Antyr felt Tarrian beside him.
'Withdraw now, Lord,’ Antyr said, still calmly, his voice a mixture of his own and Tarrian's. ‘Follow the wolf. My power will protect your back like a shield. Withdraw.'
Then both Menedrion and Tarrian were gone, and Antyr was alone in the darkness with the searching figure. It let out a flesh-crawling hiss of anger and frustration and turned towards Antyr. Briefly, he felt the wash of the ancient hatred he had felt as the hooded figure had left him the previous night. Then, abruptly, he sensed … recognition … and the hatred became an overpowering lust. Its corrupt malevolence appalled him, and he raised his arms as if to protect himself from it.
The figure hesitated.
Without knowing what he was doing, Antyr reached up and drove his hands into the darkness. Then, with a great cry, he tore open its very fabric.
Light flooded in upon him like a roaring cataract, and for a timeless moment he felt himself being lifted bodily and swept along uncontrollably.
Then he was falling … falling … falling …
Menedrion burst into wakefulness with a great roar just as Antyr toppled over backwards on his chair and went sprawling on the luxuriant carpet.
As he struggled to find his bearings, Tarrian was by his side, his bright yellow eyes searching into him. In the span of a heartbeat, Antyr saw several images of himself alternating with those of Tarrian as the wolf entered and left him, almost hysterically, seeking reassurance.
'Enough,’ he managed to say, as he struggled to his knees and put his arms about the animal for mutual support and comfort. ‘Enough. We're back. We're…'
He stopped as he became aware of Menedrion, standing nearby, his head in his hands and swaying ominously.
'Lord!’ Antyr cried, scrambling unsteadily to his feet. ‘We're safe now…'
As he stepped forward however, the bodyguard, white faced and wide eyed, interposed himself. He levelled a trembling knife at Antyr's throat.
Antyr began to raise his hand in conciliation but even as he did so he became aware of the bodyguard's focus changing and in the corner of his vision he saw Tarrian, yellow eyes blazing savagely, hair bristling and top lip curling to expose his massive teeth in their flesh-tearing totality.
'Put the knife down, for pity's sake!’ Antyr gasped in dismay. ‘Now! Tarrian will kill you if you don't, and I won't be able to stop him.'
The bodyguard hesitated and Antyr sensed Tarrian preparing to spring. In desperation he lashed out wildly at the bodyguard's hand before the wolf launched his inevitable attack. Momentarily distracted by the sight of Tarrian, the bodyguard was unprepared for the suddenness of Antyr's slap and the knife was knocked from his hand. It twisted and glittered through the bright lamplight to fall silently on to green sward carpet several paces away.
'No!’ Antyr roared, both to Tarrian and the bodyguard, stepping back rapidly and holding his empty hands out in a gesture of helplessness. Then, to the bodyguard, pleading, ‘Don't move. Please. Don't threaten me. The lord's safe and when Tarrian sees I am, so will you be.'
The bewildered man looked from Antyr to Tarrian and then back at his master. Though Menedrion was still obviously in a dazed condition, he was more steady now, and his eyes were beginning to focus.
'Keep your distance then, Dream Finder, and we'll all be safe,’ the bodyguard said, recovering somewhat. Though his voice was unsteady his manner was purposeful. He looked back at Menedrion again. ‘Sir. Are you all right?’ he said urgently. ‘What did they do to you? What happened? The noises you were making were fearful. I didn't know what to do for the best.'
'Leave us,’ Menedrion said, after a moment.
'Sir?’ The bodyguard hesitated, casting another wary glance at Antyr and Tarrian. ‘The wolf…'
'Leave us!’ Menedrion shouted angrily, then, relenting almost immediately, he gave an uncharacteristic smile of self-reproach and reached out a placatory hand. ‘There's no danger here. Truly, no danger,’ he said, his smile broadening. ‘None that I can't handle now I'm awake, anyway,’ he added. ‘Just a particularly strange and vivid dream. And I need to talk to the Dream Finder alone about it now.'
Reassured by Menedrion's easier manner the bodyguard did as he was bidden, albeit with some reluctance. ‘I shall be within call, sir,’ he said with quiet defiance, as he bent down to pick up his knife. Menedrion nodded.
When the bodyguard had left, however, Menedrion's facade cracked and the tumult beneath burst through.
'What happened, Dream Finder?’ he said, his eyes wide with anger and fear. ‘That was not the dream I had last night. The place was the same, and the enemy, but it wasn't my dream. And you were not there then. It was some other … person … and they possessed me. Somewhere between sleep and waking…’ His final words tailed off.
'I know it wasn't your dream, sir,’ Antyr replied simply. ‘But I don't know what happened.'
The answer did not please Menedrion. ‘I warn you, Dream Finder. Peddle me no foolishness in the hope of wringing yourself a higher fee, or ingratiating yourself at court,’ he said grimly. ‘I'm no empty-headed courtier's woman to be gulled by such tricks, and you'll find that life can become most unpleasant if you think otherwise. Do you understand that fully?'
'I do, sir,’ Antyr replied with as much dignity as he could muster in the face of Menedrion's powerful presence. ‘And I've told you the truth. I don't know what happened just now. I've never known anything like it before, nor have I heard or read of such a thing. Nor has Tarrian, who worked with my father for many years before he came to me.'
Menedrion looked at him narrowly.
'You came highly recommended, Antyr,’ he said darkly. ‘You're a Guildsman. Dreams and all to do with dreams are your province. “I don't know” won't do. What use is a farrier who doesn't know how to shoe a horse? Or a fletcher who doesn't know how to make an arrow?’ He pointed at Antyr threateningly, and spoke very slowly. ‘Now, stop this nonsense and tell me what happened?'
Antyr swallowed. ‘You were attacked, Lord Menedrion. I … we don't know how, or why, or by whom. But you were attacked here today just as surely as we were at Herion.’ Released, Antyr's words became almost a babble. ‘It was not a dream we found ourselves in, nor any dream you've ever had. Had that been so, I'd have been you within it. A Dream Finder can't be separate from the dreamer. That's…’ He waved his hands in search of a word. ‘Basic … Fundamental … Just not possible-any more than I could occupy your place in that chair while you're in it when we're awake. We were in another place…'
'In another place,’ Menedrion echoed in exasperation. ‘How could we be in another place when we never left this one, man? Did we saddle up and ride there? Grow wings and fly? I warn you, Dream Finder…'
Antyr flinched at the growing menace in Menedrion's voice and his throat went dry. ‘Sir, if I could say anything that would remove me from your anger, I would say it. But it would be a betrayal on my part to speak anything other than the truth…'
'Truth! What truth?’ Menedrion burst out. ‘If you know the truth then tell me.'
’ … The truth as I see it,’ Antyr finished. ‘And the truth is, that I don't know what the truth is.’ Menedrion stood up. Antyr raised a hand. ‘Sir, I beg of you, listen to me…'
'Listen to a babbler, who doesn't even know his own trade?'
Some part of Antyr's infantry training fastened his feet to the floor in spite of his overwhelming desire to flee. An unexpected twist of anger curled inside him. ‘Sir,’ he almost shouted. ‘I didn't tout for your business like some lick-spittle court tailor. You chose me. You had me sought out and brought here. You asked me to search for your dream. Sir, I do know my trade. Better than many. But you must let me think…'
Menedrion clenched his massive fists.
'I can't stop you doubting me, sir,’ Antyr went on, still just managing to hold his ground. ‘But…’ Inspiration came, from his own remark earlier. ‘Go to the Guild. Ask anyone there-anyone-if it's possible for Dreamer and Finder to be separate as we were.'