“It’s all part of the puzzle,” responded the lady. “I’ve been through this hundreds of times.” She turned her face upwards, towards her birds, and began issuing instructions to them. Instantly, the birds shifted in their course, the cage dipping violently enough to make Benjamin’s stomach lurch. He was relieved, however, to see that the drop had at afforded them a clearer means of approach. Only seconds later, however, and some other atulphi was drifting in front of them. Lilac followed her exasperated tut with yet more commands, the cage reeled, and the obstacle was swiftly surpassed. Benjamin, accepting that such near-misses were likely to be par for the course until they landed, left the lady to her navigation, and occupied himself instead with all the astonishing sights that were now available without the awkward aid of a telescope.
It was like being part of some fantastic migration; atulphi everywhere, near and far, swerving, dodging, skating the sky and skimming the sea. How none of these beings fell into the Amar Imaga while caught up in all this fraught congestion, Benjamin could hardly say. Maybe there was some kind of secret skill involved; or perhaps an order to the proceedings that was so complex it appeared as disorder. Below, a lady held aloft by two large, spark-spitting kites - and who, like Lilac, appeared far-eastern - swerved speedily past an oncoming jumble of wrought iron and sails, over which three small figures clambered; above, an oversize spinning top-hat - whose pilot could be seen clinging to the rim whenever the rotation of the vehicle brought him into view - had a close scrape with a fast moving and futuristic device which put Benjamin in mind of an elongated, wheel-less car. He looked to the left, then to the right; to a man surfing on a sash, and then to two atulphi so strange and fascinating that he could actually look at them without becoming distracted.
Travelling roughly level with the cage was a long, raft-like platform, propelled by what appeared to be a belching furnace at the rear. Stooped over the furnace was a large, slumped humanoid whose head - fittingly enough - was laurelled with a crown of smoke and flickering flame. At the other end of the craft there sat, cross-legged, a bald green-skinned blob of a man who continually gesticulated as if in some sort of animated conversation. Benjamin, though agape, was not altogether surprised by the sight; Lilac had already indicated, over the course of their various exchanges, that atulphi could come in all shapes and sizes. Remembering this, he began to eagerly scan the sky for similarly exotic specimens, and was soon rewarded: above, and a little to his left, he found two overgrown pink rabbits whose efforts, in getting their balloon-elevated pedalo to go faster, seemed to gain them nothing but inches. Lower, and more to the right, a winged flower-basket fluttered by, bearing a manlike shape formed entirely of scribbles. Taking his gaze even lower, Benjamin saw something else that was noteworthy: in the sea, in the milky white of the Amar Imaga, a number of atulphi could be seen to be swimming. Any idea he’d had that these were the few unfortunate souls who’d actually managed to fall overboard was quickly dismissed; from what he could make out, they were obviously enjoying the experience, cavorting and splashing each other like holidaymakers. Listening to their giggles - and realising, too, how much noise was now in the air - Benjamin moved to the front of the cage, stared ahead, and saw that his and the lady’s arrival upon the pier was not only imminent, but expected: amid a queue of colourful vehicles already berthed, a free area, uncontested by any other incoming atulphi, awaited, as did a small crowd whose faces (some human, some not so) remained set upon the cage. His legs protesting stiffly, the boy stood up and turned to Lilac. He had an abrupt urge to say something to her, but didn’t quite know how to say it. She, catching his glance, looked back at him and smiled. “Why the frown?” she asked, in the manner of someone unable to understand why a friend should not be taking as much enjoyment in the situation as she.
Benjamin shook his head. “I don't know. It’s like - all this, all these amazing things. I’ve never seen anything like it. And what’s even weirder is that - I mean, I’m famous here, right? Because of what -”
“Pah,” interrupted Lilac. “Don’t let your ego sprout too soon, my dear child. You can thank Ichabod for this.” She pointed to the crowd. “He’s probably talked you up as being the better of Gogmagog, and the rabble want their hero. Ignore it.”
“Who’s Gogmagog?” the boy asked. The name - and he was sure it was a name - meant something, though he didn’t know what. Had he read it somewhere?
