Darkness. Twittering wisps of fading dreams.
'Sire?'
Recognition.
'Antyr? How…? I'm not dreaming. Am I?'
'No, sire. But you are asleep. I've sought you thus to tell you that the men who slew Nyriall and who have troubled us these past nights, have visited the envoy.'
'Visited?’ Alarm. Guards! ‘How?'
'Rest easy, sire. They came through his dreams. They conjured the form of the Bethlarii god Ar-Hyrdyn from him, and tormented him cruelly. He is Ar-Hyrdyn's priest.'
'I feel your pain and anger, Dream Finder. Are you certain it was they?'
'Beyond doubt, sire. Their presence is unmistakable. And they faltered and then punished him when he asked to see their domain again.'
'I don't understand.'
'They have perhaps tempted him before with some joy in the Threshold, but since my arrival there to protect Nyriall, they are uncertain about their mastery there.'
Appreciation. ‘To what end was this visitation?'
'I cannot say, but it was no good one. He was to have died here, at our hands, seemingly, but your will prevailed. Now, he is to live and return home.'
'Why?'
'They say his task is finished … or changed. He's been spying, and he'll spy further.
Indifference.
'He's a soldier.'
Silence.
'What did you learn of these … men … who can enter and change dreams thus?'
'They are powerful, skilful, and malevolent.'
'What is their intention?'
'I don't know. But it's evil beyond anything I care to think about. They said that Whendrak is now the lure.'
The lure …?
'To what?'
'I don't know.'
Anger.
'I know only that they must be sought out and destroyed.'
Surprise. ‘There is the law yet, Dream Finder.’ A reproof.
'They are demented in their evil, and beyond all law, save kill or be killed, Ibris.'
'I hear you, wolf, and shall weigh your judgement in due time.'
'I am not of your pack or your kind, Ibris, and thus am beyond your judgement, just as they are beyond your reach. They are also beyond all reason and too dangerous to live. When we meet, they or we shall die. Their deeds dictate their sentence.'
Silence.
'I hear you still, wolf. And trust you. What shall I do?'
'Lead your people, pack leader. War is coming.'
'And what shall you do, Antyr?'
'Find them.'
'How? Where?'
Silence.
'And when you find them?'
'I am changed.'
'Indeed. I feel your power. But …?'
'Lead your people, sire. I shall tell you what I can, when I can, if I can. Guard our bodies as need arises.'
'But…'
'Do this, sire.'
Silence.
Doubt.
Resignation.
'Rest now, sire.'
Snuffling, searching, finding, wolfish chuckling.
'A gift, Ibris. An old and joyous dream. Sleep in peace. You are guarded in all places by a great and ancient strength.'
Darkness.