"Hi," Kendi said. "You’re Ben, right? Your mom is my teacher?"
"Uh, yeah. I guess," Ben stammered, and silently cursed himself. Why was he always so stupid when it came to talking with strangers? And why did this particular stranger make him blush like this?
"I’m Kendi Weaver." He held out a hand. Ben set down his glass and shook it. Kendi smiled. "Oh, that’s right. Mother Ara mentioned it, but I’d forgotten. You’re not Silent."
Mom talked about him to her students? Ben didn’t know how to feel about that. Annoyed, maybe?
"No," he said. "I’m not."
"What a relief," Kendi said, pumping Ben’s hand energetically. "All life, you have no idea what a relief it is."
Ben blinked. "Sorry?"
"Just about everyone at this party is Silent," Kendi explained, "and they’ve all been shaking my hand. I’ve been jolted so many times I feel like a lightning rod. It’s nice to shake hands with someone who isn’t going to zap me."
"Oh." Ben noticed his hand was still in Kendi’s, though they had stopped shaking. Their eyes met for an instant. Then Ben broke away and took his hand back. He swallowed hard, floundering for something to say. Kendi leaned back against the wall.
"So what’s it like growing up on Bellerophon?" he asked.
"I dunno," Ben said, and cursed himself again. But why did he care if Kendi got up and walked away?
Kendi laughed. "Yeah, stupid question. It’s not like you’d know what it’s like growing up anywhere else." He drained his glass. "You want some more to drink? I was going to get some."
"Uh, sure."
Kendi took their glasses and left. Ben watched him weave easily through the crowd, admiring the way he moved and realizing that he was looking forward to him coming back. What if he didn’t come back? Would that mean he didn’t like Ben? Would that mean he—
"Here you go." Kendi handed Ben a full glass and joined him back on the floor. "It’s a great party. Are you having fun?"
"No," Ben blurted. "I mean—it isn’t that—" He gave up. "No, not really."
"How come?"
"I don’t like parties very much." He gestured at the moving sea of humans and Ched-Balaar. "Too many people, you know?"
"You want to go for a walk, then? Maybe get away from the crowd? I wouldn’t mind either. It’s really annoying getting zapped all the time."
Ben’s instincts told him to say no. Kendi seemed loud, open, and forthright. Ben barely knew him. It would be easy enough just to refuse and things would stay the same. They would stay safe.
"Sure," he heard himself say. "Let’s go."
Kendi planted his elbows on the railing and stared off into the warm night. Ben stood beside him, leaning backward and holding the top of the rail with one hand to keep his balance. The party, loud with voices and music, lay several walkways behind them and they were at a wide space, a platform with benches and several potted plants. The scent of summer flowers lingered in the air. Insects chirped and night animals occasionally called. In the distance, Festival music played.
Ben decided it was a fine night after all. The conversation between him and Kendi had died down—or rather, Kendi had stopped talking—but Ben didn’t mind the silence. It was a
comfortable
silence. Usually Ben felt awkward unless the empty spaces were filled with equally empty words, but he could never think of anything to say. With Kendi, he didn’t feel like he
needed
to have anything to say. Ben had never felt that before with anyone, and he liked it.
Kendi pulled himself up on the rail and perched on it. Still leaning back, Ben switched hands with a small jerk. His hand ended up very close to Kendi’s, and he was filled with a sudden urge to touch Kendi’s arm, feel the smooth dark skin on his own. Confused, he switched hands one more time so he ended up a little farther away.
"Sitting on the rail will get you more work detail," he said.
Kendi shrugged. "If someone comes, I’ll jump down." He paused. "Have you ever thought of leaving Bellerophon?"
"Sometimes, yeah. You?"
"All the time. I need to find my family."
Ben snorted. "You can have mine."
"Don’t you like your mom? She’s pretty cool, even if she hands out work detail sometimes."
"I like my mom. It’s everyone else I can’t stand."
"What do you mean?"
And Ben found himself telling Kendi about the problems he had with his extended family. It was the most talking Ben had done all evening, perhaps in his entire life. Kendi listened without interrupting.
"Sounds like our families need to trade places," Kendi said when he had finished, and Ben smiled. Kendi stared at him, still perched on the rail.
