“said the man with the tired voice. I was drifting. I was swaying, bodiless, over a huge abyss of caverned space; chasmed, immense, limitless. Vaguely, through a sleeping distance, I heard two voices. This one was old and very tired. “You are mad. They will know. Narayan will know.” “Narayan is a fool,” said the second voice. “Narayan is the Dreamer,” the tired voice said. “He is the Dreamer, and where the Dreamer walks he will know. But have it your way. I am very old and it doe...s not matter. I give you this power, freely—to spare you. But Gamine—” “Gamine—” the second voice stopped. After a long time “You are old, and a fool, Rhys,” it said. “What is Gamine to me?” Bodiless, blind, I drifted and swayed and swung in the sound of the voices. The humming, like a million high-tension wires, sang around me and I felt myself cradled in the pull of a great magnet that held me suspended surely on nothingness and drew me down into the field of some force beneath.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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