I found his answer puzzling. As a government official, he would have had to maintain contact at all times.
“We’re here to discuss your business, not mine.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said. I didn’t want to antagonize the man, since I needed his formal permission to proceed with minimal consequences to my purse, position, and person.
“So you want to abandon us at a time of crisis…if your prognostications are correct.”
“They’re true, Sir. I…uh….” The truth was, I didn’t want to tell him the truth. “I need to go on a pilgrimage of reconstitution.” Well, that was at least part of the truth!
“You want to go on a pilgrimage of reconstitution? Are you mad? The Queen won’t let you leave, not when you’re needed here, now more than ever.”
“But truly, Magister, she has nothing to say about the matter. She maintains temporal authority over the Kingdom, to be sure, but wields no direct power over the magely class. If I wish to go, why, certainly I can.”
Geraklíd began pacing on the rug in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back, his gray head and beard bobbing up and down like a hungry bird. Suddenly he stopped and turned to me:
“Morpheús…sometimes I wonder about you, boy, I really do. Yes, in theory Queen Evetéria has no authority over such as us. But the reality is far different. She can banish you from the kingdom forever—or at least until her own death. She can request that I set the dogs of war on you and bring you to account before the Court of Mages—and if I refuse, she can ask the Covenant to find a new Magister of Mages for Kórynthia. They may or may not agree, but the petition will have to be considered in any case. She can use the Lords Spiritual against us in the eternal three-way battle for power and influence in the State, and allied with the power of the Lords Temporal…well, the Lords Magical could not possibly maintain their position under such circumstances. She can withhold certain monies for the support of the Magical Estate. In sum, she can cause us unending trouble—and moreover, she is exactly the kind of ruler who will cause us difficulties, if we cross her in this matter.
“She likes you. That’s both a curse and a blessing. It gives you a certain influence over the Lady, but nothing ever comes without its price. She has you by the short hairs, Master Morpheús, and you’d best acknowledge the fact. You can’t leave, whatever the reason, and you specifically do not have my blessing.
“I have to admit, I’m disappointed in you. You were the first mage to be acknowledged as Scrutor Primoris since Doctor Scarabbaios. You’re also a Dream Weaver, although you’ve never used that talent, to the best of my knowledge. We couldn’t even measure your aptitude, because it was so high off the scale.
“Oh, you’ve done well, no question. You’ve risen very quickly in the hierarchy, and seem destined one day to take my place. But always I’ve had the sense that what you’ve accomplished has primarily and firstly been to promote the career of Master Morpheús. Everything that you’ve done has been carefully calculated to benefit you first. You’ve established no long-term personal connections with anyone, because (I think) you regard them as a potential impediment. And now that you see the inevitable collapse of the state, you’re ready to run away at the first opportunity.”
“Uh, that’s not actually true, Sir.” Although it was, of course. Who was I fooling save myself?
“Then tell me what’s really happening.”
I’d made a fundamental error, I could see that now. I’d asked a question for which I didn’t know the answer—and I should have known the answer, if I’d just taken the time to think the thing through. Now I’d compromised one of my oldest supporters, someone who was bound to be hurt, both personally and professionally, if I followed my heart. Still, I was not swayed by his arguments.
“It’s more than just my Council reading, Magister,” I said. “It’s…my life. I’ve been feeling for some time that I’ve failed, somehow, to find an appropriate purpose for what I do. Most folks just don’t want to be told the reality of their futures—and so I have to lie to them. I didn’t mind that, at least at first, but of late I’ve grown impatient with having to spew a rainbow-enshrouded version of things to come, when all I can see in most cases is old age, sickness, decrepitude, and death, sometimes interleafed with equal measures of poverty and loss of property, position, and posture. No one wants to hear that.”
“Not all futures are bad,” my superior said.
“But most contain bad elements, Sir. I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of having to be nice to everyone while misusing my craft.”
“It’s not a misuse of your abilities to reassure people,” Geraklíd said. “You simply have to be tactful in what you say.”
“No, Sir, you have to lie! All the time! I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing anything worthwhile. There has to be some better use of my talents, whatever that is. Maybe this captive woman….”
“What woman?”
Oh, now I’d done it! I hadn’t intended to reveal the connection I’d made in the æthersphere. Hellfire and damnation!
So I told him about my several adventures probing for links to the Otherworlds, one of them involuntary.
“You’re not a neomage, Morpheús. I don’t have to tell you that what you’re doing is foolish and risky beyond belief. This being that you’ve encountered may not be human—or a woman—or even flesh and blood. You know nothing about it beyond the barest of suppositions. You have to stop this right away.”
“That’s what my familiar said.”
“Well, your familiar is right,” he said. “You said you actually Dreamed a connection. Has this ever happened to you before?”
“Well, no.”
“You have that talent in your repertoire, the ability to shape reality through unconscious imaging. Perhaps it’s finally beginning to emerge from your psyche. Such powers are little described in the literature, probably because they’re so rare and elusive. Your distant ancestor, the Magus Magorum Parakôdês, was said to have been a Dream Weaver. But his life is the stuff of legend—he lived so long ago that the stories about his makings have become almost myths, and we don’t know how his talent actually worked.
“But the real question is: why should your Dreaming emerge now?”
Why indeed? I’d thought about this for the past several days: “Something triggered the connection, Sir—and it had to be from the other end. I did not—could not—consciously activate what I can’t control and don’t understand. I think it was the woman who sparked a response—and that could only be due to her possessing a similar ability that created a resonance between us, even at this great distance. That’s why I must find her. I have to know who I am and what I can do to make a difference. Otherwise, my existence is meaningless.”
“I see,” the Magister said. Then he sighed, long and loud. “Yet, my judgment remains the same: if the crisis will be as great as you claim, we need you here to cope with it—and to nurture the Queen. The needs of the many….”
“Yes, I know, Minister. I do appreciate your candor, Sir, and I understand your position; but in the end, I have to make my own decision, whatever the consequence. I’ll let you know what I intend to do after I have sufficient time to
