Dreamseeker (16 page)

My heart skipped a beat. “Tell me about the castle.”

She shrugged. “I don't know any more than that, other than it was
something he dreamed about. The others didn't pay much attention to him when he rambled on about his dreams, they just thought he was crazy. Which maybe he was.” She drew in a deep breath. “Jesse . . . you came to get me out of here, right?” Her voice was pitiful, like the whine of a wounded puppy.

It was a few seconds before I could speak. “I'll try to figure out a way, Moth.”

“Please,” she begged. A universe of pain was in that one word.

“I promise.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the drawing Morgana had given me. Scrunching forward, I slid it along the ground until it reached the fence. Moth looked around to make sure no one was watching, then took it. She opened it in her lap where no one could see. “What is it?” she whispered.

“I was going to ask you the same question. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

She shook her head a tiny bit.

“No designs of this type at all?”

“No. Sorry. Nothing.” She looked around again and then slid it back to me. The gesture reminded me of a kid passing notes in class.

“What about dreams?” I asked. “Anyone else here talk about strange dreams?”

“Just that boy and his castle. Otherwise, we dream pretty much what you'd expect in a place like this. Nightmares, mostly.” She paused then said softly, “Sometimes I dream how I'll get out of here someday.”

I lowered my head to the ground for a moment, grateful that Moth couldn't see my expression. “Did they try to make a fetter from that boy's energy?” I asked.

“I assume. They try with everybody.” She nodded slightly toward the cinderblock building. “There's a safe inside the lab where the experimental stuff is kept. They keep the fetters locked up in a safe because they're dangerous. I heard one of the Weavers talk about how they're not
tempered
yet, whatever that means.”

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but just then a loud clanging filled the compound. Moth jumped.

“That's lunch. I have to go. They'll notice if I don't.” She dared to look back at me. “I'll see you again, right? You won't just forget about me?”
I helped keep you safe when you first came to this world,
her eyes seemed to be pleading.
You owe me.

A sudden knot in my throat made it hard to breathe. “I won't forget about you. I promise.”

The guard was looking our way now. Moth hurriedly got to her feet. “I'll walk by here every hour or so,” she whispered behind her hand. “They won't notice, so long as it isn't meal time.”

“I'll get back to you when I can,” I whispered.

She headed toward the largest cabin, where all the children were gathering. It seemed to me there was a hint of newfound vivacity in her stride, but maybe that was just my wishful thinking. Once she entered what I assumed was the mess hall I started the long scrunch-crawl back to Rita. By the time I got to her, all the children had disappeared into the building, and most of the adults had disappeared as well. During mealtimes the yard was nearly empty. Something to remember.

“Well?” Rita asked impatiently.

I hesitated. I needed a few minutes to sort things out in my head . . . and to figure out how to talk about the situation without tears coming to my eyes. Was Moth staring out at the woods even now, wondering if we would really come through for her? Or was the concept of abandonment something she just took for granted? “Let's go find a safe place to talk. I'll fill you in then.”

We headed back into the woods to find a suitable place to stow our gear, eat, and make plans.

We found a place that suited our purposes, a small clearing near a stream, far enough from the compound that we could talk safely. As we set out a sparse picnic of bread, cheese, and dried meat, I told Rita
most of what Moth had said. I didn't tell her about the castle the boy had described. It sounded like it might be the same building my dream-avatar had fled toward, perched on a black island in the center of a mirrored lake. If so, that was a connection I wasn't ready to share with anyone.

“I'm guessing it was the boy's presence the Seers sensed,” I told her. “He's been dead for a week, but Morgana didn't tell us how old her information was, so maybe they gathered it while he was still alive.”

“Or it's connected to the fetters somehow.”

It seemed the obvious conclusion. But getting to the fetters would require passing through the main gate and into the lab, then breaking into a safe, all without being seen. Rita assured me she could take care of the lock on the gate, no problem, and we could probably dodge the rent-a-cop without too much trouble, but she didn't have any experience with safecracking, and neither did I. So unless we could figure out a time when the safe would be open, there was no point in trying to get to it.

And then there was Moth. It was only a few weeks ago that she and her friends had rescued us from the streets of Luray Prime, and started us on the path that eventually got us home. We owed her. But how were we supposed to get her out of there? And if we came up with a way to rescue her, did that mean we should free all the other children, too? Where would they go, if we did that?

We decided to spend the rest of the day observing the compound, getting a sense of its people and work rhythms. I spent much of my time watching the Weaver who Moth had said was in charge. If I had dreams about this place, I wanted them to include her.

