CHAPTER 258: HE BUILDS DREAMS

A Practical Guide to Sorcery

Siobhan

Month 4, Day 4, Friday 12:00 p.m.

“Claud, how do you and Master Kalvidasan know each other?” Aimee asked.

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” Claudio said. “He helped me out of a tough spot some years back.”

“How time flies,” Grandfather said, absently patting Siobhan’s head.

Claudio nodded sagely. “Every year, a little faster than the last.”

Siobhan rolled her eyes. Adults always said that, but she thought it was just because they weren’t doing enough interesting things with their time. If they were always making new, novel memories, things wouldn’t seem to blur together so much.

Aimee brushed some flyaway hairs behind her ear. “How did your collaboration on Master Kalvidasan’s work come about?”

“Ah…” Claudio scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I was doing an obscure kind of work for some high-end clients. A little dangerous, both because of the delicacy of the service I was providing, as well as the fact that certain groups with influence don’t appreciate anyone else encroaching on their territory.”

“I warned you,” Grandfather said.

Siobhan narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what Claudio was skirting around.

Aimee leaned in, staring up at Claudio intently with her clear blue eyes. “What kind of work, exactly?”

Claudio’s eyes flicked from Grandfather to Siobhan, and back to Aimee. “In layman’s terms, dream magic.”

Siobhan mouthed the words, “dream magic,” sure that it was code for something else. But Grandfather already knew, and Aimee didn’t seem confused. Was Claudio trying to keep Siobhan, specifically, from understanding what he meant?

Claudio continued. “It was lucrative, secretive, and I never advertised exactly what the process entailed. But I became a little too popular, and the winds took rumors of me to the wrong ears, I suspect.”

Siobhan’s mouth fell open in a silent, “Ah!” as she realized what was going on. Claudio had very likely been a prostitute, or something similar, and was watering things down because of her “delicate” presence. She scoffed. Why would she care about that? It was so plebeian and childish to be scandalized at the idea of sex. In fact, it was somewhat insulting that Claudio thought he needed to sugar-coat things for her like this.

He looked skywards, making sad eyes at the clouds. “The leaked information, in addition to some botch jobs in my general vicinity—completely unrelated to me!—drew attention from…” He trailed off and grimaced. “Well, from the kind of badges you hope to never seen trailing you at night. Extra-legal, if you know what I mean.”

Aimee gasped.

“They are not really in the habit of confirming the truth before they shoot, and since I dearly wanted to avoid going to sleep and waking up the next morning in an underground black site somewhere, I left.”

To Siobhan, the fact that some organized criminal organization was after Claudio was much more concerning than the fact that he sold some secretive, dangerous type of “bedroom magic.” She was also somewhat suspicious of his claim that those botch jobs had nothing to do with him. What if he had damaged one of his rich clients with whatever magical elements he was incorporating into the sex? It would explain why he felt the need to run all the way across the continent and then off the mainland entirely.

As their group reached the edge of the village proper, they drew attention from everyone they passed going down the main street. This made sense, because of the powerful sorcerer Raaz Kalvidasan, foreigner Aimee who was still considered an outsider, and the stranger Claudio. Also, perhaps, because of the way Mom had died, and the fact that Father had abandoned Siobhan in the village again only one day after her funeral.

They were a source of delicious gossip.

Siobhan lifted her chin and mimicked Grandfather’s impeccable, exacting posture, her face blank to disguise how uncomfortable the stares made her feel.

“That sounds terrifying!” Aimee said, loudly and completely obliviously.

A young boy with pants that were a little too short, messy copper hair, and worn shoes that were obviously hand-me-downs from one of his older brothers caught sight of them, brightened, and scampered over. “Siobhan! What brings you in to town?” Rory asked, falling into step beside her.

“Dinner,” she snapped back. “Now be quiet.” She wanted to listen to the adults.

Rory obeyed with nothing but a wet sniff, wiping his nose with his already dirty sleeve.

Siobhan did nothing to disguise her shudder of disgust. Rory was only eleven, had a runny nose and watery eyes at least three quarters of the year, and she had never shown him more than the most basic politeness, and yet he seemed to want to trail after her at every opportunity. ℝαＮОBΕs̈

As Grandfather pushed open the tavern’s door, he said, “Things were bound to go wrong eventually. Secrets do not keep when they are shared.”

Claudio sighed. “You were right, of course.” He turned back to Aimee. “I went to ground for a few months, and only recently returned to my house in Qesas and received Master Kalvidasan’s letter. I set off immediately, but it’s quite a journey from the Surior Mountains to the Northern Islands.”

“Oh, the Surior Mountains? I hear it’s lovely there. Warm all year round, with white sand beaches.”

“If you can stand the storms. Though they’re not too bad in Qesas, due to the mountains blocking the western winds.” He paused, then added, “But you still have to deal with the ocean beasts. You might not guess how often they find their way out of the water and start making trouble.”

Everyone in the tavern was listening intently, and as their group found a free table—and Grandfather cast a cleansing spell on it—several more people came through the doors behind them. Siobhan was sure that many of them had not originally been planning to come to the tavern at all.

