AN: Knowing how you two hate shortitude---*waves to Nix and Fang*---and guessing that you'd probably prefer length as well---*waves to her only other reader, Molly*---I combined two chapters into one for this entry. Hope you three enjoy it!

*pauses; counts on fingers* One two thr---yeah, we got three. *pumps fist*

Disclaimer: You can't have my candy cane.

It may be then we are deceived in this.

It may be this is other than we think

And in our sleep…or secretly…or by

The sudden blade of pain…

It may well be

This thing is evil and these seeming soft

Familiar gestures, these half signs, this shy

Withheld warm look the earth has after day,

This green, this ever blue, these stars---these stars---

Are false and to deceive us. It may be

The Hamlet Of A. Macleish, by Archibald Macleish

Chapter Nine:

Dreams And Diaries

The night was a quiet one. The skies were clean and dim---apart from the strange green lights that dappled the north-western stretch of sky---and the woods were quiet to the west. Eastward, Spring Valley and the plains beyond were coated in a darkening shade of dusk; the ocean beyond Splash Garden was calm and unstirred. All seemed at rest.

It was a restless night for leaders, however. Very few of them got any sleep.

NiGHTS lolled onto his back, staring up at the rounded blue ceiling of his prison. Four days. He'd survived sitting here for four days.

He was sure he was going to go insane by the end of the month.

The Nightopians helped, he had to admit. Rolling his head to the side, he could just barely make out their round forms where they sat, huddled against a tree trunk or hiding in the shadow of a boulder, a few nestled in the nooks of wide branches. They were surprisingly faithful, wandering off for a few hours to play, perhaps, but always returning to the Ideya Palace to 'check up' on him; assuming he was interested, they regaled him with stories of their various adventures, telling about run-ins with Minions or new ways they'd found to play. Often these new types of playing were ones they'd discovered the day before, and they day before that as well, but then Nightopians had very short memories, and he certainly wasn't going to ruin their fun.

Nip and Tuck had taken on the responsibility of making sure he had someone to talk to almost constantly, and he found himself beginning to unburden to them. Nip had a bit of trouble taking it all in, but was a constant source of comforting words and encouragement; Tuck understood the darker side of the nightmaren better, and was able to sympathize more readily. Together, they managed to help bring him out of his shell and begin to examine the contents under the glass case more closely. NiGHTS found himself pondering when he would take it away and truly feel what had happened again.

He blinked as a shadowy form began to emerge from the shades of the trees about; propping himself up on one elbow, he focused on it.

He inhaled sharply as the form became more clear, stepping out into the clearing about the Ideya Palace with silent paws. Its form was dull and rough, absorbing the rays of moonlight that shone down upon it without reflecting them back. A white beam glimmered from the only bright part on its body; its eyes. Their green depths slowly focused on NiGHTS.

A golem.

NiGHTS straightened and moved as close as he could to the edge of the platform, knowing that the shield would protect him and thusly not afraid for himself. For a moment, nightmaren stared at dreambeast, and neither of them moved.

A ragged swath of fur hung from its lip, a testament that it had feasted recently. The fur was gory and stained badly with blood, but a small flash of white showed that it had once belonged to a Snip; the creature had been in Frozen Bell.

The great unblinking emeralds of its eyes finally released him from their gaze, and the creature dragged itself on, massive stone forepaws planting heavily in the dirt and waiting for the hind ones to heave themselves after. NiGHTS followed the lion-like creature with his eyes as it disappeared slowly into the shades of night once more.

Once it was gone, he sat down. A golgoth and a golem?

Reala was brooding silently in his room when Heckler found him.

The general was sitting next to the only window, his arms folded, his eyes gazing out across the darkening landscape; they were focused on Spring Valley. Beside him, on a small, black iron table, sat a dusty book. Heckler's knock startled him out of whatever reverie he'd fallen into.

"Enter."

Heckler did as he was bid and bowed gracefully, licking his tongue along dry lips once. "My lord, Miss Luna and several other teachers have returned from a search for Lord Morgen."

An ice-blue eye slid to meet his own; the general did not turn to face him, only allowing his profile to be seen. "Who did she take, and what is their report?"

