SNEAK PEEK

DREAMMASTER
by J. A. Ferguson

From — The Dreamsong Chronicles of Durgan Ketassian

"What have you done now, you stupid man?"

Tate Wyborn ignored the angry woman beside him and bent to tap his fingers against the small box in his other hand. The lights continued to flash on it, but the dial seemed stuck. If he was in his laboratory, he would have the tools to fix it quickly. Here — wherever here was — he had only his fingers. By the Warmaster’s beard, this should not have happened!

"Be careful! If you break it, we will never get back to our laboratory in Elasia!"

Again he ignored her as he fought to breathe slowly. He had not guessed that his invention would create a force that had squeezed him until his bones threatened to break. He had to think. He had to think without being bothered by ridiculous questions.

Selie Konn had been sent to his laboratory to be his assistant, but he had quickly discovered she possessed no knowledge of anything to do with his research. The experiments he managed with ease, she could not even begin. Her incompetence had warned him that she was there to keep him under surveillance for the Warmaster’s secret forces.

That was no surprise. Everyone in Elasia knew that they could be watched at any time. No one should wish to deny any knowledge to the Warmaster who guided their country and would lead them to glorious victory over the Gayomians any day now.

Tate’s lips curled with contempt as he examined the reteon he held in his left hand. Glorious victory had been promised for more than eight seasons and still remained elusive. Warriors marched away to secure the Elasian hold on Gayome beyond the Ring Mountains, but none of the warriors returned. How large an army was needed to quell rebels who depended on what they deemed magic instead of logical scientific fact?

Magic! He sniffed in derision as he turned the reteon over to see if it had been damaged when he activated it. Magic was the excuse made by simple minds which could not comprehend the truth of the scientific laws governing their world.

Tate looked around him. He and Selie were in a clearing among trees taller than any he had ever seen. The reteon had brought them to this place, but he was not certain where this place was. They were far beyond the city, but where? Holding up the reteon, he tilted it so he could read the numbers on the small screen at the top. He frowned. The sunshine was blurring whatever might be on the screen.

"Where are we?" cried Selie, tugging on his sleeve.

Maybe the truth would silence her. "I don’t know," he replied without looking up. He did not want to see the frown she wore far too often on her face that looked even thinner when she wore her pale hair in tight braids.

"You don’t know? You brought me here, and you don’t know what here is?"

"I did not bring you here. You would still be in the laboratory if you had not grabbed my sleeve just as I pushed the activation button."

"Take us back. Now!" Her voice rose toward hysteria on every word.

"That is what I am trying to do. Please be silent, so I can concentrate on what I am doing."

"Don’t you know what to do?"

Tate did not bother to reply. The woman was useless. If she had had even a hint of training as a scientist, she would know that one of the toughest parts of any research was recreating the effects of an experiment. He grimaced. That lesson had been easy for him to understand when he had known where he was.

His goal had been to journey with the help of the reteon a day’s walk out of the city. Then, if he could not make the reteon work again, he would have not had far to go to return to his laboratory. But no trees this large were near the city. Looking over them toward the horizon, he stared at the mountains. The sun was sinking on the wrong side of them. That was impossible unless he had journeyed to. . .

"Don’t move!" came a shout from behind him.

Selie screamed.

Tate stuffed the reteon beneath his black coat as he whirled and saw a most remarkable sight. A dark-haired lad was leading a trio of men toward them, each of them carrying a bare sword. When the order was repeated, Tate realized his mistake.

The one he had thought was lad was actually a woman. Her black hair was cropped short around her face and ears, and she was a head shorter than the men following her. Her simple tunic, that was only a shade lighter than the few remaining reddish-gold leaves on the trees, flowed back to accent her feminine curves with each step she took toward him. Boots that were made of runner hide reached nearly to her knees. As she came closer, he saw her face was delicately made, but the expression in her storm-gray eyes warned that he should not assume anything by her slight appearance.

Gasps came from the men behind her when they stared at the boots on Tate’s feet, boots that identified him as an Elasian as surely as the ones worn by these people identified them as Gayomians. His boots, like all Elasians, were low, coming barely above his ankles and were made of black slitherer skin. A Gayomian’s boot reached to the knee and usually was sewn from a softer leather.

