CHAPTER FIFTEEN

True love, like a cough, cannot be long concealed.

—Ched-Balaar Proverb

Grandfather Adept Melthine always held Council meetings in a medieval stone hall. Brightly-woven tapestries hung from the walls to hush echoes, and two enormous fireplaces stood at either end of hall. Shuttered windows opened on a lovely green garden. One of the walls was purposefully blank, as a result, the cracked chaos on the horizon was not visible to anyone present. Kendi, however, could feel its wrongness, just as he could hear the muffled whispering of millions of Silent in the Dream.

The meeting hall had no doors because the Silent didn’t need them in the Dream. A circle of fifteen sitting places made a ring in the center of the room. Some seats were common padded chairs for humans. Two other chairs were only large enough to seat a human child, and one chair was tall enough that Kendi’s feet wouldn’t touch the floor if he sat in it. Still other seats were simple cushions piled on the floor.

Grandfather Melthine, as head of the Council of Irfan, occupied a thronelike chair just in front of one of the fireplaces. He looked like his title—tall and silver-haired, with kind blue eyes and a lined face. A twisted walking stick leaned against his chair, and he wore a somber brown robe embroidered with fine gold thread. An amethyst ring, the symbol of his office, gleamed on his right hand.

Kendi sat next to Ara a quarter-turn clockwise around the circle from Grandfather Melthine. Because Kendi could not transport himself instantaneously through the Dream, Ara had been forced to bring him into the Council chamber, and it had taken Kendi a great effort of will not to throw up at the Grandfather Adept’s feet. The pangs of nausea were only now wearing off. He and Ara were both dressed in the formal brown robes and gold disk medallions that marked them as Children of Irfan. Kendi wore a ring with a stone of yellow amber, indicating his rank as a Brother. Ara’s ring was blue lapis lazuli, indicating her rank as a Mother Adept.

Despite his tension and the recent nausea, Kendi suppressed a yawn. He couldn’t seem to get a good night’s sleep lately. Every night he bolted awake at least once, slicked with sweat and breathing hard. He supposed he should talk to someone about it, maybe a doctor, but so much was going on lately, it didn’t seem likely he’d be able to.

One by one, other Silent appeared in the center of the circle. The first four were human, two women and two men. They were followed by a Ched-Balaar, the species that had beat humans to Bellerophon almost a thousand years ago. They were a centauroid race, tall and wide. The Ched-Balaar, a male, blinked a moment to get his bearings. His body was covered with short blond fur, and his forelegs were longer than his hind legs. All four feet were heavily clawed, suitable for digging dirt and ripping logs. His neck was almost two meters long and flexible, topped with a round head impressed with two wide, round eyes and a single round hole in the forehead. He had wide, shovel-like jaws and broad flat teeth. A pair of muscular arms were set below the neck. They ended in four-fingered hands. An indigo fluorite ring graced one finger, meaning he was a Grandfather in the order.

The Ched-Balaar settled in among a pile of cushions next to Grandfather Adept Melthine just as another Ched-Balaar appeared, and another. In all, four Ched-Balaar showed up, all ranked as Grandparent or Grandparent Adept.

The remaining four chairs were taken up by other races—a short, furry Grandmother Adept who was the same race as the Empress’s Seneschal, a ponderous elephantine Grandfather with wrinkled red skin, a multi-legged Grandmother who resembled a cat-sized centipede, and an upright, lizardly Grandfather Adept who came to Kendi’s waist.

Kendi fingered the amber ring he had conjured for his own finger, realizing with some nervousness that he was the lowest-ranked member of the order present. Then he shook his head. The Real People taught that there was no need for rank and order. Such things were artificial and arbitrary. Only the individual knew how well one’s talents had been developed or how much one had learned. But Kendi had spent over half his life among people who took rank and order very seriously, and it was difficult to hold the concepts at arm’s length.

Once everyone had settled in, Melthine rapped his twisted walking stick on the floor, and all eyes turned to him.

“Well, we all know why we’re here,” Melthine said. “No point in wasting time and drugs. Brother Kendi, Mother Adept Araceil reports that you have located a new Silent who has some unusual abilities. She also reports that, against her better judgement, you wish to take this Silent as your student.”

