“Yes, teacher,” said Shan, greatly daring.
Churry smiled and preened inwardly. He relished this and other attentions from the handsome Damzel scion, though in his most private heart Churry thought Shan a bit of a fool. All that quivering frailty about his studies on Ninfadel!
“How have the dreams been?” he asked, rather daring in his turn. One did not lightly mention dreams to Shan Damzel.
“Controllable,” said Shan, offhandedly. “The doctors are really very good. They’ve taught me some excellent techniques.” He ignored the drops of cold sweat which had sprung from his hairline immediately on hearing the word dreams.
“I’ve never asked you,” said the other, curiously. “While you were on Ninfadel, did you ever have any feeling at all that the Porsa might be a threat to us?”
Words stuck in Shan’s throat. His eyes bulged slightly. He shut them and nodded, as though reciting something to himself, some kind of rhythmic chant. At length he opened his eyes again and managed to say, “No. Not in the way you mean. No.”
The barely controlled terror in Shan’s eyes shamed Churry. He hadn’t meant to set the boy off that way. He turned away, pretending he had not seen Shan’s reaction. “Well, be careful,” he said lamely. “Come see me the moment you get back.”
By the time a day or two had passed, he forgot Shan’s discomfiture while keeping clearly in mind that there might be something dangerous on Hobbs Land. The Arm of the Prophetess had been doing push-ups for a very long time. Now he dared hope, more than a little, that on Hobbs Land there might be something dangerous for that well-muscled Arm to strike at.
• On Hobbs Land, unconcerned with possible dangers, Sam Girat slept and dreamed. He was deep in the canyon of caves, exploring each cave as he came to it, finding strange and remarkable creatures living there.
China Wilm dreamed of a sapphire lake where bubbles rose from vents in the depths to float like balloons above the gentle water, where beaches of diamond sand gleamed in every direction, coruscant and marvelous. She had seen that lake, or invented it, in a fantasy when she was a child. She came back to it now and then, for comfort and peace.
Maire Girat dreamed of the Voorstod of her childhood, of precipices from which bridges of stone reached into low hanging clouds, of small creatures singing among the leaves, of fruit-laden vines, dangling over sunwarmed walls. It was an idealized Voorstod, without shadows. The land she had thought was there, when she was young.
Others dreamed: children, old people, men and women. Even the cats dreamed, curled in their dens, and the kittens, warm at their mothers’ teats. Saturday dreamed. And Jep. And, shallow beneath the soil, Birribat Shum dreamed with them.
• Topman Harribon Kruss took two days leave from Settlement Three in order to make his visit to Settlement One. Topmen were encouraged to share experiences: he could have made the trip on Hobbs time, but he wanted no picky-picking at his schedule or second-guessing as to his motives by Spiggy’s minions in the finance department. Before he left, he sat by his mother’s bed for an hour or two, but she woke only briefly to smile her haggard smile and murmur something indistinguishable. He made the trip alone, leaving Dracun in Settlement Three to bite her fingernails in frustration. Though she had been content to have Jamel gone, ever since he had disappeared, Dracun had acted like a smudged copy of Zilia Makepeace, all too ready to make incoherent accusations. Harribon didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the Settlement One Topman, about whom he had heard interesting, or perhaps disturbing, things.
Topman Samasnier, however, was all charm and pleasantries as he welcomed Harribon, gave him the pick of the guest rooms, bought him a drink at the canteen, and invited him to dine with him and Saluniel that evening.
Harribon demurred appropriately. “Ah, Sam, that’s too much work for Sal. She’s got, what? Two little ones?”
“Three. Sandemon, Sahkehla, and Sahdereh.” He laughed. “Nine, seven, and five. They’re a handful all right, but it’s no problem. Some of the older folks are fixing dinner at the brotherhouse for us. We’ve got a handful of retireds now, Harri. Doesn’t seem it could be that long, does it? I remember first day we stepped through the Door. I was six, and the oldest settler here at the settlement was what? Fifty lifeyears? And we’ve got great-great-grandmas now! Of course, they were grandmas or mommas when they came, but it won’t be long before people have enough land credits to get their land rights.”
Harribon, who was somewhat younger, merely nodded and smiled, wondering a little at how relaxed Sam seemed, Samasnier Girat who was known for being tight as a guy wire. Sam Girat who was supposed to be so hyper he wandered around half the night, fighting monsters. It couldn’t be the drink; they’d only had this one. Unless Sam was on something, which was possible. Maybe the med-techs had come out and settled him down.
“What brings you over, Harri?”
The question took Harribon almost by surprise; he choked on his drink. He’d thought Sam knew why he’d come. “I came over, Sam, to find out how in hell Settlement One manages to keep its people so peaceable.”
“Ah well,” Sam made a deprecatory gesture, as though it was nothing much.
“Don’t ah well me, Sam. I’ve heard all the rumors; I’ve scotched a few of them. I don’t think you’ve hexed the rest of us, which some few of the younger workers seem to believe. I don’t think you’re getting favored treatment from CM. But get rid of all that nonsense and the
