children were drawn inexorably to them like stray planets to a new sun. Once in arm's-length orbit, they stopped and stared up at the new arrivals curiously.
'What y'looking for?’ one of them demanded proprietorially.
'We're looking for Nyriall, the Dream Finder,’ Antyr replied courteously. ‘Do you know where he lives?'
There was a collective wrinkling of noses and shaking of heads, and some giggling mimicry of his voice.
'He's an old man,’ Antyr offered, wilfully calm and still courteous. ‘With a … dog … like this one.’ He pointed at Tarrian who looked at him balefully.
'That's a wolf, not a dog, mister,’ the boy replied contemptuously.
'Delightful child,’ Tarrian muttered caustically to Antyr. ‘I'll eat him last, I think.'
The reference to Tarrian, however, had provoked a response among the children and a huddled conference ensued with some gabbled arguments and denials, much pointing and one or two threats of violence.
'You got any money, mister,’ the leader inquired after he had silenced the group.
'Thanks, men,’ Estaan said suddenly to the children, briskly terminating the conference with a comradely salute, and taking Antyr's elbow.
Antyr resisted slightly but Estaan was unyielding. ‘This way,’ he said, pointing to a dingy building some way down the street.
'How do you know?’ Antyr said glancing back at the children who were now regaling them with cries of abuse. ‘He could live anywhere in any of these buildings.'
'They told us,’ Estaan replied with a smile. ‘You should listen more carefully.'
Antyr gave up, and contented himself with following his escort's lead.
'Wait here,’ Estaan said as they reached the building he had indicated. A short flight of uneven and worn stone steps led up to an open door and into a dark passageway. Entering first, Estaan looked round for a moment before beckoning Antyr forward.
As he reached the top of the steps Antyr hesitated in the crooked doorway. Tarrian growled.
'What's the matter?’ Estaan asked urgently, his eyes suddenly anxious.
Antyr shook his head as if to clear it. ‘I don't know,’ he said vaguely. ‘Something's … about.’ But the words were not adequate.
'What happened?’ he asked Tarrian silently.
But Tarrian was no wiser than he was. ‘I don't know,’ he echoed. ‘But I scent something nearby. Something bad. Like I felt in the distance last night, but … nearer. Take care.’ Distaste, distress and alarm leaked into Antyr's mind. Then, unexpectedly, the wolf cried out as if a careless boot had crushed his paw, and with two bounds he was up the steps and into the building.
Estaan stepped smartly to one side to allow him past, but held out a restraining hand as Antyr, overcoming his shock at Tarrian's sudden action, ran up the steps after him.
'Careful,’ he said. ‘He's gone up those stairs there and they don't look too safe.'
'Something's wrong,’ Antyr said desperately. ‘Let me past.'
'Wait,’ Estaan commanded, as he looked intently up the stairs. The sound of Tarrian's flight was floating down to them. He was half whispering, half howling.
Antyr pushed Estaan to one side and set off up the stairs two and three at a time.
'Tread lightly and keep close to the wall,’ came Estaan's urgent command as he followed behind him.
On the third storey, the stairs ended, leaving Estaan breathing deeply and Antyr gasping for breath in a long corridor lit by the occasional grimy window. Tarrian was not in sight, but his yelping was beginning to fill the entire building.
A door opened nearby and a burly figure emerged, swearing foully at the noise Tarrian was creating. Oblivious, and drawn on by Tarrian's distress, Antyr tried to push by him, only to be seized roughly and lifted up on to his toes. An angry, shouting face intruded into his alarm, filling his vision.
'Shut your blistering dog up or…’ it continued, but an upsweeping arm blow ended the imprecation and released Antyr abruptly.
As he staggered backwards into the wall, Antyr saw Estaan deliver an open-handed blow to the man's chest that lifted him clean off his feet and sent him skidding along the floor back into his room. Briefly, Estaan was silhouetted in the doorway as he reached in to take the door handle.
His other hand was extended purposefully towards the still-sliding figure. ‘Stay there and be quiet,’ he said in a voice whose authority was indisputable. Then he slammed the door loudly and, turning to Antyr, nodded him in the direction of Tarrian's crying.
Not that Antyr needed urging. The sound of frenzied scratching was now accompanying Tarrian's frantic yelping, and great uncontrolled waves of distress and frustration were so filling his mind that he barely knew which of the partnership he was.
He staggered as his arms became Tarrian's flailing paws. ‘Quieten down,’ he thundered into the din of his head, but it had no effect other than to add to it.
'Here,’ Estaan's voice intruded.
Although not fully understanding what was happening, the Mantynnai could see Antyr's disorientation and, seizing him forcefully, supported him as he tottered along the corridor until they came to the foot of another narrow flight of stairs. At the top was a short landing and a single door and scrabbling frantically at it was Tarrian.
Abruptly he stopped and let out a heart-rending howl.
Estaan ran up the stairs, with Antyr, still unsteady, close behind him, almost on all fours.
For a moment, he wrestled with the door handle, then he stood back and gave the door a powerful kick. The wooden landing shook with the impact, but the door did not yield. Tarrian fell silent and Antyr saw Estaan relax before he delivered another blow. He found himself holding his breath. At the fourth kick, the door yielded and Tarrian dashed through the opening, brushing violently through Estaan's legs and unbalancing him.
Antyr, infected by Tarrian's mood, also pushed recklessly past Estaan, unbalancing him further.
Inside he came to an abrupt halt.
A single, inadequate lamp lit the room, and facing him was a wolf, its upper lip drawn back into a fearsome snarl. It was as large as Tarrian but it was thin, unkempt and savage-looking. And, to Antyr's horror, its eyes were glowing bright yellow.
Even as he sensed the wolf preparing to spring, Antyr took in his vision of an old man lying on a low bed behind the wolf. His hand hung down limply to trail on the floor, and his face was turned towards the door, his mouth gaping. His open eyes were like black pits.
A tidal wave of mingling emotions swept over Antyr; the unbridled death savagery of the Dream Finder's Companion, demented and protecting its charge; the instinctive animal reaction of Tarrian faced suddenly by a challenge from his own kind and with a threat to his own Dream Finder. All added to his own horror at the scene. And there was something else …
And amidst it all was an almost unbearable poignancy as the life and death of this old Dream Finder was borne in upon him by the simple utilitarian neatness of the few small ornaments and articles of furniture that decorated this dank, chilly room.
Then he was pushed violently to one side, and Estaan was in front of him, a long knife in his right hand. He was hastily winding his heavy cloak about his left.
The turmoil in Antyr's mind rose to an agonizing pitch as Estaan and the two wolves accelerated towards a seemingly inevitable conflict. In response, he felt some force inside him surging upwards.
It burst out suddenly.
'No!'
His voice rang out both audibly in the room and in the minds of the two wolves, overwhelming the hurtling intentions of the three antagonists.
The power and command in it shook Antyr, but it had a momentum of its own.
'No!’ it went on, as intense and dominating as before, but calmer. ‘There are no enemies here, only frightened friends.'
Following in its wake, Antyr stepped forward quickly, gently easing past Estaan and laying a restraining hand on his knife arm.
He crouched down by Tarrian and placed a comforting arm around his hackled shoulders. The wolf's responses quietened a little at his touch.