Kendi glanced at Ara. Her face remained expressionless. When she had first told him that Melthine was convening this Council meeting, Kendi had wondered if Ara had gone to Grandfather Melthine to tattle on him, complain that he was acting against her wishes. But then he had realized that Ara would have been lax in her duties if she didn’t report something so clearly unusual as Sejal Dasa. He noticed that he had lately regarded Ara as an adversary, and that disturbed him. They had certainly had their share of disagreements, but he would never have suspected her of trying to sabotage his career until now. He didn’t like it.

“I want to make it clear, Brother Kendi, that you’re not in trouble,” Grandfather Melthine continued. “I think it’s best if we hear what happend directly from you instead of through a recorded report. That’s why you’re here.”

Kendi relaxed a bit. “Yes, Grandfather. Where should I begin?”

“When you first noticed something odd in the Dream, if you please.”

The monks in the hall turned their full attention on Kendi. Eyes of varying sizes, shapes, and colors focused on him, and Kendi’s mouth dried up. Public speaking had never been one of his strengths. Ara conjured up a bottle of water and handed it to him. He sipped from it, grateful for both the water and the gesture. Without a word, Ara had told him that she still knew him as well as any mother and that her support lay firmly in his corner.

Kendi told the story. He left out a few details, such as the rent boys and the fact that he had suspected Sejal was his nephew. He also glossed over the Unity prison, though his heart sped up noticeably when he mentioned his arrest. Occasionally Melthine or one of the other Council members asked him to clarify a point, but for the most part they listened in attentive silence. Kendi ended with a summary of his conversation with Ara about teaching Sejal.

“I am within my rights to take him as my student,” he concluded with a note of defiance in his voice. “The law is very clear.”

The Ched-Balaar Grandfather who had first appeared in the circle spoke up in a deep, thrumming voice. “Such are unusual circumstances, Brother Kendi. You are new to instruction, and the young man requires special training for this Silence most unusual. Perhaps someone with greater experience is more appropriate.”

“Mother Adept Araceil has offered to advise me.” Kendi’s insides felt shaky but his voice remained firm. “I know I’m new to teaching, but I’m not foolish. I have no problem with shouting for help if I get in over my head.”

“Is Sejal causing the disturbances in the Dream?” asked the Ched-Balaar Grandfather.

Kendi slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not an expert in Dream mechanics. But I don’t think he is. Tremendous pain and suffering emanates from the disturbance. Sejal doesn’t seem to be in enough agony to cause anything like it.”

“Isn’t it possible that it’s subconscious?” Grandfather Melthine said.

“I suppose,” Kendi said, still dubious. “But it doesn’t feel right. Anyone in that much subconscious pain, it seems to me, wouldn’t be able to function well in the solid world either, and Sejal seems perfectly fine to me.”

“Does the Empress know of this boy?” the centipede asked.

“She does, Grandmother Nik,” Ara put in. Was that a quaver in her voice? “I have been in constant contact with her Imperial Majesty since we arrived on Rust. She has been receiving from me the reports that I’ve only recently made to the Council because her original orders were for me to keep Sejal’s existence a secret. That order has recently been rescinded.”

This brought on a storm of startled whispers among the Councilors. Melthine let it continue for a moment, then rapped his walking stick on the stone floor for attention.

“What is the Empress’s assessment, then?” he asked.

“She wants him watched carefully and she wants me to continue reporting to her.”

“What is her attitude toward the boy?” Grandmother Nik asked. Her Dream speech was high-pitched and full of little clicks. Kendi knew that in the solid world, he wouldn’t even be able to hear her voice, let alone understand her language. “Did she give you any instructions regarding him?”

Ara hesitated. “With respect, Grandmother, this would not be...an appopriate venue to answer that.”

Kendi glanced at her. She was doing it again—hiding information. He considered pressing her here in the Dream where it was impossible to lie, then discarded the idea. Pressing her was a good idea, but not here before the entire Council. He had the feeling that it would be best for him and Ara to appear united when it came to Sejal.

“Very well,” Grandmother Nik said gravely. “I respect your judgement, Mother Adept. But I will require the information at a more appropriate time.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” Ara said quietly.

