nodded and Antyr felt the guard move away.
Antyr had been uncertain about exactly what he should say to the Duke, not least now because his own problem seemed to be gaining in insignificance amid this muffled activity. But, like many uncertainties, this proved to be pointless as it was the Duke who began the conversation.
'You left the city today against my express order,’ he said flatly, swinging his leg down on to the floor and leaning forward on to the table.
Antyr felt his mouth dropping open and only managed to stop it with a considerable effort. The question, how …? formed in his mind briefly but the dark presence of Ciarll Feranc and the whirr of efficient administrative activity around him answered it, at least in general terms, before he had formed it fully. The rattle of chains and the slamming of cell doors rang in his ears.
Tarrian appeared by his side, looking earnestly at the Duke. Antyr stuttered his reply through parched lips. ‘I thought you were referring to leaving the city for any length of time, sire. On a journey…’ he managed eventually. ‘I needed to think. I merely went to the Aphron Dennai to clear my mind. I…'
'You disobeyed my order,’ the Duke said. ‘You broke the law.'
Antyr was silent for a moment, then the faint rebellion that he had brought against Menedrion, returned. ‘I didn't disobey what I took to be the spirit of your order, sire,’ he said. ‘I was no further from your men finding me than if I'd been at…’ He shrugged slightly. ‘…the market.’ The movement freed him. ‘I obeyed you as a matter of honour and respect, sire, and if I failed you in that then I accept your reproach and I truly ask your forgiveness.’ He leaned forward. ‘But I am a free Guildsman, twice served in the line. I broke no law, I can't be constrained without…'
'Due process of law,’ Ibris said, completing his sentence with a brief smile of amusement.
Antyr did not feel reassured. He couldn't read a duke's smile, and due process or not, free Guildsman or not, the reality was that the Duke and his officers were to be obeyed!
Ibris, however, merely began reading a document on the table in front of him. ‘What do you want, Antyr? I'm busy,’ he said casually, as if the exchange had never happened.
Antyr started slightly at this abrupt end to the interrogation, then registering the question he glanced at the others nearby.
Ibris followed his eyes and beckoned him to come round the table.
'What is it?’ he said in a low, unexpectedly confiding voice when Antyr reached him.
Bending low and feeling like a conspirator, Antyr mumbled his concern. ‘It's about that order, sire,’ he said. ‘The Lord Menedrion has now ordered me to prepare to leave with him on a journey the day after tomorrow.'
Ibris's face darkened. ‘How do you come to be involved with the Lord Menedrion?’ he asked.
The inevitability of the question reminded Antyr why he had not chosen to prepare an answer in advance. It was because any answer would simply be the precursor to deeper and deeper questions and increasingly difficult ethical choices for him. No inspiration came to aid him.
'Sire, this is difficult,’ he said.
'Answer nonetheless,’ Ibris said starkly.
Antyr took a deep breath and jumped. ‘May we speak alone, sire?’ he said.
Ibris frowned. ‘We're alone enough here, Dream Finder,’ he said.
'No, we're not,’ Antyr answered with unexpected bluntness. ‘Something's wrong and it involves yourself, your son, me, and perhaps one other, I don't know. I can't discuss it with you in whispers, spare me a few minutes for plain speaking.'
Ibris's frown deepened and he let out an impatient snort. ‘Very well,’ he said, standing up. ‘But you're beginning to abuse the regard I had for your father. I'll give you five minutes. Ciarll, come with us.
'I'll be back in a little while,’ he announced to the others at the table. ‘Carry on.’ He indicated a nearby door to Antyr.
The door took them across a corridor and thence, following the Duke's lead, into a small, intimate room lit only by a burning fire. Feranc struck a lamp into life and Ibris strode over to the fire where he stood, staring down into it for a few silent moments.
'Speak as loud as you wish here, Dream Finder,’ he said, almost angrily and turning round sharply. ‘But speak quickly and to some effect, or free Guildsman or no, I'll constrain you as you've never been constrained.'
