrate. His body dropped away until he was no longer aware of the spear under his knee or of his breathing or his heartbeat. Ara had said he needed to create a personal place for himself, a place where he felt safe and happy. Kendi imagined the Australian Outback with its hot breezes and dry, rocky earth. He caught a whiff of desert air, but when he turned toward it, it disappeared. A flash of sunlight caught his attention, but it too vanished when he reached for it. A falcon cried on the high wind, but the sound faded when he tried to sense what direction it came from. Voices whispered all around him, just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to understand. Kendi ground his teeth in frustration. It was just like every other time. He couldn’t seem to-

Make a place for yourself, said the memory of Ara’s voice. A place where you feel safe and comfortable.

And then it came to him. The Outback had never felt safe and comfortable to him while he had been in it. He had hated it. Only recently had it had any kind of allure for him. Maybe he needed to try something else. Kendi cast his thoughts back to his childhood. When he and Utang had been little, they had played at pirates and convicts, people on the run. They had used an abandoned building just up the block as a hideout despite the fact that they had been forbidden to play there. Their imaginations had turned the basement into a cave, and Kendi had liked hiding in the cool, safe darkness. In the games he hadn’t seen cracked concrete walls and a collapsing staircase. He had seen smooth stone, an arched roof, and a clean, sandy floor. A hole in the roof let in dim light and provided an egress for smoke from the campfire he and Utang would have. Ancient cave art danced on the walls instead of graffiti. It was a place to stash treasure and hide from marauding bands of British convicts, broken chains still clanking at their wrists. They would never find the entrance. It was a safe place.

Kendi brought the image of the cave firmly into his mind. He could almost feel the sandy floor beneath his feet, feel the cool air, see the bright paintings, smell the campfire smoke. Whispering voices swirled around him in a strange wind. The arched roof, the entrance tunnel, the ring of stones around the fire.

A subtle shift came over the space around his body. There was a sense of vastness, an echoing space. Kendi’s eyes opened and he gasped in utter astonishment. He was standing in the cave. It was absolutely real. The cave was dim, just as he had imagined it, with a single beam of sunlight stabbing down from the hole in the high roof. A smoldering fire lay at the bottom of the sunbeam, and the sharp smell of wood smoke tanged the air. Kendi made a strangled noise, and it echoed about the cave. His bare feet whispered over dry sand as he staggered around the cave. It was big enough to park a dozen cars in, and at least five stories tall. And it felt safe.

Kendi whooped with glee and hugged himself as the sound caromed wildly off stone walls. He had done it! He had entered the Dream!

Something touched him. Kendi froze for a moment, then spun around. The touch hadn’t been a physical one. It was something else. Someone was walking toward him, and he could feel the footsteps on the ground as if the sand were his own skin. It frightened him at first, but then he knew, somehow he knew, that the touch was friendly, even familiar. A shadow moved in the tunnel that lead into the cave, and instantly Kendi knew who it was. He turned to the entrance and pressed fingertips to forehead.

"Father Ched-Hisak," he said. "I’m here."

A Ched-Balaar stepped into the cave, his head low on his serpentine neck. His blond-brown fur gleamed in the castoff sunlight from the center of the cave, and his eyes were wide and happy. He opened his mouth to speak, and Kendi braced himself for a dizzying barrage of clattering teeth and strangely-toned hooting. He had been studying the Ched-Balaar language for a year, but his understanding was severely limited. Conversing without a translator would be difficult, but he would manage. They would-

"I congratulate you, Kendi Weaver," Father Ched-Hisak said a in clear voice. "You have made yourself a fine place in the Dream."

Kendi stared, fingertips still on his forehead.

"You are surprised to understand me?" Father Ched-Hisak said, amused. "But you know to speak in the Dream is a mere exchange of ideas. You read my thoughts but you hear them as words."

"I forgot, Father," Kendi admitted. "So to you I’m chattering my teeth?"

"Indeed. You have a strange accent, but intelligible at every word. Come, then. I want to see the world you have created."

He took Kendi’s hand. Father Ched-Hisak’s palm was firm and soft as suede. That was when Kendi noticed he was naked. He looked down at himself uncertainly. Father Ched-Hisak noticed.

"You may wear anything you like," he said. "Your clothing is unimportant to such as I, but if it is important to you, then only think of what you want to be wearing and it will be so."