“Does anyone else have any questions for Brother Kendi or Mother Ara?” Melthine asked. No one did. “Then I adjourn this meeting. Mother Ara and Brother Kendi, I do want to discuss this further with both of you when you arrive on Bellerophon. Please alert me to your arrival and let me know if anything more happens.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Kendi and Ara replied in unison.

Melthine vanished and the room went with him, leaving behind a flat, featureless plain. In the distance, no longer hidden by the castle wall, lay the deep canyon that had opened almost beneath Kendi’s feet and the cracked darkness that covered it. Ara had said there were nineteen planets hidden by the chaos, either inside it or surrounded by it, no one knew for certain which. No one had been able to communicate with the Silent on those planets, which were part of a government that called itself the People’s Planetary Democracy. The Independence Confederation, the Empire of Human Unity, and the Hadric Kingdoms had sent courier ships to investigate, but the fastest of the slipships wouldn’t arrive for at least another week, and it would take further time for them to come back. Until then, the planets remained incommunicado.

One by one, the other Council members vanished. Ara and Kendi faced each other on the blank plain.

After a few hearbeats, both of them said, “My turf?” and laughed.

“We were at your place last time,” Kendi pointed out. “Come on. The Outback isn’t far.”

“It would be even closer if you’d learn to transport yourself,” Ara grumbled, but fell into step beside him. They walked in companionable silence, and Kendi carefully called to his Outback. After a short time, the terrain changed. The plain became sandy soil dotted with scrubby plant life. The sky deepened to a stunning blue, and a gold sun shone with glittering brilliance above them. Kendi welcomed the dry heat after the cool, stony castle. His clothes melted away, leaving him barefoot in a loincloth. Ara’s robe changed into a white cloth strip over breasts and loins. The outfit worked well on Ara’s round form and dark skin.

A high, free scream overhead announced the presence of Kendi’s falcon. He put his arm up, and she dove down to land on it. He set her on his shoulder and continued walking. A short time later, they reached the cliff and the entrance to Kendi’s cave. They entered together and sat down on the sandy floor just inside the cave’s mouth. The walls were dry, and the air was cooler. The falcon leaped off his shoulder to perch on one of the rocks and preen.

“Is Sejal causing the disturbance?” Ara asked without preamble.

“I’ve thought about that a lot,” Kendi answered, “and the idea just doesn’t feel right. I can feel the pain in that blackness all the way over here, and I just don’t get the feeling that Sejal is hurting like that. Not even Harenn hurts that much.”

Ara nodded, her dark hair melding with the cave shadows. “I feel the same. And you can hear more than one voice wailing in the disturbance.”

“What kind of group could cause such a thing?” Kendi asked. “And why?”

“No way to tell right now,” Ara sighed. “Unless someone is willing to risk going inside the disturbance to look around.”

Kendi shook his head emphatically. “Not me.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Ara shifted position and sat cross-legged. “All right, let’s get this over with. Ask me what you really want to know.”

“Are you going to answer me this time?” Kendi said warily. “No evasions? No changes in subject.”

“I’ll try, Kendi,” Ara sighed. “This will be hard for me, and I want you to keep that in mind.”

The obvious pain in her dark eyes made sudden sympathy well up in Kendi’s chest. The topic was painful for her. Why hadn’t he seen that before? He could only have been making it worse, pushing at her the way he had. Shame made him fidget uncomfortably. Impulsively he reached out and took her hand the way she had so often taken his during his early, daunting excursions into the Dream.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Mother Ara,” he said. “Look, if it’ll be that painful to—”

“No. It needs to be over and done with.” She wet her lips. “Kendi, the Empress told me to watch and evaluate Sejal. She said that if, in my opinion, Sejal poses a threat to the Confederation...” She trailed off.

“Yes?” Kendi prompted, leaning forward. “The Empress said?”

“If Sejal poses a threat to Confederation,” Ara said again, forcing the words out one by one, “I am to kill him.”

Kendi blinked, uncertain he had heard correctly. He turned her words over in his mind, not quite comprehending.

“Kill Sejal?” was all he could say.

“Yes,” Ara said softly.

The simple word crashed over Kendi like a tidal wave. He dropped Ara’s hand. “You can’t mean that,” he sputtered. “Kill him? He hasn’t done anything.”

“I don’t have to kill him,” Ara said, “if he isn’t a threat to the Confederation.”

