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

Three (Draft 3) "Hello, Pretty Pretty"

"It's more a spell cast on sand. An area is unanchored in time, allowing passage into its sanctuary whenever it is needed. Deserving people find them, most often."

Morpheus was better with temporal mechanics than some, but, "I'm not sure I can do it."

Jibril's all-colored eyes gazed at Morpheus. "I had Raziel's help to develop the mirage, but anyone with sufficient talent can work it. I will teach you." He inclined his fingers in invitation.

Morpheus looked at Jibril's eyes; they were like screens flashing data into his mind. Morpheus knew, then, how to establish and run a mirage, and in future how to disassemble one.

"Guests should feel safe and inspired to continue, but whether you offer them illusion or something real is your decision." Jibril left in a swirl of sand as the mermaid collapsed.

Morpheus followed the instructions to establish the mirage. It held the entirety of the stolen Roman tent, its furnishings, a quantity of the surrounding sandy earth, the horse, two Djinn, and Morpheus himself. The mirage was anchored in physical space, but not in time, so that it might conceivably be discovered at any point in history.

Morpheus was alerted when a guest approached the perimeter of the mirage, but even before that his polymorphic flesh shifted instinctively to the most welcome form. The sense of desired form was not new, and neither was the defense mechanism. The difference between now and his previous experiences was that now he was without a mentor and his directive was to comfort and encourage visitors, which made following their desires seem safer, more efficient, and rational. It was, technically, a choice.

The needed form came first, and then the conscious thoughts of the visitor's mind. From their thoughts, Morpheus drew images of other familiar forms he might give his Djinn. He willed sand to shift over the furnishings to disguise what was most foreign.

When his guest neared the tent, Morpheus greeted them.

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

Guests 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 and eventually picked up when it was wiser to reverse nod, shake, or bobble instead. Once he'd picked up enough of their thoughts or story, he offered what comforting words he could to inspire them to continue.

Visitors 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.

Those from afar, or from later dates, often believed Morpheus to be whatever person he appeared and interrogated him. How had he come so far ahead? Where was such and such person?

When guests got rowdy like that, Morpheus put them to sleep.

None of them, from near or far, knew who he really was.

The horse always appeared a horse.

The pair of Djinn often appeared in guises similar to each other. Sometimes female servants, or dancing boys, or distinguished eunuchs, or discreet guards. They had even been a pair of large cats.

Morpheus had not experienced so much variety. So many of his guests were traveling men who perceived him as a woman they longed for. Morpheus wasn't quite sure whether he was becoming bothered by being their object of desire, so often being a woman, or just not exercising choice.