... and he opens them in the dreaming. A hazy shape wavers beside him. "Tarva," he calls her softly. "Come to me." Her form gains substance, clad in full plate armour, her scythe resting on one shoulder, and her dark eyes open; she sees him, and she becomes solid. "Well done," he tells her. He had not expected to find her so adept the first time, despite the Dreamer's Eye and Voice, and his mother's Eye: but he does not say that to her. "We are within the hags' dream."
She looks about her, at the chamber almost exactly as the one they've just left. No hags hover within walls of violet light here, and there is no Safiya or Okku; instead, there is only themselves, and the forms of two men and an illithid, seemingly in a trance.
Tarva approaches the nearest, the illithid. "They're dying," she says, and she's right, Gann sees; all three are emaciated. Whether that reflects the condition of their bodies, or the hags are draining them in another way, he doesn't know.
"We shall free them," he says. "The hags are drawing power from them, probably to fuel their protective spell."
Tarva nods, her face impassive. "How?"
Gann shifts behind her, mindful of the scythe-blade, and rests a hand on her shoulder. "First we enter the dreamlet in which they are imprisoned." He's very close to her, and he feels the tension in her. "I said, trust me," he murmurs. "Remember how you sensed the hags' dream. Remember how it felt. This dream isn't as strong, so you'll have to reach for it. Concentrate... yes, that's it," he says, as he feels her, slowly, tentatively, reach out and touch the illithid's dream. "Very good. Now, let it draw you in," and he chants softly to guide her as she begins to slip away, into the thrall's dreamlet, following her, staying with her as they open their eyes to a maze of tunnels.
Gann glances back and sees a soft rainbow portal shimmering in the air behind them. Intriguing... it suggests that the dreamlet in which the thrall is imprisoned is not merely random, but constructed with some definite purpose in mind.
That... is less than reassuring.
:Did Illsensine send you to rescue me, or are you with the githyanki? Are you here to slay me?:
The words appear in Gann's mind, not sound, but thought, tired and fraying about the edges. There is no mistaking them for his own thoughts, or even for Tarva's; they are alien and strange. The illithid.
"We are here to save you," Gann says aloud. Tarva glances at him, and nods her comprehension of the circumstances.
:Then guide me from this labyrinth. Keep me safe from the githyanki. I have been so long from home...:
"There's a githyanki, apparently," Gann tells Tarva, and is surprised by the sudden fierceness of her expression – it's a subtle change, but it's as though every feature of her face suddenly comes into focus.
"I'll take care of the gith," she says. "You get him to safety." With that, she disappears into the darkness. After a long moment, he hears her voice, raised in a proud challenge. "Githyanki! Forget about hunting the illithid – think how greatly the Lich Queen would reward you if you killed the Kalach-Cha!"
"Kalach-Cha!" another voice makes the tunnels ring with echoes.
Gann has to remind himself that Tarva always knows what she's doing.
:You fear for her.: The illithid's in his head. :You care for her. I have a mate, too... I hope I may find her again.:
First his mother, and now this illithd. He tries to push down the thought that actually, he'd been the first – but he isn't quick enough to quash it before the damned mindflayer catches it.
:Hau hau hau.: And laughs at him. :What a waste -:
"Shut up," Gann says, "and stay out of my brain, or I'll lead you to the githyanki myself."
"Too late," Tarva's voice sounds out of the darkness, and she appears before him, dark blood dripping from her scythe. "Still standing around, Gann? Come on, I saw something that might be an exit."
He follows her through the tunnels, with the illithid's sniggering in his mind. It dies when they reach the pale rainbow shimmer of the dream portal. :Free and safe!: he proclaims, and disappears.
"He's out?" Tarva asks.
"Yes," Gann says, "and we should follow him. The dreamlet will collapse soon." He sweeps her a florid bow. "After you, m'lady."
"Don't call me that," she says, and disappears through the portal...
... and they stand once more in the empty chamber of the hags. The two human thralls are hidden now, and the only change is the new portal that stands before them. "You'll find it easier with the portal," Gann says, but concentrates on her anyway, making certain that she holds herself together as she steps through...
... into the backstage area of the Veil theatre. The dwarf, Magda, greets Tarva enthusiastically, ignoring Gann. It's a little unsettling – no woman every truly ignores Gann-of-Dreams – and that's when he sees the deadened look in her eyes.
"Tarva! You're right on time. Ready for your big scene?"
"Which scene, Magda?" Tarva's voice is slow and cautious; she has picked up on the strangeness of the dream and of the theatre matron too.
"Don't you remember? We composed the play for you, just as you asked."
"The Betrayer's Crusade," the playwright Vesper says. "We reserved the best part for you. The Betrayer's part."
For a moment, Gann wishes fiercely that Kaelyn was with them – or at least that he'd been listening when she talked about the Crusade. He hopes Tarva was, because this dream is wrong, it's unsettling; the undercurrents flow far too strong and deep. Gann steps forward and warns Tarva under his breath, "Follow along. There is something wrong with this dream... it's not yours, but it doesn't feel like the hags' work either. Be wary."
