Ghost broke his silence. "I'm afraid..." He hesitated, and Joslyn could almost feel him grope past that odd name he had given Musa, "I'm afraid Musa is right. He wouldn't find me so easily, but I must go where you go. I need your help."
Joslyn shrugged, resigned. "I'm not sure I have any to give," she said, "but you saved my life, and if its partly your fault I'm in this mess it's at least as much my own."
"Agreement among all human beings in one room," Musa said, calling the Dreamer to witness, "Truly a remarkable day."
"But where can we go?"
"I have... associates, in Darsa," Musa said carefully. "I'll give you some writing that will mark you to them; perhaps there you can stay out of sight for a while."
Joslyn bowed to the inevitable. "All right, but I mean to know something first
—
were you the harpy?"
Musa smiled. "I'm an old woman, Joslyn. I don't pay much attention to my dreams these days."
Joslyn thought Musa's smile was quite like that on the statue of the Reclining Dreamer
—
both spoke of closed doors and secrets. Joslyn's reaction was the same.
Liar
.
*
While Ghost and Joslyn planned their escape from Ly Ossia others tried to do the same. Belor worked at a large wooden table in the Temple Archives. On the near wall a honey-comb of niches held hundreds of rolled maps tucked neatly into its cells. One of those maps was spread out him and held in place by a guttering candle one side and a dusty book on the other. The candle made the details on the map dance with the shadows.
Where will it be
?
A cough at the door made him turn. Tagramon stood just inside he door, the poor light making him squint. "Belor? Is that you?"
"Yes, Master. I gather you've given the dreamers their instructions?"
Tagramon brushed a cobweb from his sleeve. "And assigned Acolytes to help watch the gates. She can't get away."
Belor's finger traced a line on the map. It stopped at an obscure reference to the south wall. "What about the Supplicant?"
Tagramon peered over his shoulder. "We find her and I wager we find him. What is this?"
"A map of the city. I wondered if there were any other exits."
"There are not. Unless... Belor, do you know what you have there?"
"A map, as I said."
"No, old friend. Surely you've noticed the sorry state of the city walls? Before the Darsan uprising was crushed, Governor Loban Tal was just nervous enough to consider repairing them. He commissioned a study of the damage; this is it."
Belor shrugged. "There were some notes I couldn't make out. My eyes aren't what they were."
"That must be why you didn't notice the break here." Tagramon tapped a point on the map not an inch from Belor's finger. "West from the south gate, three hundred and twenty-seven feet. Two by four and one half feet."
"Quite large enough. But would Joslyn know of it?"
Tagramon scowled. "When I discovered her Joslyn was a dirty street child and a thief. I'd wager she knows Ly Ossia better than the Watchers do."
"Since the Watchers are all Easterners that's not surprising... Master, our men are already spread thin. If we can persuade the Governor to cover this hole for us we should recapture Joslyn easily enough."
The Dream Master smiled coldly. "I look forward to it."
The High Priest noted the position of the crack very carefully and blew out the candle. "As do we all, Master. As do we all."
*
Joslyn felt her way along the wall, a traveler's bundle heavy on her back. Before they left, Musa had brewed a batch of strong herbal tea to combat the remnants of Nightseed still in Joslyn's blood. It was working
—
her senses felt heightened, and her eyes burned from a peculiar reluctance to blink, as if they might miss something fantastic and precious in that one instant.
She heard Ghost stumble behind her. "Shhh!"
"Sorry," he whispered, "I'm not very good at this."
She felt his hand on her arm and waited till he drew closer. They were in a part of the city little used, except by those who had no choice. It had held the city barracks from the time when Ly Ossia had been a free state. When the Imperium pushed west the old keep and surrounding buildings were converted into warehouses, and finally abandoned. It was a dangerous place now. The shells of empty buildings loomed tall and skeletal in the poor light, and Joslyn thought anything alive in them would surely make a sound like thunder.
Ghost's grip tightened on her arm. "I thought I heard something," he said.