“How are you going to decide?” Kendi snapped. “And how are you going to kill him? Have you thought about that?”

“Every night since she gave me that damn order,” Ara cried. “I don’t want this reponsibility. I didn’t ask for it. But it’s mine, Kendi. I can’t do anything to change that.”

“So tell the Empress that Sejal isn’t a threat,” Kendi yelled.

“It isn’t that simple.” Ara was wringing her hands now, but Kendi’s earlier sympathy had been swallowed up by anger.

“Yes it is,” he said fiercely. “Choose not to kill him.”

Ara closed her eyes. “Kendi, weren’t your people vegetarian until they were forced into the desert by invaders?”

“What? What’s that got to do with—”

“Just answer, Kendi. It relates.”

Kendi nodded reluctantly. “Well, yeah. The Real People inhabited the coasts of Australia until the European whites forced them inland. The Outback didn’t have enough edible plant life to support the tribes, so they ate meat for the first time. But animals aren’t...aren’t...”

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Here in the Dream he couldn’t lie. The Real People thought of animals and humans as equals. Taking animal life was no different from taking human life, but sometimes sacrifice was necessary on the road of survival. Sometimes the sacrifice was the animal, and sometimes it was the human.

“Help me, Kendi,” Ara said in a soft voice. “You can help me—and help Sejal in the bargain.”

“How?” Kendi demanded.

“You’re Sejal’s teacher. Make sure he understands what his power means and how to use it wisely. And make sure he follows the precepts of Irfan. If he does that, he won’t be a threat to anyone.” She paused. “But don’t tell him about the Empress. If he knew, he would hate us, and that would make him a threat.”

Kendi had opened his mouth to disagree, then snapped it shut. Ara was entirely correct. Again.

“Well then,” Kendi said, rising, “I guess I’d better get to it.”

Ara nodded and vanished, leaving brief Dream ripples in her place. Kendi was about to do the same when an odd patch of shadow farther back in the cave caught his attention. He peered closely at it. Cold fingers trickled down the back of his neck and made his hair stand on end. Was someone there?

Kendi held out his hand. There would be a burning torch in his hand, the shaft rough, the flame bright. A soft pop, and it was so.

The torchlight flickered and danced, but the patch of shadow retained an angular, motionless regularity. Kendi cautiously moved closer. Behind him, the falcon continued to preen.

“Who’s there?” Kendi waved the torch forward, a definite tremble in his hand. Perhaps he should conjure up a weapon. Perhaps he should—

Kendi inhaled sharply. The shadow was a black iron grating that stretched across the back of the cave.

a scream and a cry and the knife flashed silver then red

Kendi’s throat thickened and he backed away. It wasn’t real. This wasn’t part of his reality. The black iron did not, would not, exist.

It remained stubbornly where it was. The falcon suddenly took off with a harsh clatter of wings that made Kendi jump. She fled out the cave’s mouth.

a tiny cry quickly silenced

Kendi flung the torch down and ran. Sand and soil rushed beneath the soles of his feet, but always he knew the black iron lay behind him.

If it be in my best interest and in the best interest of all life everywhere, Kendi thought, let me leave the Dream.

And he was standing in his room aboard the Post Script, spear propped beneath one knee. Sweat drenched his body and salt stained his cheeks. Slowly, Kendi disengaged the spear, dried himself off, and got dressed. Already the image of the iron bars was fading from his mind, and he firmly decided to let it go.

             

The cave vanished, taking Padric’s rock with it and leaving an empty plain. Padric Sufur uncoiled himself and flicked his tongue. His scaly body felt limp with relief. That had been close. Kendi was sensitive, powerful, and it had obviously been foolish to try to hide in his Dream. Padric didn’t understand the significance of the iron grating that had frightened Kendi off, but he wasn’t going to question a gift. If Kendi had explored the cave any further, Padric would certainly have been exposed.

He coiled back up into a tight spiral and rested his head on his own back. So the orders of the Empress were still in full force, and Ara wanted them kept secret from Sejal. It was good strategy, if simplistic. Like Ara said, Sejal would almost certainly hate the Children of Irfan if he learned one of them had been ordered to kill him. Yes, he certainly would.

Hissing happily to himself, Padric Sufur summoned up his concentration and vanished from the Dream.