I wondered if I could get into a Weaver's head, the way I had gotten into Tommy's.

B
LACKWATER
M
OUNTAINS

V
IRGINIA
P
RIME

J
ESSE

T
HE SUN IS JUST BEGINNING TO SET
when Master Weaver Marjorie Tennant begins her final rounds. The lights in the compound come on one by one as she walks past them, filling the courtyard with a soft blue glow. It has been a long day, but a rewarding one. The product from one subject is particularly promising, and she suspects that when the girl's fetter is properly tempered it will accept a Gifted imprint.

Project Beta is her creation, her pride and joy, and she loves her work dearly, even if she does not love where the Guild requires her to do it. But their caution is understandable. An untempered fetter is a dangerous thing under the best circumstances, and two dozen wild children producing sparks of energy with no structure or focus is hardly a recipe for stable power. No one has ever tried to collect and store the emanations of the unGifted before, so one knows exactly where the process might backfire. Which is why her Guild dictated that if she undertook this dangerous experiment, she had to do so in the middle of the nowhere.

But imagine if she is successful! No longer will Weavers have to pay exorbitant prices for the other Guilds to empower their fetters. Raw energy can be harvested from the unGifted, and other Guilds will only be needed to imprint that energy with purpose. Which means her Guild will be able to produce ten times as many fetters as they do now—a hundred times as many, a thousand!—and while the market price will inevitably drop, the lesser cost of production will more than make up for it. Net profits will skyrocket in the long run.

And imagine the social implications of it! There can be enough Gifted tech for every household to enjoy, at prices even the lower classes can afford. Imagine what it will be like when every family can have a house full of fetters—even the working classes—without having to go into debt for them. And the new system can provide employment for thousands of unskilled laborers, whose unGifted energy can be bound to empower the new tech. No, she tells herself, Project Beta isn't just about increasing the wealth and influence of the Weavers' Guild—though that is certainly a consideration—but about bettering the entire world.

As she walks the grounds, she notes that everything seems to be in order. The horses sound a little nervous, but they might be responding to the smell of a bear in the distance. Otherwise everything seems peaceful enough. A few of the children are still wandering about, mostly younger ones—they seem to be more resilient than the others—but soon they will retire to the dormitory so they can be locked in for the night. Not because Tennant fears they'll try to break out of the facility, but simply to keep them from disturbing the lab. Some of them are no longer connected to reality as much as they should be, and they often wander where they shouldn't.

A guard nods to her as she passes. What a boring job this must be for him! The closest thing to a threat that Project Beta
ever faces is when a forest animal tries to get over the fence. Once a small bear made it halfway up, and the guards and Weavers placed bets on whether it would give up before hitting the barbed wire. And once a large bird got tangled in the wire, and a guard had to climb up to cut it free. They bet on the guard's climb, that time, and later enjoyed owl cutlets for dinner. Which tasted like stringy chicken.

As she heads toward the lab for a final security check, something catches her eye in the distance. Far to the north a faint light can be seen rising from the forest, casting a ruddy glow on the underbellies of the clouds. For a moment she thinks that it's probably just the last few beams of sunlight shining upward from the horizon . . . but no, it's in the wrong part of the sky for that. She stares at it for a moment, noting how the clouds seem to pulse slightly, as if the source of the light is unsteady. Suddenly she realizes what is causing it—what must be causing it—and panic sets in.

Wildfire.

The compound has an alarm bell for such events, but it's rusty from disuse, and fallen leaves have jammed the mechanism; she has to yank on the lever a few times before it becomes unstuck. When it finally sounds people come pouring out of the buildings, startled and confused. Her staff has never faced a real fire before, and though they know what's expected of them in theory, they lack any instinctive grasp of the situation. She even sees several of them look at the distant glow in the northern sky and relax, thinking that if the fire is far away they have plenty of time. But she's seen wildfires before, and she knows how fast they can move. And while it's possible that one of the neighboring towns will have an Elemental on call who can turn the flames aside, she can't bet the welfare of her people on that. Besides, few people in the area know Project Beta is out here, so an attempt to divert the fire
from nearby towns could wind up sending it their way even faster.

They have to evacuate. Now.

She gives the necessary orders, and people rush to obey. As the horses are led from the stables they whinny nervously, responding to the atmosphere of fear in the compound. Or maybe they can smell the distant fire. But there's something inside the compound that's far more dangerous than any fire, and Tennant knows that if she doesn't secure it properly, more than the compound may be at risk.

“Bring the dolly,” she orders her assistant, as she pulls out the keys to the lab and starts running toward the cinderblock building. She fumbles with the lock for a moment, her hands unsteady, then gets the door open and heads inside, several Weavers following.

