“The last verse was also from our Sumari records,” Sumpter said, “But your training hasn’t extended that far yet. Again, the poem is one of many in which we transmit the truths of existence to the best of our ability. That’s one of the reasons we’re called Speakers—we try to put inner Sumari knowledge into verbal terms for those who have a need for words. The word Sumari is Lydia’s translation of another word that refers to a particular ‘family’ of consciousness. All of us here are Sumari, for example.”

“But where did I get the poems, then?” Lydia cried. “And who are all these people? I’ve never had such a dream in my life. I’m beginning to doubt it’s a dream at all. But if it isn’t, then what is it?” She turned to Oversoul Seven and said, impatiently, “And where is Lawrence? You told me he’d be right back, and that was ages ago. Oh, I’m so nervous. I need a cigarette.”

“Here,” Seven said obligingly. He materialized a cigarette of her favorite brand from the folds of his robe, and lit it for her. She puffed at it with great vigor and stared at him suspiciously. “Now I’m not to do another thing or move an inch until you tell me where Larry is,” she said.

Seven sighed. Pretty soon he was going to have to tell Lydia that she was dead.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Speakers’ Dream Tribunal (Proteus and Josef)

Who was Lawrence?
Proteus was having the most disjointed dream. Nothing in it fit together. Yet for a moment, like now, he knew that he was dreaming, and this only confused him the more. The whole thing was somehow connected with that symbol he’d found in the ancient tile—he knew that much. Groggily he wondered what he’d eaten to bring on such a dream. But then he fell back into it again. This time he dreamed he was traveling backward in time to the original civilization that the Tellers were studying; in the exact location; and the tiles were new, or nearly so.

Proteus could even feel his feet on the courtyard floor. He looked about. How curious! The place was mobbed with robed figures, with everyone listening to someone who was speaking at some kind of podium. It was a brilliant night. He’d never had such a dream. It seemed so real. Proteus shook his head, shrugged, and made his way up front so he could hear what was going on.