Tarrian got up and moved over to them. He put his forelegs on the arm of Antyr's chair and intruded his nose anxiously between Antyr and the rabbit.
Kany's eyes narrowed. ‘Do you want a third nostril, bonzo?’ he said brutally.
Hastily, Antyr transferred the rabbit to one hand and put the other reassuringly on Tarrian's shoulder.
'Kany, behave yourself.’ It was Pandra, returning, followed by Estaan who was carrying a large book and several smaller ones. Without ceremony, Pandra took Kany from Antyr and dropped him, none too gently, back into his pocket.
'You have to be firm with him at times,’ he said. ‘He's got a very domineering streak if he's allowed too much of his own way.'
Antyr nodded, understandingly. Tarrian dropped back on to the floor, but lay across Antyr's feet.
'A fine searcher though,’ Pandra added, as a small hedge against future recriminations.'A fine searcher.'
He sat down and reached up to take the large book from Estaan. ‘Been in the family for generations,’ he said, running a finger along the engraved leather spine.
'Never mind the history lesson,’ Kany said, impatiently, struggling out of Pandra's pocket. ‘Turn up the section on the Threshold and the Rites of Mastership.'
Pandra settled the book on his knee, opened it reverently, and began squinting at the ornately scripted index. Slowly he turned over a page. Then another.
'What are you doing?’ Kany asked irritably.
'I told you, there's nothing in the main texts,’ Pandra said, without pausing in his search. ‘Contrary to your opinion, I have read most of them at one time or another, and I'd have remembered if there was anything there that dealt with anything like this. I'm looking for the appendix that deals with the Mynedarion.'
Antyr winced. ‘What for?’ he asked nervously.
Pandra looked at him. ‘Because that's what's come among us,’ he said simply.
Antyr's mouth went dry. He wanted to speak, but could not, and for a moment his stomach felt hollow and ghastly.
'I don't pretend to understand what you've just told me,’ Pandra said. ‘And to be honest I'm still a little … disorientated … by it all. But one thing rings out.’ He tapped his finger on the page absently. ‘Change,’ he said conclusively. ‘This Nyriall figure that you met, whoever or whatever he was, spoke of change. Something that came into dreams and changed them. Can you do that, Antyr?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘Can any of us? And the figures you met changed the weather. Made their own storm seemingly. And more.'
He levered the book open and thumbed through several pages before finding what he wanted. He read for a moment then reached up and selected a volume from the pile that Estaan was still holding.
'But the Mynedarion are a myth,’ Antyr said hesitantly.
'So is the Threshold these days, supposedly,’ Pandra replied as he thumbed through the second book. ‘And even the Great Dream itself. Just colourful creation myths for children, and esoteric lore about our ancestors for the study of learned scholars.'
Antyr closed his eyes. The memory of the storm that appeared out of nowhere returned to him; whirling dark thunder clouds streaked with lightning, a howling wind, full of purposeful shadows, a nerve-shredding laugh. And at the focus of it all, two motionless figures.
He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. They were trembling.
A hand touched his arm gently. ‘Don't be afraid of your fear,’ a voice said softly. Antyr turned and found himself looking up into Estaan's face. ‘What I felt in that room, I've felt before,’ the Mantynnai went on. ‘It was no illusion, no trick of the mind. And fear is the true response. But it can be faced and defeated. That I've seen also.'
Antyr shook his head. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But not by me. I…’ He stopped abruptly, realization dawning on his face. ‘I escaped because one of them wanted me to. Before Tarrian and Grayle came, one of them said, “You shall be my Guide.'’ He shuddered at the memory of the malevolent desire in the voice. ‘But the other one cried out, “No!” and…’ He closed his eyes again in concentration. ‘Put his blade between us … I'm sure.'
