Bridge of Dreams

  If Shamans were the Landscapers in Vision, who were the Bridges? Who connected the various pieces of this city?

  Shouting and the sound of people running brought Lee to his feet. Then he swayed there for a moment before sitting down again.

  Nothing he could do.

  That wasn’t as pleasing a thought as it had been a little while ago.

  Danyal stared at the rough stairs leading down to stone walls covered with vines and listened to the inmate down there, just out of sight, laughing and weeping with delight, saying this is where he belonged. This place.

  Several Handlers were crowded behind him, including Zhahar. As his eyes skimmed over them, he realized he was looking for one other person: Lee.

  As Danyal took the first step down into this place that hadn’t existed an hour ago, he felt a strong hand grab the sleeve of his white robe, felt two heart-cores where a moment ago there had been one.

  “You shouldn’t go down alone,” Zhahar said.

  “Come, then,” he replied.

  She followed him down. It was cool and shady near the stairs. When they rounded the bit of wall that blocked their sight of the rest of the place, they stopped.

  Sunlight and heat and air that almost dripped with scents. Vines clung to the stone walls, and he could almost see the bunches of small fruit growing as he watched. Vito, an inmate who had been indifferent to his surroundings, touched the plants and the stones, laughing and weeping with a joy that could have broken Danyal’s heart if he hadn’t heard Zhahar’s choked sob.

  “He’s so happy,” she whispered. “It’s as if his heart woke up. But…what is this place?”

  Not a part of Vision, Danyal thought. There were vineyards in some of the northern communities, but there were no grapes that grew like this. Not in Vision.

  And how had this place been made when no man had picked up a shovel to dig or a barrow to haul stone?

  “Shaman?” Zhahar pointed to something gold that poked up from the ground near the vines and caught the sunlight.

  He walked over to the spot and picked up the broken pocket watch.

  “Shaman Danyal, isn’t it wonderful?”

  Danyal looked at Vito, a man whose heart-core had been mud and stone. Now…Dawn. Clean water. Rich earth. The abundance of a good harvest lovingly tended.

  “Yes, it’s wonderful,” he replied, then added gently, “Tend your vines until the evening meal. Then you must come in and rest.”

  “All right, Shaman. I will.”

  Danyal went back up the stairs with Zhahar. He tipped his head at Denys. “Stay with him to make sure he comes to no harm. Observe him.” He turned to Zhahar. “Escort Lee to the temple.”

  “What should I tell him?” she asked.

  Summer rains, both gentle and fierce. Madman or teacher? “Tell him the voice of the world wants to talk to him.”

  “Could you pick a pace and stay with it?” Lee snapped after stumbling for the third time because Zhahar couldn’t settle on whether to go step by ponderous step or sprint to the temple.

  “The Shaman wants to see you,” Zhahar snapped in return. She tightened her grip on his arm and put more muscle into hauling him down the path.

  “Hey!” Lee stopped so abruptly, she was pulled around and smacked into his chest.

  Two resonances. Two familiar resonances where there had been one a moment before. He grabbed her left arm. Even through the jacket he felt the jagged, raised scar before it seemed to withdraw into the skin.

  “What happened that’s got you bouncing out of your skin?” he asked. He could almost feel her panic at his mention of skin.

  “We— I’m not. It’s just…unsettling.”

  “Then shouldn’t the Shaman and the Handlers be taking care of whatever this is?”

  “We don’t…It’s never…Places can shift, but not like this.”

  “Places shift?” What does that mean? If it meant what he thought it meant, Zhahar knew more about the world than she was saying. And wasn’t that interesting?

  “Lee.”

  “Just tell me why the Shaman wants to see me, because I know that calling himself the voice of the world means we aren’t going to be having a friendly little chat.”

  He felt her hesitate, felt her struggle to regain control of herself.

  “There’s a new place in the Asylum,” she finally said. “It wasn’t there and now it is, and no one knows why.”

