Ben helped get main power restored so they could turn the gravity back on. I felt heavy at first, but now everything feels normal again. Fen’s a lot happier, anyway.
I remember where I’ve seen Gretchen-Sister Gretchen-before. She bumped into me when I was getting out of a jobber’s car. Kendi said she planted a bug so they could follow me easier. When I got mad, he said they did it because they wanted to be able to keep an eye on me in case something bad happened. I still don’t know. I can’t get pissed at everybody. Can I? This whole situation is screwed up.
Anyway. I still like Kendi, I guess. He treats me like a younger brother. It’s kind of neat. He sits next to me at meals and cracks jokes that almost make me wet my pants from laughing so hard. And he knows what it’s like to be scared about being Silent.
He told me about the Children of Irfan, who they are and where they came from. Now I’m going to be one of them. I’m excited and nervous at the same time. And I’m normal!
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE DREAM
Poverty won’t force you to steal, and neither will wealth stop you.
Padric Sufur peered carefully through the branches of the pear tree. The round-bodied Mother Adept sat on the lip of her fountain, hands in her lap. At her feet sat a cabana chair. A male human Silent reclined in it and a tall glass with a pink umbrella sticking out of it hovered within his reach. The Silent had blond hair and wore an arrogant expression. Padric swallowed his distaste and forced himself to pay careful attention. He needed to find out if his information had been correct.
Beyond the garden wall, a section of sky remained blacker than a thunderstorm. Occasional flicks of red lightning streaked across the darkness. Even from this far away, Padric could feel the misshapen-ness of it. The area had cropped up yesterday over the giant canyon, and Padric hadn’t dared get close to it yet. Silent everywhere kept a wary eye on it and speculated on what it meant in frightened whispers. Meanwhile, however, Dream business had to continue. Padric carefully settled his wings about his tiny hummingbird body and listened.
“It’ll take another day to repair the hull to Harenn’s satisfaction,” Mother Adept Araceil Rymar said in her harsh human voice. “After that, it should take us about ten days to arrive at Bellerophon.”
The Silent sipped his drink and said nothing. His eyes, however, carried the rapt concentration of a trained Silent bent on absorbing every word. Once he left the Dream, Padric knew, the man would recite every word Araceil had said into a recorder. Good Silent always had highly trained short-term memories.
“I have not yet evaluated Sejal’s…destructive potential,” Araceil continued. “As Brother Kendi predicted, he seems able to possess the unwilling and non-Silent, though the exact extent of this ability we don’t yet know. I’ll conduct more tests back on Bellerophon.”
Every nerve in Padric’s body snapped to attention and his feet clenched the pear twig so tightly the bark dug into his skin. So his information had been correct. It was suddenly very hard for him to sit still, and Padric forced himself to remain motionless only with great effort of will. Although the form he had taken was tiny, his slightest movement would send weak ripples through Araceil’s portion of the Dream and she might notice him.
Araceil shifted on the lip of the fountain. “In anticipation of your Imperial Majesty’s next question, I don’t know how long it will take to determine if Sejal is dangerous enough to require…elimination. However, I am prepared to-” her voice faltered slightly “-to follow through on your wishes and will keep you informed. End classified transmission.”
Padric almost blinked. Araceil had orders to kill this boy? But of course. Humans were all alike in so many ways.
“The message will be delivered,” said the blond Silent in a toneless voice. He and his chair vanished without another word.
Araceil stared at the spot where he had been. Then a long sigh escaped her. The expression on her face was full of uncertainty, and Padric wondered if she was going to burst into tears.
“Dammit!” she suddenly yelled, and smacked the fountain water with one hand. Liquid sprayed everywhere. “And damn you! Damn you to a hundred hells, you damned Imperial bitch!”
Padric watched tensely from the tree as Araceil conjured up a vase and hurled it against the garden wall. It shattered with what Padric assumed was a satisfying crash. A hot wind rose, fluttering the green leaves and waving Padric’s twig up and down. Araceil raised a fist, and a lightning bolt cracked down from the clear blue sky. It split an orange tree from top to bottom. The concussion thudded against Padric’s fragile bones, and smoking splinters flew in every direction. He smelled burning wood.
“Damn you!” Araceil howled.
Another lightning bolt destroyed another tree. Nervously wondering if his might be next, Padric shot out of the tree, wings blurring, creating tiny ripples in Araceil’s Dream fabric. It was a risk, but Araceil was probably too distracted to notice right now. Besides, Padric was good.
Padric was one of the few Silent who could change his shape in the Dream. He could take the form of something small and inocuous, such as a mouse or a bird. He had experimented with stones and blades of grass, but rocks and plants can’t see or hear, so he had instead concentrated on animals. In these other forms, Padric could creep into another Silent’s territory, eavesdrop on conversations or meetings, and creep back out again with none the wiser.
As far as Padric knew, his talent was unique. Other Silent were subconsciously and firmly attached to their shapes. They expected their own form in the Dream, and that’s what they got. The first time Padric had come into the Dream, however, he hadn’t been able to take a shape at all. He had hung about as an amorphous blob. It had taken his instructor KellReech several months to coax him into a shape, and he had early on taken to shifting forms like quicksilver.
As a teenager, he had used the talent for his own amusement, spying on Silent who came into the Dream to play or sculpt Dreamscapes or have private talks. As a young man, he had used the talent for personal gain. Overhearing a few privileged conversations had allowed him to make some very wise investments over the years. Very wise indeed.
Another lightning bolt crashed downward, splintering the pear tree Padric had been using for cover, and Padric decided he was far enough away to make a real run for it. Although Padric was as adept as any other Silent at teleporting from one Dream location to another, the abrupt lack of his presence would cause an inward rush of Dream energy, much like water would hurry in to replace a rock that suddenly disappeared, and that would definitely be noticed.
The hummingbird skimmed low over the ground and shifted into a small feline creature with orange-brown fur. Padric tore soundlessly across the ground faster than a groundcar, muscles bunching, claws extended for maximum purchase.
A distinct rumble emanated from the dark area behind Padric as he ran. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw more red lightning suffuse the strange blackness. Instead of vanishing, however, the lightning left streaks behind, as if the darkness were cracking. Padric skittered to a halt and stared. Around him lay a flat, featureless plain; he hadn’t bothered to create anything more specific once he cleared Araceil’s realm. He sat back on his haunches and stared some more. The red cracks glowed like lava. What was happening?
Padric spread his whiskers with a whiffing noise, uncertain what to do. After a time, he became aware that someone was trodding close to his Dream space. A feathery touch asked permission to approach his domain. It was KellReech.
“Approach,” he called. Although sprint-cats from Rothmar couldn’t make speech sounds, Padric managed it. His subconscious might continue to reject the idea of a rock that could see or a leaf that could hear, but an animal
