did you say?’ Bartlemy asked.
‘Nothing. I was pretty surprised – and the whole thing seemed awfully silly. You know, as if he was the bad guy in a Western: This school ain’t big enough for the both of us. Stupid.’
‘Well done,’ said Bartlemy. ‘As Kipling put it: If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs … Restraint is a rare gift at your age.’
My head is the problem, Nathan thought ruefully. Aloud he said: ‘There must be something behind it. Are you going to tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’
‘What you know – or guess.’
Bartlemy was silent for a long moment, considering. ‘What I know is very little,’ he said. ‘I wondered about the attempted burglary here, that’s all. I gather the two boys involved were advised by a very expensive lawyer, the kind they wouldn’t get on legal aid. Among other people this lawyer has previously worked for Giles Hackforth, in a matter concerning his son. The connection is very tenuous, you see. I’m trusting you not to discuss this with anyone.’
‘Not even Mum?’ Nathan said.
‘That’s different. I wouldn’t ask you to have secrets from Annie.’ Nathan looked a shade disappointed, possibly because having a secret from his mother was, in his view, the benchmark of maturity. ‘Since we’re being so frank, have you had any significant dreams lately? I’ve noticed a certain … restlessness in you. Maybe it’s your age. You don’t have to confide in me if you don’t wish to.’
‘There was one,’ Nathan said slowly. He explained about Osskva. ‘And … I’ve had a few dreams about another world. Not like Eos. More … like some period from history. Mediaeval, I suppose.’ He didn’t intend to mention the princess.
‘Hmm.’
‘Uncle Barty, do you think I have these dreams because I want to, or because something else makes them happen? Or – are they just random?’
‘Do you want to?’ his uncle inquired.
‘I – yes, I do. It’s frightening sometimes, but in a stimulating way – an adventure. With this new world, I want to know it better, find out more. Like when you visit another country –’ Annie had taken him twice to France, once to Holland ‘– only another universe is a million times more exciting. I mean, anyone can go abroad.’ He grinned, looking suddenly very young.
‘Indeed,’ Bartlemy said, ‘but remember, any dream you have is not a sight-seeing trip. I believe there is a purpose behind your wanderings, though I am not yet sure exactly what it is. Does this new world seem to have any connection with the Grail?’
‘No,’ Nathan said, ‘but they talk about a sword. The Traitor’s Sword.’
‘Ah,’ Bartlemy said. ‘Well, dream carefully.’ It was not the first time Nathan had been told that. ‘Take the precautions I taught you. Keep the Rune of Finding in your room, and drawn on your arm. Use the herbal mixture I gave you which helps to bring the spirit home. Don’t get lost.’
‘I won’t,’ Nathan said confidently.
‘He is always confident, Rukush,’ Bartlemy told the dog when he had gone. ‘I hope he is careful too … The sword. Well, well. There is a pattern developing here. The Grail relics – if I can call them that – were evidently hidden in different worlds, and it seems to be Nathan’s job to retrieve them. At least, that’s what it looks like. He’s clearly on the trail of the sword now. But who gave him this task, if anyone did? The Ultimate Powers? Those who maintain equilibrium throughout the multiverse rarely involve themselves so personally. Or could the knowledge of what he has to do have been born in him, part of the heritage of two worlds? Maybe this is the special destiny for which he was created. After all, I’ve never heard of any other mortal – and few immortals – able to move so easily between universes. Objects – occasionally; but not people. People are too perishable. And what of the Grandir of Eos? This evidently fits in with some long-lost plan one of his forebears made to save a dying cosmos, but … Yes, that’s the trouble. But.’ He added with a sigh: ‘I wish Annie would tell Nathan the truth about his conception. The time is coming when that information may be essential for his safety.’
Hoover looked at him with an expression both alert and meaningful.
‘All right,’ said Bartlemy. ‘I’ll talk to her.’
But Annie, when the time came, proved more recalcitrant than ever. ‘It isn’t just that he doesn’t need to know,’ she said. ‘I think it might be safer if he didn’t. Suppose I tell him his real father could be a – a being from another universe, a superhuman entity who impregnated me for a mysterious purpose? At least, I expect so, since he obviously didn’t do it for fun. Anyhow, that may explain to Nathan why he can dream himself into other worlds, but then he’ll start agonizing over his destiny, and all that sort of thing, when he should be agonizing over exams – he’ll worry about the father thing – it could distance him from his friends. I don’t mean it would make him conceited, but it isn’t good for any boy to be told: You’re special. You aren’t like the others. You have a Destiny with a capital D.’
‘I wasn’t going to tell him any such thing,’ Bartlemy objected.
‘I want him to be just a normal boy,’ Annie went on. ‘The adolescent years are difficult enough, without adding otherworldly complications. I know we can’t stop the dreams, but as long as his – his journeys stay in dream-form they’re manageable. He still sees them as a kind of storybook adventure, not the main focus of his life. Let’s keep it that way.’
‘You want Narnia to stay in the wardrobe,’ Bartlemy said. ‘But Narnia was the kingdom of childhood; when the children grew too old, they weren’t allowed to return any more. The universes in Nathan’s head are rather different. The signs show his dream journeys are intensifying, not diminishing, as he grows up. Without the knowledge he needs, you may endanger him.’
‘Do you think I haven’t thought of that?’ Annie said. ‘I think of it all the time. It’s bad enough worrying if your children are out at night – what they’re doing, who they’re with, all the usual – but I have to worry when Nathan’s home in bed. Barty, I don’t know if I’m right – maybe I’m just a coward about telling him the true story – but I think he’s better off dreaming in ignorance. Once he gets it into his head he’s carrying some huge doom on his shoulders, the weight of it could crush him. Let him walk lightly for the moment. Let Narnia stay in the closet where it belongs. We don’t know who his father was, or what he intended.’
‘There are indications –’
‘We don’t know. We’re just trying to – to second-guess fate. My recollection of … what happened … is closed. Maybe that’s deliberate, to protect me, or Nathan. Anyway, I won’t tell him until I know it’s necessary – if it ever is.’
‘By then,’ said Bartlemy, ‘it may be too late.’
Annie averted her gaze, and he said no more, sensing the muddle of her thoughts – hope, doubt, dread – unsure of his own arguments, or if he was in the right at all.
Later, left alone, Annie’s mind returned to that