             

The ancient rhythm was slow and soothing. Kendi could have had the computer play a recorded loop, but it was more authentic to have the drum thud and vibrate in his hands. Sejal sat propped up on his bed, the position he had found most comfortable for meditation—and one that did not allow him to nod off. His legs stretched straight in front of him and his hands were folded in his lap. A gold ring with a ruby stone encircled one finger. The ring, which had once been Kendi’s, indicated that Sejal was now officially Kendi’s student. A strange sense of deja vu stole over Kendi as he beat the drum’s ancient rhythm. For a moment, he was a student again and Ara, his teacher, was beating the drum.

Kendi glanced at the read-out monitor on the floor, which interpreted data from the band around Sejal’s right wrist. According to the brainwave patterns, Sejal was deep in a trance. The young man was a quick study.

Sejal, of course, had been overjoyed five days ago to hear that the Council had approved and acknowledged Kendi as his teacher. Kendi, still a bit shaken from the Dream, had put a wan smile on his face and forced himself to concentrate on his student.

The student Ara might have to kill.

Abruptly Kendi shifted the drum rhythm to a jarring 7/4 rhythm. Sejal’s brain patterns didn’t change. Kendi halted the drum altogether. Still no change. Kendi put two fingers into his mouth and whistled so shrilly his own ears rang. No change.

Kendi nodded, impressed. Five days of steady practice had done their job. Sejal could trance so deeply that nothing short of pain or a double snap of Kendi’s fingers—a prearranged post-hypnotic signal—could disturb him. Sejal had definite talent. It had taken Kendi over two months of practice before he was able to achieve that level of trancing. Within a couple of months, Sejal might be ready to enter—

The monitor beeped for Kendi’s attention. He glanced at it, and his eyes widened. His heart jumped. According to the brain monitor, Sejal had entered REM sleep, but his physiological signs indicated he was awake.

Sejal had entered the Dream.

Kendi bolted to his feet and fled the room. His shoes made slapping sounds on the floor and he sprinted for his own quarters.

“Peggy-Sue!” he shouted as he ran. “Open intercom to Mother Ara, Sister Gretchen, and Sister Trish. We have an emergency here!” He skidded around a corner, stabbed the entry plate by his door with one thumb, and shoved the doors open when they didn’t slide fast enough. “Sejal’s entered the Dream.”

“What?” Trish asked.

“How the hell did he do that?” Gretchen said.

“You didn’t give him any drugs, did you?” Ara demanded.

Kendi yanked open the medicine chest in his quarters and snatched up a dermospray. “I’m not stupid, Ara. He got in there by himself. Meet me on my t—”

The room spun and Kendi staggered. The dermospray clattered to the floor as he flung out a hand to steady himself on the sink. It felt as if he had been shoved from behind.

!KeNdi!

“Sejal?” he gasped. The voice had come from all around him.

“Meet you on your turf?” Trish asked, finishing his earlier sentence. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

!!keNDI!!

There was a sharp jerk, and Kendi found himself on an empty street. Nausea washed over him and he dropped retching to his knees. His hands wavered, and for a moment he saw the paving stones through them. The sensation was exactly what he felt whenever he moved instantly through the Dream. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was here, everything else was there. He was in this spot at this time.

The nausea abated. Kendi got slowly to his feet and glanced around. Where the hell was he? Colorful stalls lined the pavement, but not a single person was in sight. It was the market on Rust. The place was completely, eerily quiet except for barely-audible whispering. In the distance above and beyond the buildings was an area of blackness that looked like it had been cracked with a hammer. Red light glowed through the cracks.

This was the Dream.

“All life.” Cold stole over Kendi. He hadn’t visited the Dream since the...incident in the cave. It wasn’t that he’d been afraid. What was to fear? He’d just been too busy with Sejal.

So why was he cold?

!!kendI!!

The world twisted and suddenly Kendi was in the apartment Sejal had shared with his mother. Dry heaves forced him to hands and knees, and it was several moments before he regained his equillibrium. Outside the windows, the sky was dark and streets were empty. Kendi staggered to his feet. It had to be Sejal. There was no other explanation. Except no Silent could snatch someone else into the Dream. It was impossible.

