The Empty World | The Empty World Sequence [complete | rewriting]

Deleted Scenes: Three (Draft 2.5)

"Got a job for ya, Murph," said Jibril.

Morpheus laughed. "You really are good at speaking American."

"I'm good at speaking all languages. I do have an offer for you. Would you'd like to be in charge of a Mirage?"

Morpheus loosed his control on the sand. Several of the sculptures held themselves together; most fell. It seemed the Mermaid smiled at Jibril. "Heat wavers?"

"It's more a spell cast on sand. A doorway to a sanctuary between worlds. Deserving people seem to find them, most often."

"If you want me to work in this mirage, I will," Morpheus said.

Jibril nodded. "Yes, it will be good."

With a gaze from Jibril's all-colored eyes, Morpheus was instructed in creating and running mirages. And, for future reference, he received instruction in disassembling them.

His mirage consisted of a stolen Roman tent, its furnishings, and a lot of sand. Morpheus, a horse, and two Djinn were its staff. The entrance was anchored in space, but not in time. Within hazardous terrain yet close to southern branches of the historic Silk Road, Morpheus was able to serve ages of the lost and wandering.

The spell on the sand alerted Morpheus when a guest approached. Even before he could not consciously read their minds, his body knew the form most needed or desired. The shift came instinctively. Morpheus might be male or female, old or young, this color or that.

He could will his form to change if he concentrated, but he rarely made more than a small adjustment for modesty. Morpheus was there to make his guests feel safe.

Once guests got close, it was easy enough to read their minds for other welcome imagery. He willed sand to shift over furnishings to disguise foreign shapes. He commanded his Djinn to assume the appearance of welcome figures, be they animals, servants, or guardians.

When his guest neared the tent, Morpheus would greet them.

Many visitors passed through the mirage. Most stayed only long enough to have a meal and a night's rest; they left to continue their quests or journeys. Others became distracted; stayed for seemingly long periods of time, while Morpheus cared for them in the body of their choice.

Morpheus learned from them. His guest might stagger in speaking of nations, quests, kings, invasions, trade routes. Never speaking about what he didn't know, Morpheus listened and nodded at what they said. Once he'd picked up enough of a language, he might speak a few comforting phrases.

The ones from the nearest lands and oldest times generally understood that they were in a mirage; a magical oasis they were blessed to find. They tended not to press Morpheus in whatever body he wore.

But, those from afar, or from later dates, usually thought Morpheus whatever person he appeared and interrogated him. How had he come so far ahead? Where was such and such person? When they got rowdy like that, Morpheus put them to sleep.

None of them, near or far, knew who he really was, that was, not until the last.

Between guests, Morpheus had begun thinking there was something off. A pattern or lack of pattern? He could not name an exact complaint. Maybe it was something to do with how often he'd been forming bodies with a specific gender. The horse was always a horse. His Djinn sometimes appeared female, but they sometimes seemed welcome as boys, or eunuchs, or muscular guards. Morpheus had not experienced so much variety.

Morpheus thought about this as he reclined on his couch, sipping water from his jeweled goblet. He didn't even think of his belongings as stolen anymore.