It had been three days since we had reached Duskhovel, and yesterday we had held the funeral service for Bennie. There is very little I wish to remember of it. It was an overall much more somber affair standing over a casket than a pyre, but it still contained an air of normalcy I couldn’t stomach.

  Nearly all of Duskhovel had been in attendance and nearly all of Duskhovel had dispersed, just as the soldiers had, to go about their day. There were a few that lingered along with me and wept before leaving, but they were in the minority. I’m not sure what I was expecting, for the entire town to break down into depression? For an entire population to fall into a stasis they couldn’t move forward from? Bennie had been well liked and respected by most of the people of Duskhovel, but it wouldn’t be true to say he was close with each and every one of them. That would be impossible for any one person, and it was natural for humans to move forward to begin with. I could not demand their grief just to match mine.

  Yet there was a part of me that wanted to. A part of me that saw not acceptance, but callousness in their behavior. After all, weren’t these the very same people that leaked the filth of the lines and the splotches wherever they walked in dreams. I winced whenever the thought came to mind, the thought of my own disgust that is. The dream had repeated each time I had fallen into a normal sleep, so much so that I was beginning to prefer my nights in the ether ways.

  The visage of the unnamed scholar and the sea of my own filth tormented me, but the lines and splotches that once consumed my mind had become little more than unassuming puddles to be mopped away. Nothing had changed about them, they still dragged me into their depths and still showed me the same visions, but their depth seemed shallow to me. I did not need to fix my gaze and look only with the corners of my mind; I could stare directly into their heart without flinching. It was just…ordinary filth. It was just what I should have expected of them.

  I had even once again seen the worst of them and thought little of it. It was the same splotch that had disturbed me the shift before leaving for the front lines or damn near a doppelganger of it. If it was that identical between sightings it must have been a distant memory by the time I had first seen it. A splotch that had been left by the happenings of the one day wouldn’t retain the same property come the next even if the memory continued to drip from them. It would show the greatest amount of change over the course of the next few days then would slow down in increments over weeks, then months, then years. It was impossible to actually determine the time frame, but if it was identical after the weeks I had spent away, then it certainly wasn’t from within the past year.

  My best bet was that it was produced by a memory of childhood trauma, but if that was the case then by who? I had never stumbled upon such a memory before, so I have to assume it was from someone out of town, but the only visitors I’m aware of are the scrubbers, who we can certainly rule out, and the dreamless. Well, the latter wasn’t impossible, as I could certainly see a troubled childhood being the reason to fall in with such a crowd. Or so I would say if I wasn't talking about the dreamless who would never enter the ether ways they held sacred.

  There was the possibility that the splotch had been left by someone who had hardly ever used the ether ways like Chester, but I thought it unlikely. In Chester’s case, all accounts painted him as a well adjusted man before the raid that pushed him into alcoholism.

  I shook my head banishing the line of thought. What was I planning to do if I solved this mystery? Surely this was an old skeleton that was better left in its grave.

  The afore mentioned Chester stood next to me as I focused once again on my surroundings. I was in a miniature graveyard located behind the memorial of the dream warden raid. In front of me was a small grey slab that read Benjamin Kartwhyle, 1445 A.W. – 1477 A.W., Scrubber killed at the front lines of a dream disease outbreak, friend to all. It was fresher than the stones around it, the grey marble had a pristine gleam that reflected the noon sun, and it lacked the cracks and overgrowth of the others, yet to me, its cleanliness made it an all the more daunting spectacle.

  Next to me Chester took a small swig from a flask and then poured a bit out in homage to both the grave I stood before and another nearby that read Samantha Rieflake, 1404 A.W. – 1467 A.W., Killed during a dream warden raid, beloved wife.

  “There you go lad. Something for him to start off with on his long road. And one for you as well.”

  He jingled the flask in my direction. I hesitated for a moment. Could I, after today, easily fall to becoming another Chester within our town from my grief? But no, I took a small swig he offered me and only a swig, I was too numb for such indulgence. My despair would certainly take a different form from his. The small dose of liquor warmed me but could not grant motion to my buzzing nerves.

  “Damn brutes. How many of us do they plan to take? My Samantha…they didn’t just kill her. And all because of the damn ether ways? I’d just as soon send a letter.”

  “It wasn’t the dream wardens that…”

  I started to speak but realized there was no point in what I was about to tell him. What good was letting him know about the demon possessed? What purpose was in telling him that there were more monsters out in the world than the ones that haunted him?

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  “Is that why you never use the ether ways?”

  Chester grimaced and took a long swig.

  “I don’t use the ways cause I’ve got no one to find inside I wish to speak with. You’d think a dream would be the right place to look, wouldn’t you? But only the living can be found in the ether ways.”

  He took another long drink and stumbled a bit. I caught his shoulder and slipped him a silver plat. It was nearly 4 times the amount I would normally give him in bronze plats, but I had been thankful for his benign company this day.

  “You know giving him that coin is only going to feed his addiction. You should just let the damn fool dry up.”