Impossible, he thought in wonder, doesn’t seem to apply to Sejal.

Like the street, the tiny apartment seemed to be completely empty. The air was humid and stuffy and the place smelled of curry. Kendi glanced around uncertainly.

“Sejal?” he called. “Are you here?”

!!KeNDI heLp ME!!

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

“Sejal,” Kendi said, forcing himself to keep a calm tone of voice, “listen carefully. I need you to relax. Relax and breathe.”

No answer. Kendi was pretty sure what the problem was. Sejal’s mind had not yet learned how to form a body for him in the Dream, and he was wandering discorporate. If he stayed in that state long enough, the Dream would stretch and thin his mind like the wind dispersing a thread of smoke.

“Imagine yourself, your body,” Kendi said carefully. “Think about your feet and legs, how they connect and how they move. Think about your stomach and chest, how they feel and how they breathe. Think about your arms and shoulders, where they are and what they do. Think about your neck and head, how they look and what they see. Your body is here, everything else is there. You are this, the world is that.”

Kendi realized he was pacing and made himself stop.

“I am going to count. When I say three, you will be standing next to me. One...two...three.”

With a soft pop, Sejal appeared in the room with his eyes tightly shut. He was wearing the tight, ragged clothes Kendi had first seen him in. The Dream rippled briefly around him, but he seemed to be fine. Kendi’s knees went weak with relief. Sejal’s blue eyes popped open. He stared at Kendi for a moment, then burst out crying.

“God!” he sobbed. “God, I was...I was everywhere.”

Kendi, ready for the reaction, put an arm around Sejal’s shoulder and guided him to sit on the couch. “Don’t worry now,” he soothed. “You’re safe.”

After a time, Sejal calmed down. “I’m all right,” he said. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kendi told him. “That’s what I’m here for. I freaked out on Ara’s shoulder plenty of times.”

Sejal looked around. “Where are we? How did we get back ho—back to Rust?”

“We’re here because you created this place,” Kendi told him. “This is the Dream.”

“The Dream?” Sejal echoed. “How?”

“I was going to ask you,” Kendi said. Now that the initial crisis was over, Kendi had time to think about other matters, and his earlier tension remained. Sejal had yanked Kendi into the Dream and Kendi wondered if that meant he would be unable to leave it again.

“What’s the last thing you remember before everything got strange?” he asked, keeping his voice calm.

Sejal shifted and the couch cushions creaked. “I was in a trance. You were beating the drum.” He paused. “Then I heard something. It sounded like someone was calling me. You changed the drum rhythm, and I heard it again. I sort of...reached for it, and suddenly everything went crazy. I don’t know how to describe it. It was like everyplace I’d ever been was rushing around me and voices were pulling at me and the wind was ripping me apart.”

“Then what?”

Sejal furrowed his brow. “I needed help, and I called for you. I could kind of feel you. I knew where you where, and I called to you.”

“I heard you,” Kendi said. “We call that knocking.”

“Then I got really scared and I wanted you there. Like I said, I could feel you, so I reached for you and...and I pulled. Then I heard your voice telling me what to do. I did it, and next thing I know I’m standing in the living room. Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Kendi shook his head. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

~Kendi?~

It was Ara’s voice.

“We’re here,” he called. “Can you find us?”

The Dream rippled, and Ara popped into existence. Sejal drew back from her slightly.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Is everyone all right?”

“We’re fine,” Kendi said, and explained what had happened. Just as he was reaching the end of it, Trish and Gretchen appeared, meaning he had to repeat everything. Then Sejal told his version. Kendi noticed that even in the Dream Trish had dark circles around her eyes. She obviously hadn’t been sleeping well since Pitr’s death.

“How,” Gretchen asked, “did Sejal pull you into the Dream, Kendi?”

Kendi shook his head. “I don’t know. It might be an off-shoot of his ability to possess people. I mean, we send our minds out of the Dream to take another Silent. In a way, he’s doing something similar.”

Sejal said nothing.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here,” Ara said decisively. “The instability has grown, and it’s too dangerous to stay.”

Gretchen turned to Sejal. “Are you creating it?”

“Creating what?” he asked, bewildered.

“The black cloud,” Trish said. Her voice was quiet. “Didn’t you see it?”

