must have been a shoemaker. And these crowds…'
He left the sentence unfinished, with an expression of disgust.
Then, like the sun appearing from behind a dark cloud, he brightened suddenly. ‘Still, on the whole, I'd rather be going to the palace than to the Moras district at this time of day. We can always visit Nyriall tomorrow. And there might be more food at the palace. At least they've got some regard for a creature's needs there.’ The sun retreated behind the cloud again. ‘And we can get our fee from that Aaken while we're at it. Typical civil servant. Wants this, wants that, wants it now. But doesn't want to pay for it until he's good and ready-if at all. You take some poor artisan's wife now, she's only too anxious to pay you on the dot. It's…'
'Oh, shut up,’ Antyr said, brushing the subject aside and then immediately picking it up again. ‘And by “we” getting our fee off
'That's normal procedure,’ Tarrian replied sharply. ‘What good's money to me? You're the only one who can use it. You're the one with the much prized opposing thumbs, after all.'
Despite his anxiety, Antyr chuckled at the remark. One of the guards turned to him inquiringly. ‘Sorry,’ Antyr said. ‘Just something my Companion said.'
The guard looked at him uncertainly and then down at Tarrian. ‘I didn't hear anything,’ he said.
'They talk in their heads,’ the other guard said before Antyr could reply, and as if he were not there. ‘My mother used to use one. Swore by him. He had a cat. Big ginger thing.’ His expression became reflective. ‘He was all right. Bit oily, but down-to-earth when you got to know him. But that cat used to give me the creeps, especially when its eyes lit up.’ He shuddered.
Antyr smiled.
The first guard caught the expression and scowled from Antyr to Tarrian. ‘He's not talking about me, is he?’ he inquired suspiciously.
Antyr shook his head hastily. ‘No, no,’ he replied. ‘I was smiling at…’ He indicated the second guard. ‘…your friend … and the cat. Tarrian doesn't like cats either.'
'Well, him being a dog, he wouldn't, would he?’ came the knowing reply.
Tarrian's groan filled Antyr's mind.
'Can he talk to me in my head?’ the first guard asked after a short silence.
'No,’ Antyr lied.
'I'd be deafened by the echo,’ Tarrian muttered.
'Will you be quiet,’ Antyr snapped at him. ‘This is hard enough as it is.'
'Can he hear what I'm saying in my head?’ the guard persisted.
'No, no!’ Antyr lied again with great conviction. ‘It's not talking and hearing like we're doing now. It's a special thing, and we were both born with it. No one really understands how it works.'
'Oh,’ the guard replied, mollified, though still looking at Tarrian uncertainly. He screwed up his face in concentration.
'He's shouting “Cats, boy, cats!'’ Tarrian wailed in disbelief.
Antyr looked up, rubbing his slight growth of beard with casual vigour to stop himself from laughing. As he did so, he saw the familiar shape of the Ibrian monument at the far end of the long street, its spiky irregular pyramid black in the growing gloom.
'Oh, we're here already,’ he said out loud, in some relief, his voice a little strained. ‘I didn't realize we'd walked so far.'
Immediately all interest in Antyr's craft disappeared and the two guards quickened their pace. It was to little avail, however, for the street was quite narrow and still filled with all manner of people going about their many businesses and, Duke's men or no, they were obliged to continue following the pace of the many.
In the distance, Antyr saw a bright spark dancing in front of the monument. It split into smaller sparks that danced away in their turn. For some reason he felt a fleeting lightness touch him as he saw it, then its firefly dance became just one of the Guild of Lamplighters’ apprentices taking the lid off a fire bucket prior to his master and the senior apprentices lighting the torches around the monument. By tradition, the public torches of the city were lit outwards from the palace square.
'Yes,’ Tarrian said, agreeing with his earlier remark. ‘We're well out of the Moras for today. It'll be foggy down there by now, for sure.'
Antyr could not dispute this conclusion though he still wished he was somewhere else.
As they neared the square, the busy crowds thinned a little as the street widened and the houses and buildings became larger and more spacious.
Antyr started to stride out, but one of the guards took his elbow. ‘This way,’ he said, pointing to a side street on the right. Antyr looked inquiringly towards the square.
'The main gate's that way,’ he said, his uncertainty growing again as he followed the guard's lead.
'We're not going to the main gate,’ the man replied, mildly surprised. ‘Lord Menedrion's … guests … rarely use the main gate.’ He nudged Antyr and winked, then both guards laughed knowingly.
'It's his women they're talking about,’ Tarrian said. ‘They're trying to impress you.'
'I know,’ Antyr replied testily. ‘I can read my own species, you know.'
'Sorry,’ Tarrian said huffily. ‘Only trying to reassure you.'
There were only a few people in the street, which was lined with terraces of neat, well-kept and individually distinct houses, some four and five storeys high. Expensive, Antyr mused, as the quartet followed the street round in a long, slow arc until the houses closed about in a semicircle and sealed it except for a wide, colonnaded passageway. Clattering through this they emerged into another equally quiet street which, Antyr realized, was bounded on the far side by the palace wall.
'See,’ said one of the guards expansively. ‘It's a lot quicker this way. Not far now.'
The street rose up quite steeply and their pace slowed somewhat until, passing under an enclosed overhead walkway, the guards stopped and one of them banged on a door set well into a deep recess in the palace wall. Antyr had not noticed the door and judged that even in broad daylight it would have been almost invisible in the shade of the walkway.
There was an almost immediate response as a small shutter behind a stout grill opened briefly then closed again. After a few dull thuds, the door opened quietly and the guard stood to one side.
Well-oiled bolts and hinges, Antyr noted, thinking immediately of his own screeching door.
'It's the Dream Finder, Antyr,’ said the guard into the darkness. ‘We were lucky. He was at the Guild House.'
'Excellent,’ came a soft cultured voice in reply. ‘His lordship will be pleased.’ Then, apparently to Antyr, ‘Just a moment … er … sir, there are two steps up. Take care, they're a little tricky. There's a handrail on the right.'
The voice was polite and thoughtful, but apart from the brief hesitation, it had the long-rehearsed quality of one that had spoken the same words many times to unfamiliar and uncertain ears. Similarly it was a confident and practiced hand that reached out in the dim half-light to offer support.
Antyr looked at the guard who, with a flick of his head and another wink, relinquished him to the hand.
'Thank you,’ Antyr said, both to the guards and to the unseen figure. Then, taking the hand, he stepped gingerly forward into the darkness. Tarrian scrabbled up the steps beside him and there was a faint exclamation from the speaker.
'I'm sorry if he startled you,’ Antyr said. ‘Don't be afraid.'
'It's all right,’ said the voice. ‘I just wasn't expecting a dog.’ As the door closed behind them, they were plunged into complete darkness, but Antyr still raised his eyebrows in surprise at the absence of any caustic response from Tarrian at this comment. Then he realized.
'Oh, it's a woman, is it?’ he said, mockingly. ‘I thought the voice was unusual.'
'It's a lady actually,’ Tarrian replied with dignity. ‘She feels very nice. And … Oh…'
'What's the matter?’ Antyr asked, suddenly anxious again in the darkness.
'There's a great sadness around her,’ Tarrian replied, his voice concerned and serious. ‘And she's shutting it in. Like a fortress.’ Fleetingly Antyr felt the pain as his Companion reflected it. But, brief though the touch was, its vivid intensity was unmistakable. It was love. Unrequited … but very female … patient … waiting … despite the pain…'
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry,’ Tarrian went on guiltily. ‘It just reached out and…'
Before Antyr could reassure him however, the darkness was cracked open by a shaft of light which
