( continues...)
“Why do you do this?”
Clean water tumbles into the bowl, sweet and clear and new, and when it is full she sets it back in its place, then looks at it consideringly.
“It has to be changed,” she says. There is a little pause. He nods, and steps carefully over a plastic scythe to replace the teddy bear on its patched throne before crossing to join her.
“This is a very small bowl,” he says unexpectedly, running one slim fingertip around the thick glass rim. She looks at him askance. “I was once confined thus,” he explains.”I – did not enjoy it.” His words are hesitant, although whether from fear of giving offence or from inability to recall, she cannot say.
“Well, duh,” she says sharply, rolling her eyes. “But you, my dear, are Dream of the Endless. You were bound in a nutshell when you should have been king of infinite space. Kind of thing. These little guys are goldfish, and they have all the memory and intellect of – well, goldfish.” Very carefully she tips the Snoopy mug and lowers it back into the water. The fish swirl out, gold scales glinting, tiny mouths agape. She picks up a little tub and sprinkles flakes of fish food onto the surface. The fish dart after it. “See? Happy. Not particularly bright, but happy.” She returns the ‘No Fishing’ sign carefully, and smiles. Dream watches it all, and she is surprised to see that he still looks slightly troubled. “It bothers you?” she asks again, looking at him more closely. He shrugs, and one corner of his mouth twitches a little.
“You think me foolish. I know that they do not suffer here, my sister, but still I can taste their small dreams. It gives me no pleasure to see any creature imprisoned so. Your pardon. I mean no criticism. This is your domain.”
“My word, little brother,” she says softly, really looking at him for the first time. “You have changed.”
He shrugs, and looks away. “So I am told,” he says, his tone unexpectedly dry, and she is surprised into a gurgle of laughter. It occurs to her to wonder, for the first time, whether this aspect of Dream will accrue names the way Morpheus did, and whether he will be any wiser with his heart. She realises that she is going to enjoy finding out.
“Take them,” she says impulsively, picking up the bowl and passing it to him so hurriedly that water slops over the side and puddles on the floor. Dream’s fingers are cool where they brush against hers and he looks startled for the first time since his arrival as he accepts the cumbersome gift. He cradles the bowl awkwardly against his narrow chest. His shirt is wet.
“You are giving them to me?”
“Call it a birthday present, or a welcome present, or something. I don’t know. I’m not very good with pets, really – I think you’ll look after them better than I do, Dream. Give them a fishpond, or a river, or an ocean or something.” She knows a moment of uncertainty, and then the enormous smile that breaks out on his face tells her that this was the right thing to do.
“There are ponds in the Labyrinth,” he tells her, peering into the bowl. He is still smiling. “Oh, not all of them are appropriate for small swimmers like these – the kraken would frighten them, mermaids would eat them at once. But there are quieter places, with green depths and interesting currents. Yes. I can carve a little place for their dreams.”
He turns to go, and she finds herself unexpectedly sorry. “What was it you wanted to see me about?” she asks.
He glances back over his shoulder, his face half hidden by the chaos of hair, and for a moment he is quite still. “Nothing,” he says at last. He turns again, so that he is facing her properly. There is a look on his face that she does not recognise. “Nothing specific. I was – lonely, I suppose.” She doesn’t have any idea what to say to that. “Matthew told me that the awkward silences would be the best part of our meeting, after the wake. In truth, it was not a comfortable meal.”
“No. Well, we’re never at our best at these big family gatherings, are we?” she says, remembering Despair’s tentative kindness and Desire’s (continued...)