know."
John's heart sank "It didn't seem like a dream," he said anxiously. "I mean it was so—well, like you said, so real."
"That's the sad part about it . You see, it wasn't real. It was just a dream. I know all about dreams. They belong to the night, you see, and I'm the ruler of night."
John remained silent, his thoughts powerfully shaped by the being before him. The Changer not real? What was real? Dismay softened his bones and weakened his muscles.
"You're angry with the Changer, aren't you?" the Lord Lunacy asked quietly.
"Angry? No. I'm not angry. What makes you say that?"
"It's natural that you should be angry with him."
John struggled to resist feelings that threatened to sweep him into darkness.
"You just said he didn't exist. How can I be angry with him if he doesn't exist? You can't be angry with someone who's only a dream!"
"You certainly can. And you are, aren't you? Don't be ashamed of it. Anger is normal. It's human."
He felt trapped. The throbbing of his shoulder was almost unbearable.
"I'm not angry!" he almost yelled.
"And yet you shout."
"But if he doesn't exist. . ." His voice was even louder.
"It makes no difference. Let yourself be angry with him— even if he doesn't exist! What does it matter whether he exists or not? The dream creature has given you false hope. It has pre-tended to comfort you, then thrown you to the wolves." Furious-ly John struggled to cling to what he knew was true. The Lord Lunacy reached down a cold white hand and touched his fore-head, and at his touch something exploded inside him and John's confusion left him. Everything was revealed in clear lines. The Changer did not exist And John was angry. A few moments before he had felt almost stifled. Now a cold rage filled him, a rage with the nonexistent Changer, with his dead grandmother, with his father and his captors.
"He abandoned you, of course."
"Who abandoned me?"
"Your father. He didn't want you. He was and is an irresponsible drunk You hate him."
"Yes." Of course he did. Why had he never realized it before?
"You despise him."
"Yes!"
There was a pause. John's heart beat with fierce exultation.
"In fact you hate him!"
"Yes."
"You never want to see him. You will not seek him."
"No, I won't"
"Then pull the chain from your neck and throw the ring and locket away."
Mechanically John groped round his neck He was mildly surprised to find the string had become a fine gold chain. Pulling it over his head, he looked dully at what had once been his most treasured possession.
"Give it to me!" John looked up at the specter. Its hand was extended to him. For the first time he nodced that the white glow was dnged faintly with yellow green. John's head began of itself to shake from side to side. He didn't want it to, but it was shaking. The shaking would not stop. Did he imagine it— or did a look of rage flash across the face of the Lord Lunacy? Slowly John replaced the chain round his neck. He had really wanted to give it to him and could not quite understand what was happening.
The Lord Lunacy smiled slowly. "You know it is bad to hate and despise people? You despised the boys in Ellor Street, didn't you? You thought you were better than them. You hated them, didn't you? Face it You are evil."
John said nothing. The pain in his shoulder, as fierce as ever, had become strangely pleasurable. The Lord Lunacy condnued. "So this means you are bad."
Bad? So he was bad. But after all, what did it matter? What had he to lose? In fact, why not be bad? A feeling of strength grew inside him. It felt good to be bad.
"You are feeling the power of evil within you. You always were evil. But until now you didn't know it"
Still John did not speak His exultation did not change, even though the Lord Lunacy's words grated on him. He stared at the dead white figure before him, wondering vaguely how his head and shoulder could be seen through the rock when there was no hole. Solid things were not solid after all.
John's heart sank "It didn't seem like a dream," he said anxiously. "I mean it was so—well, like you said, so real."
"That's the sad part about it . You see, it wasn't real. It was just a dream. I know all about dreams. They belong to the night, you see, and I'm the ruler of night."
John remained silent, his thoughts powerfully shaped by the being before him. The Changer not real? What was real? Dismay softened his bones and weakened his muscles.
"You're angry with the Changer, aren't you?" the Lord Lunacy asked quietly.
"Angry? No. I'm not angry. What makes you say that?"
"It's natural that you should be angry with him."
John struggled to resist feelings that threatened to sweep him into darkness.
"You just said he didn't exist. How can I be angry with him if he doesn't exist? You can't be angry with someone who's only a dream!"
"You certainly can. And you are, aren't you? Don't be ashamed of it. Anger is normal. It's human."
He felt trapped. The throbbing of his shoulder was almost unbearable.
"I'm not angry!" he almost yelled.
"And yet you shout."
"But if he doesn't exist. . ." His voice was even louder.
"It makes no difference. Let yourself be angry with him— even if he doesn't exist! What does it matter whether he exists or not? The dream creature has given you false hope. It has pre-tended to comfort you, then thrown you to the wolves." Furious-ly John struggled to cling to what he knew was true. The Lord Lunacy reached down a cold white hand and touched his fore-head, and at his touch something exploded inside him and John's confusion left him. Everything was revealed in clear lines. The Changer did not exist And John was angry. A few moments before he had felt almost stifled. Now a cold rage filled him, a rage with the nonexistent Changer, with his dead grandmother, with his father and his captors.
"He abandoned you, of course."
"Who abandoned me?"
"Your father. He didn't want you. He was and is an irresponsible drunk You hate him."
"Yes." Of course he did. Why had he never realized it before?
"You despise him."
"Yes!"
There was a pause. John's heart beat with fierce exultation.
"In fact you hate him!"
"Yes."
"You never want to see him. You will not seek him."
"No, I won't"
"Then pull the chain from your neck and throw the ring and locket away."
Mechanically John groped round his neck He was mildly surprised to find the string had become a fine gold chain. Pulling it over his head, he looked dully at what had once been his most treasured possession.
"Give it to me!" John looked up at the specter. Its hand was extended to him. For the first time he nodced that the white glow was dnged faintly with yellow green. John's head began of itself to shake from side to side. He didn't want it to, but it was shaking. The shaking would not stop. Did he imagine it— or did a look of rage flash across the face of the Lord Lunacy? Slowly John replaced the chain round his neck. He had really wanted to give it to him and could not quite understand what was happening.
The Lord Lunacy smiled slowly. "You know it is bad to hate and despise people? You despised the boys in Ellor Street, didn't you? You thought you were better than them. You hated them, didn't you? Face it You are evil."
John said nothing. The pain in his shoulder, as fierce as ever, had become strangely pleasurable. The Lord Lunacy condnued. "So this means you are bad."
Bad? So he was bad. But after all, what did it matter? What had he to lose? In fact, why not be bad? A feeling of strength grew inside him. It felt good to be bad.
"You are feeling the power of evil within you. You always were evil. But until now you didn't know it"
Still John did not speak His exultation did not change, even though the Lord Lunacy's words grated on him. He stared at the dead white figure before him, wondering vaguely how his head and shoulder could be seen through the rock when there was no hole. Solid things were not solid after all.
Similar Books
