Oziri's voice. 'A man must learn to be still if he is to understand.' Understand what?
But I didn't ask it. Couldn't. My eyes closed abruptly. What little control of my body I retained drained away. I was conscious of the furs beneath me, the scent of herbs, the taste of liquor in my mouth.
It would be a simple matter for the Vashni to kill me. But he merely put something into one lax hand, closed the fingers over it, and bade me hold it.
Hard. Rough. Not heavy. Not large. It fit easily into the palm of my hand.
'Be still,' Oziri said, 'so you may hear it.' Hear what? 'Truth,' the Vashni said.
I came back to myself with a jolt. For a minute I just lay there on the rug, staring up at the hyort's smoke hole, until I felt the hand insinuating itself behind my head and lifting it up. A bota was at my mouth.
'Drink,' Del said. 'Oziri said you would need to.' Del. Del. I wasn't in Oziri's hyort anymore. I sat bolt upright, saw the hyort we now shared revolve around me, cursed weakly, and slumped back down. I took a swallow because she insisted, discovered I was incredibly thirsty, and proceeded to suck most of the water out of the skin. Then I lay there on my back and hugged the flaccid bota against my chest, scowling up at the stars visible through the smoke hole as I tried to put my world back together.
'What happened?' Del asked.
I closed my eyes. Felt the residual burning from the herbs and smoke. 'I have no idea.'
'Don't you remember?'
'Only that Oziri kept dumping herbs onto the fire. I thought I was going to choke.' I looked at her. 'They brought me back here?'
Del nodded. 'A while ago.'
I worked myself up onto elbows, then upright. This time the hyort did not spin so rapidly. 'Did Oziri say what they did?'
'He called it 'dream-walking,' ' Del replied. 'I'm not sure what it is, except that Oziri said you needed to learn it.' She shrugged. 'He asked me questions about what happened to you on Skandi.'
'And you told him?'
'I didn't see why I shouldn't.'
Well, Del didn't know the whole of it, either. Some things I couldn't bring myself to talk about, even with her. I squirted the last of the water into my mouth and tossed the bota aside. 'I don't remember anything. Did he say I actually did whatever it is a dream-walker does?'
'No. Just that he expects to see you again tomorrow.'
'What for?'
'I don't know, Tiger. I don't speak priest.'
I glared at her. Del smiled back blandly. I closed my eyes again, tried to recall what had happened in Oziri's hyort. The back of my throat felt gritty. I cleared it, hacked, then began to cough in earnest. Del dug up another bota and gave it to me. After a few more swallows, the worst of the coughing faded.
'I don't see any sense in trying it again,' I said hoarsely, 'whatever it is.'
'They are our hosts. It would be rude to refuse.'
'And if he asked to cut off toes to match my fingers, would it be rude to refuse?'
Del, yawning, lay down on her pallet, dragging a thin blanket up over her shoulder. 'It's hardly the same.'
'The point is . . .'
After a moment, Del said, 'Yes?'
Nothing came out of my mouth.
'Tiger?'
I toppled backward, landing on rugs. I felt the dribble of water across my chest, the weight of bota. Limbs spasmed.
Then Del was at my side. 'Tiger?'
I couldn't speak. Hearing was fading.
Hands cupped the sides of my head. 'Tiger!'
But I was gone.
TWENTY
ONCE AGAIN I came back to myself with someone pouring a drink down my throat, but this one was noxious. I choked, swallowed, choked some more. Then someone dragged me up into a sitting position, where I sputtered the dregs all over the front of my burnous. Fingers closed painfully on my jaw, holding my head still I saw eyes peering into my own.
I wanted to ask who of the Vashni had four eyes in place of two, but then they merged, and I recognized the face. Oziri's. It was his hand clamped on my jaw, squeezing my flesh.
'Le'goo,' I mumbled through the obstruction.
He let go. I worked my jaw, running my tongue around the inside of my mouth. No blood, though I felt teeth scores in flesh. 'What was that for?'
Oziri ignored my question and asked one of his own. 'What did you see?'
'See where?'
Del interrupted both of us. 'Is he going to be all right?'
'What did you see?' Oziri repeated.
'Is he going to be all right?.'
I answered both of them. 'Hoolies, I don't know.'
'Tiger—' Del began.
'Be silent!' Oziri commanded.
My tongue worked. So did my mouth. So, apparently, did everything. I frowned at him, because I could.
'Not you,' he said more quietly. 'Her.'
Del's tone was the one you don't ignore, even if you don't know her. 'I have a right to ask if he is well.'
I put up a hand. 'Stop. Wait. Both of you.' I squinted a moment. 'I feel all right. I think. What happened?'
Oziri's expression was solemn. 'You dream-walked.'
'I thought that was what you wanted me to do in your hyort.'
'In my hyort, yes. This is not my hyort.'
'I did it here? Now?'
'What did you see?' Oziri asked.
'I didn't see—oh. Wait. Maybe I did.' I frowned, trying to dredge it up. 'There's something, I think. A fragment. But—' I clamped my teeth together.
Oziri seemed to read my reluctance. His mouth hooked down in a brief, ironic smile. 'This is why you must train yourself to be still. That way not only do you walk the dream, but you understand it. You recall it at need and allow it to guide you. Otherwise it's no different from what anyone dreams.'
I glanced briefly at Del, who wore an expression of impatient self-restraint—she wasn't happy with Oziri— then looked at the Vashni. 'I'm not sure I want it to be any different from what anyone dreams.'
'Too late,' he said dryly. 'You are the jhihadi.'
'Can I quit?' I asked hopefully.
He laughed. 'But if you are no longer the jhihadi, then you are not a guest of my people. I would have to kill you.'
'Ah. Well, then, never mind.' I sighed. 'So, I'm just supposed to remember what I dreamed?'
Oziri nodded. 'No more, no less than any memory. Yes.'
