Destruction opened the door and peeked in on his guest, who was resting peacefully in the guestroom bed. He had put something in Jack's tea to help him sleep â after all, the lad needed it. Destruction drew back a bit when he saw Jack shift in his sleep. His arm, swathed in a linen bandage, stuck out from under the blankets. Destruction had tended to the warrior's hurts with great care and skill. Though war had been his business for a very long time, he knew peaceful crafts as well.
Satisfied that his guest could not be woken by anything less than the most drastic of measures, Destruction pushed the door open and went into the room. He picked up the katana from where it was resting on a stool and drew it carefully from its scabbard. He put his fingertips to the damaged blade to examine it, and nodded to himself. It was as he had thought.
He put the sword back down and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He descended to the ground floor and approached a small wooden door that was set in the stairwell, taking a key from the pocket of his tunic. Anyone who saw the door would have concluded, quite reasonably, that it opened into a small broom closet under the stairs. Destruction unlocked the door and, ducking to pass under the lintel, stepped through into a stone-walled chamber. He closed the great bronze door behind him.
The room was ten feet long, ten high and ten wide, a simple box with no windows or other discernable light source, yet there was light enough to see by. In the center of the floor was a round pool, the water in it rippling occasionally as if a pebble had been dropped in, but there was nothing to cause the ripples. On each wall of the room (except for the one into which the door was set), there hung two objects, making six in all. They were, from left to right; a great tome wrapped in chains, a silver ankh, a strange-looking helmet, a pink chrome heart, a ring with a barbed hook, and an indefinite, shifting swirl of colors.
Destruction walked around the pool to the helmet hanging on the far wall. It looked like the head of some huge, strange insect, with shining green eyes. Destruction regarded it carefully for some time, as if locked into a staring contest with those eyes. If he did what he was planning to do, it was going to be something of a problem. He would have to move again. And he'd just gotten used to things here. Maybe he shouldn'tâĤ
But, he realized, he had to. It was important. If he didn't do something, he would certainly regret it later. He took the helm down from the wall, held it in his hands, and spoke the words.
"Dream of the Endless, I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil. Will you come to me?" No turning back now.
I am here, brother. It has been some time since we last met. Destruction turned and looked to the speaker, who was standing to the right of him.
The man was tall and thin, with skin the color of snow and wild hair of the same color. His eyes â or what he had instead of eyes â were twin pools of night, their pupils distant twinkling stars. He wore a flowing robe of white silk that blew in a nonexistent breeze, and in the folds of it flames and rainbows flickered. An emerald pendant hung on a silver chain about his neck. He looked to be in his teens or early twenties, but in truth he was older even than Destruction. And Destruction was old even before the Earth itself had been born.
He greeted his brother. "It's good to see you again, too. How are things going in your realm?"
All is well with me. But I know you did not call me here for mere pleasantries. Dream looked around the room, then back at his brother. Are you planning to return to us? His tone of voice said that he hoped it was so, but knew that it was not.
"You know the answer," Destruction said. "I'm sorry." He hung the mask on the wall again.
His brother's gaze dropped to the floor for a moment. For what purpose, then, have you called me here?
"I'll show you," said Destruction by way of explanation. He went to the bronze door and opened it, then walked through it. His brother followed behind. Once they had both left the room, Destruction closed the little wooden door and locked it. He moved to the stairs and began to climb them. Although his footsteps made the boards creak, his brother's feet made no sound at all.
Destruction put his hand on the knob of the guest room door, then put a finger to his lips for quiet. He edged the door open slowly, and nodded at the person sleeping in the bed. "You know who he is, don't you?"
Of course, Dream answered him. He watched as Destruction padded into the room and picked up the sword from its stool. He offered it to his brother for inspection.
Dream took it and drew the weapon from its scabbard. He looked at it carefully.
"You see why I called you," Destruction whispered. "That stuff is in your realm, not mine." Dream slid the sword back into its scabbard.
I understand your concern, Dream said as he replaced the sword. This is a most serious problem. But I am surprised that you involved yourself in it, since you have given up your post.
Destruction glared at his brother, then stalked out of the room. Dream, feeling a little confused, followed him out the door and closed it. Destruction was standing at the top of the stairs, facing him. When the door was closed, Destruction walked down, and his brother followed suit. They went into the front room. Destruction closed the door before wheeling on his older sibling.
"He was going to kill himself with that thing. That's how I found him and 'involved myself,' if you must know," he growled. "Despair has her hook in his heart, and if she drags him down this whole world will go with him. He's all they have left." He had to turn away from the midnight gaze of his brother. "I'm sorry. It's just that I really don't want to see that happen."
Neither do I, Dream said. I will get what you need to repair the sword, but I must make some preparations first. He paused, thinking for a few moments. Perhaps I should take him with me as well.
Destruction turned back to him. "You think that's wise?" he asked.
I believe it is necessary, Dream replied.