And then it was past, the vision fading into memory. Kessa was again outside, looking dazed.
"What... what did you do?"
"I pulled you back," Joslyn said, "It was time." It wasn't exactly a lie, but close enough. Joslyn felt angry at all of creation, but when she looked at Kessa and knew that she no longer saw Tolas's butterfly, Joslyn was mostly angry at herself. "Kessa..."
Kessa didn't seem to hear. She was looking through the haze of the dream at the crowd of people. "It was there a moment ago... Did you see it, Joslyn?"
"Yes," Joslyn lied.
"Did he
—
I dream that?"
Joslyn shook her head. "No. I believe Tolas actually made them see a butterfly."
The crowd was now looking as one toward a spot in the sky as if a huge butterfly with brilliant blue and gold wings were disappeared in the distance. Some continued to stare, others blinked like sleepers awakening, milled about; some few others came by to put money in Tolas's upturned cap. The show was over, and soon the audience began to disperse. Aynfyr lingered for a moment; then she too wandered off, using her new-found notoriety to beg a few coppers from the scattering audience. Tolas packed the rest of his equipment, pausing to feed his sharp-eyed assistant.
Joslyn took a firm grip on Kessa's arm and a firmer grip on the dream around her. "This is where I came in before. Watch now, and for Tolas's sake don't try to interfere!"
Tolas hoisted the pack, slung it over his back, and set off down one of the small side streets that spoked into the central hub of the marketplace. He turned off that street into another that was little more than an alley between two ruined buildings. Tolas opened a door and slipped inside part of one that was still standing. Joslyn and Kessa got a glimpse of the bed and a few simple furnishings, but their attention was on the Enders.
There were three of them, and they were waiting for Tolas. It was carefully planned, and they wasted neither time nor talk. They caught Tolas unaware; two pinned his arms, and the third struck him in the head
—
not enough to kill; that wasn't on their minds. While Tolas was dazed, the leader took a shaving razor from his robe, pried open Tolas's mouth, and mutilated him. It wasn't his skilled, nimble hands they destroyed, damn them. They knew where the magic was.
"No... No!!"
Kessa was separate from the dream now, as was Joslyn; the shout was not heard. It was all Joslyn could do to restrain Kessa from attacking the hateful memory like a wildcat. "Let me go! Joslyn, don't you see what they're doing!?"
Joslyn did not let her go. "Doing? It's a memory, Kessa. Done long ago." Joslyn could well understand Kessa's anger. The dream
—
the memory
—
was vivid and spared nothing. When Tolas fainted, the leader made a bandage of a wad of cloth and put it behind Tolas's teeth to catch some of the blood. One of the others dropped Tolas's pack on the floor and stomped it; the sadistic light in his eyes was oddly reassuring. When the leader did his part, that look was missing; he might have been writing a tally of account instead of cutting out a man's tongue, for all the emotion on his face. The other was different; he enjoyed what he did. Joslyn saw how the blanket Cult of Malitus sheltered all: those who truly believed in the rightness of their cause and those who would have been the killers, the savages, in any case. Only now they had a cause and religion that absolved them of whatever they did. Whatever they wanted to do.
Kessa had stopped fighting, but she was still seething. "If this was true memory then I've seen the devils' faces," she said. "I'll hunt them, I'll kill every last one!"
Joslyn laughed harshly. "You'll be denied, girl
—
remember? Tolas saw them, too."
The scene faded like a curtain rung down, and then there were three short vignettes: Tolas, white faced and trembling, ambushing an Ender in an alley, and that was one. Tolas now not so white faced, not so trembling, confronting another Ender in an abandoned building and leaving him twitching on the floor, and that was two. Tolas saved the leader for last, but Joslyn didn't think there was much savor left in that morsel by then. The Tolas that killed the first acolyte was not the same one who slipped into the darkened temple, found one acolyte out of hundreds, and quietly slit his throat, muffling his death throes in his own blanket. This Tolas had the cold smile and hard eyes that Joslyn remembered from her first meeting; the Tolas that created butterflies out of words and need had died a slow death with every blow, every cut that called itself revenge until there was little
—
perhaps nothing
—
of him left.
