the reality. The pattern! I could weave a pattern at will, from my imagination. Now I looked at reality, and all I could see were threads unraveling, the strands of our lives dwindling like yarn set in flame.
I rose on legs that shuddered and protested the movement, and went to the washstand, splashing cool water over my burning face.
Rwyan sat still, seeming lost in thought. When I returned to the table she said, “Could I but show those not yet gone over to Allanyn’s cause what she intends.”
I said, “You’ll not have that chance. They’d not trust a Dhar mage.”
She said, “No,” sadly, and sighed. “Oh, Daviot, our world’s gone far astray, no?”
I ducked my head, wincing at the pain. “Better had we never made the Changed. Better had we never enslaved the Ahn.”
Rwyan said, “But we did, and now we pay the price. Save we can find some answer. But by the God, I’ll not concede Allanyn the victory, nor see this war begun, can I do aught to halt it.”
“Nor I,” I declared, though I could scarce see what we two prisoners might do. “When Urt comes, we’ll tell him.”
She said, “And Tezdal. I’d have him know, too.”
“Yes.” I nodded agreement, ignoring pain. “But I think he’ll not dissuade his fellow Sky Lords from their course. Even is he persuaded himself.”
We fell silent then, wrapped in depressing musing. I looked to the window and saw the moon was gone past its zenith. Stars speckled the sky, and dawn was hours distant. I wondered when Urt would come. Then if he would: I thought that did Allanyn suspect him-of treachery, she’d name it-it should be an exquisite torture to allow this glimpse of her intent. To show us and then “discover” the crystal; thus to condemn us and Urt together. I yawned. I felt mightily weary, and my head still ached. Across the table Rwyan’s face looked drawn, shadows beneath her eyes like dark half moons. She stared moodily at the crystal. I looked at the thing, wondering if I truly felt a sense of triumph emanating from its pale blue depths, or if that was merely a fancy of my troubled mind.
My eyes felt weighted with despair, and I closed them. That eased the pain in my skull a little, and I set my elbows on the table, resting my face on my hands. A gray fog seemed to cloud my vision, and for an instant I thought I dreamed again of that oak grove beyond Cambar, but I saw only the gray void. I did not know I slept.
Nor, till I woke, that I dreamed. I’d not dreamed since first we came within the aegis of Trebizar’s magic.
What I dreamed was this:
I sat slumped at the table. Rwyan remained seated across its width, the crystal still between us like some barrier to hope, but the glow coming from the walls dimmed, the radiance slowly fading to black. It was the black of deepest starless night, or the depths of the sea. I drifted there: it was strangely comforting, and I thought perhaps I’d remain forever, give up my body and all its cares, and only wander this lightless, soundless place, rid of destructive hope, of responsibility-become a creature of limbo.
But then I heard Rwyan say, “You cannot, Daviot. Remember the pattern.”
My body raised its head and said, “Why not? I can do nothing. You can do nothing. Nor Urt or Tezdal. We are all of us helpless. The world turns as it will. Come with me.”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll not give up hope. I’d thought you’d not. I’d thought better of you.”
I shrugged, embarrassed. I felt then as must a fish caught on a line: I’d find those black deeps again, but I was called back, drawn up toward the light by love of Rwyan.
I looked into her eyes, and they were no longer hers but the vast orbs of my oneiric dragon. And the walls were gone, and the garden, and I was ringed by those eyes, all of them fixed on me. They seemed to accuse me of cowardice; they seemed to judge me. I felt ashamed then of my weakness and straightened in my chair, meeting that implacable gaze.
I said, “What do you ask of me? What must I do?”
There was no verbal answer, but rather an emotion-I’d known this before, but it was stronger now, become an imperative-that summoned me. It was a call that rang in my blood, in the very fibers of my being. It was akin to that sensation I’d felt from the crystal, and different, warmer somehow. So strong it was that I rose, standing and turning slowly around, finding only those eyes calling me.
I felt I stood at a threshold, and that did I not step across, I must lose … I was not sure what I should lose. Rwyan? Hope? Pride? Integrity? All those, I felt, and more: myself. And at the same time I felt that did I take that step, it must deliver something vast and dreadful. I felt I should be cursed whichever course I chose. I was afraid then, as I’d never been before. I knew I was summoned, and that it was no longer a vague dreamy feeling, but a call so strong I ached to answer it. I felt that did I fail, I must stand condemned and lost forever. That I should find neither that peace the darkness offered nor any other, but only anguish.
I said, “Where shall I go? How shall I come to you?”
And the voice that was not a voice told me I should know, that I already took the first steps. And at that I felt a great gladness, and also a great fear, for it seemed I embarked on a terrible journey.
But I told the eyes, “Yes. As you will,” and at that they seemed no longer to judge me so much but to praise me and wish me well along my journey.
And then I saw Rwyan stood beside me, and she took my hand and smiled. And Urt was there, and Tezdal, and we four stood together, encircled by the great yellow eyes. It was as if we stood close to the sun, or several suns, which warmed us with their approval, and bade us hurry and be welcome.
I saw the table again and the crystal, which now pulsed fierce, as if angered. Then from out of the light cast by the eyes reached a hand, a man’s, and took the stone, drawing back amongst the yellow orbs that were all the boundary of this dream world. I stared, trying to see past the light, to know whose hand this was, but I could not. Instead, I heard the rustle of vast wings unfolding and felt the wind of their beating. It was a stormy force, but though I knew it should, it did not beat me down but only washed around me as the crystal was carried up, aloft and away into darkness.
Colors then, such as form against shuttered lids, the myriad sparklings of blood in flesh. I opened my eyes and raised my head. I sat slumped across the table, Rwyan in like position, sleeping yet. I looked around and saw we sat still within our quarters, the night outside not yet lit by dawn’s early light. The room was shadowed, but even as I blinked and rubbed my eyes, the walls and ceiling began again to glow, and soon the chamber was lit bright as day.
Rwyan woke then and stared at me with a puzzled, questioning expression, I’d no need to ask, but still I did: “You dreamed?”
She nodded, not speaking until she’d filled a cup with water and drunk. Then she said, “Yes. I dreamed.” She shook her head, frowning. “It was strange … of eyes that … summoned … me. A promise.”
My own mouth was very dry: I got myself water. I wondered if this was part of the pattern. I thought that had Urt and Tezdal experienced the same dream, then it must surely find its roots in some reality beyond my comprehension. I said, “I felt I was asked to make a choice.”
She said, “And did you?”
I ducked my head and answered her, “Yes. They called me and I agreed to go; though I know not where.”
“Nor I,” she said, and glanced at the crystal, dormant between us. “Perhaps that’s unlocked some power. Perhaps in using it, we opened a door. Or sent a message.”
I sighed and blew out a mournful chuckle. “Then dragons shall come down from the sky to carry us off from this place.” I gestured at the walls, the sealed door and window. “But first they’ll need overcome the magic of the Changed.”
Rwyan said, “Perhaps they will.”
“And we best hope they’ll not devour us,” I said. “Was that not their habit?”
She said, “I felt no threat in my dream, save that I betray myself.”
“Which you’d not do,” I said. “Oh, Rwyan, could it be so, I’d welcome dragons. But I cannot dare hope they shall be our saviors.”
She smiled wearily and was about to speak, but then the door flung open and Urt came rushing in.
His gray hair was awry, and on his face was an expression that mingled fear and wonder in equal measure.