Instantly, Kendi was clothed in a knee-length shorts and a simple shirt. This, however, felt wrong, confining. He realized that in this place he didn’t want to wear clothing at all, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to continue appearing naked in front of Father Ched-Hisak. His clothing wavered, shrank, expanded, and shrank again until Kendi settled on a simple loincloth.

Father Ched-Hisak ducked his head in approval. "Now. This is your safe place, the place in the Dream where no one may enter unless you allow such. The tunnel I entered led me inward from your public place, where you will eventually conduct business. Please. Here in this part of the Dream you must lead me. It is more polite."

Heart beating with exultation and excitement, Kendi lead Father Ched-Hisak up the tunnel. It was just tall enough for him to stand upright, though it was pitch black. Kendi wished he had a torch or something, and in an instant he held one in his hand. He was so startled, he almost dropped it.

"You must take care," Father Ched-Hisak warned. "Here in the Dream, thoughts become reality."

The tunnel formed a spiral that lead up and out. After a few moments of walking, the spiral ended and Kendi found himself standing on a flat, rocky plain that stretched before him from horizon to horizon. Scrubby plants and ground-hugging vegetation made green-brown patches here and there. Voices whispered on the breeze, and Kendi knew they were other Silent, present but not visible to him, or he to them. Behind him rose a high cliff that seemed to touch the pure azure sky. A falcon cried overhead and dove toward the ground. A moment later, it rose again with a small animal wriggling in its talons. It was the Outback, exactly as Kendi remembered it. For the first time, it felt like home. And somewhere out there, his mother waited for him. He had but to find her.

"Come," Father Ched-Hisak said. "Show me this place."

Kendi squeezed the alien’s hand and stepped with joy into his own Dream.

Ben sat on the floor in the corner of the living room and looked longingly at his bedroom door. It was shut, and he had firm orders from Mom that it was to stay that way, with Ben on this side of it. Ben shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of his drink, trying to look interested in his surroundings when he would far rather have been somewhere, anywhere, else.

The house and balcony were crowded with teenage students, teachers from the monastery, and even a few Ched-Balaar. Conversation, both murmured and loud, filled every corner. The dining room table was laden with food and drink, and the computer played bright music from every speaker in the house. Paper Festival lanterns hung from the eaves, granting cheerful yellow light to the balmy summer darkness, and the house was filled with Festival flowers, banners, and decorations. The biggest banner said, Congratulations Jeren, Kendi, Kite, amp; Willa.

Ben hated parties, especially ones like this, where he didn’t know much of anyone. The guests were all Silent, and they didn’t often mingle with the non-Silent. There was no rule about this-it just happened that way. Ben supposed it made sense. The Silent all had something in common, so why wouldn’t they tend to stick together?

There were actually many more non-Silent on Bellerophon than Silent. However, Bellerophon’s economy centered around the Children of Irfan. In the shadow of the ecological disasters that had befallen Earth, mining, farming, and talltree harvesting were all strictly regulated. Most of what the planet produced was used by its own populace. As a result, Bellerophon’s economy depended on the income brought in by the Children of Irfan in order to obtain the goods and services Bellerophon couldn’t produce for itself. The Children of Irfan, in turn, depended on the non-Silent for food, clothing, medicine, and other necessities. It was an equitable arrangement which, in theory, fostered an atmosphere of tolerance and respect between Silent and non-Silent alike.

It didn’t, however, necessarily foster a lot of friendships. Ben lived among the Silent, attended some classes with them, but he had no friends among them. Come to that, he had no real friends even among the non-Silent. Sure, he knew people at school, but no one well enough to invite to a party, especially a Silent party.

All four of the slaves Mom had rescued last year had managed to enter the Dream. The last one, a guy named Kendi, had done it the day before yesterday, and Mom had decided to change family tradition and throw a party on Festival to celebrate. Ben, however, suspected an ulterior motive. Mom knew very well that Ben wasn’t very social, and he was sure she was hoping he’d make some friends. Festival-time of new beginnings. As a result, Ben sat stubbornly in a corner and refused to talk to anyone, except as politeness required. He knew he was being contrary, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

The party did produce one bit of good-it swallowed up Aunt Sil, Uncle Hazid, and his cousins. He hadn’t seen them all evening.