The men exchanged a worried glance, but the woman’s expression did not change. She was gauging Tate as openly as he was her. Disdain twisted her lips, and she tilted up her chin.

"What are you doing here, Elasians?" she asked. Her lips curled, giving a feral appearance to her pretty face. "Perhaps, being as foolish as all your ilk, you have failed to realize that we are at war."

"We are not warriors!" cried Selie.

Tate waved her to silence as the woman with the sword laughed at Selie’s terror. Selie stiffened and grasped his arm as she had in the laboratory. He wanted to caution Selie to hold her tongue. It would be futile, for she had never heeded his counsel before.

"But you are Elasians." The woman held the long sword steady as she walked closer until its point was directly below Tate’s chin. He was astonished that she limped, as if her left leg was in pain. Yet he would not be tricked into believing she was not dangerous. She held her sword with the confidence of someone who has learned well how to wield it. "If you are not warriors, then you must be spies. You ask for death when you come to Gayome."

"So we are in Gayome?" He could not keep the excitement from his voice. His reteon had worked, taking them far beyond what he had believed its range would be. Pera could not dismiss this design again as worthless. His supervisor, who had sent Selie to work with him, cared only for inventions that could be used to destroy the Warmaster’s enemies and had not wanted Tate to waste time with the reteon.

Beside him, Selie cursed before adding as if she had not heard Tate’s question, "You are the ones who will feel the Warmaster’s fury for daring to sneak out of your ruined country." He was not surprised. She never listened to him.

"Out of Gayome? Are you trying to make me believe you don’t know where you are, Elasian?" The woman with the sword laughed with candid disgust. "If that is the best lie you can tell, you should save it for when the Tiria has you questioned."

"The Tiria (May she live forever!) is here?" Tate asked. "This close to the Ring Mountains?"

He saw that the woman regretted her taunting words, but it was too late to pretend she had not spoken them. As the three men edged closer to form an arc behind her, she scowled at him.

"You need not ask more questions, Elasian. It is time you answered some."

"I will be glad to answer any questions the Tiria (May she live forever!) asks me."

The woman with the sword growled something under her breath, then lowered its tip away from his throat. She held it so that she could drive it into his heart if he tried to flee. "The Tiria. . ." She swallowed sharply, then said, "The Tiria (May she live forever!) might not consider you worthy of her time. If so, she will leave your interrogation to those she trusts."

"Like you?"

"Yes, like me." She eyed him up and down again. "However, you may count yourself fortunate that I shall not be your inquisitor."

"Why not?"

"You ask too many questions." She motioned with her head to her left. "Come with us, Elasians."

Selie grasped Tate’s arm again as he nodded.

"No, we can’t go with them, Tate!" she cried.

"Be silent."

Tate realized the woman with the sword had said the words at the same time he did. When Selie opened her mouth and drew in a deep breath to shriek, the woman with the sword stepped forward and slapped Selie sharply across the face. Selie fell back to the ground, her head hitting it with a dull thud. She moaned once, then did not move.

Dropping to his knees beside Selie, he put his hands to the pulse at the base of her throat. He tried to ignore the superstitious awe throbbing through him at a speed far faster than Selie’s lifebeat. The woman with the sword had not used any trick against Selie that was uniquely Gayomian. He had been here only minutes and already the idea of magic was seeping into his head, clouding his logical thoughts.

It was, he knew, because of the mention of the Tiria’s name. The leader of Gayome who had followed her mother’s rule as her mother had followed her own mother’s was a whispered legend in Elasia. Nobody, even those like Tate who denounced the very idea of magic, could doubt that she had skill to draw warriors to her and possessed ways to bring death to Elasians. The tales of what had happened in the city of Teles at the war’s beginning had been quelled within weeks of the news reaching Elasia, but he recalled them all too well. Some parts of the tale simply could not be explained.

But that did not mean some sort of wizardry had been involved. It simply meant that the few survivors had not seen what the Tiria did to defeat the Elasian army there.

"You did not need to strike her," Tate said, standing.

"Her caterwauling will irritate everyone," replied the woman with the sword. She looked down with disdain at the senseless Selie.

"Or alert other Elasians."

The woman smiled coolly. "Most Elasians are smart enough to stay away from here. Those few who have snooped about have not lived to report back to your Warmaster." She motioned toward Selie with her sword. "She is your companion. You carry her."