The lab itself doesn't matter, she knows. Equipment can be replaced. Tennant's lab notes have been copied to Guild headquarters on a regular basis, so even if all her notebooks burn, no important data will be lost. But there's one thing they dare not leave behind, something so unstable that the intense heat of a forest fire might set it off, even if its steel container keeps it from burning.

“Let's get the safe out of here,” she orders.

She can hear the jangle of tack outside as a horse-drawn wagon is brought to the front door, and a ramp moved into place. Inside the building, her people are struggling to move the safe onto a reinforced dolly, but it's a heavy piece, and sweat is running down their faces by the time they finally get it settled. As they start to roll it outside, Tennant can see that a carriage and a second wagon are waiting for them, ready to go. There aren't a lot of vehicles in the compound, and she'll be hard pressed to get everyone out of here in time, but all Tennant has to do is get them to the nearest town, and then
they will be protected by whatever defense local Elementals provide.

The safe rolls smoothly toward the door and

“Get the safe out of here,” she orders.

She can hear the jangle of tack outside as a horse-drawn wagon is brought to the front door, and a ramp moved into place. Inside the building, her people are struggling to move the safe onto a reinforced dolly, but it's a heavy piece, and sweat is running down their faces by the time they finally get it settled. But as soon as they started moving the dolly the Weaver can see that it's damaged. It moves only a few feet before one of the wheels splits off from the base with a sound like the crack of gunfire. A corner of the frame slams down onto the floor, and the safe skids in that direction until part of it slides off the dolly entirely, striking the wooden planks of the floor with enough force to gouge deeply into them.

Frustrated, Tennant stares at the wreckage. Clearly the dolly isn't going anywhere now; the only way they can get the safe out of the building is to push it along the floor, or maybe lift it. She considers the dynamics of the two options, then orders one of her people, “Go get some more help. We'll carry the damn thing out of here if we

As soon as they start moving the dolly Tennant can see that it's damaged. It only goes a few feet before one of the wheels splits off from the base with a sound like the crack of gunfire. A corner of the frame slams down onto the floor and the safe careens in that direction, hitting the wooden planks so hard that two of them split. Now the safe is wedged corner-first into a jagged hole in the floor, with cracks fanning out from it in every direction.

Appalled, Tennant stares at the wreckage. The safe isn't
going anywhere. “We'll have to unload it,” she says decisively. Her people run to gather the boxes and packing materials she'll need, as she works her way slowly across the floor, easing carefully from one broken plank to the next. Wood creaks beneath her weight, and once she hears an ominous cracking sound, but the floor holds, barely. When she finally reaches the safe she crouches down in front of it and begins to dial the combination. God willing, she'll have time to unload the fetters with the care they require, and then get everyone out of the compound before the fire cuts off their escape route and

I awoke to pain, and an exhaustion so overwhelming I could barely muster the strength to open my eyes. Every muscle in my body burned, as if had just run a twenty-mile marathon and then topped it off by doing a hundred pushups. When I tried to move one arm it spasmed painfully, and my other limbs followed suit, until my entire body was knotted in a shivering ball of agony. I tried to cry out to Rita for help, but my chest muscles had spasmed so tightly it was hard to draw breath, and my voice came out little more than a choked whisper.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain receded. One by one my muscles began to relax, and I stretched them out as best I could, gasping for breath as I did so. I had a pretty good guess about what had caused all that pain, and it wasn't happy news. Apparently taking control of a stranger's dream was much harder than just chatting with my brother. Getting into the Weaver's head had required herculean effort, and every tiny change I'd made to her dreamscape had required more exertion than the last.

This was the price of my success.

I don't know how long I lay there, so exhausted I could barely muster the strength to draw air into my lungs. I was surprised that Rita didn't come over to see what was wrong. She was supposed to be on watch, wasn't she? When I finally felt I had enough strength to do
more than gasp for breath, I lifted myself up on one elbow and looked around for her.

She wasn't anywhere in sight.

Struggling to my feet, I used a nearby tree to steady myself. My legs were still so weak I couldn't stand without support. “Rita?”

She wasn't anywhere to be seen. Not in the camp, not on the nearby hill we'd chosen as a sentry point, not down by the stream. For a moment I wondered if she might have ducked behind some bushes to take care of private business, but if so, she should still be close enough to hear me call her name. I couldn't call out too loudly, for fear that someone in the compound might pick up on it—sound travelled far at night—but if she was anywhere near our camp she should have heard me.