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The night before the crossing, Kim found her thoughts restless as horses, circling and turning. She found herself thinking of her first apartment as she drifted away, the year of gray carpet and gray walls and blue gray tile in the bathroom. She hadn't felt so anxious an unable to sleep since her first night there, at the beginning of university. Finally she gave up, found a glass of water and some aspirin and went back to bed.
The dream started there, in Kim's empty gray apartment. It was cold, and the light slanting through the blinds was colorless like winter. Hollow silence surrounded her. Kim walked slowly from the bedroom to the living room, knowing the shifting shadows and haze meant she must be dreaming. It felt like standing in a painting. If she came too close, things would dissolve into smears of light and dark. Foreboding hung thickly in the silence. It made her want to hug the walls, to find a place where she could see everything at once. The only sound was a relentless wind, keening and crackling outside. Unnervingly, the air inside was flat and still. She put her hand on the waist high bookshelf, feeling the uneven row of bindings. They were gritty and dry under her fingers. Everything was covered in a thick dust. A shadow made her turn sharply, but it was just the door to the pantry. It felt like combing through the bones of a dead civilization. Every moment grew more oppressive, more fraught with dread. Kim breathed shallowly. Her chest hurt, drawing in the stale, cold air. Alone in the apartment, she worried someone was watching. The explosion rattled the windows, and some of the glass cracked alarmingly. Outside the light glowed red. The wind rose to a howl and burst into the apartment. Kim screamed and flung her hands up to her face. On her finger, a red ring burned with the same terrible glow.
Paul dreamed of rain. Silvery rain broken by passing headlights. He knew it was a dream. Even knowing, he could not break himself free. The shadows and light rushed towards him and he was unable to close his eyes to the same dream that played over and over in his mind. It only ended when he startled himself awake, his elbow slipping off the arm of the chair.
Jennifer did not dream. She slept sweetly, deeply. Later she would mourn those last, untroubled nights.
Dave slept uneasily, sometimes reaching for an unplugged telephone on the floor. His dreams were only voices, angry and chastising by turns.
Kevin felt too excited, as if anticipating a holiday. He tossed and turned, punching and squishing his pillow half in glee and half in frustration. The next day could not come soon enough. If he dreamed if was only a dream of being awake, trying to sleep.
In a far away place, Diarmuid dreamed of rain. Of a rain missing for so long it felt like he might forget it ever happened. It sheeted down in silver streams over the rooftops of the city. He looked up from the castle walls to see the flag of the High King whipping in an unseen wind, the moon veiled in water overhead. But no rain fell on the castle or its gardens, dry and dessicated. Further along the wall he could see his father, the King. The King stared off over the city. Diarmuid turned to the castle's towers, where a dark silhouette appeared against the moonlight. Was it his brother? He couldn't be sure. The wind was hot. It dried up the rain, burning up the silver water as it swept by. On the wall by his father, another figure approached. The shadow on the tower remained still. Diarmuid shouted but the wind carried his words away. When he woke, he had no memory of the words or the dream. It became lost to the shuffle of many other dreams amongst the threads.
Thus passed the last night before five separate threads were woven together with others and passed the space between worlds. A pattern emerged.
"Do you think Dave's okay?" asked Jennifer. She stood before the doorway to the balcony, facing out toward the dark night sky. Unable to tease Kevin into making a flying leap from his balcony to theirs, Jennifer and Kim retreated inside. Kim noticed Paul stayed out of the teasing, silent and pensive. A year ago he might have actually attempted the jump, or at least goaded Kevin. His silence made her quietly sad and a little angry. She used that on Diarmuid when he tried to bluff his way into their room, sending him away with caustic words.
It was a little cooler but not much. At least she didn't have to watch the strange, high moon or Paul's distant expression. The candle flames were straight, wavering only from their own heat.
"Loren will find him," Kim answered at length.
"That's not really an answer."
"I know." Kim sighed and sat down on the bed. She wondered what might have happened if she hadn't grabbed Dave's hand. Would he just have stayed home? Loren's relief though made her think the consequences could have turned more dire. The bed creaked a little, the wooden frame old and carved with swirls. Kim hoped profoundly that the mattress beneath the blanket was not stuffed with straw. She sniffed experimentally, but did not sneeze. Feathers? Horse hair? Did they have horses? Surely there were horses. Kim prodded the pillow.
