Awakening Page 18

  ‘What? Yes, yes I am.’

  Tuon regarded her more closely. ‘You look exhausted; have you been having that dream again?’

  Shaan sighed. ‘You worry too much, Tuon.’

  ‘I want you to go to a dream seer, Shaan. You haven’t had a proper sleep for a long while.’

  ‘Tuon . . .’

  ‘Come on, let’s go now.’ She wrapped a hand around her upper arm. ‘I know a good one in the central markets who’s not too costly.’

  ‘But I thought you wanted to go back to the inn and rest? And I have to buy some things for Torg.’ She pulled back, but Tuon kept a grip on her.

  ‘Shaan, please, I can’t go back there right now.’

  Her face was tight and Shaan hesitated.

  ‘Please, Shaan, I’m too tired now, I don’t have the strength to face him today.’

  She relented. What harm could there be in it after all? ‘All right, where is it?’ she said.

  Tuon smiled. ‘This way.’

  By the time they reached the markets the sun was a bright hot ball in the sky, and the square was crowded with people. Voices rang loudly through the still air as vendors called out their wares and the eating houses were busy setting out tables and chairs under the shade of their awnings.

  ‘This way,’ Tuon pulled at her hand and made for a small shaded shop front to their right.

  Set slightly back from those flanking it, the building’s walls were painted a dark red and a small black awning shaded the entrance. There was no sign, only a blue tile on the wall near the door painted with an inward spiral motif. Tuon knocked once then pushed open the door, pulling Shaan in after her.

  They stood a moment letting their eyes adjust to the dim light. They were in a small vestibule decorated with a sculpture of a serpent made of white stone. In front of them was an archway covered with a richly woven hanging.

  ‘Petar!’ Tuon called, pulling aside the hanging. Shaan squinted at bright sunlight. ‘Come on,’ she said and Shaan followed her out into a tiny courtyard. A small shallow pool flanked by two stone benches in the middle was set, surrounded by tall plants in earthenware pots and smaller tubs of flowers.

  ‘Petar,’ Tuon called again, moving forward.

  ‘Here,’ someone called back. A slight man emerged from an archway. His lined skin was as dark as Torg’s. He had a small tuft of black hair on the end of his sharp chin, and was wearing a blue skullcap and simple white shirt and trousers. For no reason Shaan began to feel nervous.

  ‘Hello.’ Petar clasped Tuon’s hand, but he was looking at Shaan. His bright eyes swept her from head to foot, and her skin prickled. He looked back at Tuon and his smile widened.

  ‘So, you have come back to see an old man, eh?’

  ‘Not so old.’ Tuon smiled. ‘How have you been? You look well.’

  ‘Yes, yes. I have been drinking lots of juice.’ He laughed gently. ‘Come, let us sit.’ He beckoned them over to the benches by the pool. Shaan sat stiffly on the cool stone next to Tuon while Petar faced them across the pond. A small frog leaped into the water and swam under a lily.

  ‘I’m here for my friend – she’s been having dreams,’ Tuon said.

  ‘Yes.’ Petar nodded and looked at her again. She tried to hold his gaze calmly, but her insides were in turmoil.

  ‘Meli.’ The seer suddenly clapped his hands, making her jump. ‘Drinks.’ He smiled warmly at her. ‘You look nervous, perhaps some juice will help you on this hot day.’

  She nodded and attempted a smile. Petar turned to Tuon.

  ‘You are weary, have you been using that tonic I gave you?’ She nodded, but he frowned. ‘I see though, it is not helping. You are doing too much.’ His voice hardened, ‘You must rest more, it is not good to wear yourself out for others.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tuon murmured, and Shaan wondered how much the dream seer knew about Tuon’s work.

  ‘Aah, drinks.’ Petar’s smile returned and he stretched out an arm. ‘Meli, put them here.’ He indicated the bench beside him.

  A pretty young girl of about eight came carefully toward them, carrying a tray of glasses. She was intent on putting one foot in front of the other and barely glanced up. ‘Good girl.’ Petar smiled as she placed the tray down with a slight wobble. He pushed some hair back from her forehead and said something quietly to her. Shaan caught something about fish and swimming before the girl laughed and skipped off.