  I appreciated his company far more than the dreary shadow that stalked me. Colonel Ray had for the most part silently watched over me, letting me go about my day as if he wasn’t there, yet despite that professionalism, he always seemed to have some unasked for quip with which to interject.

  I could see why Ben had had a poor impression of him. He had a certain snobbish air about him and little to say that didn’t come off as pretentious. The bright side was that he really did have little to say, so he added nothing else when I failed to address his words and followed me away from the grave site.

  I walked with a purpose towards the doors that I for years had only walked by. Mr. Yuld was surprised to see me enter for the first time, but his surprise was quickly dispersed by the weight of Timfeil’s look of disdain as he soaked in the atmosphere.

  “It must take a real special sort of backwater hick to put their food right next to a barn.”

  He positioned himself right by the door, out of everyone’s way but not out of sight, without even acknowledging Charlie Yuld’s presence, let alone apologizing for his rude remark. He placed himself in such a way that mastered the art of keeping just present enough to make everyone uncomfortable and indeed many had nervously turned their heads in his direction.

  I just nodded at mister Yuld, the same way I would when I passed him in the mornings. He handed me a small three paged notebook, presumably the restaurant’s menu, from a stack in his hand, nonplused.

  “Well go ahead and find yourself a seat then”

  I nodded at him and took two notebooks rather than one from his grasp, which he must have noted since moments after I was seated two cups of water were brought to me.

  After only a short time, the door once again opened to reveal the woman I had been waiting for. She removed her coat, folding it and placing it on a rack near the door and Ray, pointedly paying little mind to either. She was revealed to be wearing a pink embroidered blouse that connected with a skirt that had a similar pattern of swirls and parted lines, all held together by a white ribbon. The femininity of her outfit was challenged by the more athletic appearing black leggings and boots. I was uncertain whether the addendums were fitting for her or something she added due to necessity in this weather. Regardless she made a breathtaking sight.

  When she sat across from me, I looked her directly in the eyes and smiled. Just like the lines and splotches had become her smile was only a shallow discomfort.

  “Even though you described it to me, I’m still a bit surprised by the novelty. We have the grandest of restaurants all through the capital that could fit this one in their entryway, but not a single one where you can pet animals while waiting for your meal.”

  We had made our orders, me fluretti, an egg coated pasta, and her clamleif, a salad filled with various shellfish, and returned our menus to the waiter.

  “Cmon Douglass, let’s make haste and give those animals the attention they deserve.”

  She jolted up and strode towards the adjoining open barn with her hands held behind her head and a confident stride as if she owned the place. I laughed lightly and followed behind.

  “You know the petting zoo is mostly to entertain kids while their parents are busy dining.”

  “Oh hush, I don’t see any rules like that written anywhere, and what’s wrong with a respectable adult liking animals?”

  She had a fair point. And as it turned out, she really did like animals. Her eyes lit up as she ran her hands over the heads of the horses and sheep. Watching her like that threatened to settle my mind, to trick me into thinking fake things were real.

  “And what’s this one? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  She was looking at a strange animal with absurdly elongated arms and legs covered in light brown fur that spiraled around the fence like a helix. Its body was like that of a monkey and its head, with two heavily furred round ears and eyes like black dots, was so soft and still that I could believe it was a toy filled with down feathers.

  “Ah I suppose you would have never had the chance to see one up north, and they’re rarely seen around Vealt’s academy as well. It’s a lurkmouse. They wrap themselves up in tree limbs where they can’t be seen.”

  “This is a lurkmouse? I always assumed they’d be creepy things the way I’ve heard their arms described.”

  When she was done having her fun with the lurkmouse, we made our way back to our seats where piping hot meals awaited us. The way the egg was scattered about the pasta and stuck to its sides made for an odd texture when combined with the buttery herb sauce, but I found I was quite taken with it. Likewise, she seemed to be enjoying the crab and lobster that was drizzled with a spicy looking red dressing over her bowl of lettuce, chives, onions, and shredded carrots. I have to admit, I had always heard the food here was peculiar, but I had assumed it would be so in a simpler slapdash fashion rather than something that paralleled fine dining with just a more bizarre composition. I myself rarely ate anything extravagant even though my salary as a scrubber allowed for it, so it was a rare treat.

  I was, of course, failing to realize it was far less high class than I was imagining since everyone within our town ate here as a regular occurrence. I just wasn’t used to seeing a meal that wasn’t prepared by myself with food from the marketplace.

  As we finished eating, we made small talk mostly concerning idle happenings within Duskhovel. Eventually the conversation steered towards Lullvienna, the celebration whose preparation could be clearly seen throughout the town.

  “The celebrations going to be beginning in earnest tomorrow night. I thought that maybe you’d like to walk around with me.”

  “Yea, I’d like that.”

  She responded both warmly and coyly and with little else to be said we soon found ourselves back in the chill of the Duskhovel streets. We walked together for a time, with colonel Ray trailing some distance behind us, before parting. When she was out of eyeshot my pace became more brisk and determined. I made my way to the scrubber headquarters even though it was far too early for my shift. Inside Rayngo Hob, as the scholar and not as the attendant, waited for me.