The Dream Gatherer Page 12

  “Enjoy,” Miss Bunch said. “The draugmkelder is still likely to burn at least till dawn.”

  Estral and Alton followed stepping stones to the front door and pushed it open. Inside, it was a one room affair with a small kitchen area, table and chairs, and a bed positioned to the far end. Food was laid out for them—cold meats, bread and cheese, and wine. The rhubarb pie looked especially fine. Robes were laid out on the bed for them, and so they attended to removing their wet garb and setting it by the fire to dry. Then, finding themselves famished, they availed themselves of the food. Afterward, each with a glass of wine, they sat before the fire in armchairs and toasted the Berry sisters.

  They sat in silence for a time just enjoying one another’s company, until Estral said, “I feel like I should be worrying about a thousand things and that I should be sad about my father, but I can’t feel anything at the moment except content and happy because I am in this cozy place with you.”

  “From what I gather,” Alton replied, “you’ve already been doing a lot of grieving and feeling guilt over things that were not necessarily yours to control. I sort of feel the same way about the wall—I haven’t been able to fix it and it may be Sacoridia’s undoing.”

  “You didn’t break the wall.”

  “No, but my clan is responsible for its upkeep and we failed in that. But right now, I am happy just like you to be here, to have a moment’s peace without all the pressure and worry. We’ve been through a lot—you, me, Karigan, the Green Riders—and I suspect there is more to come. Don’t we deserve a respite before the storm? And without it, how are we to have the energy and the will to carry on the fight? After all, what is it we are fighting for? There will be enough grief and worry to come.”

  She gazed at him and watched the firelight play across his face. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way before. A chance to rest and regroup. You know, Karigan once called me a wise old mother, but I think tonight that title belongs to you.”

  He chuckled. “I think the wise old mothers are those sisters. Look at this haven they gave us tonight.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “A haven so long as no other nightmares come through the draugmkelder.” He rose and took her hand and raised her to her feet. “In any case, I think it would be wise to take advantage of it.”

  “Oh?” she smiled. “In what way?”

  “In the way that I’ll think I had one of those dreams when I wake up alone in my cot at the wall.”

  “Let’s make it memorable then,” she said, “shall we?”

  * * *

  Morning came far too soon, for all that time at Seven Chimneys seemed, well, flexible, allowing Estral and Alton all the time they wanted and then some. Still, morning came, and it was with sorrow that he was not beside her when she woke up. The magic of the draugmkelder had finally broken.

  Someone had brought her breakfast and laid it out on the table while she slept, filled a hip bath with hot water, and cleaned, dried, and pressed her clothes. She was going to miss Seven Chimneys.

  When she stepped outside, she took a moment to breathe deeply of the fresh, clean air. In the distance lay the pond with no hint of the previous night’s excitement. The tower, however, seemed to have a kink in it that had not been there before, evidence of the nightmare’s power. She shook her head and headed for the main house where she found the Berry sisters in the garden standing beside the statue of Marin. They were inspecting green shoots tentatively venturing out of the soil.

  “Good morning,” she called.

  “Yes, it is a good morning,” Miss Bunch said.

  Miss Bay scowled at the sky as if she wasn’t sure. There were large fluffy clouds passing overhead.

  “You are rested?” Miss Bunch asked.

  Despite all that had happened during the night, including her pleasant time with Alton, she had to say she felt extremely rested. She nodded.

  “Good. The party was a tremendous success despite the fright and damage wrought by the nightmare. But all was not fear and doom. One must make room for gaiety and lightness—even Bay.”

  Miss Bay grunted. “So says she who won at Intrigue last night.”

  “And resoundingly!” Miss Bunch’s smile was enormous. “In any case, someone awaits you on the front drive.”

  Estral hurried, thinking that by some miracle Alton had returned, or maybe he somehow hadn’t left. Her step faltered, however, when she reached the front of the house and found that the “someone” wasn’t even human. Coda stood on the drive, his hide and tack agleam. She walked up to him and petted his neck.

  “How’d you get here, boy?”

  He snuffled her sleeve.

  “He came trotting up the drive this morning,” Miss Bay said when the sisters caught up with her. “Farnham found him grazing on the lawn and gave him some grain and a good brushing while you slept.”

  Estral wondered about Coda just trotting up the drive of his own volition. It wasn’t like he was as smart as a Green Rider horse, but she did not dwell on it. One had to expect the unexpected at Seven Chimneys.

  “You will find the rest of your companions awaiting you if you follow the drive into the woods.” Miss Bay pointed the way with her cane.

  “But I don’t want to go.”

  “I know, child,” Miss Bunch replied. “We may take the occasional respite, but the world turns on. There are many who rely on you, including those you love such as Lord Alton and our Karigan. The sooner you return, the sooner you can be with them, yes?”

  Estral nodded. They were right. To hide at Seven Chimneys might be an escape from her responsibilities and the darkness of the outer world, but there were wonderful things out there, too. She mounted Coda.

  “Before you leave,” Miss Bay said, “we have something for you.”