Heckler licked his lips again, silently marveling at Reala's seeming ability to predict what he was going to tell before he told it. "Dysdane, Apathy, Corbeau, and Lunatic, my lord." He cleared his throat. "They went out westward, over beyond Mystic Forest. Miss Luna said that some way out, they ran into a herd of Equs."

There was silence. The lone eye Heckler could see focused on the wall, and then slowly closed; Reala did not speak. Heckler shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"What did they do?" Reala's voice was soft and low.

"Retreated, my lord. They were chased, but about halfway along they lost them. They returned back to the castle, and are now resting."

Reala did not open his eyes. "What else?"

"Nothing that I was told, my lord."

"A herd of Equs," murmured Reala, more to himself than the boy standing next to him. "An entire herd… Very well. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, my lord." Heckler bowed and turned to leave.

"Boy."

"Yes, my lord?"

"What is your name?"

Heckler turned to face him again. The general's eye was open, but gazing at the wall once more. "Heckler."

"What division are you in?"

"Archery, my lord."

"Archery," mused Reala. "Do you enjoy it?"

" 'Do I enjoy it', my lord? Not, 'Am I good in it'?"

The blue eye slid to meet his again, and slowly Reala cocked his head to face him, smiling in recognition of his sharp observation. "Well said. But do you?"

"Honestly…no, my lord. I prefer hand-to-hand fighting or swordsmanship."

"What were you originally in?"

"Hand to hand, my lord. I was trained with a sword and lance, as well."

"I see." Reala turned to face the window once more; when he spoke, his voice has become soft. "Are you confident in your abilities?"

"In archery?"

"No---in your abilities as a whole."

"Yes, my lord."

Reala did not say anything more. Heckler shifted slightly. "Am I being inspected for something, my lord?"

"What?" Reala seemed genuinely put off-balance by the question. "No, not at all."

"Ah." Heckler nodded and looked away; slowly his eyes appraised the slouching form of the general looking out the window. "Is this---truly an examination of me, my lord?"

Slowly, Reala turned to face him, eyes narrowing and then widening again; finally he swallowed and gave the boy a small smile. "You are very perceptive, Heckler."

"Thank you, my lord. Some call it a curse."

"Perhaps it is." Reala turned away once more. "You are dismissed, Heckler."

"Yes, my lord." He bowed low and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Alone again, Reala resumed gazing out the window. His eyes were inexplicably drawn to the shadowed dips and hills of Spring Valley.

"Very perceptive," he whispered to the night air.

That night, Clawz had a dream.

It did not concern him, mostly. In fact, it seemed to be more like watching a memory than anything else; everything was blurred and hard for him to make out. He seemed to be in a hall of some sort…

A light shone out near the end of the hall, and by squinting he was able to decide it was a flame. Slowly it resolved itself into the end of a candle; the figure holding it he knew well. Jackle.

The demi-maren was different than when he'd seen him last. His face was still visible, but it was paler than he remembered. Thin lines were traced faintly along his face, as if he had gone for a very long time without sleep or nutrition; his hair was even messier than usual, and several gold strands fell in his eyes, which were large and empty. They lacked their usual luster.

He held the candle higher, and gave a soft wave of his hand as if asking the catmaren to follow; silently he turned away and began padding down the hall. Clawz followed, some small part of his mind noting that something, a thing entirely apart from his haggard appearance, seemed wrong…

The being ahead of him, if it was truly Jackle, came to a door that was cracked open a slit and opened it fully; there was no noise. Clawz followed through silently, and found himself in the Library.

The fire in the middle of the room had burned unusually low; its embers glowed dimly, casting a strangely large amount of light. The demi-maren did not stop but continued on further into the shelves, weaving his silent way through the maze of books to the left wall; as he reached it, he held his candle to the side and opened a small wooden door that was placed there. Clawz's eyes widened as he realized where the demi-maren was going.

He followed, albeit slightly hesitantly. Inside the forbidden room, Jackle held his candle high; its unwavering light fell on rows and rows of bookshelves, dusty and unused, their bindings falling apart and their backings sometimes gone. Jackle moved slowly through the shelves, his footsteps measured and slow. He seemed to know his way about very well.

