Oberon's Dreams (31 page)

“Cunning.”

“Indeed. When she had filled all the books, she tore bits of linen to write lives upon. She sought other fabrics, but the refugees had stripped the city bare to supply their journey. In the end…but no. You would not be grateful for that news.”

Corin rolled his eyes. “Do you imagine I enjoy any of it?”

“No, but this—”

“Tell the tale.”

Still the king hesitated for a heartbeat, but he relented with a sigh. “Very well. In the end, using books and sheets of linen and all manner of other things, she caught those other lives and most of the chronicle of what happened on this day. I thought at last her task was done. We said a sad good-bye—though I was more a shadow than a man by then—and she was to the city gate before she stopped. When she came back to the throne, I pretended I was not there. I spoke no word, but she felt my presence. She was crying. She sobbed her apologies.”

“For what?”

“In all the years she had toiled, we had both forgotten the one life that most needed recording.”

“Yours.”

“Mine. And there were no more books. No more paper in all the cavern. We brought lore of paper with us from yesterworld, but that world also knew an older means of making pages.”

“Vellum?” Corin asked, with a gruesome sense where this was headed.

“You know of it?”

Corin swallowed hard. “There are places in the world where it is used. A lamb’s skin or a deer’s, scraped smooth and flat, then dried…”

“Indeed,” the king said, grim.

“But there were no lambs or deer within the cavern,” Corin said.

“Indeed. There was only Maurelle.”

The silence stretched out for far too long. At last, the king cleared his throat. “She wove threads of her lovely hair to tie the binding. She made ink of her blood. She spent her life to write the sad story of mine, and we died together there beside this throne.”

“Why didn’t she just leave? Surely she could have purchased paper in the Khera markets.”

“She feared that if she left, she might lead someone to the cave.”

“Why fear that? Surely she was writing these books for someone to read.”

“In a last resort,” Oberon said. “But no. It was our hope that the books would be enough—that the written story would be enough to preserve the dream—and discovery seemed more likely to destroy the memory than to preserve it.”

Corin swallowed hard. “You were right in that.”

“How so?”

“The fire,” Corin said. “I told you earlier. Ethan Blake burned the city. That is how I came here.”

“No…” Oberon said slowly. “That was part of your parable. That stood for Ephitel’s attack against the city.”

Corin shook his head. “That really happened.”

Oberon sprang forward to shake Corin’s shoulders. “It can’t have! Without those books…without those books…”

“Yes?”

“The world should be undone.”

“You keep saying that. Perhaps it takes some time. Or…perhaps the books aren’t necessary at all. Perhaps the world can live on—”

“Can a dream continue after you wake up?”

“You are perhaps beginning to stretch the metaphor too thin.”

Oberon narrowed his eyes. “There is no metaphor.”

“Your dream,” Corin said. “You mean it like an idea, a grand plan. You dreamed about someday building this world, and then you did it. Perhaps you built it well enough to go on without you.”

Oberon shook his head. “You do not understand the ways of fairy. I build this world
within
a dream.
My
dream.”

“All the world’s a dream?”

“And everything in it.”

“Impossible. I know how dreams work. If this were a dream, I would not have had to spend hours slogging back and forth across your city! I could have just turned around and been somewhere else.”

Oberon shrugged. “Have you tried?”

“No! Because I know reality from dream! If this world was your dream, why were there ever heathen gods? Why would anyone have died at Old Maedred? Why have your
enemies
in your own dreams?”

“You’ve never had a nightmare?”

“Aye, but—”

“The dream is real for you. That’s why I brought the druids. They have some power, though they may not know it. They tame the dreaminess somewhat, but with that rationality comes consequences, cause and effect. We found a careful balance for a while, but now it’s gone.”

“It’s not! We are still here.”

“I have guessed an explanation,” Oberon said. “The books are gone, but you somehow stepped into the memory itself. The books are gone, but now the dream lives on in you.”

Corin shook his head. “I do not want that burden.”

“Nonetheless, it falls to you—”

“I won’t accept it!”

“It is not a choice,” Oberon said. “You alone in all the world now hold the dream within your head.”

“Not I alone! There is still you!”

Oberon patted Corin’s shoulder. “My time is nearly done. We know that much already.”

“But…but that was in another dream. In this one, you’re still alive.”

“And I still must move the city. The consequence will be the same.”

“Then don’t move it! Now you know the cost, so make a better choice.”

“And watch how many of my people slain? No. I cannot bear that.”

“Perhaps they won’t be slain. Perhaps they’ll win!”

“Against Ephitel’s guns? Against an immortal god?”

“He
can
be hurt. Ogden’s pistol slowed him for a while. And if we recover Aeraculanon’s sword…that can kill him, right?”

“It should. It should. I suspect he’s bathed himself in the waters at Aubrocia, just as the heathen Memnon did. Aeraculanon quenched his sword in those same waters, and so slew Memnon.”

“And so will I slay Ephitel!”

“It doesn’t matter! Nothing really changes. This is just a memory.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“It is…a brief time. Limited. Delaen would call it a parallel time stream, or something of the like. The things you do in this world will not carry through to yours. You do not change your past, only the things that I remember.”