Mr. Hagarty, a tall man with deep-set eyes and an old leather hat long stained with sweat and salt, stood up from his spot at the bar. “From Qesas, are you? Welcome, stranger. What brings you to this little spot on the edge of nowhere?”

Claudio stood up to shake Mr. Hagarty’s hand, exchanging introductions and declaring his intention to help Grandfather with a magical project.

“A drink for Mr. Tierney,” Mr. Hagarty called to the barkeep. “Something dark enough to put hair on his chin!”

Several of the other customers laughed, and Claudio rubbed his smooth chin ruefully.

“Are you a sorcerer too, then?” Mr. Tierney asked.

“It might be more accurate to call me a highly specialized shaman,” Claudio admitted, flashing a slightly cocky, white-toothed grin.

“Oh? What do you do?”

Claudio’s grin grew larger. He turned his palms up and spread them wide, as if expecting applause. “They call me the Builder of Dreams.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Beside Siobhan, Rory’s eyes grew large.

Siobhan was on the edge of internally agreeing that this title sounded quite impressive when she saw Grandfather’s scowl.

The old sorcerer spoke softly, but she could hear him clearly. “Pride is the life of a sorcerer, and oftentimes their death, too.” Like many of his favorite sayings, she had heard it a thousand times over. Obviously, Grandfather didn’t think Claudio’s skills deserved such a title. It might even be one that Claudio had given himself! And if you had to give yourself an impressive title, that was more embarrassing than not having one at all.

“How do you build a dream?” Rory asked, which was no doubt the question that everyone else in the tavern was wondering, too.

“With great skill, precision, and a little bit of…artistry,” Claudio pronounced, lifting one hand over his head and swirling it like some kind of stage magician. “My clients come to me with a dream, a hope, a wish…and from that, I build a more literal dream for them using magic and thought-stuff. The dreams are unique to each person. Some may experience a moment of true peace, others a fleeting revelation of their own genius, and others unrivaled glory. And though I cannot promise it, over the years many have come to me ecstatic, because some measure of their dream, their truest wish, manifested in the real world. As if fate itself had been subtly influenced by a dream so true it almost seemed real.” He shrugged with false nonchalance.

Grandfather’s scowl had grown even more disapproving. “Please do not listen to his nonsense. If that were true, it seems that everyone in the known lands would know about it and be desperate to track him down, does it not?” He gave Claudio a hard, pointed stare.

Claudio laughed awkwardly, some of the showmanship falling away. “That is true. I cannot promise any wishes will come true, but I stand by the quality of the dreams themselves. It is a singular, once-in-a-lifetime experience.” He hesitated a moment, and then said, “As a thank-you for the drink and such a friendly welcome, I would be happy to build a dream for you. I can do it right here, and it will take only a half hour of your time…”

Rory’s mouth dropped open. “You have to do it!” he exclaimed.

But Mr. Hagarty wasn’t so easily taken for a ride. “I thank you, Mr. Tierney, but I have no need of such fanciful things. I prefer to go on chipping away at my goals on my own, and I’ve never been one for spending my limited time yearning and daydreaming about some other, better life.”

“I’ll take that dream!” a plump woman across the room called out, raising her hand.

“Have at it,” Mr. Hagarty said, tipping his hat at Claudio and returning to the bar.

Claudio convinced the other patrons to scoot their tables over to make some room on the floor before drawing out a large spell array on the floor with some chalk. People watched with avid interest, as if they could actually understand anything of what was happening. He called the volunteer over to sit across from him inside one of the two smaller Circles at the center of the spell array.

While the woman was whispering her wish in Claudio’s ear, Siobhan turned to Rory. “Don’t be fooled by him. Most of his ‘dream’ work was actually bedroom activities.”

Rory looked at her blankly.

Siobhan let out an exasperated sigh at his lack of sophistication. “Sex stuff.”

Rory made a strange gurgling sound, looked away from her, and sniffed a few times before turning to face her again with a flush all the way up to his ears.

She raised one side of her lip in a sneer. “You’re such a child.”

“Am not!”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Grandfather said that rudeness in social situations should be done infrequently and with restraint, lest it lose its impact. “The point is, who knows how much of Claudio’s work actually involved magic? It doesn’t seem like he’s very good. He got chased away from the place he lived before by a gang, and he doesn’t admit it, but it might be related to botching some magic on his clients.”

Rory’s eyes only widened further and gained a fascinated sparkle. “He’s on the run from criminals?” he half-whispered back.

That was not the response Siobhan had wanted to elicit. “He’s here to help my grandfather make maps

.”

“Mapmaking is neat…” Rory said, struggling for optimism. “It’s useful for adventurers.”

“Maps of plants and stuff. Cataloguing.”

Rory blinked his watery eyes and wiggled his lips back and forth thoughtfully while the rest of the table ordered their meal, and he got a mug of water for free. When the waitress was gone, he said, “It might not be very interesting. But that’s probably just because he has to lay low so none of his enemies hear about the Builder of Dreams and chase him down for revenge. Except he’s obviously bored already and can’t help himself,” he said, gesturing to Claudio and the village woman, who were holding hands with their eyes closed. They watched in silence for a while, and Siobhan’s soup and bread arrived. Rory leaned closer to her and whispered, “Do you think he’s done sex stuff with a lot of noble ladies?”

