Nightmare

tired hand over his face and his expression softened.

'There were four victims here on Dream Station,' he said. 'Polly Garvin, Minn Araq, Riann Keller, and Liss Padel. Liss Padel was my wife.'

'I’m sorry,' Tan said softly.

He nodded. 'It was a decade ago. I usually think I’m past it, then something happens to remind me of her and I learn I’m not. Usually what I feel is anger. The bastard that killed her is walking around free. I was removed from the case, of course-conflict of interest-but it didn’t matter. No more victims showed up. We never learned who did it. Ten years later, I get a message from an old friend that two monks from Bellerophon are looking for a killer who chops off fingers. I think you now understand how the Chief of Security for Dreamers, Inc., found time to see you.' Rashid gave a wan smile. 'But I’m being rude. Please come and sit.'

He ushered them to a group of cushioned highback chairs that huddled around the fireplace. The top of the chair was at least two heads higher than Ara’s head once she sat down, and she rather felt like a child sitting in an adult seat. A round end table held a lamp and a box of chocolates. Ara thought about reaching for one, then flashed back to Iris Temm’s house and the single chocolate missing from the box. Her appetite left her and she drew out her computer pad instead. Tan and Rashid took seats as well.

'Did the murders take place on Dream Station?' Ara asked.

'All four,' Rashid said, and then suddenly bounded to his feet. 'God, I need something. Can you excuse me for just a moment?' Without waiting for a reply, he went over to the mantle and opened an intricately-carved wooden box. From it he withdrew a brown cylinder a little thinner than a finger. He waved it, and one end glowed. A curl of smoke trickled upward and Ara smelled it, harsh and acrid. Rashid put the other end to his mouth and inhaled. Ara couldn’t keep from staring. She had heard about this habit but had never seen it in action. Rashid noticed her gaze.

'An expensive vice,' he said, 'especially on a station. But someone in my position is allowed a few indulgences. Would you like to try one?'

'Thank you, no,' Ara said.

'It’s not Thursday,' Tan murmured, and Ara shot her a hard look.

Rashid took his seat again and tapped the ash into a crystal receptacle. Cigarettes, Ara remembered. They were called cigarettes. 'Shall I begin or should you?'

'Let’s start with our end,' Tan said. 'Then you can tell us what you know and we can examine each other’s files.'

Rashid waved his cigarette, leaving a trail of smoke in assent.

'A little over two years ago,' Tan began, 'a Silent Sister named Prinna Meg was found dead. Levels of psytonin in her brain indicated she was in the Dream when she died. Her body was found with bruises and abrasions- indications of psychosomatic trauma. Her left little finger was cut off. Sewn to the stump was the finger of another woman, someone we still haven’t identified. There were no witnesses to Meg’s death in the Dream or in the solid world. A search of her house uncovered no significant clues. We took pictures and holographic images of everything anyway.'

Rashid blew out a cloud of smoke. Ara found the smell dry and cloying but didn’t feel it was proper to say anything. She tried to breathe shallowly.

'About a year after that-I can give you an exact number of days, if you like-Sister Wren Hamil was also found dead. Circumstances were the exactly same. Killer cut off her left little finger post-mortem and sewed Meg’s finger on in its place. Eleven months later, Sister Iris Temm turned up dead in her home. Hamil’s finger was sewn to her left hand. At this point, we knew what we were dealing with and we brought in Mother Ara here.'

'To what end?' Rashid tapped his cigarette ash into the crystal receptacle again. 'My sources-and yes, I did check up on you both-indicate that you, Mother Ara, are not an investigator.'

'I was brought in as a consultant in morphic Dream theory,' Ara said. 'I can sometimes recreate other people’s scenes in the Dream.'

Rashid’s dark eyes glittered and he leaned forward. 'Ah! So you recreated the murder, then. Did you see the killer?'

'Yes and no,' Ara said. 'I saw the murderer do his work. He killed Iris by bringing her Dream landscape to life. He appeared to her as a man dressed in black with a wide-brimmed hat that left his face in shadow. I wasn’t able to see his face.'

'So his Dream form is different from his solid one,' Rashid mused.

'After he killed Iris,' Ara continued, 'he cut off her finger and used it to write the number twelve on her forehead. We’re assuming he’s numbering his victims.' Ara’s stomach began to churn. Memories of all the corpses she had seen, both Dream and solid, swirled through her mind and combined with the cigarette smoke to nauseating affect. She forced herself to go on. 'We know the killer is powerful in the Dream. Not only does his mind overpower those of his victims, he also recreates their landscapes and their corpses, keeping the scene ‘alive’ even after the originating Silent is dead. I didn’t even notice a transitional waver between Iris’s death and the killer’s recreation.' She stood up. 'I think I need something to drink.'

Rashid started to rise. 'What would you like?'

'If that’s the bar over there, I can get it,' Ara said almost shortly. 'Inspector Tan can continue.'

'Things get a little more complicated after this,' Tan began as Ara headed for the bar and Rashid resumed his seat. 'About nine months after Iris Temm died, the killer murdered Mother Diane Giday. But we didn’t find the body until after he took another victim-Vera Cheel. So we found them out of order. That confused us for a while because Cheel was wearing a finger we couldn’t identify. Only two weeks had gone by between the murders of Giday and Cheel.'

'So the killer is escalating,' Rashid said. He ground his cigarette out.

'Looks that way,' Tan agreed. 'We weren’t able to recreate Giday’s murder in the Dream, but with Vera Cheel we got a break.'

Ara sniffed the contents of three decanters before she found the brandy. She sloshed a healthy dollop into a glass and started back toward the trio of chairs. On the way, she impulsively hooked a small plate of canapes. Did Rashid always have this sort of thing just sitting out, or was it there because he knew Ara and Tan were coming?

'What sort of break?' Rashid asked.

'A witness.'

Rashid bolted upright. 'Someone who saw the actual murder in the Dream? Who?'

'One of my students happened on it by sheer chance.' Ara settled in her chair and took a sip of brandy. It was light and dry, and it burned pleasantly all the way down until it outlined her stomach in warmth. She let it settle a moment before describing what Kendi had experienced. During the retelling she had to pause for two more sips of brandy.

'Unfortunately,' she concluded, 'none of this gave us a clue to the killer’s true identity.'

'At first,' Tan put in, and Ara thankfully let her take over the narrative again. She settled back into her chair and popped a salmon-cream cheese puff into her mouth. It was delicately and perfectly seasoned.

'After Mother Ara had a chance to investigate the solid-world murder scenes,' Tan continued, 'she noticed something. Each of the victims had received a gift before she died. We assume it came from the killer. The gifts were always some sort of love token that came in a set that matched the victim’s number. Iris Temm, the twelfth victim, received a box of twelve chocolates. Vera Cheel, victim number thirteen, received thirteen roses, and so on. After the killer did his work, he took a single token back, so Temm’s chocolate box had one missing, for example.'

'Strange,' Rashid murmured. Ara tried to read his expression and found she couldn’t.

'But that’s not all he took,' Tan said. 'He also took some sort of intimate object-a pair of panties, an earring, a shoe.'

'A finger,' Rashid said grimly.

'Until recently we also had no suspects, but then things changed.' Tan remained still and upright in her chair, reciting the story as if she were a recording. 'A student at the monastery recently exhibited strange behavior- irrationality, wide behavioral changes, alterations in word use-and then she attacked another student.'

'My son,' Ara put in.

'After the attack, she disappeared,' Tan said. 'When we searched her room, we found a shirt with Diane