  ‘Here.’ Petar handed her a glass. ‘Banda and redfruit juice, good for pleasant dreams.’

  ‘Are you from the Serpent Isles?’ she asked, accepting the juice.

  He smiled. ‘Yes, but I have been here many years now. Meli’s mother did not like it there. Too many other fierce women,’ he joked.

  Shaan smiled, her tension easing and took a sip of the juice. It was cool and sweet with a sharp tang.

  After they had finished, Petar stood. ‘Come now, we will help you.’

  Shaan hesitated, her stomach turning. ‘How much will it cost?’

  ‘You will have enough.’ Petar walked toward an archway opposite the one they had entered. Shaan rose slowly. Tuon smiled at her encouragingly and nodded.

  The room he took her to was cool and dim with a high ceiling and no other entrances. It was decorated with a beautiful wall hanging and furnished with a thick rug in the middle of the floor with large cushions.

  ‘Sit.’ He indicated the rug and, going to the wall hanging, pulled it aside. It ran smoothly along rings to reveal an open window and, outside, a small lush garden. A sweet, earthy smell filled the room and soft light filtered through the thickly planted greenery.

  Shaan sat down slowly on a large cushion.

  ‘Now.’ Petar sat down behind her and placed a hand on each temple. She flinched – his fingers felt very hot.

  ‘Do I close my eyes?’

  ‘No.’ She heard a smile in his voice. ‘This will only take a moment. Just relax.’

  She tried, but she couldn’t help wondering if she was wasting time. The sun was rising higher in the sky and she still had not got what Torg wanted, or made it to the reef to pick rock snails. She took a breath and tried to contain her impatience.

  ‘Your inability to accept things is one of the reasons you often find yourself in difficult situations.’ Petar said quietly. He withdrew his hands and rose, coming around to sit across from her on the rug. His dark face was serious. ‘But that is not what disturbs your dreams. Now, I have found the pattern you cast in the Void. I will be able to follow it and try and see what it is that causes your dreams.’

  ‘My pattern?’

  ‘Yes. Every living thing creates a unique pattern when they enter the dream Void. This pattern leaves traces, like wet footprints in sand. The trace lasts for a while before it fades, so I will be able to enter the Void and find the traces of your pattern from your most recent dream. I will follow it and see what I find.’ He smiled.

  Shaan nodded, feeling relieved that that was all there was to it. He closed his eyes. It was very quiet in the room. Shaan leaned back against the cushions so she faced the garden and looked past her toes at the greenery. The room felt like it was growing warmer, it made her feel lazy and sleepy. She shifted the cushion under her head and listened to the sound of Petar’s breathing. Her eyes started to feel heavy. He seemed to be taking a long time. Perhaps it would be all right if she just had a little doze while she waited. Her eyes closed and while he worked, she slipped into a dream.

  Deep darkness surrounded her. Her heartbeat was loud and she sensed something there with her. With rising dread she turned. Something moved in the corner of her eye. A flash of light. A high piercing scream rang out and suddenly she was falling. Frantically, she reached out, but there was nothing to hang onto. She was falling down, down, to somewhere she knew she didn’t want to be. With a thud she hit the earth. Red, hot light flared around her and the smell of wet earth filled her nostrils. Despairing, she saw the wide, dark river flowing fast, littered with bits of wood and people flounderi
ng, crying out as they were carried away into a thick jungle. Heat blasted at her back.

  Arak-si, the voice whispered, and terror filled her.

  She didn’t want to turn around.

  But then a different voice shouted her name. A voice that shouldn’t be here. She turned. The wall was lit with flame, the gates beyond broken and bleeding a stream of people, but before her was Petar, forced to his knees by the monster of her nightmares. It was a man, but it was not; taller and heavily muscled, he had a bright blue crest, covered with skin like a serpent’s, that ran from his close-shaved head down his bare back. He smiled triumphantly, his eyes reflecting red in the fire. He had hold of the dream seer’s hair with one hand, and in the other a curved blade.

  Arak-si, he hissed at her and raised his arm.

  ‘Shaan, you must wake!’ Petar shouted and she jerked at the terror in his voice.

  ‘Shaan!’ Fear filled his eyes as she stared at him. What was he doing here?

  ‘Shaan, wake up!’ Petar twisted in the thing’s grip and it laughed at her and hissed, Arak-si. His hand began to fall.

