Nightmare by Steven Harper Page A

giving us all this?"
      "You’re Silent," Pup reminded her. "You outrank everybody except maybe Nater. Even the managers have to be polite."
      They spent considerable time exploring their rooms. Lizard flung himself on the bed and found the sheets were fine, heavy linen with a raw silk bedspread woven in a purple pattern. It was the first time he had lain on a real bed in three years. The bathrooms were an equal treat, each with a whirlpool bath and a multi-directional shower that fascinated Pup no end.
      A while later, a knock came at the door and a slave Lizard didn’t recognize wheeled a large linen-draped cart into Bell’s room. The covered dishes on top rattled slightly, and delicious smells filled the air.
      "Thank you, Kip," Bell told him. "You can go."
      Kip left, and Lizard lifted covers. Although he didn’t recognize a lot of the food, he could see at a glance it was infinitely better than anything the muckers got, even on holidays. Bell gave it a critical kitchen eye.
      "It’s not the best," she said, moving the dishes to a nearby table. "But it’s better than what any slave gets."
      Pup stood uncertainly by the door.
      "Sit down and eat," Lizard said. "That muck about you serving us was just an excuse to keep you here. There’s more than enough for all three of us."
      Pup’s face cleared and they all three sat down. When Tira came to take away the dishes, Lizard told her that Pup would sleep at the foot of his bed in case he or Bell wanted something in the night. Tira accepted this without comment and withdrew again.
      "I don’t know how long we can keep it up," Lizard said, "but we may as well enjoy it now. Besides, the bed’s big enough for five!"
    That night, Lizard lay awake in the deliciously comfortable bed. Pup had dropped off almost the moment his head hit the pillow, but Lizard found the silence kept him awake. The windows were shut, and he couldn’t hear the frogs, let alone the usual snores and sleepy mutters of the slaves in the barn loft. Soft moonlight slipped around the closed curtains, giving a dim illumination. Lizard turned on his side and watched Pup sleep. His near-white hair looked silver. The sheet had fallen away from his bare chest, revealing flat muscle and supple skin that moved with Pup’s steady breathing. He was a good friend, the best Lizard had ever had. And he was damned good-looking.
      Lizard blinked. Where did that come from? he thought.
      He watched the rise and fall of Pup’s chest and was seized with the sudden impulse to reach out and touch Pup’s hair, caress his forehead. Feelings churned inside Lizard, strange and unexplained. Pup was his best friend. Pup had been there for him from day one, had listened to him cry about his missing family, had conspired to avoid the managers with him. Lizard liked Pup a lot, didn’t know what he’d do without him. But what did that mean?
      Lizard’s hand stole outward and his finger lightly touched Pup’s cheek. It was warm. Pup shifted. Lizard snatched his hand back as Pup’s eyes abruptly opened.
      "What’s wrong?" he said in a sleep-blurred voice.
      Lizard’s wits fled and he couldn’t answer. Pup blinked and woke up fully.
      "What’s going on?" he said.
      "I thought ..." Lizard stammered. His heart beat fast. "I mean ...it’s nothing."
      Pup gave him a long look that Lizard couldn’t interpret. "Okay. Good night." He turned over and lay still.
      Lizard swallowed hard. What had he been thinking? What had he been doing? There was no answer that made sense to him. Lizard turned his back to Pup and stared at the wall. So much was happening, changing so fast. He’d never get to sleep.
      He fell asleep.

      The wind was hot and dry, carrying the scent of dry vegetation and sun-baked rock. Overhead, a falcon screamed, a high, free sound. Under his feet, the earth was hot, sandy, and full of sharp stones, but in this place, his soles were hardened and impervious to such problems.