The room did not change shape, nor did the moonlight falling in through the grille of the window darken, but something like that should have happened, because a strange dreamlike sensation crept over me, a sense that I could not move, or that the objects around me were alive, silently chuckling, merely holding into the familiar shapes of floor and bed out of a watchful malice.
Colin said, 'Hey. I can see his dreams. He is dreaming right now.'
Vanity said, 'Colin, Amelia is freaking out. I think your dreamworld is bad for her. Can you do something?'
He pulled his eyes away from the figure on the bed. 'Um. Like what, Red Leader?'
The man on the bed opened his eyes. It was horrible, like looking at a zombie. His mouth was open, and his voice came out, but I did not see any tongue or teeth. The lips did not move. It was like the real Mortimer was crouched below the bed, speaking up through a tube shoved through the back of a corpse. Nothing looked wrong, but it was horrible for the same reason dreams are horrible, when you dream about an empty white room with an empty wooden chair in it, and cannot remember why that terrifies you.
Colin was holding me by the shoulders, and Victor was standing behind me with his arm around my waist. Funny. I didn't remember them reaching for me.
'Amelia,' said Colin. 'Calm down. You have nothing to be afraid of. By the authority vested in me as a Prince of Chaos, son of Morpheus, I invite you into my realm, um, this whole room, the land on which it stands and the sky above, and all the rights, rents, and privileges appertaining thereto. There. Did anything happen?'
I said in a calm, slow voice: 'His eyes are open. He's talking. Can't you hear him?'
'Amelia, stop screaming. Um.' Colin shrugged. 'Leader, what's going on?'
Vanity spoke up, 'Ask her what the voice said.'
I said, 'I can hear you, Vanity. Mortimer is talking. He says he saw her bathing. The girl was naked. It was freezing winter, and the snow was on the sedge and swamp-grass, but she laughed and sported in the pool like it was a bath. Her dogs were blind, no eyes in the sockets, and white and pale as death. She set her dogs on him.'
Colin said, 'She's right. That is what I am seeing inside his head. There is a girl, maybe fourteen, fifteen. Athletic build, sort of Jewish-looking, olive-skinned, with her hair all pinned up. Huh.
That's funny. She just turned and looked at me.'
Vanity said, 'Someone is watching us.'
Colin said, 'She's whistling for her dogs. How can she be doing that? This is something in his dream.'
I spoke. My words sounded odd to me. 'He is dreaming a real thing.'
'Actaeon,' said Quentin. 'I told you about him before. His own hounds turn on him. I guess in the modern version, his brain cells turn on him. Leader, we had best start the retreat!'
Colin reached forward and touched the figure on the bed. Suddenly, the dream sensations left me.
The man's eyes were closed again; his mouth was relaxed. Colin spoke in a voice of solemn command: 'I release you from your nightmare. Be whole! I release you from the curse of the goddess! Wake! OH, BAT CRAP! She's coming! Don't any of you see her! She's coming with her dogs! Leader, whaddya wanna do?'
Vanity said in a voice that squeaked with panic, 'Can any of you see anything?'
Victor said, 'I think only Colin's laws of nature are working now.'
Vanity clutched at her stone. 'Okay. I can-'
I shouted, 'Leader, no! Wait! I can see her, too. She is approaching through the dream-realm, a plane parallel to the plane of earth. But the world-paths curve away from this room. I don't think she can get into the room, not while you are maintaining a boundary with your green stone.'
The moon shining in through the window changed suddenly, and an olive-skinned girl stood outside, looking in. She was dressed in a brief white tunic, leather leggings, and a forearm-guard on her right arm. In that hand, she held a bow that was as silver and lustrous as the moon. Atop her tightly bunned and netted hair, she wore a coronet shaped like a crescent. With her other hand, she was fishing an arrow from her ivory quiver. Her eyes were the color of moonlight, and eerie, and cold. Her internal nature was fierce and clean and young, untouched by any man.
'Chaotic creatures, dressed like humans, and standing in a house!' she said, and her voice was like a crystal goblet chiming. It was more regal than pretty, but it was the kind of voice that could say things like off with their heads or throw them to the snakes without any hint of pity or doubt.
From the shape of her legs and her general trim, I could tell she'd be good at the hundred-meter dash. Her shoulders were broad and sinewy for a girl, the muscles sculpted from endlessly pulling a bowstring.
Victor raised his hand. 'Miss, don't shoot! We're the hostages from Chaos. If we die, the war between Cosmos and Chaos starts again.'