  ‘No! With a scream, Shaan turned and pushed her hand desperately into the fire running along the wall. White-hot pain streaked through her and she woke, panting, on the floor of Petar’s house. But she was too late. The seer lay on the floor, his throat slit, blood soaking the rug.

  ‘Shaan!’ Tuon appeared in the doorway. ‘I heard you scream I . . . Petar!’ She ran into the room and dropped down beside the seer, grabbing his shoulder. Petar’s head lolled, his eyes wide open and staring, and the cartilage in his neck cracked. ‘Shaan . . . what have you done?’

  Shaan stared at her. ‘Nothing! I don’t know what happened. I saw him in my dream and then I woke up and . . .’ She shook her head, feeling ill.

  ‘What’s this?’ Tuon grabbed her injured hand. ‘Why is your hand burnt?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Shaan stared at it.

  Tuon’s face was white. ‘Well whatever has happened we have to get out of here. Only his daughter knows we’re here.’

  Shaan’s insides contracted. The child, she had forgotten about her.

  ‘Come on!’ Tuon pulled her to her feet and she winced as her hand throbbed painfully. They crept from the room, crossing the courtyard and slipping out of the house and back out into the market. They walked close together, their arms entwined.

  ‘How did it happen?’ Tuon whispered, her eyes darting around. ‘I didn’t even see you had a knife with you.’

  ‘I didn’t!’ Shaan whispered. ‘I don’t. I didn’t kill him Tuon. I was asleep.’ She stared at her friend desperately. ‘You must believe me.’ Tuon looked at her, searching her face, then nodded once her expression taut. ‘I believe you. Though I don’t know how it could have happened if you didn’t do it. There was no one else there.’

  ‘I was dreaming,’ Shaan said, knowing as she spoke how ridiculous it sounded.

  ‘You were dreaming?’

  ‘I fell asleep. I couldn’t help it, I was so tired. Then Petar was there in my dream.’

  ‘You saw him in your dream?’ Tuon’s hand tightened on her arm.

  ‘Yes and . . . something was holding him, there was a knife at his throat. He told me to wake up and I tried, but I couldn’t. So I put my hand in the fire . . .’ she stopped, feeling the burn throbbing across her palm.

  ‘Are you saying something in your dream killed Petar?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She looked at the ground. Her head was so full of pain she could hardly think. ‘It makes no sense.’

  ‘What did this thing look like?’

  ‘It was tall, strong, and had a blue ridge, like serpent skin, running from his neck to his back.’

  Tuon stopped, staring at her. ‘Serpent skin?’ she whispered.

  Shaan nodded.

  ‘But that’s . . .’ Suddenly Tuon stopped, staring past Shaan’s shoulder, her fingers biting into her arm. ‘There’s a Seducer here,’ she said quietly.

  Shaan’s heart jumped and her mouth dried. There would be no hiding if he were alerted to the seer’s death.

  ‘Don’t look. Come.’ Tuon pulled her toward the nearest side street. They turned down a small alley and headed back toward the water and the wharves. Shaan’s heart was thudding and sweat coated her back.

  ‘We need to get some salve,’ Tuon said. ‘Are you working at the yards today?’

  ‘I’m on the roster to serve the mid-meal.’

  Tuon’s mouth twisted. ‘Well, you won’t be able to serve anything with that hand.’

  ‘But what about the supervisor?’

  ‘I’ll send someone to tell them you burned yourself in the inn’s kitchen. There’s a woman I know lives close by, she can see to your hand. You can rest there while I take care of Torg’s supplies. Come on.’ She put a hand under her arm and pulled her down a small side street.

  20

  Marathin was waiting for them when they entered the courtyard the next morning and was stoic as ever as Tallis gained his saddle. Once again, he felt the thrumming singing in his blood, but this time he did not try to connect with her.

  He closed his eyes, feeling the rush of salty, cold air across his face as they leaped into the sky. It was a clear day, the sun was hot, but out on the horizon a long low band of cloud darkened the rim of the world.

