--
The lash snaked out again. Joslyn fancied she could hear the dream cry out, too. She had to do something quickly, but what? She knew what she should do — send the Moth packing with singed wings. But if Quin became aware of her, or aware of the Moth for what he was, that cold knowledge alone could end Quin's dream before any good was done. The dream must survive...
She smiled a resigned smile. Of course. Not her — Quin. Quin would have to deal with the Moth himself if he ever was going to heal himself. And right now he feels so helpless that he chains himself to the wall at that monster's whim ...
Another blow. No time. Joslyn skirted the edge of the dream, came up behind the bit of dream stuff that Quin had made into a dungeon wall out of habit and fear. Careful to keep out of the line of Quin's sight, she used her will delicately and worked one little change in the dream — the manacles fell from Quin's wrists and landed on the stones. Quin and the Moth both looked down at once at the chains on the floor. There was confusion on Quin's face, anger from the Moth.
"Put those back!"
There was a flicker as the dream adjusted itself, and the manacles were back in place. Joslyn was disappointed but not surprised. And she wasn't through yet. She blended with the dream as much as possible, a chameleon moving only when she must, blending with a wall of stone, a brazier of fire and smoke, and then she leaned close and whispered, so softly that the sound could have been in Quin's mind all along, "I took off the manacles. I put them back. What else could I do?"
Quin became the 'I' Joslyn whispered about; she saw the confusion return for a moment only to be replaced by puzzlement.
That's right, poor Quin. Think about it. And while you do I'll give our friend another surprise . Joslyn considered. Whatever she did, Quin had to think it came from him. Chameleon again. Joslyn whispered into Quin's mind again. "What would I do... with the whip?"
A gamble, but necessary. Like tossing dice with Dyaros' thieves. Sooner or later you either made your point or lost everything, but, either way, the throw had to be made. Joslyn made her throw.
Quin, wearied past worry or understanding, loaded the dice. "I wish that whip would bite your nose."
Point !
One pure hot thought from Joslyn and the whip coiled through the air and struck. Only now it wasn't a whip at all but an angry blacksnake. It granted Quin's wish and sank sharp little teeth into the Moth's big nose. He shrieked and cursed, holding his hand over his face while the snake wriggled away into the mists. Joslyn took advantage of the confusion to remove Quin's manacles again.
"What..?"
That was Moth. Quin was laughing at him. Tears ran from Quin's dark eyes and his laugh was almost hysterical.
"How dare you — "
Quin dared a little more. "You're not so strong."
And the Moth wasn't so strong. His presence and power within the dream visibly shrank. Still unable — or unwilling — to believe that he had lost control, the Moth raised his fists and took a step toward Quin. Quin started to shrink back, almost by reflex, but again Joslyn was there to plant the thought that his mind needed. "You won't hit me."
And Moth didn't hit him. For a long moment the Moth did not move at all. And then Quin did, and the thought and the movement was all Quin. He stepped forward and, as hard as he had the strength, he struck the Moth across the face. The intruder staggered back against the wall of the dungeon, now made more real than ever by Quin's will. All the despair he had felt was very rapidly turning into anger. It wasn't dream skill, or even a strong will, but it was much more than the poor Moth had left in him.
"I want you chained to the wall," said Quin.
The moth was chained to the wall.
"I want the whip in my own hand."
The whip was in Quin's hand, and with no direction from Joslyn at all.
I did it !! Joslyn fairly hugged herself with excitement.
"I don't have enough
The lash snaked out again. Joslyn fancied she could hear the dream cry out, too. She had to do something quickly, but what? She knew what she should do — send the Moth packing with singed wings. But if Quin became aware of her, or aware of the Moth for what he was, that cold knowledge alone could end Quin's dream before any good was done. The dream must survive...
She smiled a resigned smile. Of course. Not her — Quin. Quin would have to deal with the Moth himself if he ever was going to heal himself. And right now he feels so helpless that he chains himself to the wall at that monster's whim ...
Another blow. No time. Joslyn skirted the edge of the dream, came up behind the bit of dream stuff that Quin had made into a dungeon wall out of habit and fear. Careful to keep out of the line of Quin's sight, she used her will delicately and worked one little change in the dream — the manacles fell from Quin's wrists and landed on the stones. Quin and the Moth both looked down at once at the chains on the floor. There was confusion on Quin's face, anger from the Moth.
"Put those back!"
There was a flicker as the dream adjusted itself, and the manacles were back in place. Joslyn was disappointed but not surprised. And she wasn't through yet. She blended with the dream as much as possible, a chameleon moving only when she must, blending with a wall of stone, a brazier of fire and smoke, and then she leaned close and whispered, so softly that the sound could have been in Quin's mind all along, "I took off the manacles. I put them back. What else could I do?"
Quin became the 'I' Joslyn whispered about; she saw the confusion return for a moment only to be replaced by puzzlement.
That's right, poor Quin. Think about it. And while you do I'll give our friend another surprise . Joslyn considered. Whatever she did, Quin had to think it came from him. Chameleon again. Joslyn whispered into Quin's mind again. "What would I do... with the whip?"
A gamble, but necessary. Like tossing dice with Dyaros' thieves. Sooner or later you either made your point or lost everything, but, either way, the throw had to be made. Joslyn made her throw.
Quin, wearied past worry or understanding, loaded the dice. "I wish that whip would bite your nose."
Point !
One pure hot thought from Joslyn and the whip coiled through the air and struck. Only now it wasn't a whip at all but an angry blacksnake. It granted Quin's wish and sank sharp little teeth into the Moth's big nose. He shrieked and cursed, holding his hand over his face while the snake wriggled away into the mists. Joslyn took advantage of the confusion to remove Quin's manacles again.
"What..?"
That was Moth. Quin was laughing at him. Tears ran from Quin's dark eyes and his laugh was almost hysterical.
"How dare you — "
Quin dared a little more. "You're not so strong."
And the Moth wasn't so strong. His presence and power within the dream visibly shrank. Still unable — or unwilling — to believe that he had lost control, the Moth raised his fists and took a step toward Quin. Quin started to shrink back, almost by reflex, but again Joslyn was there to plant the thought that his mind needed. "You won't hit me."
And Moth didn't hit him. For a long moment the Moth did not move at all. And then Quin did, and the thought and the movement was all Quin. He stepped forward and, as hard as he had the strength, he struck the Moth across the face. The intruder staggered back against the wall of the dungeon, now made more real than ever by Quin's will. All the despair he had felt was very rapidly turning into anger. It wasn't dream skill, or even a strong will, but it was much more than the poor Moth had left in him.
"I want you chained to the wall," said Quin.
The moth was chained to the wall.
"I want the whip in my own hand."
The whip was in Quin's hand, and with no direction from Joslyn at all.
I did it !! Joslyn fairly hugged herself with excitement.
"I don't have enough
Similar Books
