“This is a rare ley line in these times,” Bryde said, a little sharper. “Pure, quiet, strong. If that dam miles and miles away didn’t exist, it would be perfect. If you cannot bring yourself to wipe that smirk off your face while awake, Hennessy, perhaps you can do it in your dreams. Remember this tree, find it in dreamspace next time you close your eyes, and remind it of what friendship looks like. Perhaps it will help you remember what you want and help you dream what your mind wills.”

“I don’t think my mind should do what it wills,” Hennessy said. Ronan could still hear the Lace in her voice, somehow.

Ronan asked, “Does it have a name? The forest?”

He saw the question pleased Bryde. He saw it pleased him very much. Bryde replied, “This tree is called Ilidorin.”

Ilidorin. It sounded like a name that belonged with Greywaren.

Chainsaw, in one of the branches far overhead, let out a little growl-caw. She could manage a fair number of human words, but this was not one Ronan had heard before.

“I brought you here to see Ilidorin because I wanted you to see that this is the pedigree of your power, not the world you keep looking over your shoulder at. I thought you were outgrowing old habits but …” Bryde shook his head. “Given the opportunity to communicate with your family, what do you do? Dream up phones.”

The disdain in his voice was sufficient to twist Ronan’s guts.

“Phones, he says,” Hennessy mocked. “Phones! That portable lifeline. As if—”

“Don’t start.” Bryde cut off her monologue before it could take hold. “A human child believes all things are possible. How wonderful. How terrifying. Slowly, you are taught what you cannot have. What will not be possible. What you do not have to fear. There is no monster in the closet. You cannot fly. How relieving. How disappointing. But this is the world, isn’t it? You believe it. You believe it so thoroughly that even when the box is lifted from around you, you continue to travel in circles no bigger than its walls. A phone!”

“How is it you think I should be talking to Declan if not with a phone?” demanded Ronan. “I don’t think he really wants to have a one-on-one, with, like, some dream balloon with my face projected in it. He just wants a phone call.”

“Does he even want that?”

Ronan demanded, “What?”

Bryde said, “Do you really think your family understands you? Truly? This world has been built for them, so thoroughly that they don’t realize it. It has been built to destroy you, so thoroughly that it has never occurred to them. Your goals are fundamentally opposed.”

“So what are you trying to say?” Ronan asked. “Don’t talk to them?”