Ben’s blue-eyed gaze drifted over the crowd, most of whom were dressed in brown. Across the room, Kendi Weaver laughed at something. Ben stared at him uncertainly. He seemed so at ease in the crowd, completely sure of himself. And he was handsome, with his dark skin, tightly-curled black hair, and tall, lean build. Ben looked away quickly, but after a couple minutes found himself looking at Kendi again. He hadn’t actually met Kendi, had been actively avoiding him. Ben always avoided his mother’s one-on-one students. It was awkward all around. There was also a lingering feeling of jealousy that Ben couldn’t deny. Mom’s students were Silent. Her son was not. Which of the two, he found himself wondering, would end up having the closer relationship?

Kendi turned and caught Ben looking at him. Ben instantly glanced away, feeling unsettled and not knowing why. He sipped fruit punch from the glass on the floor beside him. What the heck was going on? Ben had never stared at someone like that before, certainly not another-

Someone plunked down on the floor next to him. Startled, Ben turned. It was Kendi. And Ben’s heart jumped into overdrive.

"Hi," Kendi said. "You’re Ben, right? Your mom is my teacher?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess," Ben stammered, and silently cursed himself. Why was he always so stupid when it came to talking with strangers? And why did this particular stranger make him blush like this?

"I’m Kendi Weaver." He held out a hand. Ben set down his glass and shook it. Kendi smiled. "Oh, that’s right. Mother Ara mentioned it, but I’d forgotten. You’re not Silent."

Mom talked about him to her students? Ben didn’t know how to feel about that. Annoyed, maybe?

"No," he said. "I’m not."

"What a relief," Kendi said, pumping Ben’s hand energetically. "All life, you have no idea what a relief it is."

Ben blinked. "Sorry?"

"Just about everyone at this party is Silent," Kendi explained, "and they’ve all been shaking my hand. I’ve been jolted so many times I feel like a lightning rod. It’s nice to shake hands with someone who isn’t going to zap me."

"Oh." Ben noticed his hand was still in Kendi’s, though they had stopped shaking. Their eyes met for an instant. Then Ben broke away and took his hand back. He swallowed hard, floundering for something to say. Kendi leaned back against the wall.

"So what’s it like growing up on Bellerophon?" he asked.

"I dunno," Ben said, and cursed himself again. But why did he care if Kendi got up and walked away?

Kendi laughed. "Yeah, stupid question. It’s not like you’d know what it’s like growing up anywhere else." He drained his glass. "You want some more to drink? I was going to get some."

"Uh, sure."

Kendi took their glasses and left. Ben watched him weave easily through the crowd, admiring the way he moved and realizing that he was looking forward to him coming back. What if he didn’t come back? Would that mean he didn’t like Ben? Would that mean he-

"Here you go." Kendi handed Ben a full glass and joined him back on the floor. "It’s a great party. Are you having fun?"

"No," Ben blurted. "I mean-it isn’t that-" He gave up. "No, not really."

"How come?"

"I don’t like parties very much." He gestured at the moving sea of humans and Ched-Balaar. "Too many people, you know?"

"You want to go for a walk, then? Maybe get away from the crowd? I wouldn’t mind either. It’s really annoying getting zapped all the time."

Ben’s instincts told him to say no. Kendi seemed loud, open, and forthright. Ben barely knew him. It would be easy enough just to refuse and things would stay the same. They would stay safe.

"Sure," he heard himself say. "Let’s go."

Kendi planted his elbows on the railing and stared off into the warm night. Ben stood beside him, leaning backward and holding the top of the rail with one hand to keep his balance. The party, loud with voices and music, lay several walkways behind them and they were at a wide space, a platform with benches and several potted plants. The scent of summer flowers lingered in the air. Insects chirped and night animals occasionally called. In the distance, Festival music played.

Ben decided it was a fine night after all. The conversation between him and Kendi had died down-or rather, Kendi had stopped talking-but Ben didn’t mind the silence. It was a comfortable silence. Usually Ben felt awkward unless the empty spaces were filled with equally empty words, but he could never think of anything to say. With Kendi, he didn’t feel like he needed to have anything to say. Ben had never felt that before with anyone, and he liked it.

Kendi pulled himself up on the rail and perched on it. Still leaning back, Ben switched hands with a small jerk. His hand ended up very close to Kendi’s, and he was filled with a sudden urge to touch Kendi’s arm, feel the smooth dark skin on his own. Confused, he switched hands one more time so he ended up a little farther away.

"Sitting on the rail will get you more work detail," he said.

Kendi shrugged. "If someone comes, I’ll jump down." He paused. "Have you ever thought of leaving Bellerophon?"