"A rat, more than likely. Nothing else would live here." It was a lie, but she took a little comfort from it. She listened for herself, heard nothing but night sounds: the howl of a hunting tom, the rasping scuttle of what probably
was
a rat. She started moving again and Ghost followed. The second time it was Joslyn who stopped. "You were right. Someone is following us."
Now it was out, admitted. There was someone behind them, probably one of the burned-out souls who denned in among crumbling walls and would cut a throat for a scrap of food. Joslyn took Ghost's hand and hurried him along like a stubborn child. "Come on."
They paced the wall at a near run, crouching low. Joslyn bounced off the rough stone once, and then again, this time numbing her arm to the elbow.
"Halt!"
They halted. Froze, to be more accurate. Joslyn's mind worked frantically.
That was no sewer
-
rat
.
Someone opened a reflective lantern, blinding them. Joslyn shielded her eyes but could only make out a gloved hand holding the lantern, and the shining tip of a spear.
"In the name of the Imperial Govern
—
"
The lantern fell with a clang, the body with a thump. Joslyn got a glimpse of an Imperial Watcher with a crossbow bolt sprouting from his chest like a barbed rose. In another instant the lantern hissed and died and they were blinded by the return to darkness. Afraid to move, afraid to breathe, Joslyn waited for the second bolt to rip into her body.
Ghost shook her. "We should keep moving."
Joslyn pulled away, eyes still tightly shut. "They'll hear you!"
He forced her to stand. "Whoever 'they' are, I don't think they mean to kill us. We were pinned in the light like two rabbits, but the guard took the bolt."
Joslyn opened her eyes, now accustomed to darkness again. For a time she had put hope aside for a chance at revenge; now she had a chance at life instead, and hope returned. But it brought fear with it like a dark sister. And Ghost, damn him, was leading her like a calf in halter. But her anger couldn't keep her from pulling closer. "Aren't you afraid?"
He shook his head. "No. I'm not boasting, mind. I should be afraid. It's not right."
Right or not, Ghost kept her moving until they found the crack. Others were there before them. Two Watchers, one hidden behind a pile of rubble near the break. They lay in grotesque poses, their throats slashed. Not a quick cut, not a simple assassination. Their killers had worked with little art, but much enthusiasm. Joslyn felt something sour and burning at the back of her throat. "I don't understand this..."
Ghost studied the corpses. "Seems simple enough. The Temple knew about this hole. These wretches were sent to catch us. Someone didn't want that to happen."
Joslyn looked at the bloody remnants. "Whoever it is, I don't think they're our friends. I don't think they're anyone's friends."
Ghost went to the break in the wall. "Does that matter, so long as we do escape?"
"I don't know," she replied, "but I think it should."
Joslyn was the first to slip through the crack. The fit wasn't even close. Ghost took a bit of pushing and straining, as well as a small toll of flesh before he, too, stood outside the city walls. The wall cut off most of the lights from the city and shadowed their path. There were a few private estates outside the walls, built in the long peace of the Imperium. They kept as far from those as possible and they hurried away from the city. Joslyn looked back often, but there was no sign of pursuit. They passed over the first of a series of low, grassy hills to the south and Ly Ossia disappeared. All that remained in sight was the glow from the beacons on the Temple of Somna.
Joslyn looked back once too often and tripped over a stone. Ghost caught her before she fell. "You haven't been out of the city, have you? Not even outside the walls."
Joslyn shook her head, annoyed that it was so obvious. "Not since..." She stopped, and after a pause finished, lamely, "Not in a long time."
"Ly Ossia isn't the world. If anyone can understand what that means, a Dreamer should."
"It was
my
world. I can't make you understand that."
Ghost steadied her when she stumbled again. "Try. We have time."
"I have roamed far on the Nightstage; far beyond Ly Ossia. But the distance didn't matter, or what was there to entice or threaten; I always had a safe refuge. And now..." She spread her hands, helplessly.
Joslyn thought she saw a flicker of emotion on Ghost's face, but it could have been a trick of the moonlight. "I've done you evil," he said, "but there is something afoot in the Temple, and I can't help but think you would have been caught in it sooner or later, despite Musa's
—
" Ghost stopped, and this time the emotion was clear and present. He had said too much.