Sejal nodded. “Yeah, but I thought it was just...part of the landscape or something. I don’t think I created it. I don’t even know how I created all this.” He gestured at the apartment.

“Reflex,” Kendi explained. “When most Silent first visit the Dream, they create familiar, safe places. Eventually you’ll be able to make whatever environment you want, but for now—”

“Let’s discuss it later,” Ara interrupted. “Kendi, can you get back out of the Dream?”

“I don’t know,” Kendi admitted nervously.

“Try,” Ara urged. “We’ll guide Sejal out.”

Kendi closed his eyes and gathered his concentration despite a pounding heart. If it is in my best interest and in the best interest of all life everywhere, he thought, let me leave the Dream.

A falling sensation. Kendi flailed about, but he felt nothing, saw nothing. A scream tried to tear itself from his throat, but he didn’t have a throat.

Abruptly he was looking at a misty gray thing. Kendi didn’t move. After a moment, the gray thing resolved itself into the ceiling in his quarters. He was lying on his bed. The position was a bit disconcerting—usually he came out of the Dream with his spear propped solidly under his knee. He felt disoriented and dizzy.

A head moved into his field of vision. Worried blue eyes looked down at him from beneath tousled red hair.

“Ben?” Kendi asked, and noticed his mouth was dry as Outback sand. Disorientation made his mind wander like the needle on a dropped compass. He needed something solid to hold onto, something to bring him back to earth. Without thinking he reached up a hand and touched Ben’s cheek. It was warm and slightly raspy. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to do that, though he couldn’t remember why. He pulled his hand back, feeling foolish.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked, ignoring Kendi’s gesture.

“Thirsty,” he croaked.

Ben left and returned with a glass of water. He helped Kendi to a sitting position. Kendi felt the quiet strength in Ben’s arm and, sighing, let himself lean against the other man. The room settled a bit. Ben was solid, reassuring, unlike the changeable Dream. Oddly, Ben didn’t pull away. Kendi’s unfocused mind tried to analyze the situation for a moment, then gave up and just drank in Ben’s presence. They sat there on the bed, Ben’s arm encircling Kendi’s back and chest. Kendi could feel Ben’s breathing. Thirst burned in Kendi’s throat and he knew he should check on Sejal, but he didn’t want to move and lose Ben’s embrace. Eventually thirst drove him to reach for the water, but his hands were clumsy. Ben held the glass and helped him drink. Kendi concentrated on the physical sensation of the cool water slipping down his throat, and his focus slowly returned. Briefly he considered playing up the muzziness to keep Ben’s arm around him, then discarded the idea. He didn’t like lying to Ben, even in that small way.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m okay now.”

As Kendi expected, Ben moved away, though he didn’t get off the bed. He turned sideways to face Kendi. Kendi could still feel the warm stripe of Ben’s body heat on his back and side.

“What happened to you?” Ben asked, his voice carefully neutral. For a third time, Kendi explained. As he spoke, it dawned on him that this was an historical event. No one had ever been pulled into the Dream like this. It would probably be best to write a report or something so other people could read it or he’d end up repeating it even on his deathbed. The Grandparent Adepts back on Bellerophon would certainly want the details, and Kendi should record them before they faded even from Kendi’s trained memory.

“Kendi, do you hear me?” came Harenn’s voice from the intercom as he finished.

“I’m here,” he said. “And even in one piece. Are you with Sejal?”

“Yes. He woke up a few minutes ago, so I am assuming Mother Ara and the others showed him how to exit the Dream. Physically he seems to be fine.”

“Thanks,” Kendi said, relieved. “I’ll come down and check on him as soon as I can. Peggy-Sue, close intercom.”

Silence fell over the room.

“Can you stand up?” Ben asked.

“I don’t want to try yet,” Kendi said. “I don’t know why I’m so...off-balance. I shouldn’t be.”

“Psychosomatics?” Ben hazarded. “You usually use drugs to reach the Dream, but this time you didn’t. Something’s different, so you figure you should be off-kilter and that means you are.”

“Maybe.” Kendi inhaled deeply, exhaled hard, experimentally waved a hand in front of his face. Everything seemed to be working all right, but his knees felt a little weak. “Thanks for coming by. I really appreciate it.”

Ben shrugged. Another moment of silence passed.

