Nightmare

tiny solar systems. Lizard managed not to stare and instead put what he hoped was a friendly, obsequious smile on his face. A tastefully small orchestra provided light music from the balcony, though no one danced-that would come after dinner. Lizard guessed there were well over a hundred people present.

A steady stream of guests began to visit the hors d’oeuvre table, and Lizard found himself very busy. He and Pup alternated bringing in food trays from the kitchen, combining half-empty serving dishes, and whisking the dirty dishes away. There was, Lizard found, a certain rhythm to it, and once he got it down, it wasn’t that difficult. Once, Tira came by to inspect their work and grudgingly admitted they were doing 'an adequate job.' Lizard’s nervousness eased and he began to wish there were something he could do about his sore, pinched feet. He had hoisted yet another tray of empty serving dishes onto his shoulder and was heading for the kitchen when an old woman dressed all in black stopped him.

'Where’s the restroom, please?' she asked with more politeness than most of the guests.

Lizard nodded toward one of the staircases. 'Directly through the doors under either staircase, Mistress.'

'Thank you, dear.' Before Lizard realized what was happening, she reached up to pat his cheek like a friendly aunt. Her bare hand touched his face, and a jolt slammed through Lizard’s body. Lizard gasped, and the room twisted around him. The tray fell from his shoulder with a ear-shattering crash of breaking crystal and ringing silver. After a moment the vertigo faded and he became aware he was on hands and knees amid shards of glass and scattered serving spoons. A ring of people had surrounded him. The orchestra had fallen silent. Tira’s angry face appeared among the crowd, and a part of Lizard knew that his chances of promotion to house slave had vanished like water on a hot stove.

'Lizard?' Pup said beside him. 'Are you hurt? What’s wrong?'

'I don’t know.' He let Pup help him to his feet. 'She touched me, and-'

'What’s going on here?' demanded a new voice. Giselle Blanc, dressed in a pale green gown, pushed her way to the front of the crowd. She took in the scene at a glance and turned to face the crowd. 'A small accident. Thank you for your concern, my friends. Please return to your conversations. Everything is under control. Orchestra?'

This last was clearly an order, and the music immediately resumed. The crowd drifted away, leaving Mistress Blanc, Pup, Lizard, and the old woman in black.

'Get this mess cleaned up,' Blanc snapped. 'How could you be so clumsy?'

'It wasn’t his fault, Giselle,' said the old woman. 'The boy is Silent. Didn’t you know?'

Blanc blinked. 'Silent? What do you mean? How do you know he’s Silent?'

'I touched him,' the woman said simply. 'You should have him tested, of course, but the touch is never wrong.'

Blanc stood motionless for a moment. Conversation and music mingled on the ballroom floor behind her. Then she pointed at Pup. 'You. Clean up this mess. You-' she pointed at Lizard '-come with me. Clara, would you mind?'

'Not at all, dear.'

The two women turned and walked toward one of the exits without looking back. Bewildered, Lizard shot Pup a glance. Pup, who had knelt to gather up the debris, gestured at him to follow and gave him a thumbs-up sign.

'What’s Silent mean?' Lizard hissed at him.

'Go!' Pup hissed back. 'And be sure you remember your friends later.'

More confused than ever, Lizard trotted away. He followed Mistress Blanc and the old woman named Clara out of the ballroom, along a corridor, and through a set of double doors into a large room paneled with blond wood. A huge silk rug covered the center of the burnished floor, and an enormous desk sat next to a stone fireplace. Shelves were crammed with bookdisks, and statues of frogs were everywhere. A wet bar occupied one corner. It was well after sunset, and the windows showed only a reflection of the room itself. Blanc motioned Clara to a leather easy chair while she opened a decanter at the bar.

'Brandy?' she asked.

'No thank you, dear,' Clara said from the depths of the chair.

Lizard wasn’t sure what to do, so he stood next to the door. His heart pounded like a hyperactive hammer and he was starting to sweat. Was he in trouble for dropping the tray? Doubtful-Pup had looked happy for him. So why was he here?

Blanc splashed red-brown liquid into a glass the size of a balloon and took up a chair behind the desk. She swirled the brandy, sipped. 'You say my slave Lizard is Silent.'

Clara gave a prim smile. 'Of course.'

'I don’t understand how.' Blanc set the snifter down and tapped her desk. A holographic screen winked into view and text scrolled across it. 'It’s as I remembered. His papers state he was found on an STL colony ship that left Earth some nine hundred years ago.'

Lizard stood by the door in his tight shoes, feeling like some new species of frog that had caught Mistress Blanc’s eye.

'So he wasn’t born into slavery?' Clara said.

Blanc shook her head. 'And I know what you’re thinking. Listen, someone else would have bought him and his dam if I hadn’t, and I treat my people well. He has a good home here.'

'Did you rescue him from a colony ship or the dog pound?' Clara asked mildly, echoing Lizard’s unspoken thoughts. A wash of anger flashed over him and he had to struggle to stay quiet.

'At any rate,' Blanc said, brushing Clara’s comment aside, 'he left Earth long before Irfan Qasad started creating Silent babies.'

'Nevertheless,' Clara said firmly, 'I am Silent, and when I touched him, I knew.'

Lizard could keep quiet no longer. 'Please, Mistress,' he said, and both women turned their gaze on him, 'what does it mean that I’m Silent?'

'It means you’re worth a hell of a lot more than five hundred freemarks,' Blanc muttered.

'Silence is a form of telepathy, child,' Clara said. 'Once you’ve had proper training, you’ll be able to enter the Dream and communicate with any other Silent in the universe, no matter what species they are, what language they speak, or what planet they live on.' She gestured at Mistress Blanc. 'Some of the frogs on this very farm produce toxins that can be refined into drugs that aid the Silent in reaching the Dream.'

'How do you know that I’m Silent?' Lizard asked uncertainly. 'I’ve never heard of it.'

'I touched you,' Clara told him. 'The first time two Silent touch flesh-to-flesh in the real world, it creates a weak telepathic bond. If we were both in the Dream right now, we would be able to find each other much more easily than two Silent who have never touched. That first contact also creates a physical jolt that can be very disconcerting for those who are unprepared for it. Your Silence must be very strong, dear, for it to send you to your knees like that.' She paused. 'Tell me, do you have dreams that are so vivid-lifelike-that when you wake up you feel like this is the dream and your dream was the real thing?'

Lizard nodded in awe. 'How did you know-?'

'Holy mother of god,' Blanc gasped. 'What if I have two of them?' She tapped something on her desk and a tone chimed. 'Nater, send Bell into my office immediately.'

'Yes, Mistress.' The reply came out of thin air.

Lizard’s head swam and he desperately wanted to sit down, but it looked like no one was going to give him permission. Dreams. The Real People told stories of the Dreamtime, the place where everything began and ended. And there were all those meditations the Real People Reconstructionists did to re-learn head talk. Was it all real?

'Who’s Bell?' Clara asked.

'His dam. She was on the same ship. I’m wondering if she’s Silent, too.'

'It does run in families,' Clara agreed.

'But why wouldn’t the slavers have tested them for Silence already? It seems like they would have.'

'Why should they, dear? As you said, the ship was nine hundred years old, before the time of Irfan Qasad, and she was the first human Silent. Why should they spend the time and money to run a test that they thought would only come out negative?'

A knock came at the door. There was a pause. Both women looked at Lizard, and it took him a moment to