Clawz followed at his heels, pausing when the demi-maren stopped before a bookshelf and began searching for a book. Soon he'd found what he was looking for.

He turned to face the catmaren, one hand holding the candle up for light, the other pointing like a guidepost to a book on the shelf. Clawz moved closer hesitantly, and obediently looked at it.

It was a large, red-leather bound book with delicate gold tracing along its binding.

He gazed at it closely, noting where it stood on the shelf; then looked questioningly at his friend. Jackle did not move. His hand pointed unwaveringly at the book. The candle in his hand lit his face from below with a strange, other-worldly light, heightening the thinness of his cheeks and the glossy, un-twinkling emerald spheres of his eyes. Lips tightly shut, he gazed back at Clawz in silence and pointed.

It was then that the catmaren awoke.

With a start Clawz jerked his head up, staring around his room. Moonlight shone faintly through the windows, giving the room a dim, half-real sense, but it was certainly his room; no silent demi-maren with candles lurked in its corners. He settled back down into the soft cushion he slept on and stared at the wall. 'What the Ideya was that?'

It wasn't a memory---he'd never gone into the forbidden room. It wasn't something that had just happened, either; Jackle didn't look like that any more. So what was it?

'Maybe it was a dream…'

Jackle's words came back to him. "At first it was just in dreams---I shouldn't have dreams, I know, but I have them all the time…Clawz, I think I'm going insane."

He sucked in a breath. 'Nightmares, am I going insane too?'

Nightmaren stirred but did not wake as Clawz passed by the older maren's rooms on the third level. His claws retracted to keep noise to a minimum, he padded down the hall with the noiseless walk of a cat; only one person actually heard him pass and came to their door. Tessa, peering out of the room she shared with her brother, was just in time to see the catmaren's long striped tail disappear into the shadows along the corridor. She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. 'I wonder what he's up to.'

The Library door was open just a slit, and it made no noise when Clawz pushed it wide. The fire kept burning the in fireplace near the middle of the room was low and dim, which was odd; the fire tenders would have fed it well for the night. That didn't seem to matter, however, as there was enough light anyway. Enough light for him to see a figure disappearing behind the bookshelves, heading for the left.

He felt the fur on the back of his neck prick up slightly as he followed. Rounding the corner, he again saw just a snatch of a shadowy form before it was behind another shelf, and he followed it persistently, trying to swallow down the eerily feeling of moving in an unreality. He had to gather himself before he came around the next corner, knowing that it was impossible for him to see the silent demi-maren, hair hanging about his eyes in ragged golden strands, standing before the door with his unwavering candle held high. Impossible.

"Why are you following me?" snapped Reala, wheeling on his heel to face Clawz. A book was in his hand.

For a moment the catmaren was unsure whether to feel surprised, relieved, or afraid. He let out a trembling breath. "I---Jackle---"

"How did you know?"

Again Clawz was taken aback. Reala was gazing at him suspiciously. The catmaren swallowed, coughing. "Well, I had a dream…"

"A dream?"

"…never mind," said Clawz, knowing he would never be believed.

"You too?"

"Oh no," he muttered. "Not you too."

"That's the third---"

"Third?! Who else here is having dreams?"

"It---that's none of your business."

"Three of us? What the heck's that about? I thought just Jackle---"

"Jackle had one too?"

"What, you mean you were talking about two other people?!"

There was a pause. Finally Clawz sighed, running a clawed paw through the fur between his ears. "Something's obviously weird around here, but I guess no one knows anything about it so it's no use yelling over it. What are you here for?"

"I have some business to attend to."

"Eh." Clawz's eyes slid to the door in the wall. "It wouldn't happen to be with---him?" He said the last word in a half-whisper, jerking his head towards the forbidden ground to show who he was talking about. Reala's eyes widened slightly.

"How did you know about him?"

"Like I said, I had a dream."

"…odd." Reala turned away and opened the door, his mind working furiously. He had enough troubles already---now he had to deal with rogue dreams, too? And psychic ones, apparently…

The catmaren followed him silently, figuring he might as well see what was going on until he was told to leave. Together they entered the forbidden library.

