Sweet Young Thing came bustling in. “Now let’s not be so noisy. Who’s making all the racket?” This time there was a slight edge to her voice. Lydia watched her, thinking that she was young and sane at least, and could be depended upon. “N … Nn … nu … nurse—” she said, furious with herself; when she wanted most to speak, often she couldn’t. Worse, the nurse didn’t even hear her. She reached out, and this time the floppy right arm just lay there, refusing to move. But … an arm reached out. Briefly Lydia saw it … and felt it … and then it came back into her body and disappeared.

She was nearly in a state of shock. Sweet Young Thing turned, saw her face, and said, “What is it, Lydia? Are you trying to say something? What do you want?”

Lydia meant to say, “I know this sounds crazy, but I swear I went flying about this afternoon.” Instead, all she got out in a raspy voice was: “People fly.”

“Of course they do,” the nurse said cheerfully.

Cromwell had a coughing spell. The nurse said, “What next?” and left to get him water.

Everyone in the room stared at Lydia.

“Fear you notch,” Cromwell said, meaning to say, “Fear you not.”

“They don’t know nothin’,” Mariah said. She grinned like a three-year-old and rolled her eyes.

For an instant Lydia rallied. “They don’t know anything,” she corrected, but when she tried to speak again the words didn’t make any sense.

But her thoughts did. It came to her quite clearly that even while she couldn’t speak properly, she could concentrate. And just as she was beginning to learn about these odd new movements in her … inner body … she was aware more and more of an inner straining, as if words from outside were trying to form in her mind.

Chapter Nineteen

The Speakers’ Dream Tribunal (Ma-ah)

Sumpter slipped out of his body easily and stood up. He always felt more truly alive and alert, lighter and more exuberant when he cast his physical body off. Not that the Earth form wasn’t marvelous, he thought, because it was, and he couldn’t manipulate in the environment without it. Still, he felt more in his natural element whenever he slipped out of his skin.

Ma-ah was on the couch. He went in, moving quietly in the moonlight that splashed through the window. Her body was sleeping but Ma-ah was obviously gone; her form showing that peculiar vacancy that was apparent when the person-consciousness deserted it. Well, he had plenty of time, and he had a good idea where she was. Smiling, he remembered the nights that he’d followed her down to the courtyard, and found her studying the cave drawings and inscriptions. In the morning she never recalled their meetings, though now her dream memory was improving constantly.