And I don’t hate Circlians—just their gods, a voice said from the depths of Leiard’s mind. He drew in a quick breath at the surge of intense emotion that came with it. Why have I buried such hatred? he wondered. Why has it only surfaced now?

“I…I’m having doubts, Leiard.”

Leiard dragged his attention back to the boy at his side.

“About?”

Jayim sighed. “Being a Dreamweaver. I’m not sure I want to anymore.”

“I guessed as much.”

“What do you think I should do?”

Leiard smiled. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you want from your life, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you do. Do you want love? Children? Wealth? What about fame? Or power? Or both? Or do you want wisdom and knowledge more? What are you willing to work toward, Jayim? And what would you forsake in pursuit of it?”

“I don’t know,” Jayim gasped despairingly. He moved into an alley. It was narrow, forcing Leiard to walk behind the boy. The sour smell of rotting vegetables filled the dark, close space.

“Of course you don’t. You’re young. It takes time for anyone to…”

A feeling of threat swept over Leiard. He caught hold of Jayim’s shoulder.

“What?” the boy said tersely.

A wheezing exhalation echoed in the alley, then spluttered into a laugh. Two more voices joined in this merriment. As three shapes appeared in the gloom, Jayim cursed quietly.

“Where are you going this time of night, Dreamer?”

The voice was young and male. Leiard let these strangers’ emotions flow over him. He felt a mix of predatory intention and cruel anticipation.

“He’s got a friend,” a second voice warned.

“A friend?” the first boy scoffed, though his thoughts were immediately tempered by caution. “Dreamers don’t have friends. They have lookouts. Someone to watch in case a person happens upon them while they’re seducing other people’s wives and daughters. Well, that’s too bad for you, Dreamer. We got here first. You’re not going anywhere near Loiri.”

Seducing wives and daughters…An image flashed through Leiard’s mind. He faced two men, both angry, both holding weapons. In a window above, a woman appeared. Though her face was in shadow he knew she was beautiful. She shouted angrily, but not at him. Her curses were directed at the men below.

“I’m not here to see Loiri, Kinnen,” Jayim said between gritted teeth. “I’m here to see Vin.”

Leiard shook his head as the image faded. Another link memory? He could not remember ever being so intent on seduction. Something like that would surely stick in one’s memory. But then link memories also did that.

“Vin ought to know better,” a third voice said, “than to associate with Dreamweavers. What’s in the bag, Jayim?”

“Nothing.”