Nightmare (6 page)

  "What’s Silent mean?" Lizard hissed at him.

  "Go!" Pup hissed back. "And be sure you remember your friends later."

  More confused than ever, Lizard trotted away. He followed Mistress Blanc and the old woman named Clara out of the ballroom, along a corridor, and through a set of double doors into a large room paneled with blond wood. A huge silk rug covered the center of the burnished floor, and an enormous desk sat next to a stone fireplace. Shelves were crammed with bookdisks, and statues of frogs were everywhere. A wet bar occupied one corner. It was well after sunset, and the windows showed only a reflection of the room itself. Blanc motioned Clara to a leather easy chair while she opened a decanter at the bar.

  "Brandy?" she asked.

  "No thank you, dear," Clara said from the depths of the chair.

  Lizard wasn’t sure what to do, so he stood next to the door. His heart pounded like a hyperactive hammer and he was starting to sweat. Was he in trouble for dropping the tray? Doubtful—Pup had looked happy for him. So why was he here?

  Blanc splashed red-brown liquid into a glass the size of a balloon and took up a chair behind the desk. She swirled the brandy, sipped. "You say my slave Lizard is Silent."

  Clara gave a prim smile. "Of course."

  "I don’t understand how." Blanc set the snifter down and tapped her desk. A holographic screen winked into view and text scrolled across it. "It’s as I remembered. His papers state he was found on an STL colony ship that left Earth some nine hundred years ago."

  Lizard stood by the door in his tight shoes, feeling like some new species of frog that had caught Mistress Blanc’s eye.

  "So he wasn’t born into slavery?" Clara said.

  Blanc shook her head. "And I know what you’re thinking. Listen, someone else would have bought him and his dam if I hadn’t, and I treat my people well. He has a good home here."

  "Did you rescue him from a colony ship or the dog pound?" Clara asked mildly, echoing Lizard’s unspoken thoughts. A wash of anger flashed over him and he had to struggle to stay quiet.

  "At any rate," Blanc said, brushing Clara’s comment aside, "he left Earth long before Irfan Qasad started creating Silent babies."

  "Nevertheless," Clara said firmly, "I am Silent, and when I touched him, I
knew
."

  Lizard could keep quiet no longer. "Please, Mistress," he said, and both women turned their gaze on him, "what does it mean that I’m Silent?"

  "It means you’re worth a hell of a lot more than five hundred freemarks," Blanc muttered.

  "Silence is a form of telepathy, child," Clara said. "Once you’ve had proper training, you’ll be able to enter the Dream and communicate with any other Silent in the universe, no matter what species they are, what language they speak, or what planet they live on." She gestured at Mistress Blanc. "Some of the frogs on this very farm produce toxins that can be refined into drugs that aid the Silent in reaching the Dream."

  "How do you know that I’m Silent?" Lizard asked uncertainly. "I’ve never heard of it."

  "I touched you," Clara told him. "The first time two Silent touch flesh-to-flesh in the real world, it creates a weak telepathic bond. If we were both in the Dream right now, we would be able to find each other much more easily than two Silent who have never touched. That first contact also creates a physical jolt that can be very disconcerting for those who are unprepared for it. Your Silence must be very strong, dear, for it to send you to your knees like that." She paused. "Tell me, do you have dreams that are so vivid—lifelike—that when you wake up you feel like
this
is the dream and your dream was the real thing?"

  Lizard nodded in awe. "How did you know—?"

  "Holy mother of god," Blanc gasped. "What if I have two of them?" She tapped something on her desk and a tone chimed. "Nater, send Bell into my office immediately."

  "
Yes, Mistress
." The reply came out of thin air.

  Lizard’s head swam and he desperately wanted to sit down, but it looked like no one was going to give him permission. Dreams. The Real People told stories of the Dreamtime, the place where everything began and ended. And there were all those meditations the Real People Reconstructionists did to re-learn head talk. Was it all real?

  "Who’s Bell?" Clara asked.

  "His dam. She was on the same ship. I’m wondering if she’s Silent, too."

  "It does run in families," Clara agreed.

  "But why wouldn’t the slavers have tested them for Silence already? It seems like they would have."

  "Why should they, dear? As you said, the ship was nine hundred years old, before the time of Irfan Qasad, and she was the first human Silent. Why should they spend the time and money to run a test that they thought would only come out negative?"