Tate had to admire her sense as a warrior. If he was burdened with Selie, he could not flee as quickly. He bent and lifted his unconscious assistant. When he leaned her against his chest, he was startled to see amazement in the eyes of the woman with the sword. He smiled coolly at her.

"You are not a warrior?" she asked.

"No."

"You hefted her with ease."

"I did." He would not give her any information that she might be able to use against him or his Warmaster. Maybe it would be good for the Gayomians to know that there were Elasian men of strength who had sought paths other than as warriors.

The woman stared at him for so long that one of the men behind her cleared his throat and said, "Janna, this intrusion must be made known."

She shook herself as if lost in some sort of trance and nodded. "You are right. Let’s go back to the house." She moved to Tate’s left and, pointing to her men, said, "Follow them, Elasian."

Tate knew the price of anything but complete obedience would be death. When he shifted Selie in his arms and walked after the men, he saw Janna frown. Had she hoped that he would resist so she would have the excuse she obviously wanted to slay him? Nothing he had heard about the Gayomians suggested that they were clear-thinking, but instead they were lost in endless repetitions of their legends. This woman contradicted that.

As they walked into the dense shadows beneath the trees, he looked back. The sun was setting behind them, so they were walking east. He must know that if he hoped to reset the reteon to take him and Selie back to the safety and sanity of Elasia. Coming back to this clearing was certain to be impossible. He counted each step in his head.

Tate noted that Janna was watching him closely. He must not give her any reason to guess that he was thinking of anything but his ill-fortune at being found by her and her companions. As he continued counting in his head, he said, "I heard the man call you Janna. Is that your name or some sort of Gayomian title?"

"We don’t need fancy titles here in Gayome. My name is Janna Bezitt."

"Mine is Tate Wyborn." Good! She was paying attention to his words and not to how he was marking every twentieth step by uncurling one finger against Selie’s shoulder.

"I do not wish to know your name, because the only name I wish to call you is enemy."

"But you have called me Elasian."

She scowled at him, and he knew that she preferred using a sword to words. Were all of the Tiria’s warriors like this fanatical, yet woods-wary woman? If so, that might explain why the Warmaster’s warriors had been unable to capture the Tiria and her followers and claim Gayome as a part of Elasia once more.

"Be silent," she growled.

He noticed how her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword. Trying not to lose count of their steps, he scanned the forest. All these trees made him uneasy, for any of them could conceal an enemy. He almost smiled at that thought. His enemies and Janna Bezitt’s were not the same. However, if she was seeking signs of some sort of beast, he should be vigilant as well.

He released the breath he had not realized he had been holding when the trees thinned again. His captors moved closer to him, and he guessed they were nearing their destination. For that, he had to be thankful because Selie seemed to be growing heavier on each step. She paid more attention to the sweets she brought into his laboratory than to work.

As if she had heard his thoughts, Selie began to mumble. Her eyes opened, fear flashing into them before she had a chance to draw her next breath. He set her on her feet. When she did not move, he grasped her arm and pulled her along. To resist now would bring their deaths, and the reteon would be found on him. He did not want it to be discovered by the Tiria’s allies.

Janna paused and raised her sword. When it pricked his side, he cursed.

"Say nothing to anyone you see, Elasian," she ordered, her gray eyes sparking as if a fire were burning among the ashes. "One word from you or the woman, and I swear I shall slay you where you stand."

"I understand." He did not doubt that she meant every word of her threat.

They stepped through the sentinel trees, and Tate halted in mid-step. They were not in a forest, but in the outer courtyard of a grand house. Beyond it, he saw what looked like a vast forest. It was not. To his left, he saw a narrow gate was thrown open. The walls surrounding it appeared to be living trees, but he knew it was an illusion. At least a dozen times, he had seen its like.

This was Gayomian? Impossible! Were Janna and her companions suffering from some brain fever that persuaded them that they were Gayomians in the Tiria’s service? He longed to believe that, even though dealing with a madwoman and three madmen would be doubly dangerous.

His eyes flicked toward the mountains and where the last rays of sun were touching their tops. . .on the wrong side of the mountains. He was in Gayome, but this house should not be.

"Why are you stopping?" taunted one of Janna’s men. "Afraid of facing the Tiria and death, Elasian?"