"Sometimes, yeah. You?"

"All the time. I need to find my family."

Ben snorted. "You can have mine."

"Don’t you like your mom? She’s pretty cool, even if she hands out work detail sometimes."

"I like my mom. It’s everyone else I can’t stand."

"What do you mean?"

And Ben found himself telling Kendi about the problems he had with his extended family. It was the most talking Ben had done all evening, perhaps in his entire life. Kendi listened without interrupting.

"Sounds like our families need to trade places," Kendi said when he had finished, and Ben smiled. Kendi stared at him, still perched on the rail.

"What?" Ben asked. A strange feeling fluttered around his stomach.

"I-no, it’s nothing." Kendi looked away.

"You what?" Ben persisted lightly, though he felt something heavier in the air. "What is it?"

"Uh oh." He jumped off the rail and the moment was broken. "Someone’s coming."

Ben turned. A figure was making its way toward them.

"Hey, Dorna," Kendi said when the figure got closer. "What’s up?"

"Just wondering where you two have gotten off too," Dorna said. Although the night was warm, she wore a short cloak with the hood pulled over her dark hair. "The party’s still going strong back there. A bunch of us are talking about going to see the fireworks."

"We’re just talking," Kendi said. "How’ve you been?"

"A little weird, actually." Dorna sat down on a bench near a potted blueflower bush. Ben abruptly wished she would go away and leave him alone with Kendi. "I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately."

"How come?" Kendi asked.

Go away, Ben thought.

"Nightmares." The word came out almost dreamily. "I have nightmares about people dying in the Dream."

"The Dream stalker?" Kendi said.

Dorna shrugged. "Maybe. Do you think it’s a premonition?"

"The Silent don’t get premonitions," Ben put in. "That’s not the way Silence works."

"I know that," Dorna said. "But don’t you believe that people can have dreams that come true whether they’re Silent or not?"

Ben shrugged.

"Who dies?" Kendi asked.

"I don’t know. I can never see her face. I just wake up scared it’s going to be me." She gave a little laugh. "Isn’t that stupid? The last murder was a year ago. The Dream stalker is probably long gone."

"It’s not stupid," Kendi said. "Maybe you should talk to a Parent about it."

"Maybe." Dorna gave herself a little shake. "Well, I’m going home. Maybe just telling you about the nightmares will make them go away."

And to Ben’s relief, she got up and left, vanishing into the gloom. Kendi stared after her.

"What’s the matter?" Ben asked.

"I’ve known Dorna for a year now," Kendi said pensively, "and something always bothers me about her, but I can never figure out quite what it is."

"She talks funny," Ben said.

Kendi turned. "What?"

"She talks funny," Ben repeated.

"You know, Kite said the same thing, but neither of us could describe it better than that."

Ben shrugged, not wanting to talk about Dorna. "She uses different words."

Kendi stared at him. "Say that again?"

"She uses different words."

"That’s it!" Kendi grabbed Ben’s shoulders and danced him around. "Ben, that’s it! Her words change. All life, but I’m dense."

"Okay, okay," Ben laughed, almost losing his balance. "It’s not that big a deal."

Kendi dropped his hands. "Right. Sorry. It’s just that it’s been bugging me since I met her, but I couldn’t figure it out. I wonder why she does it-or even if she knows she does it."

"Dunno. Maybe it just depends on what mood she’s in." Ben scratched his nose in consternation. His shoulders tingled from the heat of Kendi’s touch. "What was all that about nightmares and the Dream stalker?"

"No idea." Kendi cracked his knuckles. "I hope we never need to find out."

"We should probably get back to the party," Ben said reluctantly. "After all, you’re a guest of honor."

"Yeah." Kendi paused. "Hey, you want to get together some time this week?"

Ben’s heart pounded. "And do what?"

"I don’t know. Hang around. You can show me your weights."

There was a note in Kendi’s voice that Ben couldn’t read. Was Kendi offering friendship? Or more than that? And which one did Ben want? His heart was beating so fast, he was sure his shirt was shaking. Kendi looked at him, waiting for an answer.

"Sure," Ben said casually. "Whatever."

Far overhead, a firework burst into a bright orange flower.