Tarrian moved across to him and curled up at his feet. Antyr glanced at Feranc. ‘May I speak of your dream in front of the Commander, sire?’ he said.
'If it's relevant, yes,’ Ibris replied, turning and looking at a small delicately decorated timepiece on the mantelshelf.
Antyr took the further hint. ‘Sire, as I said, this is difficult. I must break a confidence which a dreamer has entrusted in me and I'll need both your understanding and your protection.'
'Get on with it,’ Ibris said.
Tarrian rolled over and leaned against Ibris's leg affectionately. Seemingly without thinking what he was doing, Ibris crouched down and stroked him.
'Sire,’ Antyr began. ‘Why did you call me so urgently last night?'
'You know why,’ Ibris replied, his tone less severe. ‘I felt a … presence … of some kind in my dream. As if something were trying to enter it. Something threatening.'
Antyr nodded. ‘This is not something that's happened before?’ he asked. ‘In my father's time, perhaps?'
Ibris shook his head. ‘Usually, I consulted your father so that I could see a dream again because I felt it needed to be thought about; contained some message from deep within myself that I needed to hear and couldn't during the clamour of the day. He taught me to watch and listen to my dreams so that I wouldn't need his help.’ He smiled at some long-forgotten memory. ‘A remarkable man your father. Strove diligently to lose his best customer. If I'd had a dozen like him, we'd have had one great, glorious and peaceful state in this land spreading up even into the barbarian tribes beyond the mountains and out across the seas.’ His voice faded and he let the idea go with it. ‘It's because of your father's training that I sensed that this … presence … was something from outside,’ he went on, assured again. ‘But I've more tangible threats at the moment, Dream Finder…'
Antyr raise his hand for silence. ‘Sire, I too was assailed last night by some strange power from outside. It came to me in the form of Marastrumel, the ancient personification of evil in Dream Finding lore.'
Ibris looked at him and then at Feranc.
'No one entered his room last night, sire,’ the Commander said, answering the unspoken question and again telling Antyr that for at least some of the time he had been discreetly watched. ‘Perhaps it was a dream.’ There was a hint of humour in his voice, but the Duke did not pick it up.
'Dream Finders don't, or can't, dream, Ciarll,’ he said simply. Then, to Antyr, ‘They tell me that you're overly fond of ale and wine, Antyr. Could Marastrumel perhaps have come to you in a bottle?'
Antyr coloured. ‘No sir. The reproach is true but the Commander ensured that I had only water last night, and drink has only ever brought me oblivion and sickness. I fear that whatever power attacked you in your dream, sensed me and is seeking me out.'
'To what purpose?’ Ibris said.
Antyr shrugged helplessly. ‘I've no idea, sire,’ he said. Ibris moved away from the fire and sat down slowly on a chair nearby. Tarrian crawled along on his belly and rested his chin on the Duke's foot. Ibris's face was thoughtful and serious.
'You mentioned my son and perhaps another person involved in this,’ he said.
Antyr gazed awkwardly around the room, finding it almost impossible to speak the words that would break the confidence of his client.
'I'll deal with Menedrion if need be,’ Ibris said. ‘Have no fear on that score. You have my protection. Who's the other person?'
'I don't know, sire, I…’ Antyr shrugged helplessly.
Ibris's irritation showed clearly and Antyr quailed. ‘Which brings me back to my previous question,’ Ibris went on forcefully. ‘How do you come to be involved with Menedrion?'
'He sought me out, as you did, sire,’ Antyr replied, finding his voice from somewhere. ‘But he mentioned that he had been given my name by his mother.'
Ibris's expression changed to one of surprise, then his mouth curled into a snarl. ‘That witch. Even in the Erin Mal she sits at the heart of my dominion like a great spider,’ he said, though largely to himself. He turned to Feranc.