Whirling, he met Janna’s startled eyes. She had not expected her otherwise obliging prisoner to balk. As she raised her sword again, he grasped her wrist. Selie screamed, and the men cursed, but he held Janna’s gaze.

"How did this get here?" he asked quietly.

"This?"

"This house. It is not Gayomian. It is Elasian."

He ignored the men’s gasps, watching Janna. Her reaction was the only one that mattered because the men obeyed her.

She looked from him to the house behind him. Uncertainty dimmed her eyes for a moment, then they grew hard again. "Do not try to confuse me with your lies, Elasian."

"I am speaking the truth. Have you seen other houses like this one anywhere else in Gayome?"

"I have not been everywhere in Gayome."

She was hedging. He could tell that she did not want to admit the truth.

"But I have been in Elasia," he said, "and I know a hide-house when I see one."

"Do not try to confuse us with your silly lies. This house and its compound are not constructed of hides."

He laughed tightly, hoping he was not the one going insane. "You misunderstand me, Janna." She flinched as he spoke her name, but he did not press to find why she had that weak spot. Maybe later, but now he needed answers to the puzzle in front of him. "I speak of a house that is concealed by its surroundings." He pointed to the wall which could have been part of the forest. "This is a hide-house built by Elasians or by Elasian design."

"To their detriment, for they have not been able to find us within its walls."

"Until now," grumbled one of her men.

Janna’s shoulders stiffened, but she said only, "Go, Elasians. I do not have time to waste in talking with you."

Selie shook her head. "I will not go in that house so they can kill me."

"If I wished you dead," Janna fired back, "you would never have seen me before I struck your death blow."

"Come along," Tate said, seizing Selie’s arm and tugging her after him.

"Coward!" Selie spat.

He did not answer her. He was not a warrior, but he had been brave enough to continue his research when ordered to halt it so he could work on a weapon for the Warmaster. He wanted to finish that work, so he would comply with Janna’s orders until he had a chance to reset the reteon and get them out of this bleak land.

Tate again was struck by the thought that he remained within Elasia when he walked with his captors across the courtyard and through a low wall into an inner courtyard. The scene of people working at tasks here was commonplace in Elasia. Legend said that once the Gayomians and the Elasians had lived together in peace, but the Gayomians had chosen to remain mired in their superstitions of magic while the Elasians moved forward toward their future.

The sword goaded him toward the living space within the walls. He was given no chance to enjoy the beauty of the soaring ceilings or the pool surrounded by fragrant plants. Each time his steps slowed, Janna’s sword poked him in the back.

One hundred steps. It had been exactly one hundred steps between where the reteon had brought them and this door on an upper floor. He would readjust the reteon, and, as soon as he could, he would activate it and return him and Selie to his laboratory.

The door was opened. Tate growled an oath under his breath as Janna pushed him forward with the tip of her sword. With Selie clinging to his arm like a fearful, weeping child, he entered the room.

Again his steps slowed, but Janna did not prod him forward. In front of him, a woman sat on a simple chair that was shadowed as the sun faded beyond the mountains that matched the mural painted on the wall. Pillows were piled behind the chair, which was the only piece of furniture in the vast room. A window offered a view of the courtyard below, and a skylight welcomed the last light of the day to fall onto the stone floor.

The woman motioned for him to come closer. He took one step and froze. He knew he should not stare, but his gaze riveted on her silver hair and the blue stones hanging from a silver-strand around her neck. Something small and black hung from her sleeve, but he could not guess what it was.

The Tiria of Gayome! It was whispered, even in the halls of research in the Warmaster’s city, that the magical powers she was said to control could destroy Elasia. He had dismissed the stories as lies, because if the Tiria could do that, why hadn’t she? She was just a woman whom these foolish Gayomians followed.

He fought to recall that, but he was awestruck. Although he had considered himself a man who was not easily intimidated, he lowered his eyes from the Tiria’s clear blue ones. Only then did he notice how her body was thick with a child that must be due to be birthed soon. A shadow crossed her, and he saw a red-haired man come to stand behind the Tiria.

"Speak your name, Elasian," the Tiria ordered in a voice so calm that it suggested she often received her enemies here.

Copying her serenity, he replied, "I am Tate Wyborn."

"Of Elasia."

He nodded, then when he was prodded in the back by Janna’s sword, said, "Yes, I am of Elasia."

