“You are the Dreamer,” I said, “I—I remember a little. I remember being bound to you. I remember when I—freed you. Not knowing what it might mean, not knowing you could have slain me on the ground of sacrifice.”
“No!” Narayan was as motionless as Gamine’s veils, but his voice was harsh, strident. “No, Adric, never that! We cannot—kill each other, you and I. I could order you killed, I suppose, but I—I would never do that unless there was no other way. Adric—is there any other way for me, for you?”
A bitterness spoke in my voice; neither side trusted Adric, both wanted his allegiance. I tried to trim my words carefully between the two personalities that were battling for mastery in me.
“It was Karamy,” I said, “who took Adric from you, and sent him, half-mad, back to the Crimson Tower. Karamy’s magic stripped him of power, and sent him, gone mad, back to stargazing in Narabedla. But it was not Karamy’s—” the voice that was not quite mine shook, suddenly, with my own weariness and the blank terror I’d been keeping at bay, “It wasn’t Karamy who sent me here, I’m not Adric. You were perfectly right. I’m no more Adric than—than you are. I’m in Adric’s body, yes. He moves me like a puppet! I have his memories, his—some of his thoughts—but he—” my voice cracked suddenly on a note of panic; I knew I sounded like a hysterical kid, but I couldn’t stop my own crackup once it had broken loose. “I’m not Adric, I’m not! I don’t belong here at all! I don’t—”
Narayan jumped up from the bench and I heard his hurrying steps, then his steel hands were hard on my shoulders, swinging me around to face him. “All right,” he said, “Steady. It’s all right.”
I drew a long breath and let it out again. “Thanks,” I said briefly, shamed. “I’ll be all right now.”
Narayan shrugged wearily. “It’s all right. I guessed you weren’t Adric, of course, from the beginning. But I didn’t think Adric, when it came to the test, would really do that to me. I had his promise. I suppose, for him, it was an easy way out. A perfect way of escape.” He sank down on the bench again, dropping his head in his hands. After a little, he looked up, and his voice sounded tired. “This is difficult,” he said. “My men think you are Adric. I’d never be able to convince them you aren’t. Would you mind—pretending? You’ll have to; otherwise—” he paused, and I saw disquiet in his face. He was not a man who would enjoy threatening, but I could understand his situation. They didn’t know me from Adam; I was just an out-sider who messed things up by resembling Adric. Well, I was stuck. I hadn’t liked the Narabedlans enough to give a hang what Narayan meant to do to them. Narayan, by comparison, looked pretty decent. And there was no other way to save my skin. Adric wasn’t too popular, it seemed and in Adric’s body I hadn’t a chance. I laughed. “I’ll try,” I told him. “But what’s this all about?”
Narayan looked up again. “That’s right. You wouldn’t know. You have some of Adric’s memory, I suppose, but not all. You remember who I am?”
“Not entirely—” I told him. I remembered some things. Narayan had been born, some thirty years ago, into a respectable country family who were appalled to discover they had given birth to a mutant Dreamer, and were only too glad to deliver him to the Narabedlans for the enforced stasis. I told Narayan.
“You remember the old Dreamer who served your House?”
I nodded. He had become old, mortal, weak—and had been eliminated. I bowed my head, although I had no personal guilt.
Afterwards, Narayan and I had been bound. “I slept in the Dreamer’s Keep—” Narayan sounded reflective, almost guilty, “I was wakened, and—given sacrifice. I learned to use my power and to give it up to Adric.” A brooding horror was in the grey eyes; I realized that Narayan dwelt in his own personal private hell with the memory of what he had done under the spell of Narabedla. “Adric was—strong.”
Yes, I thought; Adric had called on Narayan’s new power without counting cost. What wonder the memory maddened Narayan? The young Dreamer seemed to win his silent fight for self-control. “Well, you—Adric, I mean—freed me. I found my sister again; Cynara. I was like a child; I had to learn to live, to be alive again. I had been trained to use my power only through the Sacrifice. I had to learn to use it without. It wasn’t easy.”
“Why?” I asked thoughtlessly. Narayan’s eyes froze me. “To use that power,” he said in a tense, controlled voice, “Took human life.”
*
Outside the door I could hear the noises of the camp; the light of their watchfires crept in through the cracks. It was too dark to see Narayan’s face now, but I heard him moving restlessly about the room. “I have harnessed the power somewhat,” he said, “I can use it, myself, a little. Not much. Adric helped me; so did my sister. She had been taken for Sacrifice, but you—Adric—redeemed her. Then—we were able to throw an illusion around Cynara. She is not of Narabedla; but we made it seem as if she had always been there, in Rainbow City. We could do that because Evarin is weak, and because Karamy did not care. It was Rhys who made the Illusion.”
“Rhys!” The old Dreamer, the only one born in Narabedla—
“Yes; Gamine is careless with Rhys and lets him wake too long. Rhys and I have been in contact for a long time.”
I was hearing scraps of conversation from a vast abyss of time and space, when I had been drawn in electric coma through Karamy’s Time Ellipse. They will know, Narayan will know. That had been old Rhys. And Adric; What have I to do with Narayan? Adric had been—still was—playing a fancy double game with Narayan; I started to open my lips to tell the young Dreamer about it, but he was still talking. “Rhys will not act, not directly, against Rainbow City. But he did that much for us, and Gamine and Cynara are friends. We forgot—we all forgot—that Adric’s allegiance belonged to Narabedla first. Until he vanished.” I heard the brooding heaviness in Narayan’s voice. These men had been friends. Narayan went on, “I sent Brennan today, to find out. He didn’t come back.” I lowered my head and miserably told him what had happened to Brennan. Narayan’s face in a flicker of firelight looked drawn and haggard. “He was a—brave man,” Narayan said at last. “But I don’t blame you. After the interchange, I think, there was a time when you went on living Adric’s life. Thinking his thoughts. But now, I think, he will grow weaker in you. I hope. You—who are you, in your own world?”
I shrugged. The words would have meant nothing to Narayan. “My name’s Mike Kenscott.”
“Mi-ek,” Narayan repeated, turning the strange word on his tongue. “The men will call you Adric. I’d better, too. Later—” he shrugged. I didn’t say anything; I was still convinced that I hadn’t seen the last of Adric. But I didn’t want to tell Narayan this. I liked the man.
Without warning, Narayan switched on lights. “It’s near dawn, and you must be worn out. We’ve taught them to stay clear of the forests at night, so we’re safe enough here. They can’t do much till they’ve been to the Dreamers Keep, in any case.” With a sudden boyish friendliness he put out his hand and I took it. “I’m glad you’re not Adric. He might be hard to handle now—if he’s changed so much.” As if the lights had been a signal, fat Raif came without knocking into the room. Narayan crossed his hostile stare at me. “He’s all right, Raif,” the Dreamer said. The fat face broke into a sudden, elephantine smile. “I’d better apologize, Adric. I had orders.”
“Find him a place to sleep,” Narayan suggested, and I followed Raif up a flight of low stairs into an inner room. There was a bed there, clean, but tumbled as if it had had another occupant not long ago. Raif said “Kerrel’s gone with Cynara. You can sleep here.”
I kicked off my boots and crawled between the blankets, suddenly too weary even to answer. I had been