“Never mind,” came the reply. “It’s not your worry. Just bask in the glory of it for a while, if you can; enjoy what I promised you.”
“And what was that?” responded the boy, quite startled by the news that Lilac had actually promised him anything.
“That you would be made most welcome,” she said, theatrically sweeping a hand ahead of her - and accidentally striking a bar of the cage in the process - as they both rushed in to meet their eager hosts.
8
The landing went much more smoothly than Benjamin had been expecting. With nothing more than a soft ‘thud’ as the cage touched down, they were soon safely docked between two other similarly bizarre vehicles, and ready to be met by the eager, jostling assemblage outside. Lilac, coolly ignoring the pointed fingers and shouted greetings that their arrival had incurred, instead offered some words of congratulation to her birds as they fluttered down to take roost atop the cargo they had so tirelessly carried. “Take it easy,” she said to the boy, once she had finished with her praises. She shrugged her satchel over a shoulder and took hold of the rifle. “They’re a good crowd, this lot. You’re quite, quite safe.”
“Uh-huh,” said Benjamin, so fascinated by the scene ahead that he did not really listen to her. For there were people - no, beings - out there so strange in form that he could invoke no superlative to adequately describe them.
Like the mannish silhouette, for example, whose entire shape appeared to be cast from some brilliant part of the evening sky. It was almost as if the creature were a mirror, reflecting a panorama of shining stars and misty nebulae. When another atulphi shoved it aside - in order to get a better look at Benjamin, apparently - an entire new array of magnitudes and constellations were revealed by the movement; the stars still shone and the nebulae remained misty, but they were different now, as if taken from some other portion of the nightly heavens.
Much less glamorous, and only mildly less interesting, was the atulphi which had pushed by so roughly. Initially, it had looked as if it was wearing a pink Jester's hat, but then Benjamin realised that the pate was actually bald, and replete with a nest of fleshly extrusions, each of which were appended by a small, tinkling bell. The tinkling, it should be said, became more pronounced when the star-strewn creature made clear its displeasure at being manhandled in such an uncouth manner. Nearby, a large, neon-streaked rabbit began to bounce wildly up and down on its hind legs, though whether or not it was in response to the ‘starry’ atulphi’s increasingly heated diatribe, it was hard to tell; it didn’t so much speak as twitter indecipherably, and what noise it did make was soon lost to the growing rumblings of the surrounding throng. Fortunately for all concerned, any potential trouble was quickly cut short by a stately personage, robed and dignified, who strode through to the forefront of the gathering and proceeded to brandish a long, glowing sword that left Benjamin mesmerised; this was the sword that almost every boy knew about, the one dreamed of from galaxies far, far away. “Paxy, paxy, paxy,” the distinguished newcomer announced - at least, that was what it sounded like - and, in due course, the commotion began to subside.
“And greetings to you too,” said Lilac, sauntering out on to the pier without ceremony. “Stirring,” she continued, surveying the welcome party. “Really stirring.”
But her sarcasm was wasted on the crowd. Their eyes, for the most part, were set upon the cage just behind her - the cage where a subdued Benjamin nervously awaited the moment when he too would have to take that step outside.
It wasn’t that he was afraid. Rather, it was a feeling much like that of bein
g called upon to do something that you know you could very easily fail. Like the time, a few years ago, when he’d gone to Jessica Howell’s birthday party and had been asked to perform some card tricks: it wasn’t that he knew that he couldn’t do them - back then, magic had been his hobby, and he’d already gained some proficiency at the art - it was just the idea that it would be so easy to do them wrong. It had made him feel conspicuous, as opposed to popular; that he was not really performing, but being tested. Yes, the challenge had excited him; but he’d only seen it through with good deal of reluctance. And he felt a lot like that now, even though nothing had, as yet, actually been requested of him. Nevertheless, it didn’t change the fact that he was currently the centre of local attention - and for a boy generally used to being inconspicuous, it was troubling.