Until the dream began again. The marketplace crossroads appeared; the crowd and Aynfyr appeared and finally Tolas himself
—
reborn. Joslyn waited just long enough to confirm what she already knew; the dream would repeat. "Aynfyr, what would you like to see?"
Joslyn took Kessa's hand and drew her, dazed and unresisting, from the borders of the dream. "There was much that I didn't see before, but nothing changed. I wager this dream repeats every night."
Hope was nearly gone from Kessa's face, but what flicker there was made a feeble attempt to salvage something. "What if you stopped that part of the dream where they... you know. I think you could do it."
Joslyn sighed. "I could. And if the shock of interference didn't end the dream, he would awaken to find nothing changed at all. How kind would that be, Kessa? How would that endear me
—
or you
—
to him?"
Kessa looked beaten, her voice barely a whisper. "I just thought..."
Joslyn waited, but it seemed Kessa wasn't entirely sure what she thought. Joslyn remembered cutting her from Tolas's dream and decided to tell her. "You thought what Tolas thought
—
that his anger could be given names and faces and lives separate from his own to be taken away. You thought of accounts settled and enemies defeated. Now those three young lunatics are past hurting, but Tolas tries again every damned night, hoping it can make a difference. But it never does."
"We
—
I, pitied him," said Kessa, softly, "but I don't think any of us understood how much he had lost, why he couldn't accept it. I wanted to help."
Joslyn spent a long moment before she said what she said. It wasn't her business; it was trouble, it was danger, and she had enough of her own. All true. And still she said it. "As long as it wasn't too much bother."
Kessa frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means you wanted to help so long as it was a quick cut into his dreams and all the pain ebbing like a lanced boil. Well, you've seen that it isn't so easy and you're giving up."
Kessa tried to leave the Nightstage, but Joslyn was too quick for her. "I realize," Joslyn said, "that come morning you'll be able to do all sorts of unpleasant things to me, but right now, right here I'm bigger and stronger than you can imagine, and you're going to listen."
Kessa was nearly spitting with rage. "You arrogant bitch! You don't understand
—
"
Joslyn laughed in her face. "I don't? I've seen you with Tolas, and the only thing that makes you different with him is that your face goes a little more unconcerned, a little more of a mask, a little more a study in indifference. You wanted to help him, but you didn't want to let him know why. So you used me to get to Tolas through his dreams. It was safe
—
for you. Only it can't be safe, Kessa. Care for someone and you've given them a power to hurt that an Ender would envy. All you have to do is let him know, and you'll never be safe again as long as you live. And you won't take that risk. Now, little girl
—
tell me I don't understand."
Kessa looked stunned. "I don't know what you are," Kessa finally managed, "but I don't think you're human."
Joslyn smiled sweetly. "Are you afraid of me, Kessa?"
Bravado gave a great effort, but truth won. "Yes, Joslyn. I am."
"As afraid as you are of Tolas?"
Kessa slowly shook her head.
"Very good. Tolas is still lying to himself; don't do the same if you still want to help him."
"What do I do?"
Joslyn shrugged. "I have no idea," she said, and smiled, "but I can't wait to find out."
*
Joslyn sat in the mist, knees pulled close under her chin, eyes closed, mind drifting. She felt incredibly weary; she felt her time in dream growing short. Kessa's dream shone with the soft glow of dying embers; it was a good piece of work. Joslyn felt a certain pride of craftsmanship in the way she had eased Kessa back into her own dreams, giving her a little respite before morning came and the problem of Tolas followed it like a persistent puppy. Time enough to worry about that then
—
for now Kessa dreamed a dream of long, lazy flights through clouds of oblivion.
Joslyn yawned.
Must go soon
.
MUST.
It sounded like an echo. Joslyn listened, but there was nothing else.
Hello
...?
HELLO.
I'm in no mood to play, Musa. Go away
.
SOON. SOON I WILL GO AWAY. I'M NOT... MUSA? NO. I AM MYSELF.
Joslyn sat up. Either Musa
—
or the one she thought of as Musa
—
was disguising how she sounded in the aether of dream, or...