  “Is anyone happy about this?”

  “One of the inmates. He thinks he belongs there.”

  “Then he probably does.” Still didn’t explain why Danyal wanted to see him, but it explained all the shouting before Zhahar came to fetch him.

  She finally settled into a reasonable pace—or someone did—and they arrived at the temple. Didn’t need to wonder if Danyal was there, because the gongs were sounding. All the gongs. Quietly, yes, but Lee would have bet a week’s worth of chores that the Shaman hadn’t struck any of those gongs with a mallet. Voice of the world, indeed.

  Zhahar helped him up the steps and into sorrow’s room.

  “Leave us,” Danyal said.

  Lee felt her hesitate before she retreated, closing the door behind her. That was nothing more than a token gesture of privacy, since he could tell by the breeze that all the windows were open, and he didn’t think anyone was going to have to strain to eavesdrop on this conversation.

  “Don’t need eyes to know you’re pissed off about something,” Lee said. “Shouldn’t you be dealing with it instead of chatting with me?”

  “Maybe chatting with you is the only way to deal with it,” Danyal replied.

  Lee felt the other man come closer, felt the way the song of the gongs seemed to vibrate against his skin. Judging by what he could sense of Danyal’s mood and temper, if the Shaman walked across a resonating bridge right now, he’d find himself in a dark landscape that had few, if any, connections to the Light.

  “Things are happening in the city of Vision that have never happened before,” Danyal said. “I think you know why.”

  Lee turned his head toward one of the windows, straining to hear. Was there someone out there besides Zhahar? Had he heard the scuff of a boot under that window? Could he have heard anything beyond the sound of the gongs?

  Things were happening in the city of Vision. If he kept his voice low, would anyone outside be able to hear him over the gongs?

  He waggled a finger, signaling for Danyal to move closer. When the Shaman was close enough that he could feel the man’s heat, he asked quietly, “My uncles told you about my sickness? About my delusions?”

  “They told me,” Danyal said just as quietly.

  “So you know you can’t believe any answers a madman gives you in response to your questions.” Lee paused. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t ask the questions.”

  Did Danyal understand the message in the words?

  Lee was fairly certain he wasn’t always being watched by those who had given their loyalty to the thrice-damned wizards, but he could never be certain that he wasn’t being watched. As long as Danyal—and Zhahar?—continued treating him like he was mind-sick insofar as what he said, he could tell them anything, everything, that might help them understand what was happening to their city.

  And in helping Danyal, he might be able to do something for himself.

  Danyal walked past him and opened the door. A moment later, Zhahar joined them.

  “I’ve had a special cane made for Lee,” Danyal said. “I think, with some help, he can learn to navigate around the Asylum’s grounds on his own.”

  “Oh,” Zhahar said.

  Did she sound disappointed? Guardians and Guides, he hoped so. He’d like an excuse to be with her when she wasn’t taking care of him. And he wanted some independence so he could spend time with the woman instead of the Handler.

  “Besides the daily session with the gongs to bring troubling emotions to the surface, where they can be released, Lee will also spend time talking about the even
ts that brought him here,” Danyal continued.

  “Ah…” Lee said.

  “These talks can be combined with physical exercise, which will improve the body and promote healthful sleep.”

  “Aren’t we a bundle of suggestions all of a sudden?” Lee muttered. He raised his voice enough to direct the words to Danyal. “If there is going to be talk, there will be a fair exchange.”

  “Meaning?”

  “In the city of Vision, you can find only what you can see. I’d like to know more about this city and how it works. I’d like to know more about this part of the world. So, an exchange. I’ll tell you what I know, and you tell me the equivalent. And you shouldn’t always be the one having these chats with me.”

  A pause before Danyal said, “Really?”

  “The Keeper can’t be spending that much time with one inmate. That won’t go unnoticed, and getting noticed right now isn’t healthy for any of us. Don’t you know anyone who might have an interest in the world beyond Vision who would give you an accurate report?” Lee asked.