Joslyn made him face her. "I don't like secrets that concern me. Not from Tagramon and not from you. You need my help, you say. All right, maybe I need yours, too. But I won't go another step with you until you explain that. And why did you call Musa 'summer deary'?"
"'
Somnal Dera
'," Ghost corrected, "Oldspeech for 'Beloved of Somna.' I called her that because she is... was, I guess. She has changed so much
—
intentionally, I'm sure. She was quite beautiful then."
Joslyn shook him. "You're not telling me anything!"
"I'm not? Then I'll try again, though I'm sure Musa didn't want you
—
or anyone
—
to know. Back when the Temple was in Darsa, before the Emperor made it a present to Tagramon, Musa was Dream Master of the Temple of Somna."
*
Joslyn lay on a thick blanket spread on a thicker patch of grass. It wasn't exactly soft, but it was better than stone. She took little notice
—
it was all new to her, and if the fear was still present it had at least been joined by a few other emotions: curiosity, wonder, even a touch of excitement. It helped make the discomfort bearable.
How far had they traveled? Not far, surely, though it seemed like it. The night was older now; Ghost had kept them moving for a long time after dusk, and when he finally called a halt he wrapped himself in his cloak and settled on a mossy patch of earth. She watched him for a moment, then retreated back into her wild thoughts.
Musa, you should have told me
.
Cowardly Musa, valiant Musa, all chiding affection and all severity by turns, and always what was needed precisely when Joslyn needed it. If Ly Ossia had been a safe haven, then Musa had made it so. Joslyn tried to remember a time when Musa wasn't there to help her. She couldn't. Musa was the only certainty in her life, after --
Damn
!
Too late; the door was open again. Images tumbled out of broken walls and carried her along like an avalanche. Memories of sounds. Screams. Steel on steel and steel on flesh. Joslyn remembered someone holding her hand. She tried to remember the woman's face but all she got was a mirror of her own face, older. Not so old. Running, but not fast enough. Then she was alone.
She knew why, but she would not remember
—
the avalanche was nothing against her refusal. She would
not
remember what happened to the woman. Joslyn was now alone, and that was all that mattered. All alone in a narrow street, smoke stinging her eyes and bringing the tears that would not come for a better reason.
The time after that was not so clear to her, as if when the terror passed it left nothing behind it to burn the memories deep enough. Joslyn had a vague memory of being found by someone she knew and taken away from the screams and burning. After that, nothing at all for a long time. Then she was living under the care of an old man who drank and, sometimes, stole. She was fed and clothed as well as he could manage and he never hurt her, but she never called him Father and he never asked it. One day he died, before it even occurred to Joslyn to ask who had brought her to him, and why.
Joslyn shook her head.
Getting careless
.
Ghost shifted just a little in his sleep. Joslyn shivered and pulled her blanket closer around her thin shoulders, and finally lay back and looked up.
There it was.
Like in the Chamber of True Dreaming, and yet not like it at all. A wisp of dark cloud turned silver at the edges hid some of the stars. The moon rode low in the sky, soon to disappear, but Joslyn's attention was on the stars. There were many more stars in the real world, many more than she could have imagined in the light-curtained skies of the city. Joslyn started counting, and in the mad joy of it would stop for nothing but impatient sleep that had waited far too long.
Chapter 7
—
Wind Dancer
Joslyn tried to pull the blanket over her head, but it was tangled in her legs and wouldn't come loose. She rolled over, eyes tight shut and hands over her face. "Put out that light!"
"I'm not sure I can. Would you like me to try?"
Who
... Joslyn sat up and opened her eyes. 'That light' was a yellow morning sun, just clear of the horizon. Ghost had a little fire going, and over it a copper kettle steamed. Joslyn smelled the spicy sweet aroma of rennit tea.
Ghost poured a cupful. "Would you like some?"
"Please..." Joslyn untangled herself from the blanket and took the cup gratefully. It eased the chill and did a lot to tame the bad taste in her mouth. Ghost took some biscuit and dried meat from his pack and they ate slowly, with frequent sips to help the food go down.