«This wasn't the Wakers, most of it,» replied Blade. «Most of it was time-all the years when you and your people lay Dreaming in your vaults instead of using the Dreams the way my people would-to rest after finishing all the day's business. The Wakers would never have become so strong or so numerous if you Dreamers hadn't made the way so easy for them.»
Narlena shuddered. The idea that her people-and even more, the Dreams, their proudest achievement-were responsible for this desolation was more than she could take in, at least at the rate Blade was throwing it at her. Blade saw this and decided to be quiet for a while, letting his first burst of words work in Narlena's mind. She was a product of her crippled and decadent culture. But Blade thought he detected a lively intelligence under that black hair. At least he was going to assume it was there until he was convinced otherwise. Silently he took her by the hand and led her up the street, away from the bridge.
They wandered through Pura for several hours, feeling the warmth of the day increase as the sun rose higher and higher. It burned down from a cloudless sky into the windless canyons between the high towers and was reflected from their polished surfaces until it was almost oppressively warm in the streets below. Narlena did not appear to notice it; she still had something of the air of a sleepwalker about her.
They found no living people, either Wakers or Dreamers, but several skeletons of victims or comrades that the Wakers had not managed to carry away. Beside one of them lay a long, beautifully made knife, obviously looted from one of the vaults. Blade picked it up and handed it to Narlena. She took it without comment, but Blade noticed that as her fingers closed around the hilt, the trembling of her hands increased for a moment. Her people had cast away much of their capacity for violence even before they had secluded themselves in their vaults and had lost much of what remained during their century of Dreaming. Not that they were totally unfamiliar with violence-but with the Wakers ruling the night city, they knew it only as victims.
Blade saw a great deal of Pura that afternoon. Their wanderings took them in a wide sweep through the littered streets, past more of the high towers and smaller buildings. They also passed other structures that Blade would not have recognized if Narlena had not gradually shaken off her numbness enough to point out and describe them-or describe them as they had been.
«This was the House of Wisdom,» said Narlena. She was pointing at a quartet of red-tinged domes, flaked and cracking, occupying most of a hundred-acre park, now as rank and overgrown as any meadow. One of the domes showed a black cavity where a section fifty feet high had fallen in or been knocked out.
Narlena took a couple of deep breaths and went on, «The House of Wisdom. Where our scholars lived, studied, did their experiments. Where they developed the Dreams and the vaults.»
Blade made for a place where half the wall around the park had collapsed, but Narlena grabbed his arm.
«Don't go in there! See that white marking on the wall? That's a Waker gang badge!»
Blade looked to where she pointed, saw three white circles set in an equilateral triangle, staring back at him from the dingy stone. He nodded and stepped back. There was no point in barging into a Waker stronghold, alone except for Narlena. With a band of fifty armed Dreamers at his back it might be another matter-would be another matter, some day soon. Treading as lightly and as softly as he could until they were around a corner and out of sight, he led Narlena away.
When they were out of sight and earshot of anybody lurking in the domes of the House of Wisdom, he stopped and turned to the girl. «Did your scholars leave any of their records in the house before they went into their vaults?»
«Many of them didn't go into the vaults, Blade. Even when that was the only way they could be safe from the Wakers, many of them still stayed in the house. They were killed there, or they died of disease and starvation. There were not many of them in the vaults. It is said that even those who spent one or two cycles in the vaults eventually tried to return to the house. They were killed by Wakers, so there are possibly no scholars left.»
«Why did they stay in the house, when they knew they were risking their lives?»
«'They-I–I've heard stories. They thought they could find a way to fight the Wakers and stop the Dreamers and-oh, I don't know, don't ask me!» she wailed, then burst into tears.
Blade put his arms around her and held her while she shook and sobbed. Some of the people of Pura had apparently realized the disaster they had brought on their city. They had risked and eventually sacrificed their lives in a last-ditch effort to save it. An unsuccessful one, but it had proved they were not all as blind as Blade had begun to suspect. And even if the scholars themselves had died. .
«Do you know if they left any notes on what they had been doing in the house?»
Narlena jerked her head up and stared at Blade for a long time. Then she bit her quivering lower lip until it was still, and a frown spread over her delicate features, a frown that suggested to Blade she was making a serious effort to remember. Finally she shook her head.
«You don't know? Or they didn't leave any?»
«I don't know. Nobody I talked with during my Wakings has ever been into the house.» She stopped for a moment, then said sadly, «Even if the scholars had left material there, wouldn't the Wakers have destroyed it by now?»
«They might have,» Blade conceded, «but we can't be sure.»
«No,» said Narlena slowly. «We can't.»
Blade felt like hugging her and cheering out loud. For the first time she was showing signs of interest in doing something about the situation in Pura. She certainly seemed to have adjusted at least partly to being out and about during the daylight that she and her fellow Dreamers had so rigidly shunned for so long.
During the afternoon they wandered on through the streets of Pura, their course taking them slowly back toward the river. They saw no more signs of Waker gang lairs. But they did find occasional abandoned weapons, which Blade collected, and scraps of clothing that had been lying out long enough for even the tough synthetic materials to show signs of wear.
About mid-afternoon they finally reached the river at a point several miles west of the bridge that Blade had used to first enter the city. Here there was another bridge across the rain-swollen river, carrying another rubble-strewn and weed-choked roadway out into the open countryside. And here for the first time in several hours, Narlena cringed and shivered. Blade made no effort to force her across the bridge or even to look across it. For a time he let her turn her head away and bury it against his broad chest. She had come this far already, bit by bit, carefully led by him but drawing to a great degree on her own inner resources. He was sure that she would go the rest of the way if he just gave her time. But they would not have too much time left for exploring the country if she did not nerve herself up for the crossing fairly quickly. The danger they would both be in if darkness caught them outside Narlena's vault was obvious.
But after only a few minutes Narlena forced her gaze back to the green tree-clad hills across the river and said in a pathetically small voice:
«I want to go across.» A pointing hand indicated where when her strained voice failed her.
«You're sure?» said Blade, keeping the triumph out of his voice only by a terrific effort.
«I-there's been so much new today-I want to go on, I want to feel-I-«and her emotions simply outran her ability to express herself. Again Blade kept a grin off his face. Bit by bit Narlena was realizing that the Waking world had feelings, beauties, and qualities that no Dream could offer. She was still a long way from preferring the Waking world and even farther froze being able to live in it and cope with all its sensations and dangers. But this was a start. Blade took her hand and at a brisk walk, led her out onto the bridge.