It was more like entering a cave than a library. The shelves stretched up into shadows beyond their sight, the darkness above claiming the ceiling for its own and refusing to allow those on the ground to see where it ended. A huge candle was placed on top of the largest desk either of the maren had ever seen, and its single unwavering flame provided enough light to move about in, but its light could not pierce the shadows that covered the further shelves and the ceiling above; any stray beams of light that reached further up felt that they were unwanted, and left quickly.

Slumped against one of the shelves was a small, odd-looking bundle; in the dim light it looked rather like a coat hung over a small rack. Reala approached it quietly and addressed it by name. "Jackle."

The bundle started with a gasp, and jerked up its head to stare at them with wild eyes for a moment before sinking against the shelf again. "Reala," the demi-maren wheezed. "By the IDEYA---"

"It's not my fault you can't notice someone in front of your face," snarled Reala. Jackle gave him a dismissive wave of his hand, his dusky green eyes already passing over the general's shoulder.

"What're you doin' here, Clawz?"
"I---" He paused and coughed as the two maren looked at him expectantly before deciding that making something up would not be the best idea. "I just had this weird feeling that you were here, for some reason."

Jackle quirked an eyebrow, the effect on his half-visible face looking more like an odd grimace. "Oohhh, sure that explains everythin'. Pleased to see you too. Whad'ja need, Reala?"

The general held out the old book he'd been carrying. "You left your Latin book behind."

"Oohhh, that!" He took up the book quickly, and caressed its leaves like he'd missed it badly. "Oohh, forgot all about this! Sorry…" He trailed off and traced the book's cover with loving fingers. Reala found himself wondering whether the demi-maren was apologizing the him or it.

"Thanks a bunch," Jackle added as he began flipping through the pages more slowly, eyes already being drawn to the writing inside. "I woulda…missed it…" His mouth began moving, no sound escaping his lips as he began deciphering the language.

Reala shifted his weight, a bit annoyed at the fact that the demi-maren was so easily distracted from him by a book. Clawz, however, was interested, and peered over the demi-maren's shoulder. "What's it say?"

"Oh, it's some old dreamer's account," explained Jackle airily. "Latin, y'know. Uctus---"

"And orus and ono," finished Reala dryly. "Yes, I know."

"That's the trick!" Jackle's eyes gleamed eagerly. "Only you're emphasizing it wrong. Y'see it's---"

"What's this about an Intu?" Clawz's eyes had latched on to the one word he recognized.

"Oh, the guy saw some maren fightin' with an Intu and heard the word. Here, lissen." He spread the pages flat, beginning to read out loud. As he read, his hyperactive voice calmed and dropped softer; not leaving its high tenor, but smoothing out the harsher edges of words. His breathing became more calm. "As I wandered through the forest, I chanced on a small clearing. Within I saw a strange sight; a human, with no flesh that I could see where a neck should be, trying to keep away a small, dog-like creature. The small creature was covered in a large, solid block of shell, which a spear point could not pierce; the human held a spear in its hand, and tried valiantly to keep the creature away. At one point, it shouted a word that sounded much like 'intu'. After some time, it managed to knock the creature into unconsciousness with a swift blow to the head, and left the clearing. The creature itself did not arise before I awoke, the morning sun streaming in my eyes."

He shifted his grip on the book's spine, and began flipping through the pages. "As far as I can tell, this actually belonged to several people," he explained. "The writing's too different to belong to one person alone. I---"

He halted as the last pages of the book were ruffled through. Nestled between them and the book's worn backing, a small, tidy sheaf of papers had been placed.

He pulled them out carefully, clicking his tongue over them. "Mm, looks like someone else was interested in this book…"

Reala leaned closer, interested. "How long have they been there?"

Jackle cast an experienced eye over the brown and brittle pages. "…some time."

"Yes, thank you," muttered Reala. "I knew that. What are they?"

"Look like notes." The demi-maren handed the book off to Clawz and began paging through the thin leaves. "A maren, I think, judging by the hand."

"But they're not in Dreamin!" pointed out Clawz.

"Nope, it's Latin. Apparently the guy knew the language and wanted to comment on the book in the same, y'know?"