Kendi looked around his cave in satisfaction. Everything was in place. The dry, sandy floor and smooth walls were exactly as he expected them to be, and the fire burned low below the smoke hole. He felt happy here, safe and secure. Father Ched-Hisak would not be visiting him this time-after several practice sessions, Kendi had received permission to enter the Dream unsupervised whenever he wished. Ara, in fact, had encouraged him to do so.

"Practice," she had said, "is the only way to perfect what you learn."

Kendi made his way up the spiral to the mouth of the tunnel. The Outback, hot and dry, lay before him. The wind carried countless thousands of whispers, and each voice was a Silent operating somewhere in the Dream. Kendi closed his eyes and listened. After a moment, he was able to sort some of the voices out. He recognized several people-students and teachers both-from the Festival party three days ago. If he concentrated harder, he could narrow his focus to a single voice and follow it through the Dream to find whoever it was.

Father Ched-Hisak had been impressed with the speed at which Kendi had picked up this ability. Most Silent, he said, went through months, even years, of practice before they could sense and track particular people in the Dream.

Unfortunately, no matter how long or hard he listened, he never heard his mother.

Another familiar voice caught his ear. It sounded like Dorna. She must be practicing as well. On a whim, Kendi decided to go find out what she was up to. He concentrated, listening for the direction her voice came from, then opened his eyes and trotted off.

The Outback sun lay down a hard, heavy heat that baked Kendi’s naked skin. Spiny plants tried to slash his feet, but here in the Dream, Kendi’s soles were protected by a thick slab of callus and they did no harm to him. Overhead screamed a falcon, and Kendi gave it a little wave. His mind, it seemed, ran to creating animals. This was another sign of Kendi’s power. No Silent could create people in the Dream-controlling a Dream person was more than even the most potent subconscious mind could deal with-and only a few Silent could handle animals. The falcon, however, always appeared overhead without even conscious effort on Kendi’s behalf.

Kendi followed the whispery sound of Dorna’s voice and wondered how long it would take him to learn teleportation. Distance, Ara said, ultimately meant nothing in the Dream. Carving the Dream up into different territories was merely for the convenience-and privacy-of the individual Silent. Every Silent mind in the Dream overlapped with every other mind. Most Silent’s subconscious, however, couldn’t handle that much input all at once and they therefore created artificial barriers of illusory space to separate themselves from everyone else. Once Kendi had achieved enough mastery of the Dream, Ara told him, he would be able to overcome part of his subconscious and instantly take himself to other "parts" of the Dream without having to walk there.

Kendi clambered over a pile of rocks. One of them was a shade of brilliant red that matched the color of Ben’s hair. Kendi ran a hand over his face. Ben. In the last three days, he had found himself constantly thinking of Ben. They had spent several hours together the day after the party. Ben had shown Kendi his weight machine and the computer system he had cobbled together out of spare and rebuilt parts. They had played a few sim games and then had traipsed down the stairs all the way to the bottom of the talltree forest. The cool, slightly gloomy depths with its waist-high ground cover and loamy earth made a stark contrast to the wooden walkways high in the air. They had hiked aimlessly about, keeping a sharp eye out for dinosaurs and seeing none, talking about nothing in particular.

Twice Kendi almost put his arm around Ben’s shoulders, then held back. Pup and Pitr had taught him it wouldn’t be a good idea. When Ben had smiled on the walkway outside the party that night-

Kendi swallowed. That smile, rare as a winter flower, had gone straight through him. He could still picture it when he closed his eyes at night, and it kept reappearing in his dreams.

All life, he thought. You’ve got it bad.

He forced himself to concentrate on Dorna as he walked. Her voice was growing louder now. As he got closer, he took several deep breaths and gradually relinquished his expectations of the landscape. He did not expect dry, sandy soil or a blue sky or spiny spinniflex plants. He expected nothing. This was hard to do, and it slowed Kendi down. If he came into Dorna’s space without releasing his own expectations of the environment, his and Dorna’s minds would end up fighting for control. The stronger mind would win out, and the losing mind would feel a certain amount of discomfort, or even pain. Dream etiquette demanded that the Silent moving into the other person’s turf released all expectations, just as a visitor in a solid world home would adapt to the rules and customs of the host. To newcomers like Kendi, however, this wasn’t always easy.

Kendi eased forward another step and another. The Outback melted slowly away. Kendi worked hard to keep his mind blank. Twice rocks and scrubby plants faded into view around him and Kendi took several breaths to banish them. More steps forward, and Kendi finally found himself at wrought-iron gate set into a stone wall. Clothes faded into existence on his body until he was wearing khaki trousers and a flannel shirt. Clothing, of course, was always provided by the host Silent.

