Olias nodded his head. 'Did you cast this spell over only those you helped, or did you—'

'The whole village.'

'Everyone?'

L'lewythi nodded his head.

'That way I'd be sure no one could see me.'

'Ah.'

'I like helping them and no one knowing. It gives me nice dreams sometimes, and sometimes when I feel lonely, I'd think about the little girl and smile. And it's nice in the stables, really, it is. I like it.'

'I'm sure .you're a fine stable-hand.' Surprisingly, Olias found that he meant it.

'But the other people in the village, they don't . . . they don't talk to me. The other children tell me that I'm too big and . . . and ugly, and no one wants to play with a foundling—that's what I am. It makes me feel... feel bad sometimes because I don't know where I came from or ... or anything. So when I finish sweeping at night, I like to dream, even when I'm awake. And if I dream hard enough, the dreams, they sometimes come out of my head and become real. And the people in my dreams, they're always my friends. Except for Gash— you don't want to meet him. He's mean. And he always wants me to tell him what he is. He says that if I can ever do that, if I can tell him what he is, then he'll go away and never come back. I try to guess, but I'm never right, and then he destroys things. Don't be scared, though, because he's never come around these parts.'

Oh, you poor, simple-minded thing, thought Olias. Has the world treated you so wretchedly that even in your dreams you invent one who torments you, who makes you feel so alone and sad and worthless? Godsdid you do so out of choice, or has your heart been so brutalized that you simply think it's natural for someone to abuse you?

Unable to find the words which would adequately express what he was feeling, Olias reached out and placed his hand on L'lewythi's shoulder.

Smiling, L'lewythi placed his hand atop Olias' and asked, 'Are you ... do you like it here?'

'Yes, L'lewythi. I think it's very nice. I think it's splendid.'

The boy's face beamed at this mild praise. 'Really? Would you like to see more?'

'Very much so, yes.'

'Are you ... do you want to be ... I—I mean—'

'Yes,' whispered Olias. 'I will be your friend.'

He could have swum a hundred raging rivers then on the memory of L'lewythi's smile. How strange it was, to feel an attachment after so many years done; how strange to feel some of the soul-coldness fading away.

But somehow, here in L'lewythi's odd world-within-a-world, it seemed . . . right.

How strange, to feel affection for another human being.

How strange, indeed.

Dear Father, dear Mother, what would you think of your boy now if you could see him? Lost in a place that doesn't really exist, befriending a simpleton in whose hands his destiny evidently rests?

What would you think?

Once over the bridge the land became flat and hard and dusty. As they walked beside one another, Olias and L'lewythi spoke of their childhoods, of games and tales and small wonders, of the animals they'd played with

and the places they'd seen, and it seemed to Olias that, as they spoke, some part of the world sang a song of rejoicing, of second chances and hope renewed, a Bardic ballad of two lifebonded friends meeting for the first time, and of the simple, untainted glory of learning to trust.

'I can see why you like it here so much,' said Olias. 'It must be difficult for you to leave.'

L'lewythi touched his head, then his heart. 'I don't leave, ever. It's always here, with me. Even when I'm gone.'

The abstract wisdom in those words caught Olias by surprise. Could it be that L'lewythi was not as dim as people thought?

They came then to another section of the shoreline. The sea lapped at the edge of their feet, playfully, as if acknowledging their new bond and giving its blessing.

They came to rest on a large boulder, worn down by time, sea, and the seasons until its shape bore a humorous resemblance to a giant king's throne. Lying back, Olias allowed the sea mist to anoint his face, and felt even more at home.

'L'lewythi?'

'Hm?'

'Could you please tell me what happened to you—I mean, who . . . who hurt you? Who tied you to that horse?'

L'lewythi stared out at the sea, then looked down at his hands. 'I... I don't know why I can do these things. I just know that I can. I play my glass pipe, and the music brings me here. It's so nice here, everyone's so good to me, they're . . . they're happy to see me. No one in Valdemar treats me this way, that's why I come here all the time, that's why I made this place, so I could go somewhere where people would be nice to me.'

'I know, I understand that much, but—'

'/ didn't mean for it to happen!' he shouted, eyes filling with tears. The sudden violence of his emotion shocked Olias, who was so startled he nearly cried out.

As L'lewythi spoke, his voice became louder and even

more childlike. Beneath every word his pain, deeper than Olias had imagined, came snarling to the surface. It was the panicked voice of a child, lost in the night, hands outstretched in hopes that someone kind would take hold of him and protect them from the darkness and pain and make the fear go away, a pain that asked, in its own way: Please, please show a little kindness, a little tenderness.

'S-s-somet-times, when I'm asleep, sometimes the dreams, they come out of my head and I can't make them do what I want because I'm asleep and I don't know that they've come out I I d-don't mean for it to happen, but it just happens sometimes. It's never been a bad thing before, but the other night ... I was so tired! I'd worked hard and . . . and I was so tired! And when I fell asleep, Gash came out—and he's so mean! He hurt a lot of people in the village. He burned down some of the other stables and killed the horses, and th-th-then he, he started killing everyone. I woke up when I heard the screaming, but it was too late. 7 couldn't stop him from killing everyone because I was asleep! That's never happened to me before. When I woke up, Gash went back into my head, but he'd been so mean by then. And the people, they knew that it was me that had brought Gash into the village because a ... a Herald was there, and he said he sensed that Gash had come from me. He ... he tried to make them all understand, but they didn't. They all came after me and they . . . they hurt me! I mean, I've been hurt before— some of the other stable-boys, they like to hit me and call me names—but this time it w-was different. The Herald tried to stop them but there were too many. They hurt me for so long, and they screamed at me, and some of them even laughed like they were enjoying it. I tried to tell them that I'm not a bad boy, I'm not, I didn't mean for it to happen, but they wouldn't listen to me, they just kept hitting and spitting and then they burned me and ... and .. .' He doubled over, clutching at his stomach, the sobs racking his body—deep, soul-shattering sobs as the grief and fear and confusion dragged rusty steel hooks across his body all over again. Then he fell backward, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees, convulsing.

Olias climbed over to him, taking L'lewythi in his arms as the boy wept even harder, his next words coming in broken bursts: 'I didn't . . . mean to h-hurt anyone ... I d-didn't ... I didn't. . . .'

'I know,' whispered Olias, stroking L'lewythi's hair. 'I know.'

'I j-just wanted them to know ... I wouldn't have ... have done any of it... I wouldn't have dreamed another world l-like this if ... if I could just tell Gash what he is, he'd go away, you see? And th-then m-maybe I could have a friend . . . just one, that's all ... just one friend____'

'You have one now. I will be your friend for the rest of our days, L'lewythi. There, there, take deep breaths, deep, there you are, hold onto me, that's it, hold on, I won't let go, I won't leave you alone, ever, I swear it on my parents' graves, / swear if! You'll never be lonely again, never—and no one will ever harm

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