Pandra, however, did not appear to be listening. ‘Yes,’ he muttered to himself as he ran his finger down successive pages rapidly. ‘There's a lot of ifs and maybes and buts here. Mynedarion are manifestations of aberrant streams in the flux of the Nexus, whatever that means. They're distortions in the dreamer's Nexus ordering produced by adverse Companion reaction … blah blah … Typical academic guff. They'll say anything bar “We don't understand.'’ He gave a disparaging snort. ‘I don't think some of these people would know whether they were in a Dream or a hay cart. But…’ He jabbed the page forcefully. ‘They say more than they realize. They all accepted that Mynedarion, whatever they are, need a willing Dream Finder if they're to reach into dreams and beyond. It says here that they have a power, an old power of some kind, it's not clear. Magyk's the word they keep using, but lots of things were magic when this was written which are understood properly now. He shook his head. ‘Anyway, this power can be used to change things here, in this world. But it's multiplied many times in the worlds of the Threshold, and is…’ He brought his face close to the page. ‘Beyond limit … in the Great Dream itself. From there they can change all things. Even the past itself. And it's there that they always strive to reach.'
He fell silent.
'A power, beyond explanation, to rend and change, does exist.’ It was Estaan again. His voice was dark with certainty. ‘I've felt it. Seen its work. As have all the Mantynnai. It's why we're here. Have no doubts about such a thing whether you understand it or not. It was mingled in the evil in that room today.'
Antyr and Pandra looked at him as if for a further explanation, but none came.
'Which leaves us where?’ Kany said, after a moment, his voice subdued.
'Couch it in whatever language you like,’ Pandra replied. ‘It leaves us with an evil power stalking the worlds of the Threshold. An evil that can enter and change dreams at will. And one guided and protected by a Dream Finder of consummate skill: a Master.'
Antyr looked at him. ‘There are no such Dream Finders in Serenstad,’ he said, looking for solace in practicalities.
Pandra nodded. ‘One would think so from the general state of our craft,’ he said. ‘But there are Dream Finders throughout the land. Even in Bethlar. It's an ancient craft. Many people are Dream Finders without even realizing it. And distance in this world will mean nothing to someone who can walk in the Threshold.'
Antyr looked down. The urge to flee was seeping into him again.
'What can it … they … want?’ he managed to say.
Pandra shrugged. ‘From what you say, there seems to be both madness and malice in one or both of them. Who can say what they want? But I've lived long enough to know that power always seeks more power. It needs no reason.’ He looked significantly at Estaan. ‘I think we must talk about … Guild matters for a moment.'
Antyr was more straightforward. He turned to the Mantynnai. ‘Estaan, we must discuss the dreams of others. I'm sorry. Can you wait outside.'
Pandra stood up, placing the books on the floor. ‘Go into the back room,’ he said, with an apologetic smile. ‘You'll have to forgive our discourtesy, but I doubt we'll be long.'
'I understand,’ Estaan said. ‘Perhaps I'll learn a little about Dream Finding from your books while I'm waiting.'
Pandra snapped his fingers and took Estaan by the arm to escort him from the room. ‘I'll find you the very book,’ he said. ‘An excellent little apprentices’ manual.'
When he returned, he was sombre-faced and serious, however. ‘Power lies with the Duke here,’ he said, starkly. ‘And all of a sudden he seeks out a poor spark of a Dream Finder who turns out to be a Master. Very strange. Tell me about his dreams and why he sought you out.’ Then, nodding towards the two wolves and lowering Kany on to the floor, ‘And you three listen and exchange whatever you need as well.'
Antyr recounted the events of the past two days and described the dreams of both the Duke and Menedrion. Pandra listened in silence, but his old face seemed to grow older as Antyr continued, and when, finally, he spoke, there was a marked tremor in his voice.
'Menedrion as well,’ he said. ‘And drawn into the Threshold apparently. Power seeks power. I was right. I hoped that perhaps it might have been you that brought all this about in some way, but it seems not. It seems that, whoever these two are, they're trying to possess the dreams of our leaders, or worse, draw them into the Threshold…’ He paused as if reluctant to continue.
'Where they can be killed, or perhaps possessed themselves,’ Antyr said, remembering the shadows that