Her response is barely a breath. "I shall." She raises her head to address the dream-actors. "Might I have a quick look at the script? I can't seem to remember my lines."
Magda grins – for a moment, her teeth appear sharp and pointed. "The forgetting is the script. You can make your own lines, Betrayer. Here's the scene: the Crusade has failed. Your army is crushed. The god of death, Myrkul, is at your heels, and you must give your final orders to your lieutenants. Make your commands count, for they will be your legacy... perhaps all that will remain of you. Now, hurry. The audience is restless." Magda opens the stage doors.
Tarva squares her shoulders and lifts her chin; she marches through the door and onto the stage, and Gann would never have thought of the impassive half-elf as an actress, but the defeat is there in the subtle droop of her head, and determination and pride are in the set of her shoulders.
Ah, he thinks. She has the heart of a dreamwalker. He hangs back, though; Magda did not acknowledge his existence, and neither do the assorted members of the audience. One and all, they seem vicious, and their mood is ugly. Some are even calling for blood.
Tarva stands surrounded by three members of the Veil's troupe in shoddy costumes. "I am Zoab of white wings and golden brow, born in the radiance of Celestia," says one of the men, clad in a peeling golden mask and moulting, feathered wings. "For mercy, and for justice, I swore to bring down the Wall."
Another man – the one who teased Kaelyn, Gann thinks – wears a skull mask. His words have a strange, hollow ring. "I am Rammaq, the old, the dead. Thrice have I glimpsed godhood; thrice has that prize been snatched from me. For the knowledge I was promised, I swore to bring down the Wall."
"I am Sey'ryu," the girl proclaims. Her mask is blue and scaled, and the gold embroidery of her robe is frayed and torn. "The Vast, the Glorious, who soared the desert skies, blue upon blue. For the debt I owe to you, Betrayer, I swore to bring down the Wall."
"The God of the Dead draws near, and our battle is lost. What are your orders, Betrayer?" the man – Zoab – asks.
Tarva pauses a moment, surveys each one of them. "We stand here. The Crusade is lost, but others will finish our work. Let the god of the dead see just what our lives are worth – and let him beware!"
The audience erupts – not into cheers, as Gann expects at the expression of such noble, suicidal sentiments – but into loud boos and catcalls. Vesper rummages through his script. "That's not your line, Betrayer!"
"That isn't how it goes at all," Magda agrees grimly.
Barely a beat, and Tarva tells her generals, "Pull the rest of our forces to safety. I'll cover your retreat. Do not forget your oaths – and do not forget the injustice of this Wall. I leave my Crusade in your hands."
"No!" Magda says. "Wrong again. I told everyone you knew this part, I trusted you, but you've made a fool of me. Mm. Everyone, final scene – the Betrayer is captured and tortured. She won't need to know any lines to play that part."
"Just how to scream," Vesper smiles.
Even the quickness of Tarva's reflexes isn't enough to pull her scythe off her shoulder and into position before Magda, Vesper and every single member of the audience swarms her. No – Gann chants quicker than he has ever before, the syllables blurring on his tongue as he calls his magic to her aid. He has to be careful as he releases the massed spell of drowning, not to hit her; its impact upon the attackers has them reeling back a second, and he glimpses Tarva in their centre. She's bloodied, her face set in a determined grimace as she takes advantage of the momentary lull. The scythe blade swings out in a wild circle, but it's enough to take Magda out.
Other spells fly from his fingers; he isn't sparing them, not when she's attacked by a massive hezrou demon and a fire giant, and other creatures he can't even name. Being ignored by them has its advantages, but he's worried about her. She's a melee fighter like no other he's ever seen, but how can she hold off all these dangerous opponents at once? His fire elemental is helping, and so are his spells, but it still feels an age before the last of them falls, leaving Tarva swaying in the middle of them, her face now covered in a heavy helmet – clever girl – and a hand pressed to her side, where her armour is stained by seeping blood.
He's at her side with healing before he can even think. "Thanks, Gann," she says, once her breathing's steady. "Wouldn't have come through that without you."
"More thanks are due to you for keeping their attention," Gann says. "I could hardly have cast surrounded by that mob."
"We'll call it even, then," she says, a flicker in her usually steady eyes. "You save me, and I'll save you."
"Done."
The three actors seem untouched by the slaughter; the man in the golden mask addresses Tarva. "Until the Betrayer returns, we will wait."
"We will watch for the opening of the Gate," says the skull-faced Rammaq.
"Look for us on the day the Betrayer returns. We will storm the City of Judgement at his side, and our oaths will be fulfilled at last..." the girl says, and the three of them disappear in a shimmer of light.
Tarva watches them go. He cannot tell what she is thinking, and so he offers a near-meaningless comment. "That dream was powerful, and there was much truth in it, I think."
"Powerful enough to nearly get me killed," Tarva says, a little wryness colouring her voice. "But that's not what you meant, and I agree. We need to talk to Kaelyn."
"Ready to move on?" he asks, indicating the portal, and she nods.