Overheard in a Dream. Torey Hayden

some of the stories …” She lifted a small sheaf of typewritten pages from her bag. “I thought maybe this would give her world more immediacy for you than my third-person account of what was going on … it would make it easier to understand what I was saying …”

      James reached his hand out. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I’d like that.”

      “They aren’t all that well-written. I was a teenager when I did most of them.”

      “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

      “They’re just stories. Events that happened in Torgon’s world. I’d see it and then I’d write about it as a way of understanding it better. That’s what I always used writing for. To make sense of things.”

       Chapter Eleven

      It wasn’t until that evening when James was home that he had time to look at the material Laura had given him. It was old. James recognized the uneven pressure of a manual typewriter in forming the words, and that the edges of the pages themselves were yellowing and gently foxed, as if turned many times.

      Pouring a glass of wine, adding another log onto the fire against an unexpectedly stormy autumn evening, James sat down and began to read.

      There was a knock at the door, but without waiting for an answer the acolyte pushed it open.

      “It’s dark in here,” she said with sudden surprise. This was Loki. She was only eight and had just been sent to the compound to start her life as an acolyte. She hadn’t mastered the rules yet.

      “Usually one waits outside the benna’s quarters until given the command to enter,” Torgon said and then added, “and when an acolyte does enter, the first act is obeisance.”

       Loki flapped her hands in frustration. “Oh, I am sorry. I always do it wrong. What do you wish I should do now? Go out and come in again?”

       “No, just remember it for next time.”

      Loki glanced around inquiringly. “It is very dark in here, holy benna. Did you not notice? My mother says one shouldn’t work in darkness for it offends the eyes.”

      “Aye, your mother’s right,” Torgon said and threw back the coverlet to rise.

       Loki’s eyes went wide, “Holy benna! You have no trousers and no boots!”

       “I returned during the heavy snow. My trousers became wet, so I’ve removed them to let them dry more easily.”

       “I didn’t know you would have legs like everybody else,” Loki said, astonished. “Or feet. For feet are very ugly, don’t you think?”

       Torgon laughed. “I am all over just as any other woman, Loki, ugly feet and all.”

       The girl blushed. “Oh, I did not mean offence to your feet!”

       “My feet are not offended. Nor am I, not by your words nor by my feet. Before Dwr chose me as his benna, I was a worker’s daughter and had much need of my feet for standing on, when toiling in the fields.”

      “You were a worker’s daughter? Truly?”

       “Aye. So this is why one must always tend one’s tasks with pride, for Dwr takes as much pleasure in good work as in good breeding.”

      Loki nodded.

       “Anyway,” Torgon said, “it is in my mind you must have come here on a task, Loki, for I did not bid you come.”

       “I was sent to say the evening meal is ready.”

       “Ah, well. Say to the Seer that I shall take no food tonight.”

       “Why? Is something wrong with you?”

       Torgon grinned. “You are very new among us, aren’t you”?

       The girl ducked her head. “I’m sorry. Am I not supposed to ask you questions?”

       “Well, perhaps not quite so many.”

       Within moments of Loki’s departure, the Seer entered. “You are unwell? What overtakes you?”

       “No real illness, Just a minor grumbling, but my stomach wants a rest from eating.”

       The Seer came over and leaned down very close to Torgon to scrutinize her face. She looked back at him, studying his watery old man’s eyes, as it would be unseemly not to meet them. Clasping her head firmly between his hands, he probed her jawline with his fingers. “We shall burn the cleansing oils tonight,” he said. “I can feel evil building in your bones.”