Kendi pushed the gate open and stepped into a lush, well-kept garden. He looked around curiously. So this was Dorna’s turf. Flowering bushes and shrubs were everywhere, and the grass was clipped so that every blade was the same length. Flowers were laid in rows with military precision. Not one stray leaf marred the perfect lawn.

On a stone bench sat a figure with her back turned to Kendi. She wore a half-cloak with the hood drawn over her hair. Dorna. Kendi smiled and strode toward her. Abruptly she twisted around on the bench. Kendi hissed and backed up a step.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

Kendi stared. It wasn’t Dorna at all. The woman on the bench was old, with wild white hair and snaggle teeth. She even had a wart on her nose like a fairy tale witch.

"Sorry," Kendi stammered. "I was looking for someone else."

"You’re intruding in my garden," the old woman screeched. "Get the fuck out of my garden!"

"Hey, it’s all right," Kendi said, still backing away. "You don’t have to freak. I was just leaving."

"Get out!" howled the woman. "Get him, boys!"

Kendi wondered who she was talking to. Then a rosebush lunged for him. Thorns raked across Kendi’s arm, tearing his shirt and leaving a set of white-hot scratches along his skin. Ivy twirled around his feet and ankles. Kendi turned and ran, tearing up the green vines and losing a shoe in the process. Another thorny bush scored his cheek. The grass lengthened and threatened to trip him. He dove for the gate, fear clutching his stomach.

"That’s right," cackled the woman behind him. "Run from Zelda and her garden. Get out, you little shit!"

Kendi shoved the gate open and fled, bleeding and trailing bits of ivy. He ran until his legs ached and his lungs threatened to burst. When he finally stopped, he was back in the Outback. His clothes had vanished, but his arm and cheek were still bleeding.

"All life," he muttered. "What a bitch." It wasn’t as if he had trespassed on purpose. He had thought she was Dorna. Obviously his tracking needed a little work, but that didn’t mean the old lady-Zelda, she’d said her name was-had to shape her garden to attack him like that.

His arm and cheek hurt like hell. Kendi stared down at the scratches, willing them to disappear. His body was whole and unharmed. It was so and would be so …now.

Blood continued to flow. It dripped from his face down to his shoulder. Kendi was pretty sure that his body was bleeding as it lay on his bed in his room. Psychosomatic wounds, Ara called them. Whatever harm the Dream body encountered was usually visited on the solid one. Some Silent could overcome this, but not many. Kendi, obviously, wasn’t one of them yet. Maybe he should leave the Dream and get some medical-

A wave of nausea washed over him. Kendi staggered, regained his balance. What the hell? he thought. Then he felt it, a …disturbance. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. It was as if someone had just dropped something disgusting into a pool of water and Kendi could feel the ripples. He turned toward the feeling. A bad taste rose in his mouth and he spat. What was going on?

Curious despite the discomfort, Kendi trotted against the ripples, following them to their source. As he moved, the Outback faded again, this time with little effort on Kendi’s part. That meant, he knew, that a very strong mind was at work, one that could easily shake off Kendi’s puny attempt to hold onto his desert. An archway stood before him in the middle of a featureless plain. The disturbance was on the other side of the arch. Kendi stepped through.

He found himself in a giant living room. A hodge-podge of furniture-fainting couches, end tables, a variety of chairs and sofas, and low bookshelves-stood on a crazy quilt of mismatched rugs and carpets. Kendi came to an instant halt and almost cried out. On one of the sofas lay a woman. She was blond and middle-aged, with plump arms and a heavy chest. A gold medallion hung between her breasts. Chains that seemed to have sprouted from the couch itself held her down. Blood from a dozen dripping cuts and slashes covered her body, and she made faint mewling noises. Standing over her with his back to Kendi was a tall man. As Kendi watched in frozen horror, he made a swift slash with the knife. There was a snapping noise. The woman cried out, but only weakly, as one of her fingers dropped to the cushions. The man caught it up and held it like a pencil. Kendi still couldn’t move. With deliberate care, the man wrote 14 in blood on the woman’s forehead. The woman convulsed once, then went still.

"Shit!" Kendi gasped.

The man dropped the finger and spun. He was wearing a hat with a wide brim that was pulled low. Kendi couldn’t see his face. Before Kendi could react, the man lunged.