  “My sister Sholeh,” Zhahar said quickly. “She’s something of a scholar—or would have been if she’d been able to continue with her studies. She could do this, and she’d be very thorough in her reports.”

  “Not to mention having her older sister nearby to keep an eye on her?” Lee asked sweetly.

  A startled pause.

  “Well, it’s not like you’re going to take her walking in the moonlight,” Zhahar said, sounding defensive.

  “No, I’m not interested in taking Sholeh for a walk in the moonlight.”

  Another pause before Danyal harrumphed. “I could arrange my schedule to have these discussions in the evening.”

  “Wasn’t what I had in mind,” Lee said. “I don’t hear Zhahar offering an opinion.”

  “Judging by her expression, that’s probably for the best,” Danyal said. “That will be all. Zhahar, escort Lee back to the porch. And ask your sister if she’d like to participate in these discussions.”

  “Yes, Shaman.”

  Lee felt her grab his arm and haul him to the door.

  “Step,” she snapped.

  He managed to get down the steps without falling. His longer legs made it easy enough to keep up with her, but he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t smack him into a tree. So he dug in his heels and yanked her to a stop.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “My sister is a loving, intelligent woman!”

  “I’m sure she is,” Lee replied mildly.

  “Any man would be lucky to take a walk with her in the moonlight.”

  “I’m sure that’s true too—unless the man is interested in taking a walk in the moonlight with you. Going out walking with two sisters?” Lee shook his head. “That’s just asking for trouble—not to mention getting whacked with a spoon.”

  “What?”

  “Wooden spoon with a long handle. My mother’s preferred disciplinary tool. What does your mother use?”

  “My mother had daughters and didn’t need tools.”

  She released his arm and walked away.

  “Zhahar?” Lee called. “Zhahar! Daylight, woman. Are you going to just leave me here?”

  He heard footsteps behind him and braced for an attack, until he recognized the resonance he now associated with Danyal.

  “Are you usually skilled with women?” Danyal asked.

  “Not so much,” Lee replied sourly. “Are Shamans celibate?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Then don’t sound smug. There’s a woman out there at this very moment waiting to tangle up your life.” He’d found the woman who was going to tangle up his—at least for the foreseeable future.

  Another of those pauses. “Did you leave someone behind, Lee?”

  “Not the way you mean.”

  “Come,” Danyal said gently. “I’ll escort you back to the porch. We both have much to think about.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  After passing Lee over to a frowning Kobrah, Danyal intended to go back to his office and work. But he wasn’t used to this heat, and the room had little air at this time of day, so he headed back to the temple to think. Then he changed directions and walked along the main path, stopping when he reached the small plant and the black-veined white marble.

  Light. Hope. Inmates and Handlers alike seemed to find their way to this spot at some point in the day in order to look at this plant. Just for a moment. And it seemed that another bud opened in response to that person’s presence.

  Madman or teacher—which one was Lee?

  He had started to turn away when a glint of gold caught his eye.

  That pocket watch hadn’t been there a moment before. He was sure of it.

  Crouching, Danyal pushed his fingers into the dirt and picked up the watch—and would have sworn that, in the moment when his fingers closed over the gold, he heard music.

  Michael lowered his tin whistle and shifted on the bench that sat on the safe part of the playground. “Glorianna, come take a look at this.”

  Glorianna took a step toward him, then clamped both hands over her nose. “I’d rather not.”

  “Now, don’t be getting all prissy. It’s just a smell.”

  “Well, at least…” She pointed a finger, then adjusted direction so she wasn’t pointing directly at the house. “Ephemera, shift the wind so it blows that way.”

  yes yes yes

  When the world shifted the wind, she stepped into the gravel side of the playground and sat beside Michael.

  “All right, wild child,” Michael said. “Show Glorianna what you just showed me.”