  They flew along the coast, the blue of the sea foaming white where it met the shore and Tallis stared down at it in wonder. So much water. Dark blue faded to azure and then a pale green, and in places it was so translucent he could see the sand beneath it. The play of the sunlight upon the waves created a dazzling sparkle and flash as the water roiled in to meet the rocks. It was so beautiful, hours went by as he stared down at it, lulled by the hypnotic rhythm of the serpent’s beating wings.

  Attar had said it would take them less than a day to reach the city of Salmut, and by late afternoon Tallis had his first glimpse of it. As he tore his gaze from the water to the city, he was shocked by the size of it. He had thought the town of Shalnor was big, but it was barely a quarter the size of Salmut. The city sprawled along the curve of a great bay of red rock and white sand. Flat-roofed buildings sprouted among a jumble of twisted streets that ran back from the sea towards a set of hills ringing the bay. A palace with domed rooftops, windows glinting in the sun, was set in the centre of the hills amid pockets of greenery, and at the sea’s edge a great collection of buildings guarded one long stone pier, flanked by three smaller ones, that extended into the water. Smaller jetties poked out along the bay’s northern curve and boats of many sizes rose and fell in the swell, dotting the blue like a scattering of dull stones.

  Squinting, Tallis held tight as Marathin spread her wings and swooped in and over the city then up to a headland at the northern end of the bay. They flew over a great complex of long buildings and yards, and then began to drop in eddying circles onto the top of an enormous stone pillar surrounded by trees.

  They landed in a rush of air and scraping of talon on rock. His heart pounding, Tallis looked around to see half a dozen other serpents flying in from the sea and land toward the city, their wings spread wide, gliding on the thermals. And on each of their backs was a rider, bringing their serpent home for the night.

  Attar turned and grinned, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘Welcome to Salmut, Tallis,’ he shouted, and with a wave at the descending Bren, he jumped from Marathin’s back to the rooftop below. Dismounting, Tallis stood uncertainly near Marathin’s flank as Haraka landed beside them.

  The pillar on which they had landed was enormous and dizzyingly high. There was no edge to the roof, only smooth stone that ended in a straight drop to the earth below. A dome of coloured glass was set in the centre and beside it a wide opening, like a dark mouth. The rooftop was big enough for several serpents, and though he was far from the edge Tallis’s legs still felt unsteady, the soles of his feet tingling at the thought of how high they were.

  ‘Help me with her saddle.’ Attar put a hand on
his shoulder. ‘The others are coming in and it’s going to get damned crowded up here soon.’

  Beside them, Jared was helping Bren with Haraka’s gear, his face wary and tense. Beyond him, Tallis saw nothing but the vast blue of the great water meeting open sky, and a host of serpents coming toward them. Swallowing, he looked back at Jared and saw the same emotion mirrored in his eyes. What clansmen had ever been so far from home?

  He fumbled with the buckles on the saddle, trying to push all thought and feeling from his mind. The serpent’s wing dug into his side and he leaned against her. The thrumming echoed in his chest and for once it was a comfort, almost familiar. He pulled at the straps, yanking them free, and then hissed at a sudden burning pain in his right hand. Wincing, he massaged the flesh of his palm. It was strangely hot and painful. He must have caught it on the sharp barbs of Marathin’s wing, but he could see no sign of a puncture.

  ‘Tallis!’ Attar called, pulling the saddle from Marathin’s back. Tallis stepped backward as with a crouch and leap the serpent launched up in a rush of wind, her wings snapping open and catching the air.

  He held his throbbing hand to his chest, watching her leave and feeling the connection between them stretching as thin as a spider’s web until she became nothing but a black speck above the sea.

  ‘What happened to your hand?’ Jared was beside him.

  He frowned and looked down, realising the pain had gone. ‘Nothing.’ He squeezed his palm, puzzled.

  ‘Come into the Dome.’ Attar joined them, the saddle slung over his arm. ‘I’ll show you where you can bed down.’

  Above them, other serpents with riders still circled. Tallis tried not to look as he followed the warrior, although the back of his neck prickled and the hairs lifted as he felt them watching.

  ‘Keep to the wall,’ Attar said as he began to descend into the shadowy opening.

  Tallis sucked in a breath and hesitated, pausing on the first step. The entrance into the Dome was an enormous drop; looking down, he could see right into the centre, all the way to the floor. At the bottom, a pair of serpents languished in a pool of water, looking the size of birds.