He groaned softly as he lowered himself down to the bed. The night was growing cooler, and the wind pushed damp air in the windows and door. As Likari had observed, the blanket was not large enough to cover both of them. He curled himself around the sleeping boy, lifting the edge of the blanket to take small shelter beneath it. He sighed and then trickled out magic. The moss stirred softly and then grew around him and the boy, cupping them and then creeping around their bodies as if he were a fallen log. Slowly his body warmed them. He slipped into a deep sleep.

I did not.

I held myself, small and silent in a dark corner of his mind. I waited. I had not liked it that he addressed me by name. I knew we were both more aware of the other than we ever had been, and slowly we were becoming more accessible to each other. I felt exposed. I waited for his mind to dim into sleep. I thought he might dream, but he did not. Perhaps he was too weary.

I let the night deepen to full dark before I dared stir. Then, almost as if I had my own body, I stretched my being. Gently I peeled my awareness away from his and wondered if he would awaken to that loss.

He slept on.

Dream-walking was still a new skill to me. When I ventured out in search of Epiny, it was like riffling the pages in not just a thick book but in all the books in some grand library. I did not feel that I moved geographically but through some other nameless spatial layer. I had to focus not only on where Epiny might be but also on how her dream had felt to me the last time we had touched. I finally discovered an anchor in her silly silver whistle. I thought of it, how it shone, the otter’s shape, and finally its shrill annoying blast. As Scout Buel Hitch had once described it, so it was. As if I walked into another room, I entered Epiny’s dream.

Perhaps she would have called it a nightmare. We were in a small curtained alcove just off a grand ballroom. I could hear the music and catch glimpses of the lovely dresses and gaily slippered feet of the dancers and their finely attired partners as they whirled past a crack in the curtains. I could smell hundreds of fine beeswax tapers burning as well as catch the aroma of rich roast meat, freshly baked bread, and the waft of fine wine. Through the music, I could hear the tinkle of silverware and glasses and cheery laughter as the richly dressed aristocrats dined. All were enjoying the jovial festivities.

But in her dream, Epiny was a tiring maid. Pregnant and heavy in a worn gray dress, she was hastily pinning up hair disheveled by a lively dance or mending a slipper whose tie had been torn, or primping a bit more powder onto a haughty young girl’s graceful neck. Her dream, I quickly saw, was all about waiting and working in the dim shadows while others danced and laughed and enjoyed themselves in the splendor of Old Thares. She was weary. Her back ached and her feet were swollen but no one seemed to care for the discomfort of her advanced pregnancy. The merry dance went on without her.

“Do you wish that you could go home?” I asked her softly.

“Home?” She smiled bitterly. “This isn’t home, Nevare. Do you wish you could go back to your old dreams?”

She gestured at me, and I looked down at myself. I was slim and dapper in my green cavalla cadet uniform with the gleaming brass buttons. My black boots shone with a high gloss. I looked as if I had come as a guest to dance at her dream ball. I felt oddly embarrassed.

Epiny’s spirit was strong and her mind quick. As soon as she realized that we were in a dream together, she took control of it. The music softened and the chattering women in the alcove vanished. Only Epiny and I remained. She sat down gratefully on a hassock that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “So,” she said into the quiet, “you’ve come to let me know you’re alive and well. When will you come home?”

“I am alive. And well, in a way. But I don’t think I’ll be coming home anytime soon, if ever. Soldier’s Boy still has control of my body. He has made me a Speck, complete with dapples. And we are staying in Lisana’s old lodge. He has unearthed a cache of her jewelry. He has a plan to make himself a powerful man among the Specks. After that, I don’t know exactly what he intends, but I know he still thinks all Gernians should be driven far from the Barrier Mountains. There is little I can do about whatever he plans. I have to keep my guard up just to retain my own awareness. I am still Nevare, and I don’t want to let go of that self. But I’m not sure how long I can hold out against him.”

It was strange. I hadn’t planned to say those things to her, or realized how worried I was that Soldier’s Boy would absorb me. “Is that why you’ve come to me? To ask my help?” She almost sounded hopeful.