Mister Impossible (Dreamer Trilogy #2)(27)
Ronan muttered, “Not while awake.”
Bryde went on. “Did you feel how strong the line was when you were dreaming? And that is with it smothered. In the sixties, a dam was built southeast of here that disrupted its energy. But before that, it was strong enough to spill out ley energy into distant tributaries.”
“Stronger than this?” Hennessy said. She didn’t sound pleased.
“Come here, both of you,” Bryde said. “Put your hands on this.”
They did as he asked, Ronan in his old leather jacket scarred by escaped nightmares, Hennessy in her stolen smelly coat with the snow caught in the tips of its fur, Bryde in the same jacket he always wore, that light gray windbreaker with a light stripe down its arm. All their hands were placed on the ragged edge of the stump.
Bryde said, “This is one of the originals. It looks dead, but it’s just sleeping. The others keep it alive. Beneath the soil, these trees are connected. The strength of one makes the others strong. The weakness of one challenges the others. They value their oldest members, as do I.”
“How much longer for this video essay?” Hennessy said. “I can’t feel my tits.”
“A little fucking awe would be appropriate,” Bryde said calmly. “This forest was like your Lindenmere not long ago, Ronan, but its dreamer died and there was no one to protect it. It is old and hard of hearing and no dreamers have tried to befriend it for a long time. It is still doing its work on this line; it is a wonder these young silly trees had the thought to keep it alive to ground it all, but we should be grateful for it.”
“Thanks for the dream, tree,” Hennessy said. “I hated it.”
“This is a rare ley line in these times,” Bryde said, a little sharper. “Pure, quiet, strong. If that dam miles and miles away didn’t exist, it would be perfect. If you cannot bring yourself to wipe that smirk off your face while awake, Hennessy, perhaps you can do it in your dreams. Remember this tree, find it in dreamspace next time you close your eyes, and remind it of what friendship looks like. Perhaps it will help you remember what you want and help you dream what your mind wills.”
“I don’t think my mind should do what it wills,” Hennessy said. Ronan could still hear the Lace in her voice, somehow.
Ronan asked, “Does it have a name? The forest?”
He saw the question pleased Bryde. He saw it pleased him very much. Bryde replied, “This tree is called Ilidorin.”
Ilidorin. It sounded like a name that belonged with Greywaren.
Chainsaw, in one of the branches far overhead, let out a little growl-caw. She could manage a fair number of human words, but this was not one Ronan had heard before.
“I brought you here to see Ilidorin because I wanted you to see that this is the pedigree of your power, not the world you keep looking over your shoulder at. I thought you were outgrowing old habits but …” Bryde shook his head. “Given the opportunity to communicate with your family, what do you do? Dream up phones.”
The disdain in his voice was sufficient to twist Ronan’s guts.
“Phones, he says,” Hennessy mocked. “Phones! That portable lifeline. As if—”
“Don’t start.” Bryde cut off her monologue before it could take hold. “A human child believes all things are possible. How wonderful. How terrifying. Slowly, you are taught what you cannot have. What will not be possible. What you do not have to fear. There is no monster in the closet. You cannot fly. How relieving. How disappointing. But this is the world, isn’t it? You believe it. You believe it so thoroughly that even when the box is lifted from around you, you continue to travel in circles no bigger than its walls. A phone!”
“How is it you think I should be talking to Declan if not with a phone?” demanded Ronan. “I don’t think he really wants to have a one-on-one, with, like, some dream balloon with my face projected in it. He just wants a phone call.”
“Does he even want that?”
Ronan demanded, “What?”
Bryde said, “Do you really think your family understands you? Truly? This world has been built for them, so thoroughly that they don’t realize it. It has been built to destroy you, so thoroughly that it has never occurred to them. Your goals are fundamentally opposed.”
“So what are you trying to say?” Ronan asked. “Don’t talk to them?”
Bryde’s expression softened. Was it pity? “It’s a warning, not an order. The view in the rearview mirror is often a painful one.”
“Whoa, mate, Jordan is not in my rearview mirror,” said Hennessy.
“Then where is she?” Bryde asked. “Why is she not standing in this forest with us? She’s a dream, this concerns her, too, does it not? And where are your brothers, Ronan Lynch? Where is Adam? They are the brothers and lovers of a dreamer, is this not their concern, too? Did they come with us to save the world for dreamers? No, dreamers are a task for dreamers, they think, not for people like them. They love you, they support you, they wave goodbye as you flee without them, and then they return to their own lives to muddle through without you.”
“That’s a little unfair,” Ronan said uneasily.
“And can you blame them?” Bryde went on. “A part of them must be relieved they no longer have front-row seats watching as the world breaks you. It’s hard to die. Harder to watch someone else do it, and make no mistake, that’s what you two were doing before now. Dying in plain sight, inch by inch, dream by dream, drip by drip. You’ve given them the gift of letting them look away, and I’m just warning you they might not like you returning that gift for store credit.”