Dream Finder

closed about him.

Pandra closed his eyes and nodded. ‘I fear you're right,’ he said. ‘If the Treatise is correct, and it seems to be from what you've said about that storm suddenly coming from nowhere, then they already have great power in the Threshold. If they're choosing to assail our leaders then they must be seeking power in this world.'

His voice jerked the words out unhappily.

'What are we to do?’ Antyr asked after a long silence.

Pandra shook his head reflectively. ‘Your father's shadow is reaching down to us, Antyr,’ he said. ‘Good flows from good. Just a conscientious man with his client was your father, but the trust he built up in the Duke has sustained him and given him self-knowledge enough to protect himself when the need arose, albeit without realizing it.'

'Yes, perhaps, but what can we do?’ Antyr repeated, impatiently.

Pandra shot him a mildly reproachful glance. ‘Because of your father's work with the Duke, we can tell him the truth,’ he said sternly. ‘And we must tell him about Menedrion's dream too. Under the circumstances it's a necessary breach of confidence. From what you say, I'm sure he'll believe us and he may well have his own ideas about what's happening.'

It took them little time to reach the palace from Pandra's house, but it proved no easy task to gain an audience with the Duke.

'There's been a noisy cabinet meeting, by all accounts,’ Estaan said, returning from his first attempt. ‘And he's due at the Sened shortly to make some kind of statement about this envoy. There's all manner of people clamouring to see him: merchants, Gythrinwr, diplomats…'

Antyr looked around. The wide hallway they were standing in was indeed busy with guards, messengers, officials bustling about urgently.

'What about Aaken and Feranc?’ he asked.

'They're no use anyway. We need to speak to the Duke,’ Pandra said, before Estaan could reply. He turned to the Mantynnai, unexpectedly resolute. ‘Young man. You're a soldier. Cut your way through to him, at whatever cost, and tell him that his Dream Finder must speak to him, immediately, on a matter of the utmost importance.'

Estaan hesitated.

Pandra took his arm, urging him forward. ‘You say you felt an evil that you've felt before,’ he said. ‘That makes you the wisest here. Be your own judge of the urgency of the matter.'

Estaan rubbed his chin doubtfully, then set off again.

It was some time before he returned, and he was looking somewhat flustered when he did.

'Come on,’ he said, breathing noisily. ‘I've got you five minutes. And it's cost me five years of growth the mood the Duke's in!'

Antyr could appreciate Estaan's concern as soon as he stepped into the Duke's room. The figure before him was not the affable, almost fatherly figure that had greeted him on their previous meetings. This was a powerful leader of men … leader of armies … preparing for battle. That it was predominantly a political battle at the moment, rather than a military one, made his manner no less formidable.

'Five minutes,’ he confirmed, holding up his fingers, before Antyr could speak. He glanced at Pandra and the two wolves. ‘And don't abuse my regard for your father and respect for your craft by expecting to bring in all your drinking cronies.'

As much to his own surprise as anyone else's, Antyr, grim-faced, strode towards the Duke. The Duke's eyes widened angrily in response to his manner, but Antyr did not wait for any reproach. ‘The old man I went to see for advice is dead,’ he said. ‘Murdered, I think, by the same … people … power, that tried to enter your dream.'

'Murdered, you think?’ Ibris said with heavy and impatient emphasis. ‘You've seen corpses enough in your time, haven't you?'

'Murdered I'm certain,’ Antyr returned. ‘Though not by any means that either you or I have seen before.'

'I want no riddles,’ the Duke retorted. ‘Speak plainly. And who the devil is this anyway?’ He flicked his hand towards Pandra, who stepped forward hesitantly to introduce himself. Antyr spared him the deed. ‘This is Indares Pandra, sire. A Dream Finder who knew my father and who still respects and knows the old ways. I sought his help.'

Ibris grunted dismissively. ‘You set my own bodyguard on me, Dream Finder,’ he said. ‘I don't know how you managed that, but this matter of importance had better be just that or…'

'It is, sire,’ Antyr said, cutting across him. ‘What do you know of the Threshold?'

Ibris scowled at the interruption, but Antyr's abrupt question provoked an automatic answer. ‘It's part of your Dream Finding mythology, isn't it?’ he replied. ‘Worlds beyond the dreams. Real worlds like this one. Worlds within worlds. And beyond them again is supposed to be the Great Dream.'

'Not mythology, sire,’ Antyr said, without giving him pause. ‘But truth. I've been to one of the Threshold worlds twice, perhaps three times, these last two days. And met the power that tried to enter your dream…'

'Enough,’ Ibris said fiercely, his face set. ‘I haven't time for this.’ He rounded on Antyr. ‘I had some reservations about seeking your help in the first place, Antyr. Now I see they were right. You're not your father's son, you're just another charlatan hoping to find an easy living by gulling me with woolly-headed nonsense.’ His lip curled. ‘Travelling to other worlds! What kind of a fool do you take me for?’ He turned towards the door. ‘Estaan!’ The Mantynnai appeared almost immediately.

Ibris turned back to Antyr. His presence seemed to fill the room. ‘Out of regard for your father you'll not be punished for this pathetic chicanery, but make sure you never cross my way again, and keep your tongue to yourself if you don't want to lose it. Get them out of here, Estaan. I'll speak to you later.'

Estaan stepped forward. There was regret and dismay in his eyes but the purposefulness of his stride was clear enough.

Antyr held out a shaking hand to stop him. Estaan hesitated and glanced at the Duke. ‘Sire,’ Antyr said, his voice trembling like his hand, but nevertheless, intense. ‘Do as you wish. I'm well content to go back to my old life. I'm a wiser man by far than I was two days ago, and I want no more adventures such as I've had today. But be alert tonight, for everyone's sake. Whatever my father taught you, hold to it, and above all be yourself and trust yourself. There is a threat to you. And have someone, anyone, guard your son's sleep. He has neither your knowledge nor your will. He's already been drawn into the Threshold, and it's only by a chance intervention by someone else that he hasn't been overwhelmed, perhaps killed, yet.'

Estaan took his arm firmly, lifting him up on to his toes, but Antyr held Ibris's gaze.

Ibris raised his hand and Estaan paused.

'Tarrian,’ Ibris said. ‘I felt you prowling the edges of my sleep last night, for which my thanks. Am I to believe this tale?'

'I've mixed with humans long enough to learn how to lie, Ibris,’ Tarrian replied. ‘My word's no better than his. Use your nose when your wits fail you, pack leader.'

Ibris scowled at him, then motioned Estaan away. ‘Five more minutes,’ he said tersely.

Nervously, Antyr recounted his tale once more, as briefly as he could.

When he had finished, Ibris looked at Estaan. ‘And you felt some of this … presence?’ he asked.

Estaan nodded. ‘I was terrified, sire,’ he said simply. ‘There was a power there that I've felt before and have no wish to feel again.'

Ibris looked at him narrowly. ‘From before your arrival here?’ he said. Estaan bowed by way of reply, but did not speak.

Ibris's manner softened slightly. ‘Wait outside all of you, I need to think for a moment,’ he said.

As the door closed behind the three men, Ibris stepped over to an alcove and drew back the partly closed curtain.

The tall figure of Ciarll Feranc stepped out of the shadows.

Chapter 23

Ibris put his hand to his head wearily. ‘What did you make of all that, Ciarll?’ he asked.