  “Rather,” Miss Bunch said, “it’s for your father, in his memory.” She handed Estral two small pouches. “One contains bunchberry seeds and the other bayberry to be planted around his resting place. Your father was known for his travels in Sacoridia’s wild places where bayberry and bunchberry proliferate. I think he’d approve. Perhaps they will also provide you with solace and remind you of us.”

  Estral accepted the gifts and stashed them carefully in one of her saddlebags.

  “One more thing,” Miss Bay said. She handed Estral a yellow rose. “The Seven Chimneys Rose, our mother’s favorite, to adorn your father’s coffin on his journey to Selium. It blooms most of the year except in deepest winter, and it will not shrivel soon, and in fact it may take a liking to life in Selium.”

  “We sprouted there ourselves,” Miss Bunch said.

  “Thank you,” Estral replied, moved by their gifts. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

  “Go now, child,” Miss Bunch said, “and know that we derived much pleasure from your visit and that you are always welcome to come see us again.”

  Estral knew she had to go now or it would be too hard. She reined Coda down the drive. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the sisters standing in place watching after her. She rode over the bridge and down the path. She’d forgotten to ask how to find the North Road, but she’d a feeling she’d have no trouble this time.

  Her feeling turned out to be correct. The path led directly to the road, and there waiting for her was Lieutenant Rennard and the honor guard.

  After greetings, Rennard said, “We were worried when you vanished, but then some odd old ladies came and told us you were visiting with them and that you’d return to us shortly. I can’t explain it, but they felt very . . . trustworthy, and they promised you were safe.” He scratched his chin and looked in the distance as if second-guessing himself. “Now that I think of it, the whole encounter was a little off, but at the same time . . . ? It felt right.” He shook his head as if to clear off a fog. “You are well?”

  “Very,” she replied, her voice now back to its usu
al hoarse quality.

  She rode over to the field carriage and gazed at the oilskin-covered coffin. She took a deep breath. Grief would be with her for a long time, but it would not occupy every moment of her life. She placed the rose on top of the coffin and immediately it seemed to grow, sprouting new buds and leaves. She smiled. She was taking a little bit of Seven Chimneys’ magic home with her.

  She returned to the front of the honor guard to take her place next to Rennard. She nodded and Rennard gave the order to move on. When she looked, the path to Seven Chimneys had vanished. She tried not to be too sad about it for the Berry sisters had invited her to visit again, and when the time was right, she was sure she’d find the path, and Seven Chimneys, awaiting her.

  Sisters

  The sisters watched as Estral rode away down the drive and into the woods.

  “It was a very good visit,” Bunch said.

  “She will be an excellent Golden Guardian,” Bay replied, “though it will take her some time to realize it and grow into the role.”

  “She took care of that nightmare, but I fear it won’t be the last one for our Karigan. At least she has had a reprieve. As for our party, I daresay we should have more.”

  “What?” Bay said, “And invite more nightmares in?”

  “You must admit, Bay, it does add color to the event. The party was great fun.”

  “Even when it nearly destroyed the folly?”

  “What can I say? We put on a good party.”

  Bay gave her sister an aggravated look.

  “All of us need to forget the cares of the world now and then,” Bunch said, “to enable us to have the strength to face trouble when we really need it. Even if it means a few cracks in the mortar, broken doors, and the top third of the tower leaning askew.”

  Bay muttered imprecations under her breath.

  “What is that, Bay? I am not sure I heard you.”

  “Be glad you did not.”

  The two turned around to study the bow of the ship rising above them.

  “I do not miss her,” Bay said. “Her gaze always accusing me of all the misdeeds toward merfolk committed by two-legged humanity. Why blame me? It’s not like I’d ever seen a real mermaid before.”

  “Perhaps it was your sour disposition of which she disapproved,” Bunch replied, causing Bay to huff. “I thought she was rather beautiful, myself. The bow does not look quite right without her.”

  “Well, commission a new figurehead, then.”

  “I just might. I hope Stickles likes his new life as a fish.”

  “A skinny fish.”

  Bunch sighed. “True love. He gave up everything to be with her.”

  “Humph and hogwash,” Bay said. “What did he have to give up? A job as handyman? Not a hard decision. I will admit there is one thing that pleases me more than anything out of this whole affair, and it has nothing to do with love.”

  “Oh? Something that pleases you, Bay? Do tell.”

  “Yes. Look there, on the roof. What do you see?”

  “The masts, the chimneys, shingles. That is all.”

  “Exactly!”

  “I do not understand. You are being obtuse, sister.”

  “I am not. Don’t you see? The seagulls are gone.”

  “Oh,” Bunch said, “we are back on that topic again, are we? Really, Bay, you must stop obsessing about birds.”

  And so, the argument continued as the two made their way back to the kitchen entrance to have it out over a pot of tea.

