Enric and I sat beside the three-trunked tree. Sunlight streamed down on us through the branches, and a pair of hound dogs lazed at our feet. Almost all the Oritans had wanted their pets back.
"So which is it," asked Enric, "the humans last night or the Dwarves today? I can tell you're worried about something."
I threw down the piece of grass I'd been shredding. "Some of both," I answered, "but more of neither. Enric?" My heart clenched, but I forced myself on. "If any of those humans last night had tried to hurt their dogs, to punish them for taking our side, what would you have done?"
He opened his mouth, closed it, then looked at me strangely. "What are you asking, Kyriel: would I have killed a human for the sake of a dog?"
"Something like that." I eyed him steadily. "So, would you?"
Enric hung his head. "I'm not sure," he said, "but I would have been sorely tempted. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"I don't know. Would you have hated them for it?"
"Yes," he answered promptly, then colored. "I wouldn't want to, but yes, I'd hate them for it." He looked up, his expression pained. "Why are you even asking me these questions? Did you really think I wouldn't have prejudices like everyone else, or did you need to make sure I do?"
I leaned back against the tree and sighed. "Some of both, I guess." In a way, it was a relief to know Enric was no better off than me - and that he didn't like facing his own prejudices any more than I did. But in a way, it was also a worry. We'd agreed to slip back into R1 tonight; and two days later we'd meet in waking life, in Richmond. "Thanks for being honest."
Enric didn't answer; instead he leaned back beside me and closed his eyes. I did the same, and soon fell half asleep.
The sound of cart wheels woke me from my doze.
Enric leapt to his feet. "That must be Meli."
"Must be," I agreed, moving a little more slowly and nervously than him. We joined hands and stepped out into the path.
Soon the cart came into view. As we'd expected, Meli sat alone in the driver's seat. She was grim as always, but at least her leg was whole. Magic was indeed a human art, but healing belonged to all races.
"What's the news?" called Enric, not even waiting for the cart to stop. "Can we come back?"
Meli reigned in her pony with a sigh. "Yes, you can come back," she grumbled. "Aglor's even preparing a banquet for you."
Enric whooped and gave me a high-five, much to the Dwarf's bafflement. "Of course," she went on, "no one is to know your true natures. As far as Mornegald is concerned, you're wizards like Gandalf."
"That's good enough for me," I grinned, then sobered as I caught the look on Meli's face. "It's not good enough for you, though, is it?"
Meli twisted the reigns in her hands. "No," she sighed, "it's not. King Aglor knew what kind of people you were from the moment you set food in Mornegald; and he knew what kind of people you were when he banished you. It shouldn't take a guard captain to convince him you were 'safe.'"
I glanced at Enric, who looked every bit as abashed as I felt. Meli was right, but what could we possibly say to her now? At least we could come back. The Dwarves would be safer, our friendships would grow, and Enric and I would hear more delicious stories about Gandalf. "Maybe one day," I muttered lamely, and Meli nodded.
"Maybe one day."
Enric broke the heavy silence. "So," he said with forced cheer, "how do you think Aglor will feel about adding a couple of dogs to the Dwarf hold?" He whistled, and the two hounds bounded out of the bushes. "I've named them Wind and Whisper."
Meli seemed relieved to change the subject. "I'm sure they'll be fine," she answered carefully. "Outdoors."
"Of course," Enric laughed. "Don't worry, they wouldn't like the halls any more than you'd like them in the halls. But outside, they'll make excellent guards."
"Well, bring them along, then," the Dwarf shrugged. She pulled a rope and the rear flap of the cart dropped down, providing a natural ramp for the dogs.
As Enric loaded Wind and Whisper on board, Meli turned to me and asked, a little too casually, "So, how long would you like to stay with us?"
"I don't know," I shrugged, "several months at least, maybe longer. It depends on how long you need us." I searched her face carefully. "Why do you ask?"
The Dwarf looked deeply uncomfortable. Dropping her eyes and twisting the reigns again, she murmured, "Several days ago, you asked me if I had someone to talk to, and I said I did - do you remember that?"