"But what other nightmaren knows Latin?"

The demi-maren had flipped to the last page, and read off the signature at the bottom. "Emirgast, recorder."

"Emirgast." Reala spoke the name thoughtfully. "I don't recall a maren by that name."

"You wouldn't---I didn't until I started reading this stuff. He was around before our time apparently---"

"So he was one of the first."

"Yeah."

"That tells us something about the age of this book."

"Uh-huh."

"You know anything about him?"

"Oh, sure. He was a recorder back in the day---very good one, y'know. He's left notes like this all over the library; never marked up his books, but put neat sheaves of notes in 'em for future readers. Quite smart guy. This looks interesting, in fact---doesn't seem to be related to the book itself, but just general observations and notes…those are the best kind…" He trailed off as he became sucked into the writing in his hands once more, and his eyes widened suddenly.

Reala snorted in irritation. "Look, we need sleep. Goodnight, and I hope you find something."

"Think I just have," said Jackle.

Apathy's soft, nondescript voice was barely audible in the thick-aired Blacksmithy. "You're still working?"

Amaranth, his muscular back turned to the white-skinned maren standing in the doorway, did not look up from the bench he was straddling. "Yeah."

"It's far into the night," said Apathy, moving silently to the blacksmith's side. He looked carefully over Amaranth's shoulder. Swaths of leather---black, brown, hickory and pale cream---were scattered about the bench, and several swords with unfinished pommels were lined up in a neat row near the end. Amaranth worked silently, practiced hands binding the leather grips firmly and quickly. Apathy tried again. "This can wait until the morning, can it not?"

"No," gritted Amaranth.

"Why?"

"Because…"

The master blacksmith looked away, and his hoarse voice suddenly broke. "Because I promised them to him several days ago, and then never got them done…"

Apathy understood. Without a word, he straddled the other end of the bench, and began binding up a sword.

You need to speak to Wizeman.

'Where have you been?'

You never called us.

'But you were in my head before, when---'

You need to speak to Wizeman.

'But you were all yelling and chanting and---'

You need to speak to Wizeman.

'I know but why were---'

It's a pretty flower that grows no root---it's a pretty mother that nurtures a brute. It's a pretty glint that glows from a knife, it's a pretty sword that takes a life…

'Mm…that's pretty…'

You need to speak to Wizeman, aye?

'But what---about---'

For the prettiest is always a strike to the heart…it's the prettiest that allows the questions to start…

'Pretty…'

Speak to Wizeman, speak to him, yes! Speak to master about the book…

'I need to speak to Wizeman?'

Yeeeeeees. Speak to him, pretty so know!

'I need to speak to Wizeman.'

Yes. Very good, Jackle.

Jackle was slumped against the shelves again, reading silently. Reala and Clawz, afraid to look about in a place they had not been permitted access to, stood uncomfortably several paces away. Finally Jackle slapped the pages together with a crackle of aged parchment.

"Very interesting," was all he would say.

Reala raised an eyebrow, asking him to go on. "And?…"

"And I think I'd better go speak to Wizeman. Like, now."

Reala and Clawz exchanged glances; then the general nodded. "All right. I had to report to him anyway…come on."

Clawz turned to leave. "I think I'll go and get some sleep."

"You do that." Reala waited until the catmaren had left before he turned to Jackle. "What did it say?"

"I need to speak to Wizeman," repeated Jackle. His eyes, Reala noticed, looked a bit darker than he remembered; they seemed slightly unfocused. He decided it was the low light in the room.

"Why are you so---"

"Pretty's the flower that grows on the heath," murmured Jackle, in a sing-song tone. "It's the prettiest flower that brings us to grief…"

Reala swallowed, turning away. Jackle's voice carried an odd intonation, almost as if he were more than one person. "Come, then. We'll speak to him now."

"So pretty!" laughed Jackle, following willingly. He left the papers on the floor.

As Reala turned and closed the door to the forbidden library, he noted that Jackle's eyes still looked a bit too dark.

As the two leaders left the library, a small shadow detached itself from the overhanging darkness and stared after them.

"I wonder what they were doing," murmured Vespers.