  AFTERWORD

  About the Stories

  “Wishwind”

  “Wishwind” has been twenty-nine years in the making. I began writing it the summer of 1989, which was my first season working as a ranger at Acadia National Park. Naturally, on days off, I headed out to enjoy all the park had to offer, including sitting on a slab of pink granite to watch the ocean dash against the shore. On one such occasion, I took out pen and paper and began drafting what is now “Wishwind.” You will note that 1989 was a few years before Green Rider was a mote in my eye, which means there was no Green Rider character, no Long War, and no Sacor Clans in the early drafts of “Wishwind”—those came later. However, Marin the Gardener was present from the beginning, and later showed up in Green Rider as a “sea witch” or “goddess” represented as a statue in the garden of the Berry sisters. Little did I know as I was writing that first draft of “Wishwind” that it would actually become linked to a series of fantasy novels.

  Initially “Wishwind” was more a meditation on nature than a plot-heavy story. Though I have since expanded the plot, much of the meditation remains. I suppose the emphasis on nature is not surprising as I was falling in love with Acadia during the writing of that first draft, and had arrived there after having worked in major metropolitan areas. I found the landscape of Maine and Acadia healing, and, really, that’s what “Wishwind” is about.

  “Linked, on the Lake of Souls”

  This story first appeared in the DAW 30th Anniversary: Fantasy anthology back in 2002. But for a few minor changes, it is the same story. However, it recently came into play in the sixth Green Rider novel, Firebrand, in a scene in which Estral tells Karigan a story. Instead of making up an entirely new tale for her to tell, I drew on one that already existed. Doing so saved me a few brain cells. And so here it is in its entirety for those who might have wondered about it and missed it when it debuted in 2002.

  My goal with this story was to write about characters who got into deeper and deeper trouble, and how they fought their way out of it. Ultimately, it became a story about friendship, which is fitting for Estral and Karigan and the situation in which they find themselves in Firebrand.

  “Linked” also has its roots in Acadia, but not necessarily in the wistful beauty of nature as in “Wishwind,” but rather in the terror that lurks beneath the surface. Acadia bounds several lakes and ponds upon which visitors can canoe or kayak. When gliding over the glassy surface, a glance downward into the water may reveal the submerged trunks of trees like pale, slender limbs just below, reaching, reaching . . .

  The Dream Gatherer

  My agent had suggested a number of times that I should write a novella set in the world of my Green Rider Series. Doing so became more pertinent with the 20th anniversary approaching. I wasn’t sure what the story would be, but a night or two before I was due to fly to Toronto to be a guest of honor at Ad Astra, a long-established science fiction and fantasy convention, I started thinking about the Berry sisters and the shambles in which I had left their house after The High King’s Tomb. As I drifted to sleep, I hoped I would remember my thoughts so I could write them down later. Turns out I did remember, and I wrote the opening paragraphs as the airplane soared through the sky, the world lost to the clouds.

  Because the novella was being written in honor of the anniversary of Green Rider, a visit with the Berry sisters seemed appropriate. After all, they debuted in the novel and proved memorable for many readers. And, also because of the anniversary, I wanted to make the story a celebration of sorts, hence the party the sisters throw, which, of course, goes awry.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My agent, Russ Galen, had been encouraging me for a few years to try my hand at writing a Green Rider novella. I felt like I never had the time to do so because I was always behind on my novels. I did try writing one, but it faltered and I could not resuscitate it. Russ persisted, and then the Berry sisters started talking to me, and voila! The Dream Gatherer came into being. It was a satisfying experience to write a 21,500 word story that took mere months to write, as opposed to a 250,000 word behemoth that took years. Thanks for pushing me, Russ. Maybe I’ll write another one sometime.

  DAW Books is known for publishing massive tomes of epic fantasy, so it surprised me when my editor, Betsy Wollheim, wanted to publish The Dream Gatherer as a “little book.” The novella was, by itself, a little t
oo short for physical book form, so why not add a story? Why not two? And maybe an introduction. And yes, she would let me use my own amateur illustrations for the interior. I confess I kinda got carried away. Or, at least, that’s what I thought, because then they requested MORE. How many? As many as I could do—aaaahhhh!! In any case, I am grateful for Betsy’s support of my books and the world of the Green Riders over all these years, and I thank her for her willingness to publish this “little book.” (And maybe for opening the door to a new career in illustration? Nah. Donato’s job is VERY secure.)

  Julie Czerneda and I sold our first books to DAW in the same year—1996. However, hers, A Thousand Words for Stranger, came out a year before mine. We got to know each other online, then eventually met in person at World Fantasy in Montreal (2001). I became one of her groupies (a happy bunch known as Czernedians). She also introduced me to butter tarts! She was not only a friend, but a guide when it came to publishing. I could go to her to get her read on certain situations and ask questions. I admit there are times when she terrifies me, especially when salmon puffs are in the offing, but you won’t meet a sharper, savvier, wiser author than Julie. By the way, she writes strong character-based science fiction and fantasy and has numerous titles to her name. If you haven’t read her work, I encourage you to look it up. Thank you, Julie, for all the years of friendship and fun, and for graciously creating the introduction to this book.

  My thanks to my friend Mel (MelBob) Rice for her feedback on the stories in this book.

  Thank you to Donato for painting such a perfect cover for The Dream Gatherer.