  A knock came at the door. There was a pause. Both women looked at Lizard, and it took him a moment to figure out that they were expecting him to answer it. Fumbling with the knob, he did so, and Bell stepped self-consciously into the room. She gave Lizard a worried look that said,
What did you do?

"Bell, come here," Blanc ordered, and Lizard’s mother approached the desk. "Clara, would you ...?"

  "Of course." Clara got her feet, long black dress rustling. "Hold still, Bell. This won’t hurt."

  Lizard wanted to cry out a warning, but Clara touched his mother’s cheek before he could do so. She stiffened and gave a little gasp. Clara nodded and went back to her chair.

  "She is Silent as well," she said, "though not as strong in it as her son."

  "All life!" Bell said, a note of fright in her voice. Lizard wanted to go to her, but didn’t know if that was allowed. He stayed where he was.

  "Well," Mistress Blanc said, getting to her feet. The holographic screen vanished. "Well, well, well. This is welcome news. Lizard, you need not return to the slave barn tonight. I’ll tell Tira to give you a room up here. I’ll decide what to do about both of you tomorrow. Clara, I have to return to the other guests. Dinner will be served soon. Coming?"

  "Of course, dear." Clara rose and took Blanc’s proffered arm. The two of them strolled out of the office without a backward glance.

  "Son?" Bell asked. The slave bands wouldn’t allow her to call him
Evan
, but she had never used the name Blanc had assigned to him. With a small start he realized that he always thought of himself as
Lizard
now. When had that started?

  "Son," Bell repeated, "what did she mean? What’s happening?"

  Lizard explained what little he knew. "So it looks like we’re both Silent—and a lot more valuable. I don’t understand it all."

  "Silent." Bell looked at the leather armchair uncertainly, then apparently decided she had nothing to lose and sat in it. Lizard, greatly daring, perched on the arm. "Once in a while, I would hear the mistress or Nater mention a message that came via Silent courier. I always assumed that
Silent
meant classified or bonded or something. I never asked."

  "So what do we do now?" Lizard said. "I don’t think Mistress Blanc wants me back at the party, and she didn’t say—"

  Another knock came. Both Lizard and Bell leaped to their feet. Lizard opened the door cautiously on Pup. He slipped into the room and Lizard closed the door.

  "Is it true?" he asked without preamble. "Are you Silent?"

  Lizard nodded. "Mom’s Silent too."

  "Wow." Pup’s blue eyes were wide and round. "You both go right to the top. No more mucking for you."

  "All life!" Bell sank back into the chair. "What do the Silent do?"

  "You don’t know?" When they both shook their heads, Pup said, "They communicate. Slipships can jump into slipspace and get to other planets and stuff—Mistress Blanc wouldn’t have much business if they couldn’t—but regular communication only goes as fast as light. I hear tell it’d take hundreds of years for some messages to get where they have to go. But the Silent can communicate with other Silent no matter how far away they are. I don’t know how they do it, but they do. Ask Old Min about it. He
says
he has a Silent cousin, but I don’t half believe him."

  The door began to open, and once again Bell jumped to her feet. Tira entered the office. Lizard’s heart lurched. He was going to be in trouble. He was—

  "Mistress Blanc told me to show you to your rooms," Tira said deferentially. "Would you like to go now?" While Lizard was recovering from his surprise enough to formulate a reply, she caught sight of Pup. Her tone and demeanor instantly changed. "What are
you
doing here?"

  Pup blanched. "I—"

"I summoned him," Lizard snapped. "Is that a problem?"

  "No, sir," Tira said, contrite. "I’ll show you upstairs now, if you like."

  She took them up to the second floor and into a pair of adjoining bedrooms, each with a wide, canopied bed and a well-appointed private bathroom. Tira stood in the doorway between the two rooms, hands behind her back, eyes on the floor. Lizard was amazed at the change. This was Silence?

  "Will you require anything else?" Tira asked.

  "Yes," Bell said from her room. "Supper for both of us. Bring a wide selection."

  "Yes, ma’am." Tira crooked a finger at Pup, who was standing in the corner trying to look inconspicuous. "Come along, you."

  "He’ll stay," Lizard said in an imperious tone, "and serve us our dinner."

