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
'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.'
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.
'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.
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
'I know, I understand that much, but—'
'/
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:
'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
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, /