There was a familiar squeak, and I knew the thing had come to me.

The moment before, I was standing on the banks of the Brown, with Ucar, Robin and Brindy, contemplating the dead man, whom the turbulent waters of the sawmill were drowning, again and again. Then there was nothing but the dream and the presence that lurked there, a spider-like anomaly and its living web, mistress of a universe that I could not understand, but which it still revealed to me. Suddenly there was nothing more to describe. Only this overwhelming entity, whose centrality was unquestionable, but which was at the same time everywhere, linked to a cloud of throbbing facets whose individual disorder beat the measure of a common waltz. Never before had the dream been so powerful. Usually it was vague, and I stood aside as a hesitant observer, a spectator of sensations that were not mine. Here, the attraction was stronger and the emotions were palpable, a gentle but irresistible pressure that cajoled me tenderly, even lovingly, to come and participate in the network. Seduced and intrigued, I entered the dance to whirl myself among the cloud of living lights.

It was as light as a game, but so beautiful, so breathtaking, that it still showed gravity and importance. Invisible threads were tightening, knotting between the facets and me, between me and the thing, between us and everything else. It was extraordinary and reassuring at the same time. I was gravitating, an absolute comet made only of my senses, and luminescence accompanied me in my slow rotation around the center. Around Her.

It was Her, the thing was Her, of such dazzling and indisputable power that until then it had been indistinguishable. A total, implacable and loving compendium. A sun of dazzling feelings. I turned away reflexively, for fear of disappearing into Her light, into Her incandescent fusion, and tended outwards, towards the fabric of facets, which in return dragged me into their exuberant roundness. I was exhilarated by the race and abandoned myself to the twists and turns of the vibrant sea of stars.

It took a lot of concentration to tame the intoxication, but I finally managed to immerse myself in the contemplation of the myriad of palpitations among which I was evolving. Some were so far away that I could hardly distinguish them, others were so close that they seemed to me to be familiar. It was buzzing, even singing, an infinite number of chimes beating together in a deafening rhythm. I was gently tossed and pulled and tugged, and the complex orbits that the facets drew seemed to me as obvious as they were incomprehensible. There were so many of them, but there was one in particular, a palpitation that pulled me into an elliptical outward trajectory, towards its own strange horizon. I felt swollen with a curious joy, and, even though there was little I could do about it, a great delight came over me when I saw her open the way. The wires lengthened, realigned, some luminescent facets left us and others joined us, and we floated, almost out of Her orbit.

Then, like a wave, I felt something recognizable from Her, lightning fragments between jealousy and love and fear. She was urgently calling out to me as I moved away, and I was sad, I think, because Her despair and love were thundering. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a strange palpitation crossed our path and extinguished the one that was carrying me away. I began to drift towards the middle, towards Her music, Her palpitation and the feverish peace that reigned there.

Meticulously, She caressed the innumerable threads, playing like a lyre with infinite strings, spreading out or extinguishing all the facets whose orbit could separate us. But I could clearly perceive the complexity of Her task, its very impossibility, with these constantly knotting trails, and this infinity of shimmering palpitations. I lost myself in their number. I doubted Her and Her lie, her bias appeared to me. She showed me a center, Her center, but there were others, as many centers as there were quivering lights. There was neither inside nor outside, nor anything else but the great revolution of the throbbing sea. Its center was there, powerful as a small star, but in truth there were only centers, it was a matter of point of view. I myself was a center. I felt it hardening. She didn't understand, didn't see. I felt Her shudder and She withdrew abruptly, with repugnance, as if to avoid the contagion of my thought. I was ejected in a whirlwind, the screeching became incomprehensible again, and the luminous canvas unraveled like a storm, in crackles torn on the edges of myself.

That's when I saw the network. Her network, as a whole, in a configuration that She hadn't been able to show me. Suddenly I was struggling. The shape, the wobbly geometry that I knew by heart, that had haunted my bursts and nightmares. That had been engraved to the bone on Nad's body. Filled with horror, I tore myself away from the dream like a grasshopper leaves its blade of grass, without worrying about the turmoil I was leaving behind.

Disoriented, I opened my eyes to a simpler pattern: the darkened lines on the ceiling of my own room.

Shaken with nausea, I got rid of my blanket, as if it might suffocate me, trembling with all my limbs as the last remnants of the dream frayed all around. I managed to sit shivering on the edge of my bed, my heart beating, trying to make sense of it. This time, although it didn't make much more sense than the others, I figured I would have to tell Sesh or Narsi about it. I had to force them to listen, to understand, to help me. Something important was happening, this presence in my dreams and Nad's cuts, all of this was linked, I didn't know how, but I had acquired a confused certainty. And there was something else. A terrible premonition, an anxiety that I didn't recognize, but which agitated me with a feverish disorder when I tried to dig it out.

