02-02-2019, 06:58 PM
Meera was great. Talked up a storm to Eiji. Was she born a liar, or did it come naturally? Meera seemed pleased. Did that meet with her requirements?
He sniffed the air. Even smiling, she didn’t look to him much like the helping kind. His reading of her was more the freaky dangerous kind who just happened not to have killed him yet. It was clear to him if she wanted to him gone, he wouldn’t even have known about it until it happened. But, he gave her the benefit... maybe he intrigued her. She was curious. He ran his fingers through his dark hair.
He let out a long sigh of relief; sat back into his seat; his shoulders relaxed as Meera put on the music. That was perfect. For a moment there—he thought she’d refuse him. This was such a rush! He could kiss her, but no, he wouldn’t. He shuddered at the thought of kissing Meera.
He grinned at Meera when she said she’d call sensei. “Indeed so, I thank you for your time, Alam-Sama. Sensei knows some of me. More than anybody else. But not everything.”
Who hurt you? Eiji thought about it. He closed his eyes.
He looked up and met Meera’s eyes. “That was quite a... quite a good tune you put on today. Very... moving. I’m very impressed,” he said.
He smiled, his voice was low “let’s get on, Alam-Sama... I’d prefer not to have to tell you who it was that hurt me, but you’re asking, and the needs of my missions supersede any private issues I might have.” Chuckling, “you’re my mirror? Sensei Hercule says, ‘I’m not a dentist, you know and this is like pulling teeth. We haven’t much time. Talk to me’”
Eiji took a deep breath:
“I’d been asleep. The sleep had been dreamless at first, then the pictures had begun to come... I saw ice, and snow, which might have covered Cambodia, the heathen shrine world. A silver wolf ran across the snow fields, leaving no trace behind it. It reached a stand of lonely black timbers and looked back. The wolf had my eyes.
From somewhere, the screaming started up. Distant, but clear. A man’s voice, screaming and screaming in such pitiful pain. I knew that voice. Who was it?
The wolf had vanished. For some reason in dream logic, a bright door slashed open in the middle of the trees and a figure stepped out. It was a short well-built man in his late forties. His black hair was dark and dank, and tied back with a ponytail. There was a small blue tattoo of a snake eating its own tail on his cheek.
Half-seen, footsteps clattering over hard ice, I pulled into cover, to hide and wait. I had to jam my hands in my mouth to stop myself crying out, but he’d blinked at me and then took a step or two forward. He flicked his hairy tattooed arm, not hard ... but it sent me flying onto the ice with a bone-breaking crack!
His mouth moved as he spoke, but I couldn’t make out the words— as best as I can make out, he said, “you can’t be here”—sounds were oddly out of sync with his lips. Then he backed away through the door again, like a video feed running in reverse, its obscene light reflecting off the snow... and the door closed.
That was when screaming began to get louder, until there was no snow, no ice, no trees, no dreams at all. Just screaming.
Then I heard the knock. My assistant woke me up, which suited me just fine. I yawned and stretched. The stifling air stank of blood... my blood. I... I was told about my screaming. In short, my wounds trouble me because they are self inflicted, only when I dream.”
He paused, “Why would that be, Alam-Sama?”
He sniffed the air. Even smiling, she didn’t look to him much like the helping kind. His reading of her was more the freaky dangerous kind who just happened not to have killed him yet. It was clear to him if she wanted to him gone, he wouldn’t even have known about it until it happened. But, he gave her the benefit... maybe he intrigued her. She was curious. He ran his fingers through his dark hair.
He let out a long sigh of relief; sat back into his seat; his shoulders relaxed as Meera put on the music. That was perfect. For a moment there—he thought she’d refuse him. This was such a rush! He could kiss her, but no, he wouldn’t. He shuddered at the thought of kissing Meera.
He grinned at Meera when she said she’d call sensei. “Indeed so, I thank you for your time, Alam-Sama. Sensei knows some of me. More than anybody else. But not everything.”
Who hurt you? Eiji thought about it. He closed his eyes.
He looked up and met Meera’s eyes. “That was quite a... quite a good tune you put on today. Very... moving. I’m very impressed,” he said.
He smiled, his voice was low “let’s get on, Alam-Sama... I’d prefer not to have to tell you who it was that hurt me, but you’re asking, and the needs of my missions supersede any private issues I might have.” Chuckling, “you’re my mirror? Sensei Hercule says, ‘I’m not a dentist, you know and this is like pulling teeth. We haven’t much time. Talk to me’”
Eiji took a deep breath:
“I’d been asleep. The sleep had been dreamless at first, then the pictures had begun to come... I saw ice, and snow, which might have covered Cambodia, the heathen shrine world. A silver wolf ran across the snow fields, leaving no trace behind it. It reached a stand of lonely black timbers and looked back. The wolf had my eyes.
From somewhere, the screaming started up. Distant, but clear. A man’s voice, screaming and screaming in such pitiful pain. I knew that voice. Who was it?
The wolf had vanished. For some reason in dream logic, a bright door slashed open in the middle of the trees and a figure stepped out. It was a short well-built man in his late forties. His black hair was dark and dank, and tied back with a ponytail. There was a small blue tattoo of a snake eating its own tail on his cheek.
Half-seen, footsteps clattering over hard ice, I pulled into cover, to hide and wait. I had to jam my hands in my mouth to stop myself crying out, but he’d blinked at me and then took a step or two forward. He flicked his hairy tattooed arm, not hard ... but it sent me flying onto the ice with a bone-breaking crack!
His mouth moved as he spoke, but I couldn’t make out the words— as best as I can make out, he said, “you can’t be here”—sounds were oddly out of sync with his lips. Then he backed away through the door again, like a video feed running in reverse, its obscene light reflecting off the snow... and the door closed.
That was when screaming began to get louder, until there was no snow, no ice, no trees, no dreams at all. Just screaming.
Then I heard the knock. My assistant woke me up, which suited me just fine. I yawned and stretched. The stifling air stank of blood... my blood. I... I was told about my screaming. In short, my wounds trouble me because they are self inflicted, only when I dream.”
He paused, “Why would that be, Alam-Sama?”