"What are you doing?" Jennifer gave her a half amused, half exasperated look.
"Just wondering what the mattresses are made of here."
"Do we need to get you some more, Princess Pea? Maybe that prince will come help you with that."
"I'm sure he'd love to come help you to bed, Princess Peach." Jennifer threw a pillow at the other woman. They both laughed, releasing a surfeit of tension from the strange evening. Kim blew out the candles. She was terribly glad Jennifer was there, as the deep darkness and the strangeness of the room would have felt unbearable otherwise. It took a long time to let go and fall into sleep, listening to Jennifer's steady breathing across the room. In the deeper darkness of sleep, nothing troubled her.
Beyond the stone wall, in the next room, Paul and Kevin shared in the wine brought by Diarmuid and his men. They were awake past the dawn, and none of them dreamed.
The pattern was changed unexpectedly.
All during the next day, Kevin struggled to rid himself of the combined hangover and long night. It felt as if he passed in an out of a sharped edged haze. Why did they have to come during summer, when it was so bright and hot? What he wouldn't give to stick his head in a freezer for a few minutes. Kim's hand at his elbow was helpful for those big crowds, but he had to shake himself awake soon. Chasing any of those fairy tale ladies in rustling dresses would be slightly difficult with Kim carrying him around like a nurse. Fortunately he was able to swap Diarmuid for Kim and stay on his feet as afternoon shaded into evening. In addition to the previous night's particulars, Diarmuid provided many scathing and filthy stories in a low voice, illuminating the brightly dressed strangers in the hall. Those and some fresh wine to scrub the taste from his mouth made Kevin more lively.
Paul though... He didn't know what to think about Paul. In the middle of what could be the grandest adventure of their lives, Paul seemed aloof and cool. Women left him disappointed, shifted their attentions back to Kevin and the Prince. If he had been hoping the unreality of crossing worlds and being guests of a king would crack Paul's reserve, it had not worked the magic he hoped. Certainly he moved amongst them and talked a little, accepted drinks with grace. But Kevin could only see what was missing.
Diarmuid's arm settled around his shoulders in a companionable way and Kevin found himself talking to a striking woman with dark hair clearly interested. He found it easy to play his jests and compliments off those given by the prince, as if they had chased women at parties together all their lives instead of just one night. Their humor was similar, though Diarmuid's sharper, more sarcastic. Somehow it turned into sneaking away from the party, fortified by wine and desire. In a far set of rooms they shared glasses with a pair of women in pale blue dresses, one dark and one fair. Kevin looked at the fair haired girl, thought of Jennifer and the imperious stare she used on Diarmuid. It made him smile.
"This is the sort of thing I dreamed about when I was younger," Kevin confided to Diarmuid. "Castles and kings and quests."
"And women?" Diarmuid gestured with a laugh. "Oh, well, yes." They watched with avid attention as first one, then the other woman shed their long dresses and slips. Their smiles and long, naked legs disappeared through a doorway. He could see the small flickers of candles. Diarmuid toasted Kevin and pulled his shirt over his head.
A party was a party, even if he fell backwards into a fantasy story, Kevin thought. He drained his glass and followed Diarmuid into the bedroom.
"That was not as bad as some department parties I've been to in the past."
"It could have been worse," Kim agreed. She struggled to free herself from the long silk dress. Jennifer helped her lift it up and over her head. "Thank god we didn't come to a kingdom with corsets and hoop skirts." Jennifer laughed as she undid the buttons of her own dress without effort. Kim carefully folded the softly rustling silk over a chair and watched Jennifer in the mirror. For all her clear, bright hardness, Jennifer looked like she was born to wear long dresses and crowns and live in a tower. Kim envied her that, for just a moment. Standing barefoot in the thin slip, she shivered as if a cold breeze touched her.
Past their door, Paul walked down the tapestry covered halls to the rooms of the King.
Patterns wove themselves in dreams, only to be forgotten by morning. A thread dropped and another took its place. By the next night, the pattern would only be an echo of the first.