"But you are here when our nations are at war."

"I am here by mistake."

"Mistake?" She smiled coolly. "That excuse has been used before by your people to cover crimes against the Gayomians."

"That may be so, but my mistake was an honest one. I did not intend to come here. My goal was a place on the other side of the Ring Mountains. I am not a warrior. I am a scientist, and I was conducting an experiment."

"Which brought you to Gayome? By mistake?"

He heard the disbelief in her voice, and he could not blame her. His story had as many holes in it as hastily rising bread. Nor could he hope that these backward people, who lived in the dusk of their ancient fables, would comprehend his scientific work. When he saw the Tiria’s eyes narrow, he wondered if he was underestimating this woman. She might not be as witless as her subjects. He must persuade her that he was telling her the truth without revealing the truth about the reteon.

Instead of answering her question, he said, "This is not the first time I have been within the boundaries of Gayome."

The Tiria put her hand on the side of her distended abdomen and frowned. "It is not wise to boast about your sojourns here when your Warmaster has sent his warriors to decimate Gayome."

"You misunderstand me, Tiria (May you live forever!)."

Her smile grew icy cold. "You know how to address me? How is that? I would expect a diplomat to know that but not a common Elasian. Maybe you are not as common an Elasian as you would wish me to believe."

"I learned from the tales told by my father who had the honor of serving our Warmaster as an ambassador in your mother’s compound." He clasped his hands behind his back as he added, "I spent my first years in that compound."

If she heard the curses that Selie snarled barely under her breath at his admission, the Tiria gave no sign of that. "It seems we have something in common, Tate Wyborn. However, that does not explain why you are here now."

"A mistake, Tiria (May you live forever!). I was involved in some research with my assistant, and the experiment did not work exactly as I had planned."

"And what did you plan?" asked the red-haired man behind the Tiria.

Tate met the man’s gaze evenly. This must be the man who was feared throughout Elasia more than any other Gayomian. Durgan Ketassian, the dreamsinger who was the Tiria’s mate. Tate had never heeded the tales that were used to frighten recalcitrant children into behaving, but, as he stood before this man who, it was whispered, had an ability to see the future through dreams and music, he wondered if the stories could be true. How vast might those skills be? Could Durgan Ketassian discern his thoughts now as easily as it was believed the Tiria could?

They would think him mad if he released the laugh that clogged his throat, but the truth was that no great powers were needed to guess his thoughts. Only a madman would not be unsettled to be standing before the leaders of his nation’s enemies.

"I planned," he replied quietly as he squared his shoulders and met Durgan Ketassian’s eyes without cowering, "to test if my research would prove useful. It had unexpected results."

"Your research? Is it for a weapon?" Durgan Ketassian asked.

"No."

"We have been led to believe that the only research your Warmaster cares about is the search for a weapon to destroy the Tiria and her people."

"It is no weapon."

"Then what is it?"

Before Tate could answer, the Tiria pressed her hand to her stomach and groaned. Her mate grasped her arms as she bent with obvious pain.

"Nerienne!" Durgan Ketassian gasped. "You should be resting."

The Tiria patted his arm, but her lovely face was contorted with pain. "I will rest as soon as I finish this interview with these Elasians."

Again Tate was struck by how ordinary their words were, as if they were any mates in Elasia awaiting the birth of a child.

The Tiria opened her mouth to ask another question, but all that emerged was a groan.

Durgan Ketassian ordered, "Janna, take your prisoners to the guarding room below. Wait there with them until you are called."

"Yes." Her gray eyes were wide. "If there is anything I can do. . ."

The Tiria moaned again, and Janna glowered at Tate. He looked away. The recriminations in her eyes suggested that he had caused the Tiria’s agony. That it probably was nothing but what a woman must endure to birth her child would not soothe this hot-headed woman.

Selie started to speak. Tate steered her out of the room before she could. If Selie said something incendiary now, Janna would run them through with her blade. Obeying Janna’s instructions, he went down another set of stairs and into an empty, windowless room that was set at the very back of the house against the outer wall. There would be no escape through that wall, because the stones must be nearly a foot thick here.

"Sit," Janna ordered.

"Where?" asked Selie, petulant. "There are no chairs or pillars."