She looked back towards the forbidden door longingly; the librarian within her had often fantasized about what could be behind it. The threat of punishment had always held strong until now---but the leaders had gone in and survived.

Biting her lip in nervousness, she tiptoed towards the forbidden ground, her eyes darting about in fear of being found, even though she knew that the chances of anyone entering in the middle of the night were immeasurably slim. She crept close to the door and stared at it for a moment; somewhere in her chest, she became aware of a strange hesitation to enter, as if someone was telling her to stay out. But they said there were millions of books in there…

Straightening, she pushed open the door.

The room was immensely huge and dark, and she trembled with excitement and fear as she stared at the vast treasure-house of books that spread about her.

"Dear Ideya," she murmured, amazement swirling through her. "It's…huge…"

A hand placed itself on her shoulder. She whirled with a startled gasp, eyes wide.

No one was there.

Vespers turned a quick circle, hand to her heart. No one. She circled again, searching the shadows, feeling her heart begin to pound quicker as she tried to find whoever had touched her; it had been too real to just be her imagination. She pressed a hand on her shoulder, nearly starting at how closely it resembled the feeling she'd just had.

She swallowed hard, her heart beating to a strange rhythm. She felt suddenly as if she were intruding in a room that was full of strange and hostile people.

A small nudge to her arm made her whirl about, again finding no one; with a small sob she turned and ran, dashing blindly through the shelves. Something caught at her shoulder but she did not turn.

She skidded to a halt, feeling as if something had suddenly hit her in the face; she sniffled and stared down the row she'd come to a halt in. A bit further along, its red leather binding glimmering attractively with gold leaf, a book was tilted halfway out of the shelf as if it had been replaced too quickly by someone who was in a hurry. She stared at it, an inexplicable feeling of mixed attraction and repulsion growing in her.

Another shove to her shoulder made her stumble forward, and she glanced back, already knowing that she would see no one. She gasped as another shove sent her nearly sprawling---right above the book.

She reached out hesitantly, feeling some great repulsive matter trying to hold back her hand; a finger pushed her nearer. She whispered her thoughts to the air. "I don't know who you all are and what you want, but I'm…trying to please some of you…please don't involve me in your argument…"

At the end of the row, a glimmer of light caught her attention. She looked up, just in time to see the frail, ghostly edge of a diamond-edged cape disappear around the turn.

Something told her to go see, go follow it, go see what it was---Vespers, acting on what the other feelings in her heart told her to do, grasped the book desperately and then dashed for the corner.

When she rounded it, no one was there.

Clutching the book to her chest, she headed for the door. As she ran, she could feel something telling her to put the book down, to turn around and put it back, to drop it; she refused.

Above her, the great unwavering candle on the desk went out without a sound.

She stumbled into a shelf in the darkness, suddenly panicking. How could she find her way out without any light? She stood unsteadily, still holding the book tightly, resolved no matter what happened to get out with it; she gasped as someone shoved her.

A shove---yes. She went in the way it had directed, stopping when she touched a shelf; another shove told her to go right, and so she did. Soon she lost all sense of direction, but the nothing behind her knew where they were going. Soon she felt the air around her grow clearer as they came into the open space, and one last gentle touch guided her to the door.

She pushed it open and found herself in the Library, her home turf. She slammed the door behind her and ran for her room, giggling giddily to herself in a near-hysteric euphoria. Her roommates did not awaken as she entered the room and slipped into her bedcovers, still giggling to herself; she felt independent, strong, as if she'd walked on the edge of danger and laughed while she did it. She also felt more scared than she'd ever been in her life.

She fell asleep soon after, the book held to her protectively.

Wizeman did not sleep. He rested to relax his mind, he absorbed energy to re-strengthen himself, but he did not technically sleep. He did, however, expect to be left alone for the night, and so the knock on his door was both surprising and annoying.

"Who is it?"

"Reala and Jackle, my lord."

"Enter."

His dull eyes brightened slightly as they turned sleepily to face the two high-ranking maren. "I assume you have a good reason for disturbing me at this hour?"

"Very good, my lord," Reala assured him. "We have news…and something of interest," he added, glancing at Jackle.