“Be that as it may, you say my past was just a dream. And this is just a memory. I see no difference between the two! Let that one burn, and save this one instead. You have a chance.”

Oberon considered Corin for a while. “Let that one burn? A whole universe would die.
Your
reality. Are you prepared for that?”

“If I could kill Ephitel?”

“Even if you could, is that worth losing Iryana?”

“I don’t…” Corin couldn’t finish the sentence. “What are my other options?”

“Leave this place. Go back to your world, rescue your pretty slave girl, and remember me. Remember the dream and keep it alive. You alone, in all the world, will have that power.”

“But if I choose this world?”

“You cannot choose this world. That is not an option.”

“But—”

“I know how much it aches, but there is the difference between memory and dream: I cannot change what really happened.”

“Things here have changed. You said yourself—”

“You changed them. You were not here before, so you are not bound by history. But I must act out my own doom.”

“But things
can
change.” Corin sprang to his feet. “I can change them. I can kill Ephitel and
then
go home.”

“He would remain unscathed within your world. Nothing in this dream will change the future as you know it. The friends you’ve made here will not know you, even if you find them—”

“But I could change
your
future,” Corin said. “Even if it’s just a memory, I could change it. I could leave you a world with no fear of Ephitel’s guns. Maurelle would not have to give her life in darkness. Avery and Kellen…what became of them?”

“As you heard, Kellen became my new lord protector. He trained the resistance to fight and to survive. And Avery was mayor of New Soelig, though I believe he left the post when Maurelle never arrived. He wasted years in an attempt to find the cave again, but it was well hidden.”

“It
was
well hidden,” Corin said. “I suppose that was when he brought the Nimble Fingers to the lands of men, while he was wandering in search of you.”

Corin shook his head. “There. That is another tragedy I could avert. Avery could have his sister, and she could live her life. Kellen wouldn’t have to raise some secret army. You give me every reason to see Ephitel dead before I go.”

“It is a senseless risk. I cannot guess how long this memory might last, but it will not be a thousand years—”

Corin snorted. “I would gladly trade another hour here to buy some peace for those good souls for a thousand years. I would trade an hour for an hour, if it meant the chance to murder Ephitel. Even if it’s just a dream.”

“That would be a foolish risk indeed!”

“
What risk?
”

“The risk of dying in the attempt.”

“But…I thought this was a dream!”

“Reality’s a dream, and you are in it. Death is death, and more for you than most. If you die—in this dream or any other—you die for real. And all the world dies with you.”

Corin craned around in time to see Avery step out onto the landing. The gentleman thief looked weary and bedraggled, but even so, Corin was surprised how slowly he approached down the path toward the king.

“I enjoyed meeting Kellen,” Corin said while they awaited Avery. “Where is Kellen?”

Oberon did not meet Corin’s eyes. His gaze was fixed on Avery. “We will ask the Violet.”

Corin nodded. “And then there was Maurelle. And Ogden Strunk. And you. I have learned so much from you.”

“And I from you,” Oberon said. “Every child of this world brings me some joy, some sense of pride, but it has been an honor seeing you in action. Now, here is Avery, and I see he brings a gift.”

The sword was unconcealed. Avery carried it in an ill-fitting scabbard. The ruby burned bloodred in the strange light beneath the throne room’s canopy, and that same fire seemed to burn in Avery’s eyes.

“Welcome,” Corin said. “I’d begun to fear for Kellen’s health in spite of things I’d heard.” He flashed a smile over to Oberon, but the king kept his eyes still on Avery. Corin’s smile slipped. “Ahem. I…anyway, the king has news for you.”

“Avery of House Violet,” the king intoned, “for the service you have given on this day, I name you mayor of Gesoelig.”

Avery nodded, eyes downcast. “You are kind, Your Majesty.”

Corin cleared his throat. “What ails you? Where…where is Kellen? You have the sword. Ogden said he wouldn’t release it unless Kellen gave his word.”

Avery nodded again. “It wasn’t long after you left. Kellen woke enough to hear what had come to pass. He swore unequivocally that we were good and honorable men.”

Corin smiled. “He doesn’t know us very well.”

Avery didn’t look up. He didn’t smile. “Having said those words, Kellen died. We buried him beneath the earth, and I brought you your sword.”

He raised his head, eyes flashing with tears, and shoved the bundled weapon violently into Corin’s arms. Corin took it with a grunt, then turned to Oberon. “You said he lived. You said he trained the refugees—”

“That is how I remember history.”

“But you said
this
is your memory! You said your hands were bound and you could not make changes.”

“You changed things,” Oberon said, solemn.

“He might have been the only honest man I’ve ever met! They called him coward, but he fought for
you
. He was a true hero!”

“And it was a villain who gunned him down,” Oberon answered. “The three of you interrupted a plot that would have seen a hundred thousand dead. I suspect the noble yeoman would have paid his life to save so many.”

“But
you
paid his life!” Corin said. “You knew this was happening, and you did nothing.”

Oberon sighed. “There is so little I can do. Everything within my power I spent on bringing you to this place, to this understanding, so you can now take it home.”