and going out. He saw Coil and Morgan. He saw Steff, his smile
sardonic, and Teel, enigmatic and silent.
He saw the Shadowen girl-child, begging again to be hugged,
trying to enter his body. He felt himself resist, saw her thrown
back, watched as she disappeared. Shades! She had tried to enter
him, to come into him, to put herself within his skin and become
him! That was what they were, he thought in a burst of under-
standing-shadows that lacked substance of their own and took
the bodies of men. And women. And children.
But can shadows have life?
His thoughts jumbled around unanswerable questions, and he
slipped from reason to confusion. His mind slept, and his jour-
ney through the land of dreams wore on. He climbed mountains
filled with creatures like the Gnawl, crossed rivers and lakes of
mist and hidden dangers, traversed forests where daylight never
penetrated, and swept on into moors where mist stirred in an
airless, empty cauldron of silence.
Help me, he begged. But there was no one to hear.
Time suspended then. The journey ended and the dreams
faded into nothingness. There was a moment’s pause at their
end, and then waking. He knew he had slept, but not for how
long. He knew only that there had been a passage of time when
the dreams had ended and dreamless sleep had begun.
More important, he knew that he was alive.
He stirred gingerly, barely more than a twitch, feeling the
softness of sheets and a bed beneath him, aware that he was
stretched out full-length and that he was warm and snug. He did
not want to move yet, frightened that he might still be dreaming.
He let the feel of the sheets soak through him. He listened to
the sound of his own breathing in his ears. He tasted the dryness
of the air.
Then he let his eyes slip open. He was in a small, sparsely
furnished room lit by a single lamp set on a table at his bedside.
The walls of the room were bare, the ceiling beams uncovered.
A comforter wrapped him and pillows cradled his head. A break
in the curtains that covered the windows opposite where he lay
told him it was night.
Morgan Leah dozed in a chair just inside the circle of light
given off by the lamp, his chin resting on his chest, his arms
folded loosely. “Morgan?” he called, his voice sounding fuzzy.
The Highlander’s eyes snapped open, his hawk face instantly
alert. He blinked, then jumped to his feet. “Par! Par, are you
awake? Good heavens, we’ve been worried sick!” He rushed
over as if to hug his friend, then thought better of it. He ran the
fingers of one hand through his rust-colored hair distractedly.
“How do you feel? Are you all right?”
Par grinned weakly. “I don’t know yet. I’m still waking up.
What happened?”
“What didn ‘t happen is more like it!” the other replied heat-
edly. “You almost died, do you realize that?”
Par nodded. “I guessed it. What about Coil, Morgan?”
“Sleeping, waiting for you to come around. I packed him off
several hours ago when he fell out of his chair. You know Coll.
Wait here, I’ll get him.” He grinned. “Wait here, I tell you-
as if you were going anywhere. Pretty funny.”
Par had a dozen things he wanted to say, questions he wanted
to ask, but the Highlander was already out the door and gone.
It didn’t matter, he guessed. He lay back quietly, flooded with
relief. All that mattered was that Coil was all right.
Morgan returned almost immediately. Coil beside him, and
Coil, unlike Morgan, did not hesitate as he reached down and
practically squeezed the life out of Par in his enthusiasm at find-
ing him awake. Par hugged him back, albeit weakly, and the
three laughed as if they had just enjoyed the biggest joke of their
lives.
“Shades, we thought we’d lost you!” Coil exclaimed soffly.
He wore a bandage taped to his forehead, and his face seemed
pale. “You were very sick, Par.”
Par smiled and nodded. He’d heard enough of that. “Will
someone tell me what happened?” His eyes shifted from one