Outside the sun was rising, a white and warlike dawn and I ended up bending my aching knees by the meticulous upkeep of the dried-up flower beds of the Lemis estate. I quickly put on my clothes before venturing into the kitchens. The hubbub that preceded the awakening of the castle slid around me like a theater of living shadows, while, mechanically, I grabbed a tray where slices of warm bread were piled up and cold leftovers. The day was going to be torrid, and I walked into the courtyard under a still sky, so deep blue that it looked like a huge sertilian silk fabric. I filled my lungs with a large breath of air that the coolness of the night had half deserted. High up, the black walls that the sun was already warming were speckled with small lethargic lizards, which appeared in exceptional numbers that summer, to the delight of the city's children and the falcons that nested among the crenellations of Horn-Hill.

One hand in front of my eyes to protect me from the blinding light, the other carrying the tray that I rarely dropped anymore, I finally reached the steps of the old tower. The worm-eaten door was open. After dropping off breakfast in the dumbwaiter, I began to climb the spiral staircase. Most of the time we ate mid-morning, because Narsilap said that hunger sharpens the mind and insisted on asking me about the lessons of the previous day before we ate. I don't know if I approved of the technique, because even in the summer I much preferred my steaming bread and hot herbal tea.

I carefully opened the hatch at the top, dazzled once again by the ferocious dawn that radiated from the canopy. I sneezed several times, then, tearfully, I removed my shoes and mumbled to announce my presence: "Ush'Our vou telesh, Rus'Narsi." In front of me, in the triangle formed by the office and the bookshelves, the dust danced among the rays of the sun, a twirling rain of dust from which I could distinguish every grain, and this immediately sent me back to the twirling facets of the dream. A vague uneasiness invaded me, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. I moved forward, squinting my eyes and renewed the politeness a little louder. "May the day shine on you, master Na..."

Then I put my toes in something dark and sticky, my gaze fell on the grayish hand sticking out from behind the carved desk and I clutched onto the table, feeling dizzy. It took a while before I managed to get around the desk. I knew in advance what I was going to find there.

Narsilap Ail Shuri laid on his back, his eyes wide open, his arms in the form of a cross, his doublet torn off. A large blue fly was exploring the corner of his lips, which were curled up in an inhuman grin. The exposed body was torn apart by the pattern I had seen in my dream, the same pattern that had been engraved on Nad, under which one could distinguish the deep red of the viscera. There was nothing to be done, of course, it was too late, far too late. Rus'Narsi was dead. With my temples throbbing, I suddenly sat down on the bloody mat, as numb as if all my nerves had been ripped out of me at that moment.

I don't remember calling the guard, or calling at all, and I don't know how the scene was discovered by anyone other than me.

Nevertheless, when I came to my senses a few hours later, I was cowering at the foot of the bookcase, my knees clenched to my chin, and no one was really paying any attention to me. There were two guards I didn't know on duty near the access hatch, and the first-blade Natime was busy rummaging through the documents spilling out of the desk. Then Sesh's familiar voice echoed down the stairs and the whispering soldiers slipped away. Behind Sesh came Bard the Younger, his face stern and rigid, a human-looking mask whose emotions were only betrayed by his shifting eyes. Disarray, anger perhaps. The primate leaned over my master's body, and as Natime was giving them his report, Sesh would occasionally look at me with little worried glances.

"He was killed in the night," Natime said in a flickering tone. "It was quick, I'm not even sure he tried to defend himself. The fatal blow was delivered straight to the heart, through the ribs, which look cracked to me. It hit so hard that there's a hematoma around the wound. At the time of cutting, he was already dead, the wounds did not bleed much. I compared with the sketch we made of Nad's marks, they are exactly the same." Natime involuntarily touched his lunar pendant, his voice even higher than usual. "There is witchcraft under there, lord Bard, I would bet my life on it."

The primate rubbed his eyelids before looking at me.

"How come no one took care of the child, Jerem?"

Natime turned to me and looked at me with his big brown eyes as if it was the first time he had seen me. "I mean, he didn't react at first. I was talking to him, but it was as if he wasn't there. I told myself that, well... it was better not to bother him." Once again, his hand strayed briefly towards his necklace and Sesh had a scornful sniff. "I think you've spent too much time chatting with your subordinates, Jerem, to be afraid of a child," he whispered softly. "I remember I wasn't very talkative after my first dead body, and it wasn't someone I knew." Natime turned red and his answer came like a bark. "I'm not a coward, there's something unnatural going on here. You'd have to be blind not to see it. I don't know what sciences the sandy man practiced here in the name of his Nine. Nor what the kid could have done with it on his own."

Bard's voice cut short Sesh's angry riposte, and for the first time the primate addressed me directly, plunging his green eyes into mine as one probes a reef. "Fyss. That's what they call you, isn't it?" I nodded. "Please get up and come here." Trembling in spite of the sweetness of Bard's voice, I executed myself weakly, grasping my ribs. The primate leaned over me. A piece of his short silk cloak fell close to my face. He put his hands firmly on my shoulders and took a fleeting glance at the other two men before taking a breath. "To dispel some people's doubts, I want to hear you swear before your lord-primate that you and Narsilap were only studying medicine here and nothing else." "I swear, my lord," I muttered after a short hesitation. Bard straightened himself up. "That is settled," he said, staring at Natime. "No witchcraft or evil spells. Sesh, all your other businesses are suspended in favor of this investigation. One of my people was killed within the walls of my own castle, and I want to know why."