“Ben—” Kendi began.

“No, Kendi.”

Kendi started to protest, then halted. He looked away, his jaw working in and out. His throat felt tight. He dropped his eyes and picked at the bedspread.

“You promised we’d talk later,” Kendi said softly. “It’s later, Ben. I know you still...care. I can tell. So tell me why you made me leave.”

Ben remained stonily mute, though he made no move to get up. Kendi didn’t look at Ben’s face, afraid Ben would bolt if he did, though he could see Ben’s hands resting on his crossed legs.

“Is it something to do with Ara?” he asked. “Something she said?”

No answer.

“Have you found someone else?” This question was hard to ask, and Kendi kept his eyes down.

Still no answer. Small relief.

“Is it because I’m a Child of Irfan?”

One hand made a shrugging motion.

“You don’t like that I’m a Child?”

Smaller shrugging motion.

A knot grew in Kendi’s stomach, but he said the words. “Ben, if you asked me to, I’d leave the—”

“No you wouldn’t,” Ben interrupted, and this time Kendi did look up. Ben’s blue eyes were flat, and a thread of anger touched Kendi.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded.

Ben exhaled sharply. “Look Kendi, do you know why I work for the Children? Even though I’m not Silent?”

“Because your mother’s an Ad—” Kendi started, then stopped. “You’re going to say that’s not the reason why.”

“You’re right.” Ben licked his lips. “Have you got any idea what it’s like growing up the only non-Silent member of a Silent family?”

Kendi mutely shook his head.

“It means you’re alone a lot.” Ben’s blue eyes drifted. “Mom was always running here and there, tracking down or saving Silent. Nana and Papa were busy, too, even though they’re supposed to be semi-retired. Aunt Sil and Uncle Hazid and my cousins—they’re all Silent. I’m the outsider. The freak who can’t reach the Dream.”

Kendi grabbed Ben’s pale hand with his dark one. “Hey—you aren’t a freak. If anything, the Silent are freaks.”

“Not in my family,” Ben said bitterly. “When we were younger, my cousins made fun of me behind the adults’ backs. My aunt and uncle and grandparents treated me like I was semi-retarded or something. When I got older, my cousins looked—still look—at me with pity or contempt. They’re always in the Dream or planning their next trip into it. Mom, too.”

Kendi realized Ben hadn’t pulled his hand away and took it as a good sign. “So why work for the Children?”

“At least this way I can do something. You want a computer hacked? An engine repaired? A ship piloted? I’m your man. You want a Dream, call someone who counts.”

“You count to me,” Kendi said seriously. “And you count to your mom. I love you and need you, Ben. You keep me grounded in the real world. You stay serious when I get stupid.”

“I can’t follow you, Kendi,” Ben said in a flat voice. “The Dream calls and you have to answer. So does Mom and everyone else.”

“And you think you can’t compete,” Kendi finished with sudden insight. “Ben, that’s bullshit. You’re more important to me than—”

“It doesn’t matter, Kendi,” Ben said. He set Kendi’s hand aside. “I can’t wait for you on the sidelines. I won’t be the spouse who waits for you to come home from something I can’t understand.”

Ben got up and started for the door, leaving an empty space on the bed. Kendi’s stomach lurched. He knew that once Ben walked through that door that any hope of a future with him would end. He wanted to grab Ben, snatch him back and hold him. The yearning filled him until it was a physical pain. The door slid open.

And then Kendi knew what to say.

“What if you could go into the Dream?” he said.

Ben halted and turned. “What?”

“Sejal pulled me into the Dream,” Kendi said. “What if he could do the same for you?”

“I’m not Silent, Kendi.” But a haunted look stole over Ben’s handsome face. Excitement rose. Kendi scooted to the edge of the bed and got to his feet. His legs were steady now. It was going to be all right. Sejal would take Ben into the Dream, and Ben would finally see what it was like. His family problems would be over, and he could move back in with Kendi. They would be together again. Kendi’s heart sang with joy.

“Genetically you are Silent,” Kendi reminded him urgently. “What if all you need to reach the Dream is a jump-start? I’ll bet Sejal could do it. You could start training, even be a Brother. What about that?”

Ben stared wide-eyed, like a deer frozen in a spotlight. Then he turned and fled the room.