He looked to Lilac, with a silent wish that she might be quick in taking charge of the situation. Thankfully, she was, and with the reassurance of a nod of the head and a wink, he was soon safely across the threshold and beside her. The urge to take hold of her hand was withstood quite successfully, though not as easily as he would have liked.
“So,” said the lady, addressing the assembly. “I expect Dome has told you all already, yes? That we have a dreamshader in our midst. ”
The crowd murmured. To Benjamin, it sounded like an agreement.
“Where is our dear Ichabod, by the way? Too busy to wait, I take it.”
The crowd again mumbled an affirmation, though a little more furtively than before.
“Hm.” She turned to the boy, a bemused half-smile playing upon her lips. “Well, if I ever needed a joke for the occasion, it was now. So what do you think, child? Anything to say that might get the clamshells clicking?”
He looked again at the prodigies that had come here to see him; at the star-crossed creature that had first caught his attention; at the neon-burnished rabbit, now in denial of its species by acting sheepish. He saw again the robed character who had called order when the congregation had become fraught; he was now holding his sword at waist height, knight-style, with the point hanging downwards, and his mood appeared kind yet inscrutable. To the left, he found a chalk-faced woman whose body was lost to a shroud of billowing, rippling rags. Her eyes were sad, and so dark against her skin that they seemed obsidiate; yet they were hopeful eyes too, and when her gaze met with his she smiled wistfully. Further along, and towards the right of the crowd - which had formed itself into a rough semicircle, with both Benjamin and Lilac serving as the nucleus - he discovered a tall, elfin individual who looked to be juggling with his own hands; that is, he was literally flicking his hands from the wrists, and then intercepting them with the same blunt forelimbs. When his stare locked with that of the boy, he missed the next round of catches, and the hands tumbled grotesquely to the wooden floor. Stooping to retrieve them, the elfin-faced being never let his gaze stray from the young visitor; it was almost as if he was bowing, and Benjamin was sharp in noticing it. Other faces - all expectant, all enthralling no matter what the degree of strangeness - flicked by as he studied the assemblage. All were rapt. And all, without a doubt, were as fascinated by him as he was by them.
The boy could not quite come to terms with it: that he, an average child from an average world, should be such an object of curiosity for the astonishing denizens of this far from average land. Even if he was not truly as average as he’d believed (he was, after all, supposed to be ‘of the dreamshade’, and therefore possessed of rare and remarkable talents) it still made little impact on the matter. Sure, to so many children, such an adventure as this - to arrive at some astonishing, fairytale domain, and then be exalted there - might seem the fulfilment of a lifetime of secret, midnight wishes; but to Benjamin, who was living this very dream, it did not feel that way. Instead, it felt kind of ... overwhelming. As if he was out of his depth. It was peculiar. And, he had to confess, embarrassing too.
But the occasion demanded that he act. So, with a quick glance at Lilac beforehand, he raised a trembling hand, took a long draught of air, and said “Hello.”
Silence. He turned once more to Lilac, and found that although she’d kept the smile, an eyebrow had been raised. Had he done something wrong? He looked back to the crowd, and saw, much to his relief, that his greeting was at last being met in kind.
First to raise a hand in return was the stately, peaceable figure with the glowing sword. “Hello,” he said, in a voice that was as calm and as measured as that of a grandfather imparting great wisdom. “Hello,” said the dark-eyed lady in the rags, whose tone spoke of joys only a mite greater than those suggested by her appearance. “Hello,” said another. A nod of the head from a fellow clothed in foil; a tip of the hat from a smartly attired gentleman whose sleeves scattered sparkles. “Hello,” said someone; “’Lo,” bellowed another. “’Ello,” “’Lo,” “Hiya,” “Hile,” shot the crowd, and before long it was impossible to discern one salutation from another.
Benjamin let go of the breath he’d been holding. Well, he thought; that turned out okay. Stuck for anything else to say but a few further ‘hello’s in response, he sought - as was rapidly becoming his habit when things started to appear awkward - Lilac for advice. Unfortunately, the lady didn’t catch his glance; she had her back to him, and was otherwise involved in the business of chaining her cage to a short, stout post nearby. Deeming it unseemly to call out to her (even though he didn’t know why) he instead turned back to the crowd. Immediately, his gaze was drawn to the white-faced lady, and the delicate, coppery strand which she was now busily removing from some hidden fold amidst her rags.