"It's in my dreams, lord," I whispered without thinking. I was suddenly certain that I had seen Narsi die the night before. Bard sharply turned his attention to me, and Sesh stepped forward. "Stop with that, Fyss," he said abruptly. "We've already talked about it. Everyone has dreams." I shook my head and looked down, unable to bring the right words to life. On the ground, I found Narsi's funeral grin, a face whose familiarity had become horrifying. I closed my eyes, but, like a terrible farewell gift, that last grotesque smile did not disappear. Sesh spoke again, his eyes fixed on the writing desk as if he were talking to himself.

"We were talking about Nad, lord. With the Jarran. He and I, and sometimes Jerem too, as you asked, and we talked about all this in the refectory more than we should have. Here is what I think. Nad was badly injured, too badly injured to have moved around as much as one would think. He couldn't have been that far out of town when he was attacked. Whoever killed Nad must have learned that the surgeon was involved in the investigation, and must have been afraid that he would be discovered. He came here to silence him. As far as I'm concerned, the assassin has been in Brown-Horn from the start."

Natime shook his head energetically as Sesh spoke.

"It's not possible, Bert," he replied in a high-pitched voice. "For Nad, perhaps, but the sandy one is something else. The guard didn't arrest anyone that night, and the gates of Castle-Horn were closed. Look at the force of the blow that killed him. Have you ever seen anything like it? And the marks? That... root in Nad's ear? Why draw our attention with these... these things? It doesn't make any sense." Bard frowned, and Sesh became moody. "The guards were probably drunk," he retorted curtly."The killer is a man with a powerful body, but a disturbed mind, that's all. There are plenty of men like this around, you know that as well as I do."

Bard cleared his throat loudly. "First-blades, you'll have plenty of time to argue in due course," he said in an acidic tone. "For the time being, we have work to do. Natime, if you're finished with the remains of this poor man, you will have to prepare him for the rites. I hope that you will also work to suppress the most harmful rumors, which, let's face it, will not be long coming. Sesh, take the child back to his room. I want to be kept informed of all developments in the investigation. As for you, young man, you will assist the legate Shortoar's page, until I find a replacement for Narsilap. And... and I also express my condolences to you. I know that you two were close. These are troubled times, surely."

Since I didn't answer anything, Sesh grabbed me under the arm and dragged me down the stairs to the outside, his grip painfully tight. In front of us, a glowing red sun was falling on the horizon, lighting up the trees and cliffs of the Stone forest to the west. The walls radiated the warmth of the sun, while a cool mountain wind wrapped itself around the quivering keep.

There was something strange in the air, a calmness, a serenity that seemed like a dream. I remember hearing the city living on the other side of the walls, and being surprised that everything around me continued as before.

Then we went through the back door of the east wing and the deadly silence that fell on the kitchens as we passed through them ruined my previous impression. The clacking of our footsteps on the worn stones was replaced as we passed by the rustle of murmurs. Sesh clenched his jaw, swore in his cape and raised his chin in a silent challenge, while continuing to push me before him. A few frightened pages swept away as we passed, and I saw one of the fat washerwomen shaking her head in disapproval. There was only the old baker's dog, the one they sometimes let hang around the fire, to stare at me for a while.

When we finally arrived at my room, Sesh forced me to sit on the bed, slammed the door like a gust of wind and looked at me sternly. The semi-darkness partly disguised his waxy features. He pointed his finger at me while speaking in a low but lively and determined voice. "You have to be more careful about what you say, Fyss. You were found wading in the dead man's blood. Do you know what that means?" I looked up at him with an apathetic look that he must have taken as a no. "People gossip, Fyss. Some will say that it was you who killed him, or that you indulged in witchcraft, or that it was the demons you invoked who cut him up, and many other such nonsense. These dream stories have to stop. You must no longer talk about it, for your own good. I command you. You keep this to yourself, otherwise you will end up having an accident on the stairs or in the stable, or somewhere else, but it will happen. There are already enough rumors since what happened to Nad, so don't make things worse by throwing oil on the fire."

I think I mumbled something as an answer, or at least tried to, but it was too much. The numbness ripped out of my body to make way for the pain, a huge weight that crushed me like a sledgehammer. I started sobbing. Sesh sat down beside me, clumsily wrapped his arm around me, and had a few comforting words as I cried in the familiar smell of his cape. The soldier stayed with me until I fell asleep, hollow and broken, rocked by my own sobs. I did not dream that night.

There was nothing but emptiness, agitated by dark swirls of fear and sadness.