The Loot

Serenica had a visitor in her dream.

She was standing on a shore, staring directly into the sun. It didn't hurt her eyes.

"So, he found it out?" the voice of the Dreamer asked.

"He did?" Serenica turned to face him.

His long, straw-colored mane was flowing in the tropical wind. His cheeks looked even more hollow, his eyes more feverish than before. He was smoking one of those little tobacco rolls known as cigarettes.

Serenica craved one right now.

Apparently recognizing the lust in her eyes, the Dreamer offered her a single cigarette and a box of matches.

"I spied his dreams," he continued. "The boy did indeed tell him about the corna. Let's not talk about it now."

Serenica wanted to talk about the corna. It was a plant, a bush with leaves that had strongly invigorating and stimulating properties when properly fermented and chewed. Corna certainly was enough to keep someone awake for multiple days and nights. Serenica was furious that she hadn't thought of it herself.

"Well, what do you want to talk about, then?" she asked him. "Are you not going to kill us for coming after the woman who loves you?"

"My mother is the one with the thought of vengeange," the Dreamer said. "Not me. I couldn't care less for the wench. In fact, even as I have to chase you to the ends of the known world if you manage to kill her, I am sort of hoping you'll succeed."

"If we succeed, you will have to meet me in real life," Serenica said.

The Dreamer moved closer to her, and now she realized that dreams not having smells was a lie. The man smelled like cinnamon and the fur of wild animals. The scent was almost intoxicating in a way.

His eyes measured her up and down. Serenica felt very much naked and seen.

"It might not be terrible," the Dreamer said. "You have to learn how to behave around me - I thought I'd give you a warning."

"Am I not behaving now?"

"Not by a long shot," the Dreamer said and let out a maniacal laugh that had more vocal range than his actual speech. Serenica could see into his throat - his tongue was tattooed foe some reason.

She was frightened, yet curious.

They sat down on the sand to smoke, but every time Serenica looked back at the ocean it seemed different. At times it was retreating and at other times it was creeping closer to her bare feet.

There was something off about the entire scene, and the least of those things wasn't the man lying next to her. She had met dangerous people before, but the Dreamer gave off the energy of someone who could set a city on fire for a perceived slight.

She looked at him.

His clothes had changed, he was now wearing deep purple, loose linen robes that hid his form more efficiently than the thickest tropical darkness. Nothing seemed to stay in place here. The scenery was throbbing and moving. Serenica didn't want to glance behind her.

"Why did you come?" she asked.

"I have something to show you, something about Kinley. You have to tell me something first."

"I can't jeopardize our mission."

"Don't worry, Ingram," the Dreamer said. "I will not ask anything that would sabotage your attempt when revealed. The matter is much more of a personal thing for me."

Hearing his hoarse voice use her surname sent chills down Serenica's spine. While Spade was the antithesis to her mental image of a deadrouser, being full of life, fleshy and extravagant, the Dreamer was much closer to the stereotypical ghost, with a body that looked only a little more robust than a skeleton and his speech echoing in his chest as if coming from a deep well. There was something more terrifying than death in him - insanity. He could mold reality to his own liking, even if it was only in dreams, but seeing as they were currently exchanging actual, tangible information, Serenica felt that dreams, too, were actually a form of reality in themselves.

His particular brand of occultism fascinated her endlessly. If she could only learn how to change people's perceptions - if she could control the flow of information passed through the senses, she would become a god of some sort.

"What is it that you seek to know?" she asked him. "If it is personal to your highness, I can share it, and we will part in agreement. Am I doing this right?"

The Dreamer looked downright horrified. Then he laughed. "Never call me that again. I did not realize how unnatural it sounds from your mouth."

"All right then," Serenica said and put out her cigarette.

"Come with me. Though this is your dream, I can make it mine. I'd rather show than just tell."

They entered a subtropical forest. Serenica realized they were near Neul, on the shore of Oathbreaker's Cove.

"What I desire to know is what that old man asked from you," the Dreamer said. "Innai, wasn't that his name?"

The walk to the city felt shorter than it had been while awake.

Serenica brushed off branches, clearing the way for them to step into an empty street. She was glad to see no one. She hated meeting random people in her dreams.

"He told me his daughter had been wrongly imprisoned due to being somehow different. He told me to change the world for her sake. Or something."

Serenica noticed they were walking towards the Blue Girl. She also noticed that the street names and buildings were an eerily accurate match to the real ones. She never had consistently accurate dream worlds. Some streets were always wonky, others were missing completely and there would occasionally be imaginary shops. But this - this looked like someone had taken a chart of Neul and put everything in place, correctly and dutifully.

"Is that what he wants you to do?"

The Dreamer seemed to experience a powerful emotion. His lips trembled. His hands rose towards his chest, as if guarding his heart from a swipe of a blade.

"Then he is a good man. And if he is a good man, we will meet again, Serenica Ingram. And if we meet again, you might have a chance to escape my wrath..."

He opened the door to the Blue Girl.

Serenica followed him, not understanding anything.

He took her to the cellar door. It was locked. The Dreamer chuckled and took a key out of his pocket.

"The wench who owns the place is very careless."

He opened the door. "Go down the stairs. You will see that my secret is also Kinley's secret."

Serenica obeyed.

She descended into the darkness, and once she got into the light provided by a single candle, she saw that the cellar of the Blue Girl was full of magical artifacts. There were piles of throbstones, tattler's curses, talismans, jars of dried herbs, bottles of medicine and rows of books on the shelves, and the uppermost layer of the witchy treasure consisted of Serenica's own items. Her little wooden frog. Her scrying mirror, never used, still shining. Her bowls, her grimoires, her entire life was here except for what she had packed in her bag.

Kinley was hiding her loot in plain sight. The lady of the Blue Girl was a traitor.