"What?" Ben asked. A strange feeling fluttered around his stomach.
"I—no, it’s nothing." Kendi looked away.
"You what?" Ben persisted lightly, though he felt something heavier in the air. "What is it?"
"Uh oh." He jumped off the rail and the moment was broken. "Someone’s coming."
Ben turned. A figure was making its way toward them.
"Hey, Dorna," Kendi said when the figure got closer. "What’s up?"
"Just wondering where you two have gotten off too," Dorna said. Although the night was warm, she wore a short cloak with the hood pulled over her dark hair. "The party’s still going strong back there. A bunch of us are talking about going to see the fireworks."
"We’re just talking," Kendi said. "How’ve you been?"
"A little weird, actually." Dorna sat down on a bench near a potted blueflower bush. Ben abruptly wished she would go away and leave him alone with Kendi. "I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately."
"How come?" Kendi asked.
Go away
, Ben thought.
"Nightmares." The word came out almost dreamily. "I have nightmares about people dying in the Dream."
"The Dream stalker?" Kendi said.
Dorna shrugged. "Maybe. Do you think it’s a premonition?"
"The Silent don’t get premonitions," Ben put in. "That’s not the way Silence works."
"I know that," Dorna said. "But don’t you believe that people can have dreams that come true whether they’re Silent or not?"
Ben shrugged.
"Who dies?" Kendi asked.
"I don’t know. I can never see her face. I just wake up scared it’s going to be me." She gave a little laugh. "Isn’t that stupid? The last murder was a year ago. The Dream stalker is probably long gone."
"It’s not stupid," Kendi said. "Maybe you should talk to a Parent about it."
"Maybe." Dorna gave herself a little shake. "Well, I’m going home. Maybe just telling you about the nightmares will make them go away."
And to Ben’s relief, she got up and left, vanishing into the gloom. Kendi stared after her.
"What’s the matter?" Ben asked.
"I’ve known Dorna for a year now," Kendi said pensively, "and something always bothers me about her, but I can never figure out quite what it is."
"She talks funny," Ben said.
Kendi turned. "What?"
"She talks funny," Ben repeated.
"You know, Kite said the same thing, but neither of us could describe it better than that."
Ben shrugged, not wanting to talk about Dorna. "She uses different words."
Kendi stared at him. "Say that again?"
"She uses different words."
"That’s it!" Kendi grabbed Ben’s shoulders and danced him around. "Ben, that’s it! Her words change. All life, but I’m dense."
"Okay, okay," Ben laughed, almost losing his balance. "It’s not that big a deal."
Kendi dropped his hands. "Right. Sorry. It’s just that it’s been bugging me since I met her, but I couldn’t figure it out. I wonder why she does it—or even if she
knows
she does it."
"Dunno. Maybe it just depends on what mood she’s in." Ben scratched his nose in consternation. His shoulders tingled from the heat of Kendi’s touch. "What was all that about nightmares and the Dream stalker?"
"No idea." Kendi cracked his knuckles. "I hope we never need to find out."
"We should probably get back to the party," Ben said reluctantly. "After all, you’re a guest of honor."
"Yeah." Kendi paused. "Hey, you want to get together some time this week?"
Ben’s heart pounded. "And do what?"
"I don’t know. Hang around. You can show me your weights."
There was a note in Kendi’s voice that Ben couldn’t read. Was Kendi offering friendship? Or more than that? And which one did Ben want? His heart was beating so fast, he was sure his shirt was shaking. Kendi looked at him, waiting for an answer.
"Sure," Ben said casually. "Whatever."
Far overhead, a firework burst into a bright orange flower.
Kendi looked around his cave in satisfaction. Everything was in place. The dry, sandy floor and smooth walls were exactly as he expected them to be, and the fire burned low below the smoke hole. He felt happy here, safe and secure. Father Ched-Hisak would not be visiting him this time—after several practice sessions, Kendi had received permission to enter the Dream unsupervised whenever he wished. Ara, in fact, had encouraged him to do so.
"Practice," she had said, "is the only way to perfect what you learn."
