Wine of the Dreamers

Twelve

For an uncounted number of days, Raul Kinson sat in one of the rooms of learning, alone, many levels above the rest of the Watchers. Infrequently he went down to pick at the food on one of the trays. Once Leesa found him. He did not look at her, or hear what she said. He was vaguely aware of her presence and felt a mild distant relief when she went away.

Over and over and over again he saw, as he had seen it through Bard Lane’s eyes, the roaring ruin of the Beatty One, the ruin of his hopes, the clear cue to treachery. He wanted Leesa’s throat between his fingers, yet knew that he could not kill her.

He did not dream. He did not wish to project himself back to Earth. He had been ashamed of the Watchers before. This was a new shame, more intense than ever before. And slowly he came back to life. Hour by hour. On Earth there had been one ship. Here there were six. Would a man die outside the building? If a man could live, could find his way into one of the six ships...

He knew where the door was. If he died outside the building, it did not matter.

He went down to the lowest level, hurried by the throb of the power rooms, glancing often over his shoulder. He made certain that he was not followed. The rooms that lined the corridor leading to the door contained things that the others no longer understood. Odd garments. Tools. Undisturbed for centuries.

At last he came to the door. The top of it was on a level with his eyes. Two spoked wheels projected from the door itself. He touched one. It turned easily. He spun it hard. It spun without sound, stopped with a soft click. He did the same with the other one. He glanced back up the corridor, then grasped both wheels. His breath came deep and hard and excitement fluttered along his spine. He pulled slowly. The door opened. He knew of wind and coldness, but always he had felt them in an alien body and now he knew that such sensations had been muted. The wind was a dull knife scraping his flesh and sand, heaped against the door, trickled in onto the corridor floor. He knew that he could not stand such cold. The sand prevented him from closing the door again. He dropped to his knees and shoveled the sand back out with his hands. At last he could close the door. As he leaned against it he began to stop shaking as the warmth seeped back into his body. It seemed incredible that beyond the door there was not another corridor, equally warm.

He found the garments in the third room. They were metallic, dark green. The inner lining was soft. He found a large one, put it on awkwardly. It felt strange against his legs, heavy. The fastening was difficult until he discovered that the two strips of metal down the front would cling together firmly of their own accord.

Thus clad against the cold, it was only as he returned to the door the second time that he thought of a more obvious danger. When shut the door would remain closed until he pushed against it from the outside. But if Jord Orlan or any one of the old ones should be following him, should come and spin the wheels—

“Raul!” she said, close behind him. It startled him badly. He turned and stared at Leesa, then turned his back to her.

“Raul, you must listen to me. You must!”

“There is nothing you can say to me.”

“I know what you think of me. I betrayed you, Raul. I gave you my word and betrayed you. You know that I smashed that ship.” She laughed in a strange and brittle way. “But you see, I didn’t realize that I was betraying myself too.”

He did not turn. He stood stolidly, staring at the burnished metal of the door.

“I have dreamed many times, Raul, trying to find him. I have found Sharan Inly. I told her what I had done. She hated me, Raul. And after a long time I made her understand. She is... kind, Raul. But she cannot find him. No one knows where he has gone. And I must find him and tell him... why I did that to him.”

Behind him he heard an odd sound. A small sound. He turned. She had dropped to her knees, and sat on her heels, shoulders slumped, face in her hands.

“Never before have I seen you weep, Leesa.”

“Help me find him, Raul. Please help me.”

“I want you to find him, Leesa. I want you to see, in his mind, precisely what you did to him.”

“I know what I did to him. I was in his mind once, Raul, after it happened,” she said, lifting her tear-tracked face. “It was... horrid.”

“How can that be, Leesa? Remember? They are only dream creatures. They don’t exist. The machines are clever. The dream machines manufactured Bard Lane for your special amusement.”

“Don’t. Please don’t.”

“Don’t tell me, my sister, that you have come to believe those creatures exist,” he said mockingly. “What could have changed your mind?”

Her eyes were grave on his. There was an odd dignity about her. “I cannot think it out the way you do. I was in his mind. I know his thoughts, his memories and his dreams. I know him better than I know myself. It is just that I cannot go on living in a universe where he does not exist. And if he exists, then all the others do. You have been right. All the others have been wrong, as wrong as I have been.”

“I should trust you now?”

“Is there any reason for distrusting me... now?”

