Impossible Dreamers

Chapter 5 (fay): A World Beyond

The day before had been a long day of cleaning. The wind had blown ash from the mountains towards Middle Meadow, and everyone had stopped what they were doing and helped scrub away the layers of black sky-powder that had coated the buildings, or sweep it out of the grass. It had been hard work. There had been no session at The House of the Green Jewel for Liana and her friends that day. All the sky-powder had to be collected and stored in jars, because it was useful for... for what? Liana couldn't remember. She would ask Piacho at their next learning session. He would be able to answer that question without getting upset.

Liana was still thinking about the dream. Why couldn't she just sleep and dream of birds and butterflies? Why did her dream take her to the worst possible place? At least she had known she was dreaming. That was a trick she had learned long ago, and she had used it to fly without wrist-flyers, to travel to the moon, to talk to rabbits and to foxes. She had never told anybody about her special 'control dreams'. Maybe she would tell Herago. He might understand. She looked over at him. What was he doing with those stones?

'Look at this, Liana.'

'I'm tired,' said Liana. 'Later.'

'No, look now. It won't take long.'

'If you insist.'

Herago nodded, and held up a small, bright, red stone in his right hand. 'These red stones,' he said 'are very, very special'.

'What do you mean?' Silmoa asked. 'Special in what way?' She was still busy with her drawing, but glanced up at Herago.

'I could explain,' Herago said, 'but it would be better if I just showed you.'

Liana and Silmoa watched as Herago's left hand carefully formed a fist around the stone. 'Have you ever seen a travelling stone before?' Herago asked.

Silmoa had stopped drawing and looked at Herago carefully. She didn't approve of what Herago was doing, but she couldn't work out why.

He held his fist at eye level, and, looking intently at his right hand, he pulled a scribing stick from his pocket. The stick seemed to shine as he pointed it at his closed fist.

'Ir, deg, mek...' he said, jabbing the stick towards his fist as he spoke each number. Then, slowly, one finger at a time, he opened his fist.

Liana gasped, then laughed. Silmoa jumped, dropping her charcoal on the floor in front of her.

The stone was gone. There was nothing in Herago's hand.

'How did you do that?' Liana asked.

'Yes, what happened to the stone?' Silmoa echoed. She sounded concerned, and a little annoyed.

'Not telling,' said Herago.

'What do you mean, "not telling"?' said Silmoa.

'I'm not going to tell you how I did it.'

'I didn't know you could make things disappear. Where did it go to?' Liana asked, astounded. Both she and Silmoa looked at Herago with eyes wide open, and he just looked back at them. But there was something odd about the way he looked. Then he raised his eyes towards the sky. They followed his gaze. They both gasped again. That same red stone was sitting there on top of Herago's head.

'How did it get there?' Silmoa asked. Liana was delighted, but she could hear that Silmoa was outraged. 'Did you find a special way of making things travel without being seen? If so, you should tell the Counsel of the Wise about it. You mustn't keep such a thing to yourself, brother.'