Kendi made his way up the spiral to the mouth of the tunnel. The Outback, hot and dry, lay before him. The wind carried countless thousands of whispers, and each voice was a Silent operating somewhere in the Dream. Kendi closed his eyes and listened. After a moment, he was able to sort some of the voices out. He recognized several people—students and teachers both—from the Festival party three days ago. If he concentrated harder, he could narrow his focus to a single voice and follow it through the Dream to find whoever it was.
Father Ched-Hisak had been impressed with the speed at which Kendi had picked up this ability. Most Silent, he said, went through months, even years, of practice before they could sense and track particular people in the Dream.
Unfortunately, no matter how long or hard he listened, he never heard his mother.
Another familiar voice caught his ear. It sounded like Dorna. She must be practicing as well. On a whim, Kendi decided to go find out what she was up to. He concentrated, listening for the direction her voice came from, then opened his eyes and trotted off.
The Outback sun lay down a hard, heavy heat that baked Kendi’s naked skin. Spiny plants tried to slash his feet, but here in the Dream, Kendi’s soles were protected by a thick slab of callus and they did no harm to him. Overhead screamed a falcon, and Kendi gave it a little wave. His mind, it seemed, ran to creating animals. This was another sign of Kendi’s power. No Silent could create people in the Dream—controlling a Dream person was more than even the most potent subconscious mind could deal with—and only a few Silent could handle animals. The falcon, however, always appeared overhead without even conscious effort on Kendi’s behalf.
Kendi followed the whispery sound of Dorna’s voice and wondered how long it would take him to learn teleportation. Distance, Ara said, ultimately meant nothing in the Dream. Carving the Dream up into different territories was merely for the convenience—and privacy—of the individual Silent. Every Silent mind in the Dream overlapped with every other mind. Most Silent’s subconscious, however, couldn’t handle that much input all at once and they therefore created artificial barriers of illusory space to separate themselves from everyone else. Once Kendi had achieved enough mastery of the Dream, Ara told him, he would be able to overcome part of his subconscious and instantly take himself to other "parts" of the Dream without having to walk there.
Kendi clambered over a pile of rocks. One of them was a shade of brilliant red that matched the color of Ben’s hair. Kendi ran a hand over his face. Ben. In the last three days, he had found himself constantly thinking of Ben. They had spent several hours together the day after the party. Ben had shown Kendi his weight machine and the computer system he had cobbled together out of spare and rebuilt parts. They had played a few sim games and then had traipsed down the stairs all the way to the bottom of the talltree forest. The cool, slightly gloomy depths with its waist-high ground cover and loamy earth made a stark contrast to the wooden walkways high in the air. They had hiked aimlessly about, keeping a sharp eye out for dinosaurs and seeing none, talking about nothing in particular.
Twice Kendi almost put his arm around Ben’s shoulders, then held back. Pup and Pitr had taught him it wouldn’t be a good idea. When Ben had smiled on the walkway outside the party that night—
Kendi swallowed. That smile, rare as a winter flower, had gone straight through him. He could still picture it when he closed his eyes at night, and it kept reappearing in his dreams.
All life
, he thought.
You’ve got it bad.
He forced himself to concentrate on Dorna as he walked. Her voice was growing louder now. As he got closer, he took several deep breaths and gradually relinquished his expectations of the landscape. He did
not
expect dry, sandy soil or a blue sky or spiny spinniflex plants. He expected nothing. This was hard to do, and it slowed Kendi down. If he came into Dorna’s space without releasing his own expectations of the environment, his and Dorna’s minds would end up fighting for control. The stronger mind would win out, and the losing mind would feel a certain amount of discomfort, or even pain. Dream etiquette demanded that the Silent moving into the other person’s turf released all expectations, just as a visitor in a solid world home would adapt to the rules and customs of the host. To newcomers like Kendi, however, this wasn’t always easy.
Kendi eased forward another step and another. The Outback melted slowly away. Kendi worked hard to keep his mind blank. Twice rocks and scrubby plants faded into view around him and Kendi took several breaths to banish them. More steps forward, and Kendi finally found himself at wrought-iron gate set into a stone wall. Clothes faded into existence on his body until he was wearing khaki trousers and a flannel shirt. Clothing, of course, was always provided by the host Silent.