Two great, glassy eyes focused on the trembling demi-maren, their unblinking gaze set firmly upon him. "Tell."

"Miss Luna, the sparring instructor, took several other older maren out to search for Morgen from the Armory," began Reala. "They returned recently. Luna claims that, upon passing into the western woods beyond Mystic Forest, they came upon a herd of Equs and were chased halfway back. No one was injured."

The hands surrounding them held still, their eyes drifting away in thought. "What else occurred?"
"Nothing of notice, my lord. They decided to return, and are now resting."

The eyes were not looking at them. Reala began to have the feeling that they were being ignored, and cleared his throat. A pair focused on him once more. "You have more to say?"

"Jackle claims to have found something worthy of your notice," explained Reala, and stepped aside, giving the demi-maren a look as he did. 'If this isn't worth it, it's your fault.'

Jackle understood his hidden meaning, but did not seem at all perturbed. He looked up at his master unfearingly; as Wizeman gazing into his eyes, he saw that the demi-maren's trembling hands were more likely moving from excitement, not fear. He took note of the fact that Jackle's eyes seemed a bit dark as he spoke. "What is it, Jackle?"
"I found some notes stuffed in an old Latin book," began Jackle, lacing his fingers excitedly like a young child reciting something before their teacher. He shifted onto his toes. "All old and from a recorder I don't remember personally, but he's got a lot of notes stuck around the library---explanations and helpers and stuff---"

"And he said something of value?" prodded Wizeman.

"Yeah, oh boy yeah!" Jackle's darkened eyes gleamed brightly. "Someone named Mira---"

"His name was Emirgast, then?"

"Yeah, him!" Jackle laughed happily. "You know 'im?"

"Perhaps." The eyes focused on him closed for a moment, their owner's mind flashing back to the diary that had revealed the sporadic appearance of the Courage Ideya to him. "Yes. What did he say?"

"Well, he was talking about the Courage Ideya again, an' he said that if they were taken away from the dreamers, then they'd lose their power. Poof. Gone."

There was a moment of quiet as the other two in the room digested this. "That doesn't make sense," murmured Reala after a moment. "He was mistaken. We took away both, and their power level never changed."

"Yeah, but y'see that it takes time!" Jackle explained excitedly, as if he was having the time of his life. "They fade slowly, kinda wear down after time, an' then y'can't use 'em anymore. And guess what else I learned!"

"What?" asked Reala, feeling vaguely as if he were a father listening to a child recount his adventures of the day in kindergarten.

"The Dream World is full of energy, right? And that energy makes us and everything and it's always there, right?"

"Right."

"Well, when the Red Ideya are around, things waver just a bit, because the Dream World's prepared for 'em but it's still a lot of extra energy!"

"And this affects us how?"

"Don't you see? If it loses a whole whopping bunch of energy all at once, it'll get all unstable! And time and energy and past and stuff'll get all wacked out!" He jumped up and down on his toes. "Don'cha get it? That's why everything's going to pot! 'Cause NiGHTS shoved the Ideya through to the Waking World!"

He spun on his heel, arms flung wide. "And so now everythin's all wacky and mushed," he giggled. "Whee!"

Reala and Wizeman were silent, absorbing what the demi-maren had just told them. A single hand, its eye wide and clear, floated down to stare directly in Jackle's face. "What else?"

"Nuthin' else," said Jackle.

"He said nothing?"

"Yeah." The demi-maren seemed disappointed.

"So this is all NiGHTS fault," growled Reala. "If he hadn't done…that…things would not be so unstable now."

"Not really," corrected Jackle. "He wasn't the one who told 'im to take 'em!"

Reala's eyes widened at the demi-maren, who made a small sound---which came out rather like 'eep'---and clapped both hands over his mouth as he realized how badly he'd just blasphemed his master's name. He looked up at Wizeman fearfully; luckily for his soundness of body, the ruler had been too deep in thought to pay attention to his chatter and hadn't heard.

"This is…most important," Wizeman said at last. "Did Emirgast reveal how long it would take for the Dream World to stabilize itself again?"

"No, but he seemed to think it'd take a long time."

"How long?" asked Wizeman and Reala, together.

"Oh, at least another century," said Jackle.