  Palm trees that held the scent of dusty heat. Dark plants whose flowers looked like turds. Stinkweed. A heart’s hope. Grapes and a different, earthy smell. Lots of sharp, jagged bits of stone. A piece of granite. A wilted water lily.

  And a gold pocket watch.

  “You found Lee,” Glorianna said as she studied Ephemera’s message.

  “Don’t know what landscape he’s in, but, yes, darling Glorianna, the wild child found him.” Michael bumped her shoulder with his. “What’s Ephemera telling us?”

  She felt Belladonna scratching along the threads that connected the Light side of her heart with the Dark. Threads Michael shaped and strengthened each day by playing the music he heard in her—the music that wasn’t just Belladonna or just Glorianna but was both. Not who she had been, but who she was now.

  “It found Lee,” she said grimly. “And it found some wizards in the same landscape.”

  Michael nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  And wizards, among a people who didn’t know what they were, could twist enough hearts to change the resonance of a landscape before anyone realized the danger. Nothing she could do about them, and nothing she could do to help Lee. Not yet. So she would take care of the things she could do something about.

  She gave Michael a sideways look. “That wasn’t all you were thinking, Magician.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “You were thinking that parts of that landscape need to be returned to where they belong.”

  “I was thinking that?” Michael asked innocently.

  She sighed and leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her thighs. “Ephemera? Hear me.”

  ???

  “Take the parts you shifted to that landscape and put them back where they belong.”

  ???

  “Put. Them. Back. Now.”

  !!!

  Michael frowned. “There’s no cause to be using that tone, wild child.”

  !!!

  Glorianna looked at her lover and narrowed her eyes.

  “Now, don’t be giving me that look,” Michael said. “I’ve made some mistakes when I’m talking with the world, and I’m bound to make more, but this I didn’t do. Whatever it is.”

  “Well, someone…” Glorianna studied the offerings in the sandbox. “Is there a Landscaper in that landscape?”

  yes yes yes
/>
  Everything sank under the sand except the piece of granite.

  “Anger makes stone,” she said reflectively, “and strength makes stone. That stands for strength.”

  “If Lee and this Landscaper are in the same place, let’s hope they can help each other.”

  “Let’s hope.” I can do more than hope. Ephemera, hear me.

  She sent her heart wish through the currents of power, both Light and Dark.

  A whisper of another heart wish came back to her from an unexpected place.

  She gripped Michael’s hand. “Come with me.”

  The quick grin and the heat in his smoky blue eyes faded as he studied her face. “I’m guessing we aren’t going inside for a nap.”

  “No.” She paused and considered the feel of his mouth and the touch of his hands. A different kind of music that also reached both sides of her heart. “Not yet anyway.”

  They left the playground and went to her walled garden, the place where she tended all the landscapes in her care. She led him to the part that held the dark landscapes.

  Michael studied the triangle of grass. “It’s still tugging at you, isn’t it?”

  “It is. It resonates with me—or some part of it does—but not enough to cross over. The call isn’t strong enough yet.” She looked at him, her partner in so many ways now. “Do you hear anything, Magician?”

  “The music of the place, you mean?” He tipped his head and closed his eyes. “Chords. Three notes played together. Not a tune, as such. Dark tones and light. I’d be careful about going there unless I was sure of my welcome.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

  “It is.”

  “Why are you asking? Are you thinking it might not be yours?”

  “Oh, I know it’s mine—or will be.”

  Glorianna hesitated. She hadn’t told Michael, hadn’t told anyone that the dark landscape that held the Eater of the World—the landscape that should have been closed to everyone—was a place Belladonna could reach simply by taking the step between here and there. And sometimes she craved the power she had wielded there without constraints, without conscience. That was the main reason she felt so wary of that triangle of grass that was almost an access point. Belladonna could cross over to the Eater’s dark landscape, but she wasn’t sure if Belladonna would be able to leave again—and she was sure the part of her that was Glorianna wouldn’t survive.