Impossible Dreamers

Chapter 3 (mek): Dreaming of Ralkino

       Twil, twilfti, twillo, twillorio, twillorinio.

Liana had been thinking about her father, Ralkino. The counting had calmed her. Now she was dreaming.

A platform in Fountain Square. The square filled with people chatting happily. Celebration after the harvest.

Liana looks up at the platform. Somehow she knows it's a dream, but it feels so real. Trentaya, her mother, alongside her, her friend Herago behind. Silmoa, Herago's big sister, long-haired and pale-skinned, next to him, looking superior.

'This is a happy time,' Liana tells herself. But is it? Something will be lost. It comes as a sharp revelation. What's going to happen?

'Have you tried the new food, Liana?' Herago asks. 'It's really, really lovely. Try some.' Something about his voice, something about his round, smiling face, is wrong. Different.

'What food is this?' Liana listens to her own voice. Something different with that, too.

'Wheat, ground up and mixed with water, then rolled out flat and dried.' Herago's squeaky voice.

'Dried? Eugh!' Liana's dream voice was squeaky and strange.

'No, they boil it and mix it with vegetables and stuff,' Herago says, excited. 'It goes... soft and slippery. It's really, really good.'

Liana takes a stick and wraps some of the ribbons of food around it. Delicious.

'I don't like it,' says Silmoa.

Liana knows this food. Delicious, but the taste makes her sad. She doesn't want to eat any more. Liana looks around at the smiling faces. People from the House of the Green Jewel, their learning house. Older people she doesn't know so well, friends of Trentaya and Ralkino. Some members of the Counsel of the Wise.

The big gong sounds. Quiet settles.

Piacho appears.

There was usually something comforting about Piacho – his beaming face, his straggly beard – but now the sight of him disturbs her. Liana is worried.

Piacho's Trowster cloak, with its swirling patterns, is beautiful – like the smoke swirling above the mountains surrounding them. She had learned the names of all the mountains, but now she remembers only Greblara, the highest one.

Something is going to happen.

Liana has been here before. When? Liana looks around. The faces of the people she knew are fine and glowing. And young. Trentaya's face has lost all the lines that came – when?

Liana looks at other people's face, the faces of people she doesn't know, but they slip and slither away. She looks at the smoke from the mountains. Patterns of lines and circles she'd seen so many times before.

But now, the smoke forms shapes. Shapes of letters. The letters form... words! 'R ... G O E S'. Liana looks again. No. She imagined the letters. She remembers that she's dreaming.

'This is a happy time' she tells herself. Piacho raises his hand.

'Ha! Fellows of Seren-ila,' says Piacho. 'We rejoice in the harvest, we give thanks to those who prepared our wonderful food, and we savour the company of all friends. This evening, after hard work, we turn to enjoyment.' A murmur of anticipation. At the back of the stage, musicians move forwards, take up their places. They carry colourful instruments made from many different vegetables, some with strings, some filled with stones, some with pipes to blow into.