Who are you
?
MYSELF. A hint of annoyance there. TOLD YOU.
Joslyn was a little annoyed too, but somehow she didn't think 'Myself was being difficult by choice. She
—
that was the one thing Joslyn was sure about
—
seemed to have trouble grasping the sense of words easily. Joslyn tried again.
Do you have a name
?
A long silence. THINK SO... SOMEWHERE. IS IT IMPORTANT?
Joslyn turned her head slowly. The voice was inside her head, but that didn't mean it had no direction. She heard it like a voice calling from a distance, and by 'listening' carefully, she was able to tell that direction. By now all the warnings had flashed into her mind, just as they were supposed to. She was an Ender adept. She was a servant of Tagramon. She was mad. All there in place, row on shining row. Joslyn ignored them. She did sense danger underneath the stranger's words, but it wasn't aimed at her.
Are you in trouble
?
YES...
The voice was fainter now. Joslyn made her best guess and set off. She didn't know where she was going, so there was no way to make speed except by running, and Joslyn ran. She felt a vast sense of urgency, that delay might bring disaster.
Where are you
?
FAR.
Wait then. I'm coming
.
Fainter still. CANNOT.
I'm losing her
...
The voice again, stronger but not much, as if the stranger were gathering all her fading strength for one last shout.
STOP.
Joslyn stopped. There was a faint glow up ahead, but it wasn't a dream in any sense she understood. It quickly resolved itself into the shape of a woman about Joslyn's height, with long red hair that covered her shoulders and back. She wore a shapeless dress, almost like a robe, with spiral patterns stitched into the cloth in blue thread. All this Joslyn took in with one glance, after that all her attention was on the woman's eyes. Set in a thin, pointed face, her eyes were golden with no whites or pupils, like two polished discs of amber.
Joslyn had a new question now.
What are you
?
FIRSTBORN, GIRL.
She faded even as she spoke. Joslyn knew she had never been there at all
—
it was a projected image, a dream casting. Not an illusion, Joslyn was certain. She had seen the woman as she was
—
somewhere.
Firstborn
?
Joslyn didn't understand what had happened but at the moment that didn't matter. It was time to leave. Joslyn turned and saw the other dreamer. She had been standing in the mists behind Joslyn, watching. Joslyn broke into a smile of relief. "Alyssa!"
Alyssa didn't smile, and when Joslyn took a step toward her, Alyssa took a step back. The few moments that followed were long and cold, because Joslyn understood. "Not you, Alyssa. Not for Tagramon."
Alyssa fled. Joslyn forgot her weariness, ignored the pull that came stronger and stronger, the feel of the daysoul trying to waken.
You can't outrun me
!
I can try
.
It was like two marsh-lights playing tag
—
Alyssa trying to escape the circle of the Darsan Nightstage, Joslyn moving to block her, hem her in. For long moments this went on; Joslyn felt her time growing shorter and shorter. Finally, Alyssa tried a different tack, and cut back into the heart of the Darsan night.
If I lose her now
...
Joslyn knew that it didn't matter if Alyssa escaped or not; nothing could prevent her betraying Joslyn to the Dream Master, if that was her intention. But there was something still unresolved.
Joslyn caught Alyssa by the glow of a ragged dream that flickered and writhed, glowed and darkened like a failing campfire.
Alyssa struggled. "Let me go!"
Joslyn shook her head. "Not before you tell me why. And don't say 'Dream Master's command.' This is
me
, Alyssa."
Alyssa stopped fighting, but she wouldn't meet Joslyn's eyes. "You wouldn't understand."
Despite Joslyn's best efforts, all the menace and posturing fell away from her like rotted cloth. "Alyssa, you were my
friend
. You owe me that much."
Alyssa said nothing and did nothing for many long moments. She finally nodded, beaten. "All right, Joslyn. I had to search for you... because of Ter. Since we were forced to "rest," he's been retreating into his own dreams every night, unable to perform an augury. The Dream Master was going to release him from his oath
—
let him go. But if I agreed to help find you..."
"He'd release you, too?"