motives, but perhaps you can answer for him.”
“I want to go!” Laura said, plaintive. “I need to go In and overwrite this nightmare. I’m so tired my heart won’t slow down. What will happen when I can’t make myself wake up? Idon’t know what happens in the
end.
But the man in the coffin never gets out. He dies in there. He takes a long time to die. I don’t want to go on and dream that.”
“So—is that what you caught? A man trapped in a coffin until he dies?”
Laura blinked at him. She looked surprised and momentarily relieved. “No. I didn’t catch the nightmare to its end. I woke up before I got there.”
“Then I don’t see how you can dream a death you didn’t catch,” the Grand Patriarch said, practical. “Laura, I want to talk to you about what you’ve done.”
The girl sighed and shrugged. “My letter explains it.”
“Well then, according to your letter, you wanted to gain support for people who were being terrorized?”
Laura nodded.
“And in order to do that you chose to terrorize people?”
She stared at him, sullen. “What other way was there to show them? How else could I prove it? I didn’t have any evidence. I couldn’t take
photographs
of what was happening.”
The Grand Patriarch paced back and forth for a moment, thinking. He ran his hand along the table through rooftops and courtyards, streets, flights of steps, waterways, hurrying people. “In my grandparents’ day, no one was taking photographs. Do you think that the people back then believed that testimony—to any crime—needed photographic evidence to support it? Are people now any less inclined to listen to testimony? To listen in good faith?”
“You would say ‘faith,’ ” the girl said, insolent but without any great energy.
“Faith doesn’t just mean faith in God, Laura. It means faith in people, in the truth, in truth-telling. Faith in your own ability to make yourself heard. Faith that people will understandwhat you take the time to explain to them. Faith that people don’t need to be tricked, or
sold
the truth.”
“I wanted to do what Da told me to. He left me a letter asking me to do what I did. I followed his wishes. I kept faith with him.”
The Grand Patriarch studied the girl before him. “Do you think you did the right thing?”
“I was
asked.
And it wasn’t just Da. I kept catching dreams about convicts. Why would I dream about convicts unless the Place wanted me to help them too?”
“You caught dreams about convicts?”
“I found convicts in dreams. Sometimes it seemed they
found me.
I did what I could. I could only think to do what Da asked me to.” Laura sounded quite desperate. She pressed her forearms into her stomach so hard that she stooped. She seemed to be trying to hold herself together. Then she took a deep, shuddering breath, straightened up, and said, “Besides, if you could do something that no one else could, wouldn’t you have to find your own way of acting in the world?”
“I can’t think what you might mean,” said the Grand Patriarch. “Unless you’re boasting—as dreamhunters do—about the size of your penumbra.” He shook his head and saw that she was echoing his gesture. “Tell me, how does finding a new way match up with just doing what your father asked you to do?”
“Maybe I found a new father,” she said, and gave a little, wild laugh.
The Grand Patriarch’s assessing stare was so prolonged and intent that Laura dropped her gaze. Then she heard FatherRoy shuffling his feet. When the Grand Patriarch resumed his questions, his tone was careful, almost gentle. “Your aunt says that the letter you sent me was not in your own hand. Did you therefore mean to get away with it?”
Laura nodded.
“And you involved someone else in your plans.”
“Someone copied the letters for me.”
“Your cousin?”
“No!” Laura was horrified. “I wouldn’t do that to Rose! This was my responsibility. But I’ve done enough now,
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