"The floor is good enough for Elasians." Her lips drew back in a sneer. "Sit, I said."

Tate motioned for Selie to obey the orders, then sat beside her. Janna leaned her shoulder against the door and the tip of her sword on the floor. She smiled, knowing there was no way out without going past her.

Her smile faded as an hour passed, then another, then a third. She did not leave the doorway, and Tate guessed she would not until someone came to relieve her. Shifting on the cold floor so the stone did not poke into his back as her sword had, he was not surprised to hear her warning to stay where he was.

"I am not going anywhere," he said quietly.

"Good!"

"Does the Tiria (May she live forever!) feed her prisoners?" He kept his tone calm, not wanting to give Janna an excuse to kill them.

"The Tiria (May she live forever!) has more important things to consider now than your stomachs."

"And yours?"

She put her hand over her stomach as a low growl rumbled through the room. Frowning, she said, "I am a warrior, used to going without food when I must. I do not need to be mollycoddled. I — "

Tate tried to see past her without moving when Janna looked over her shoulder. A child, barely more than a score of seasons old, appeared on the other side of the door.

"Latakia asks you to come now, Janna. The Tiria is in trouble. That is what Latakia said. She said you would understand." The child glanced at Tate and backed away a step.

"I cannot leave my prisoners unguarded."

"Latakia told me to tell you that she needs you to come right now. No matter what."

Janna called along the hall. Two men came running in response to her shout. They were not the same men who had been with her in the woods, because they both had hair lighter than hers. Her quick instructions to them were simple. Do not let the Elasian prisoners escape. Kill them if they try to leave this room.

"Wait!" called Selie, coming to her feet.

All three swords rose, but Selie said, "From what I heard, it seems that there is a problem with the birth of the child of the Tiria (May she live forever!)."

Tate stood as he saw the men’s faces become as gray as Janna’s eyes. He was astonished with Selie’s sudden burst of courage in speaking up like this. What was she planning? Not once since she had come to work for him had she done anything that was not aimed at getting her something she wanted. The Gayomians would be fools to trust her, but he would not say that. If Selie had an idea to free them — and she needed his help to get back to Elasia, so he did not have to worry about her abandoning him here — he must give her the chance to initiate her scheme.

"Sit down and be silent," Janna ordered.

"Your Tiria (May she live forever!) must be in a desperate situation if you are being called to her side."

"That is none of your worry."

"I helped with the birth of my five sisters’ children." Selie walked toward the shorter woman. "I know the skills to bring forth living babes and leave the mother alive as well."

"You are an Elasian."

Tate leaped forward and grasped Janna’s arm as he saw her raise her sword. Ignoring the sword in her hand and the knives the men pulled, he asked, "Will you refuse Selie the chance to assist in this birth?"

"We do not need your help, Elasian."

"But your Tiria (May she live forever!) does."

She opened her mouth to retort, then closed it. He saw the tempest of emotions in her volatile eyes. She wanted to kill both of them, to be rid of them and the problems they represented. At the same time, she did not want to deny her Tiria any aid.

Selie regarded Janna with a superior smile. "Will you be the one who kills your Tiria (May she live forever!) as the Warmaster has so far failed to do?"

"You may be lying about helping with those births," Janna said, but lowered her sword to the floor once more. The men behind her still held their knives at ready.

"And I may be telling the truth. Are you willing to risk your Tiria (May she live forever!) when I have told you that I can help her?"

Janna glanced at her comrades. The slightest shrug of one man’s shoulders told Tate that the decision would have to be Janna’s alone. He pitied her, for he never wanted to have to decide if his leader received assistance from an enemy or not, even if that assistance was necessary to save the Warmaster’s life or Elasia.

"If something goes amiss, then he will die," Janna said, pointing her sword at Tate.

He almost laughed. That threat could be the very way to assure that the child did not survive. He was certain if Selie did not need him and the reteon to return to Elasia, she would have been gladly traded her life for his and the research in his head.

Something in his face must have revealed his thoughts, because Janna added, "Right after he sees you die."

Selie nodded, then aimed her triumphant grin at Tate. He wanted to caution her not to become overconfident. One mistake, and they both would be dead. He never thought his life would depend on this woman who thought only of herself.

As he sat again and watched the women leave, he wondered how many more hours he had left to live.

Copyright 2003 ImaJinn Books