Siobhan chewed slowly and squinted at Claudio, trying to tell if he was someone noble ladies would find attractive. “Probably not?” She considered Aimee’s response and amended her estimation. “Maybe. Why? Do you want him to do sex stuff with you?”

Rory choked on his mug of water.

“I don’t think you can afford it.” Siobhan warned him. “Also, I don’t think your mom would let you.”

Rory cleared his throat, took a deep breath and, despite the his blush growing so deep he began to look like a tomato, told her firmly, “I like girls. Girls not any more than two years older than me.”

Siobhan hummed disinterestedly.

Claudio squeezed the woman’s hands, and her head abruptly fell forward until her chin rested on her chest.

“Is she asleep? Did she start dreaming, just like that?” someone asked.

Neither Claudio nor the woman responded.

Siobhan stood to get a better view of the spell array. He had used only glyphs, no legible modern language, and a septagram, which was good for speaking with spirits, receiving unguided divination results, and dream walking. His spell array wasn’t glowing at all. If he was indeed casting right now, that was a sign of efficiency…and skill. Siobhan pursed her lips and sat back down again. She couldn’t understand the spell array at all.

She tore her remaining roll of bread into aggressively small pieces, and had finished eating and was listening to Grandfather and one of the O’Kervick talk about the possibility of doing a village-wide sea hunt before the water got too warm for some of the bigger, more valuable beasts to swim near shore. If they could catch even one or two, the profit would last at least half the year.

The dreaming woman woke up silently, and Siobhan wouldn’t have noticed if not for Rory tugging her sleeve urgently.

Claudio put his Conduit in his pocket and patted the hand he was holding.

The woman laughed, her head thrown back, and then covered her mouth as tears streamed down her temples and into her hair. After she had gained a bit of composure, she clasped Claudio’s hand in both of hers and leaned forward into an awkward bow. “Thank you. Thank you! That was… It was wondrous. I haven’t felt like that since I was a young girl.” The dreamy smile remained on her face even as she stood up, rubbed the stiffness out of her knees, and returned to her table. Immediately, everyone around her crowded in, asking for the details of her experience.

Claudio was grinning. “That is why I love my work! I will do a second session for the first person who can raise their hand.”

Several people sprang upwards, their hands raised eagerly. Even the bartender. By the time Grandfather, Aimee, and Siobhan left, Claudio was still volunteering, and every person who had experienced one of his curated dreams raved about the experience.

After a week of Claudio staying at her house, Siobhan got used to his strange blend of awkward cluelessness and performative shamelessness. He spent most of his time with Grandfather, anyway, doing whatever it was they did in the tower. His bloodshot eye didn’t seem to get any better as the days passed, which he said was because he kept rubbing it in his sleep and re-irritating it.

Grandfather gave him a hard look at this, and offered him a potion of healing, but Claudio waved him off with an uneasy smile and wandered away to his bedroom.

On Friday morning, Siobhan was preparing for her spell practice session with Grandfather when a high-pitched, strangely familiar shriek came from outside, only slightly muffled by the house’s window glass. This was followed by a slightly less piercing, softer scream.

Siobhan stood up from the study room table so fast her thighs smashed into the edge. She tripped over her fallen chair, did a strange, one-legged sideways hop to avoid falling on her face, and then slammed her shoulder into the doorjamb on the way out. She was still limping by the time she got out the front door and around to the back of the house where the screams had come from.

Aimee and Rory were standing side-by-side, staring up at Siobhan’s treehouse, which had been transformed.

The wood was covered with sunset-red, dry growth that looked like a field of fluttery butterfly wings with coral patterns. Rather than merely growing atop it, the growth seemed to have eaten the wood in places. A fine ochre sand, only a little darker and redder than Siobhan’s skin, spilled over the treehouse doorway like a broken hourglass, and some caught the wind and blew away through the window holes. The finest of cloth, tattered and gauze-thin, stretched around from branch, to coral growth, to the structure of the treehouse, fluttering in the breeze like old cobwebs.

It was the cloth that convinced Siobhan this couldn’t be natural. No plant, magical or otherwise, wove itself directly into cloth. She moved forward and caught the scent of incense. As if she were being strangled by memory, her throat tightened immediately. It as a little spicy, a little woody, and flooded with warmth. It had always reminded her of pine needle tea saturated with honey and then sprinkled with a tiny dash of fine red pepper.

She would never forget it, and couldn’t mistake it. When she was young, Mom would let her light small chunks of this incense and throw it for Paimon—her Mom’s familiar—to chase. Paimon could adjust his form with the ease of an elemental made of fire and would go down on all fours, bound around like a dog, and gobble the incense right out of the air with his toothy, wide mouth.

When Grandfather and Claudio arrived it broke her out of her awed reverie. As soon as they saw the treehouse, they exchanged serious, meaningful looks, then turned to stare up at the overgrown, modified structure along with the rest of them.

This was blatant, undeniable, freaky strangeness. Siobhan wondered if Grandfather would try to explain it away.