  Tira blinked, then nodded and left. Lizard waited until both doors were shut before running into Bell’s room and throwing his arms around her. She laughed and hugged him back. Pup grinned like an idiot.

  "What’s this all about?" Lizard asked breathlessly. "What happens next?"

  "I don’t know," Bell admitted. "Look—our own rooms. They’re bigger than the entire apartment back in Sydney. Why are they giving us all this?"

  "You’re Silent," Pup reminded her. "You outrank everybody except maybe Nater. Even the managers have to be polite."

  They spent considerable time exploring their rooms. Lizard flung himself on the bed and found the sheets were fine, heavy linen with a raw silk bedspread woven in a purple pattern. It was the first time he had lain on a real bed in three years. The bathrooms were an equal treat, each with a whirlpool bath and a multi-directional shower that fascinated Pup no end.

  A while later, a knock came at the door and a slave Lizard didn’t recognize wheeled a large linen-draped cart into Bell’s room. The covered dishes on top rattled slightly, and delicious smells filled the air.

  "Thank you, Kip," Bell told him. "You can go."

  Kip left, and Lizard lifted covers. Although he didn’t recognize a lot of the food, he could see at a glance it was infinitely better than anything the muckers got, even on holidays. Bell gave it a critical kitchen eye.

  "It’s not the best," she said, moving the dishes to a nearby table. "But it’s better than what any slave gets."

  Pup stood uncertainly by the door.

  "Sit down and eat," Lizard said. "That muck about you serving us was just an excuse to keep you here. There’s more than enough for all three of us."

  Pup’s face cleared and they all three sat down. When Tira came to take away the dishes, Lizard told her that Pup would sleep at the foot of his bed in case he or Bell wanted something in the night. Tira accepted this without comment and withdrew again.

  "I don’t know how long we can keep it up," Lizard said, "but we may as well enjoy it now. Besides, the bed’s big enough for five!"

That night, Lizard lay awake in the deliciously comfortable bed. Pup had dropped off almost the moment his head hit the pillow, but Lizard found the silence kept him awake. The windows were shut, and he couldn’t hear the frogs, let alone the usual snores and sleepy mutters of the slaves in the barn loft. Soft moonlight slipped around the closed curtains, giving a dim illumination. Lizard turned on his side and watched Pup sleep. His near-white hair looked silver. The sheet had fallen away from his bare chest, revealing flat muscle and supple skin that moved with Pup’s steady breathing. He was a good friend, the best Lizard had ever had. And he was damned good-looking.

  Lizard blinked.
Where did
that
come from?
he thought.

  He watched the rise and fall of Pup’s chest and was seized with the sudden impulse to reach out and touch Pup’s hair, caress his forehead. Feelings churned inside Lizard, strange and unexplained. Pup was his best friend. Pup had been there for him from day one, had listened to him cry about his missing family, had conspired to avoid the managers with him. Lizard liked Pup a lot, didn’t know what he’d do without him. But what did that mean?

  Lizard’s hand stole outward and his finger lightly touched Pup’s cheek. It was warm. Pup shifted. Lizard snatched his hand back as Pup’s eyes abruptly opened.

  "What’s wrong?" he said in a sleep-blurred voice.

  Lizard’s wits fled and he couldn’t answer. Pup blinked and woke up fully.

  "What’s going on?" he said.

  "I thought ..." Lizard stammered. His heart beat fast. "I mean ...it’s nothing."

  Pup gave him a long look that Lizard couldn’t interpret. "Okay. Good night." He turned over and lay still.

  Lizard swallowed hard. What had he been thinking? What had he been doing? There was no answer that made sense to him. Lizard turned his back to Pup and stared at the wall. So much was happening, changing so fast. He’d never get to sleep.

  He fell asleep.

  The wind was hot and dry, carrying the scent of dry vegetation and sun-baked rock. Overhead, a falcon screamed, a high, free sound. Under his feet, the earth was hot, sandy, and full of sharp stones, but in this place, his soles were hardened and impervious to such problems. He spread his arms to the wind, let it blow over him. This place was solid. This place was real. This place was—

Child.

  He had never heard human voices in this place. These should have startled him. But he felt no fear. He turned calmly. Half a dozen people, men and women, stood beside him. They were as naked as he was, their dark hair bleached brown by the sun.