"Yes," I answered carefully. My heart twisted painfully in my chest.
"Well," sighed Meli, "I lied."
I tucked the book back into my purse and fidgeted in the airport's idea of a comfortable seat. Then, for the thousandth time that night, I glared at the paunch around my waist and tried to suck it out of sight. Of course, just the other nine hundred and ninety-nine times, I failed miserably. I glanced at my watch and popped a breath mint. Enric's - no, Eric's - plane would be here any minute now. My stomach turned another somersault.
In my thinner days I'd had my share of boyfriends, but never fallen in love. Now I was clearly overweight and dateless, and the man of my dreams so far had existed only in my dreams. In my weaker moments, I almost wanted to keep him there. The woman Enric had fallen in love with was exotic and beautiful; and if she wasn't perfect, at least her imperfections were interesting. As for the man Kyriel had fallen in love with, swap "beautiful" with "handsome," and the same statement applied.
These were our dreams of one another, but what would happen when the dreamers woke up? Would Enric take one look at me and think, "I didn't know she looked that bad"? Would I spend some time with the waking Eric and decide he was just a boring veterinarian after all? I knew as well as anyone how seldom reality measured up to our dreams of it.
I thought again about all the different "snakes" inside my head: so many emotions, noble and base; so many prejudices masquerading as virtues. Love, hate, and Fury - all vying for attention from the same brain. How could we be sure the virtues would win out, especially in this reality where we were only human?
It would have been so much safer to keep our relationship in the dreamworld, where the harsh light of reality never touched it. But here I was in this blasted airport, sucking simultaneously on a breath mint and my own pot belly, waiting for either the greatest thrill or the worst disappointment of my life. And deep down, when I really thought about it, I realized I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
The plane coasts to a stop outside my window and the umbilicus stretches out to meet it, preparing to deliver my dream man into waking life. A flood of strangers rush to the gate, eagerly lining up to meet their loved ones. As for me, I've already chosen my spot: on the front row but at the very end of the line. I intend to get a good, hard look at Eric before he ever finds me in the crowd.
Tromp of footsteps climbing the ramp. The first faces appear, the first hugs and kisses, a few flash bulbs. There's no sign of Eric yet, but he's flying coach, so I know it might take a while. I fidget nervously with my purse strap.
The crowd thins a little, and here comes a man with a battered leather carry-on slung over one shoulder. He's wearing a pinstripe shirt, jeans, and loafers. His skin is tanless, lightly dusted with acne; his hair is much shorter than in R2; and he's wearing wire-rimmed glasses. His eyes are hazel - beautiful in their own way, but different too, without the familiar golden sparks.
There's no way around it: as much as I'd like to ignore the changes, they're real - as real as Eric himself. Not Enric, Eric. And I won't be Kyriel to him here. But somehow, at the same time, it is still Enric, short hair, acne and all. And look: he's got a bit of a pot belly, too! This is the side of him I never got to see in R2, but it's just as much a part of him as his supernatural eyes or his wolfish tail. Back on the Naronica, we quizzed each other constantly, each trying to lap up as much of the other's life that we could. And now I have the chance to lap up more than I ever could in the dreamworld. I've known his soul for a year now, but this is the first time I've had the chance to know his life. The thought turns my legs to water. Oh God, let him feel the same way when he sees me. If he doesn't, I swear I'll never go back to the dreamworld again.
The first moment Eric sees me: that will tell me everything I need to know. I'm concentrating so intently on his face that the rest of the world fades to gray.
Eric's eyes scan the crowd. He looks nervous, worried - does he really think I wouldn't be here to meet him? I want to call out, but I don't dare. I want to wave, but I can't move.
At last he finds me, hanging back at the end of the line and trying hard not to chew my lip. His face lights up in a way I've only seen once before: the first time he saw the Fury. "Kyriel!" he bellows, and lunges for me with arms wide open. I'm crying long before he gets there.
architectural friezes courtesy of Randy D. Ralph at the Icon Bazaar
