whips," Quin said. And he now had six. And as many arms to hold them. His face was no longer quite human.
I did it ... Joslyn wasn't nearly as joyous now. The whips cracked forward and struck the Moth like a feast of snakes. His scream nearly tore her heart out. Quin was pain incarnate now, all that he had suffered gushing out of him in a blind fury of vengeance on his former tormentor. It was all Joslyn could do to remind herself of what had brought the Moth to this, that he got no less now than his deserving. It was hard. It was all Joslyn could do to keep from breaking the dream herself now and ending the torture for everyone. She knew better. The Supplicant was what mattered, and until he had cast out all his pain and fear, her work was not done. Still, there was nothing that said she had to witness the bitter end of it all.
Quin will not finish for some time . The Moth could not leave, because at heart it was Quin's dream and he would not end it until he had no anger left. Joslyn left him to his revenge, slipping once more unnoticed through the mist curtains and out onto the Nightstage.
Tagramon was waiting for her. "Dear Girl, you astound me."
At first Joslyn didn't understand him. Then she developed some anger of her own. "You expected me to fail!"
"Was that unreasonable of me?" Tagramon asked.
Joslyn thought about it. "No."
"I should say not. Your first Augury, and frankly, one of the more difficult subjects I've seen in years. Take a lesson, Dreamers."
The others came out of the mists. Her new friend Alyssa and her brother Ter. Dark, quiet Pari. Several other young men and women Joslyn had only seen in passing, apparently quartered in a different wing of the Temple. They all looked at her with even mixtures of envy and awe. Joslyn couldn't say which bothered her the most.
The Dream Master glanced at the supplicant's dream. It showed no signs of fading. "It'll be some time before he's done with that poor idiot. You have the rest of this time to wander the Nightstage at will. Thank Joslyn, Dreamers."
And they thanked her, solemnly, speaking with one voice before, in ones and pairs, they slipped away into the mists.
*
It had been too long since Joslyn had the freedom of the Nightstage. The training of the Temple was incredible; Joslyn had learned to do things with the fabric of dreams that were beyond her imagining. But that came at a cost; sleep was no longer a time of rest — short naps during the day had to suffice for that. Time to herself was meant as a reward and she saw it as such.
What to do ?
The trouble with unlimited possibilities is that it's hard to pick just one. And to do anything at all you have to pick just one. Joslyn thought about it and decided that a little good-natured revenge was in order.
*
One of the first lessons of the Temple was that the Nightstage and the waking world were only different forms of the same thing. With practice, you could read the layout of streets and buildings just by watching where dreams were and where they weren't. Joslyn knew the waking city as well as any thief who depended on it for her livelihood. It wasn't too hard to find her way to the shrine of the forgotten god where the thieves were.
The glowing mists that marked individual dreams were winking out all about her as dawn crept closer. Soon all the good folk of Ly Ossia would be up and about their days, but to the thieves the time of rest was fast approaching. Joslyn wasn't sure she'd be able to wait much longer.
She didn't have to.
There ...
The dreams appeared, one by one. Joslyn moved carefully, trying not to let her recent triumph make her careless. She looked for the one dream, grander than all the others, that led to Dyaros. It wasn't hard to find. Joslyn paused only a moment at the curtain of mist and then slipped inside.
Dyaros dreamed of treasure. Gold coins gathered together in piles, jewels and plate heaped themselves on the floor in great mounds. Joslyn thought at first that the
I did it ... Joslyn wasn't nearly as joyous now. The whips cracked forward and struck the Moth like a feast of snakes. His scream nearly tore her heart out. Quin was pain incarnate now, all that he had suffered gushing out of him in a blind fury of vengeance on his former tormentor. It was all Joslyn could do to remind herself of what had brought the Moth to this, that he got no less now than his deserving. It was hard. It was all Joslyn could do to keep from breaking the dream herself now and ending the torture for everyone. She knew better. The Supplicant was what mattered, and until he had cast out all his pain and fear, her work was not done. Still, there was nothing that said she had to witness the bitter end of it all.
Quin will not finish for some time . The Moth could not leave, because at heart it was Quin's dream and he would not end it until he had no anger left. Joslyn left him to his revenge, slipping once more unnoticed through the mist curtains and out onto the Nightstage.
Tagramon was waiting for her. "Dear Girl, you astound me."
At first Joslyn didn't understand him. Then she developed some anger of her own. "You expected me to fail!"
"Was that unreasonable of me?" Tagramon asked.
Joslyn thought about it. "No."
"I should say not. Your first Augury, and frankly, one of the more difficult subjects I've seen in years. Take a lesson, Dreamers."
The others came out of the mists. Her new friend Alyssa and her brother Ter. Dark, quiet Pari. Several other young men and women Joslyn had only seen in passing, apparently quartered in a different wing of the Temple. They all looked at her with even mixtures of envy and awe. Joslyn couldn't say which bothered her the most.
The Dream Master glanced at the supplicant's dream. It showed no signs of fading. "It'll be some time before he's done with that poor idiot. You have the rest of this time to wander the Nightstage at will. Thank Joslyn, Dreamers."
And they thanked her, solemnly, speaking with one voice before, in ones and pairs, they slipped away into the mists.
*
It had been too long since Joslyn had the freedom of the Nightstage. The training of the Temple was incredible; Joslyn had learned to do things with the fabric of dreams that were beyond her imagining. But that came at a cost; sleep was no longer a time of rest — short naps during the day had to suffice for that. Time to herself was meant as a reward and she saw it as such.
What to do ?
The trouble with unlimited possibilities is that it's hard to pick just one. And to do anything at all you have to pick just one. Joslyn thought about it and decided that a little good-natured revenge was in order.
*
One of the first lessons of the Temple was that the Nightstage and the waking world were only different forms of the same thing. With practice, you could read the layout of streets and buildings just by watching where dreams were and where they weren't. Joslyn knew the waking city as well as any thief who depended on it for her livelihood. It wasn't too hard to find her way to the shrine of the forgotten god where the thieves were.
The glowing mists that marked individual dreams were winking out all about her as dawn crept closer. Soon all the good folk of Ly Ossia would be up and about their days, but to the thieves the time of rest was fast approaching. Joslyn wasn't sure she'd be able to wait much longer.
She didn't have to.
There ...
The dreams appeared, one by one. Joslyn moved carefully, trying not to let her recent triumph make her careless. She looked for the one dream, grander than all the others, that led to Dyaros. It wasn't hard to find. Joslyn paused only a moment at the curtain of mist and then slipped inside.
Dyaros dreamed of treasure. Gold coins gathered together in piles, jewels and plate heaped themselves on the floor in great mounds. Joslyn thought at first that the
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