Tarrian made the effort. ‘I can't think of anyone at the moment,’ he said apologetically. ‘I'm out of touch myself.'
Antyr put his head in his hands. ‘We should go to the Guild House, all the same,’ he said. ‘We could inquire. Someone else might have run into this problem. We might be fretting about something that's already well known.'
Tarrian stood up. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, suddenly enthusiastic. ‘You're right. I'd forgotten about that.'
'Forgotten about what?’ Antyr asked
'The Guild House,’ Tarrian replied. ‘The library. There could well be something there. Come on, stir yourself.'
Like some predatory but short-sighted bird, the old porter looked narrowly over his eye glasses as Antyr pushed open the stately door of the Guild House. It was covered with elaborate carvings and richly tinted glass panels showing past dignitaries posing solemnly in their formal robes of office.
Tarrian padded in behind him and, as Antyr closed the door, the grey winter light passed through the glass panels to throw a brief kingfisher flash of summer colour across the patterned floor.
The porter adjusted his tunic with a hint of annoyance at this interruption to his meditations. ‘Yes, sir?’ he inquired authoritatively of this potential trespasser. ‘What can I do for you?'
'Nothing, thank you,’ Antyr replied. ‘We've just come to use the library.'
'I'm sorry. The library's for Guild members only,’ the porter said in an injured tone, hobbling out from behind his counter and placing his ancient frame unflinchingly between Antyr and further intrusion into the building. ‘And we don't allow dogs, sir,’ he added, eyeing Tarrian.
'Tell him,’ Tarrian said menacingly. ‘
'I
The porter scrutinized the soiled card with some distaste, and then hobbled back behind his counter with a, ‘Just a moment, sir,’ which obviously meant, ‘We'll seeabout that, sir.'
With an audible effort he unearthed a large book from a shelf somewhere underneath the counter. ‘Now sir,’ he said, opening the book with great dignity, but quite at random.
'Brilliant,’ Tarrian said acidly. ‘Opened it right at M for Antyr.'
Antyr shushed him discreetly. ‘He might be able to hear you,’ he said.
Tarrian snorted. ‘So might that door,’ he said. Then, in a thunderous bellow, ‘Hurry up, you dozy old sod!'
Antyr cringed as the shout echoed around his head, but, gritting his teeth, he managed to maintain an uneasy smile.
The porter, however, showed no sign of responding as he continued painstakingly turning the pages of the book.
Eventually he reached a page where, after much glancing from margin to margin, he decided that his search could be continued by means of a solitary forefinger.
'Ah,’ he said finally after a further long study of Antyr's card. ‘Here we are, sir. Antyr, Andor Endryth.’ His tone reluctantly mellowed. ‘And this will be your Companion, I presume. Tarrian, is it?’ He closed the book and peered beadily down at Tarrian. ‘Not common, wolves, not common it all,’ he said absently, then turning back to Antyr, ‘I'm sorry I didn't recognize you, sir, but one has to be so careful these days, there are so many ruffians about and your robe…’ He cleared his throat and changed direction quickly. ‘I presume you don't come to many of the meetings, sir. Otherwise I'm sure I'd have known you straight away. I know most of the regulars and…'
'Yes, thank you.’ Antyr interrupted the lecture and, taking his card back, set off after Tarrian who was already walking across the wide, circular entrance hall towards the staircase that led down to the library.
It occurred to Antyr as he strode after him that he had not been in the Guild House almost since his father died, and, despite the contempt which he shared with Tarrian for much of the Guild's work these days, he felt an unexpected twinge of nostalgia as he looked up at the splendidly decorated entrance hall with its high-domed ceiling and stone-balustraded balconies.
The place, indeed the Guild, had meant a great deal to his father and he had always played an active part in its affairs, fighting diligently to maintain the integrity of the craft against an increasing tide of commercialism and downright quackery that was even then beginning to overwhelm it.
A pack thing, I suppose, he thought ironically as the memories fluttered in the pit of his stomach.
'Come on.’ Tarrian's voice interrupted his reverie. The wolf had reached the central well and was clattering busily down the wide stairway somewhat to the consternation of two dignified souls in formal regalia who were coming up it. Both were carrying large cats which they embraced protectively as Tarrian passed.
Antyr uttered a brief prayer of thanks that Tarrian had not given the two men the benefit of his normal opinion of such ‘flatulent peacocks’ as he passed by them, and a much longer prayer that he had not started on their Companions. It was merely a postponement however.
'Those two must have been lost,’ Tarrian said sarcastically as he reached the library door and stood waiting for Antyr to open it. ‘I doubt either of them could read anything except their fee notes. And did you see those disgusting moggies? Imagine having one of those crawling about your dreams. Peeing everywhere and coughing up fur balls.’ He concluded with a retching sound.
Antyr glanced round quickly, mortified by this unwarranted onslaught yet trying not to laugh. ‘Just remember where you are and keep your thoughts to yourself, dog, or one of the … moggies … will be calling you before the Council for unbecoming conduct.’ He managed some sternness, with an effort, but Tarrian just chuckled malevolently to himself.
'Get in,’ Antyr said fiercely, pushing open the door to the library.
As if in confirmation of Tarrian's brutal comments, however, the library was silent and deserted and it had a stale, neglected air about it. Faint haloes wavered about the few lamps that were lit as if the previous night's fog had returned here to recover itself.
Both Antyr and Tarrian wrinkled their noses in dismay. ‘Your father used to spend hours here,’ Tarrian said, sober now. ‘Looking for things that might help his clients. Looking for things that might help him understand you. Looking for anything that would make him a better Dream Finder. And there was always someone else here as well. And it was bright. Not like this. It's…'
'Like a catacomb.’ Antyr finished Tarrian's eulogy.
They stared round in silence.
The library was a large, annular room, radiating out from the central stairwell and occupying much of the basement of the Guild House. Circular rows of shelves stood tall, silent and burdened in the gloaming, marking out shadowy circular pathways which were cut at intervals by equally shadowy radial paths to form a rudimentary maze of dark high-walled alleyways. Here and there, small clusters of tables and chairs stood huddled together under solitary lamps as if gathered there for protection against the weight of darkness that surrounded them.
Antyr chewed his lip uncertainly, feeling suddenly helpless as he stared at the rows of books and scrolls vanishing into the gloomy distance. It was said that the library contained every known written work on the art and craft of Dream Finding and certainly it needed no keen perception to realize that a lifetime could be spent in study in such a place.
Yet would there be an answer here anyway? Despite Tarrian's positive denial, Antyr could not yet be certain that what had happened was not in some way his own doing.
He pulled a wry face. ‘I don't know that this is going to help,’ he said, his anxiety surfacing again. ‘We don't even know what we're looking for. Or, for that matter, why.’ He waved his arms around the waiting ranks of shelves. ‘And as for where we start…’ He shrugged in some despair.
Tarrian's tone was unexpectedly sympathetic. ‘Your father used to say, “If you don't know where to start. Start!” It's a very sound principle. Come on! Don't let this place intimidate you. Myths and Legends are over there if my memory serves me correctly.'
'Myths and Legends?’ Antyr queried in some surprise.
'Myths and Legends,’ Tarrian confirmed confidently. ‘Where else would we look? There's precious little in the standard texts that we don't already know and we'll get less than nothing from some of these modern