“I have carried this for such a time,” she said sweetly. Once the item was fully disclosed, she held it out to the boy beseechingly, her eyes wide and ablaze with a desolate yet fanatical hope. “A great dream from the one who herself dreamed life into me, and so, so rare. I’d wish that you were kind, sir, and work -”
“No,” came another voice. It was the robed man. “Majefelin, the child is tired,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “You can see this. Don't trouble him just yet. Please.”
“But it is so frail,” the woman said, looking down at the strand as perhaps a mother would to a sickly babe. “It has not long. At least allow the dreamshader to see into it, and tell me. I’ll ask for no more, I promise.”
“Should’ve let it go ages ago,” muttered someone at the back of the crowd.
“Aye,” said someone else. “Cruel, ‘tis.”
The woman looked again to Benjamin, her cargo still held out imploringly. “Will you?” she asked.
It was odd, being petitioned like this by an adult; nothing even remotely similar had ever happened to him before. Odder still was the fact that it did not actually make him feel that much more grown up - if anything, he felt weakened by the plea; helpless. If, after all, a world like this could produce an adult so needy that she could trust only in a young, unversed stranger, then where did that leave the young, unversed stranger himself? If only to shut out the unsettling idea that he was now at the mercy of an entirely new and unaccounted-for civilisation, Benjamin decided to speak. “It’s - it’s a silf, yes?” he said, indicating the limp skein draped across the woman’s palms. The woman nodded. “And you want me to find out what it means, right?”
“I know it will not be much,” the white faced woman said, with the wheedling eagerness of someone who senses the fulfilment of a slender hope. “It’s old now. Mostly gone. But there will be enough, I’m sure. Will you take it?”
Benjamin inched forward and offered his hand. The crowd, hushed, shrank back a little as the woman hurried over to the boy; it was as if a kind of fascinating transgression was about to take place, the sort of vaguely taboo affair that usually gets condemned loudest by those who were not there to see it. When the woman gave him the silf - and such a lank, thin thing it was too - it slipped into Benjamin’s grasp so easily and readily, it made him wonder if the silf wasn’t actually doing it of its own accord.
The boy held
the item at eye-level, and concentrated. But he didn’t have to concentrate hard: as slight as the thing was, it seemed no less eager to impart its secrets, however indistinct they might be: “There’s...a house,” he said, frowning heavily. “It’s difficult to see, but I think it’s white. It’s in a desert, by itself.”
“Yes,” said the white-faced woman, her hands clasped at her chest. “I know that place.”
“It has -” The boy paused. “No. It has something in one of the windows. But I can’t make it out.”
The woman looked down, slowly shaking her head.
“It’s weird,” Benjamin continued. “It’s like the house is too small. Or that everything else is too big. I’ve felt it before. There’s something wrong with the surface of the house. And that thing in the window ... it feels like it should be bigger. It’s the wrong size for the house.”
“Just as the house is the wrong size for the desert,” said the woman. Her smile had returned, even though there was more than a hint of regret in her tone.
“That’s right,” responded Benjamin. As there was nothing else to see, he let the hand that had been holding the silf curl open. “What does it mean?” he asked, as the woman reached out for her treasure.
“That Majefelin’s dreamer knows how it feels to see a house in a place where it should be bigger,” interrupted Lilac Zhenrei, who had finished securing the cage and was now, once more, at Benjamin’s side. “Just as she will one day know how it feels to see someone starve in a place where food should be abundant, or see someone else get fat in an era of famine. Life’s great injustices, in other words; all summed up in a dream that teaches the dreamer to never accept wrongness, no matter how powerless she might feel in the face of it.” She looked towards the white-faced woman, and then to the silf lying listlessly in her hands. “The yarns these threads spin, eh?” she said, as if to herself. “It must have been a long time ago.”