He took her hands and lifted her to her feet, and he smiled. “I shall trust you again. If you help me, maybe we can find him again. I know how you feel, Leesa, because I cannot... stop thinking, remembering. She was...”

“Sharan Inly?”

He turned away from her. “Yes, and a cruel trap for both of us, Leesa.”

“How can I help you?”

“I am going out to the ships. I am going to try to board one. I have learned some of the operating instructions. Our lifetimes will be long over before Earth builds another ship like the one you destroyed. Those ships out there have the same principle. I shall board one and I shall take it to Earth.”

Her eyes grew wide, shocked. “But...”

“It may be too cold out there. I may die. There may not be enough oxygen left on this planet. If I fail, you will go in that second room. Select a tool that cuts cables. Take it up to the dream cases by stealth. Start with the unused cases. Cut the cables on every one. Every one. Do you understand?”

“Then I will never find him.”

“That would be a good thing. I do not want to go to Sharan Inly in some other body. I want to go and touch her with this hand, look at her with these eyes. Nothing else is any good.”

“One of those ships... after so many years... it is incredible, Raul.”

“I’ve had the door open. I think I can live out there. Help me. Wait for me here. I must be able to get back inside. If anyone should come, you must keep them from touching those wheels on the door. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He went to the door and pulled it open. He saw her shrink away from the shrill wind. He lowered his head and plunged out. She pushed the door shut. He stood for a moment, turning his back to the wind, finding out if he could breathe the air. He had to breathe fast and deep. The cold bit into his bones and the sand scoured the naked backs of his hands and his cheeks. He turned and squinted across the dim plain toward the six ships. With the position determined, he walked toward them, leaning into the wind, shielding his eyes with his hand, holding the other hand in his armpit for warmth. As the unprotected hand began to grow numb, he changed hands. He looked again and saw that his hundred steps had carried him off to the left. He corrected his direction and continued on. A hundred steps more. The ships seemed no closer. The next time he looked they were closer. And then, panting with the exertion, he saw new details of their construction. He turned his back to the wind and cried out as he saw his known world far behind him. Taller than the ships, yet dwarfed by the ragged hills behind it, it reached white levels up toward the purpled sky. Blank featureless walls, each level recessed a bit, reaching up to a dizzy height above him.

He fought the desire to return. He went on. Behind him, the wind erased his tracks. The ships grew larger. Their fluted sterns rested on the sand. One of them was canted at a slight angle. Never had he realized their true size, nor their distance from each other. The last hundred feet was the easiest because the nearest ship cut the force of the harsh, steady wind. The sand was piled high in long sharp ridges extending out on either side of the ship. Above him, the bulge of the ship was a dizzy overhang. The surface, though still of shining metal, was pitted and scarred and worn. And there was no way to get into the ship. No way at all. He circled it, almost weeping in frustration. Shining and unclimbable metal. He steadied himself with one hand against it as he clambered awkwardly over the drifts. Both hands were so numb that he could not feel the texture of the metal against his fingers. He made two complete circuits of the ship. Across the plain the tall white world seemed to watch with silent amusement.

He tripped and fell heavily. His face struck against the side of the ship, half stunning him. He lay, trying to summon up the energy he would need to get back to his feet. The ship was inches from his eyes. He tensed. An angular crack showed in the metal, too straight to be accidental. He sat with spread legs, like a child in a sand pile, and dug with hands that were like clubs. The crack grew, turned into the right angle of what could be a square port. He began to laugh as he dug, chuckling deep in his throat, over the wind-scream.

He stopped digging and patted the ship affectionately, called it words of endearment. And now he felt much warmer. Pleasantly warm.

He fumbled up onto his feet with drunken dignity. Pretty ship. Take him to Earth. See Sharan.

Raul turned. No need to go to Earth after all. There was Sharan, standing there, smiling. She didn’t mind the wind. She was warm too. He advanced toward her and she backed away, teasingly. His feet made no tracks in the sand.

“Sharan!” he bawled hoarsely, his voice lost in the constant wind-shriek. “Sharan!” He lifted his unfeeling legs in a stumbling run. She was still elusive, backing toward the white warm world he had left. He hoped Leesa was watching, so that she could see Sharan too. Now Sharan was gone. He couldn’t find her. He ran on and tripped and fell headlong. He was far too comfortable to get up. Too warm. The sand piled quickly up along his left side, and at last spilled across the back of his neck with a gentle touch that was like a caress.