Gar was interested in Roketh’s battles with other magicians, and she told him what she had heard. Alea was interested in the ways in which the female magicians treated their serfs, so Mira told what she had heard about that, too. As she talked, though, the strain of the last few days lifted; she began to relax and, before she knew it, was fighting to keep her eyes open.
Alea saw it. “Time for you to sleep, I think, my dear. Here, you take this bed of pine boughs—you’ll find it remarkably comfortable. No, don’t argue—I can make another quickly enough, but truth to tell, I shan’t need to, for Gar and I never sleep at the same time, one of us is always sitting up awake to keep the fire burning and to watch for … unwelcome company. No, now, sleep.”
Mira protested but found that she was settling herself on the boughs as she did, and fell asleep as she was claiming that she could be comfortable enough on the hard ground.
“She probably could have been, too,” Gar said, gazing at the sleeping woman. “She was tired enough for it.”
“No reason to let her, though,” Alea said sharply.
“No, of course not. What do you make of these ghosts, Alea? Other than a rumpled bedsheet, of course.”
Alea shuddered. “Sleep with one of those things over me? No, thank you!” Then, more thoughtfully, “I don’t think they’re really the spirits of the dead.”
“I would guess that some of the people here are telepaths, but don’t know it,” Gar said, “and are projecting their dreams and superstitions into others’ minds—without the slightest idea they’re doing it.”
“But the ghosts have minds of their own,” Alea objected. “A public dream that’s easier to start than to stop,” Gar guessed.
Alea shook her head. “Too simple. The dreamers would still have to be dreaming to make the ghosts respond to the living people they encounter.”
“A point,” Gar admitted. He stared at the fire in thought, then asked, “Could they be a local life-form that developed a symbiosis with the colonists?”
“Symbiosis?” Alea looked up, frowning. “That happens when both life-forms gain something from each other. What would the colonists gain from having the specters take on their forms and personalities?”
“Immortality of a sort,” Gar said, “though I’m sure the local spirits can’t really absorb souls. If it exists, the soul has a completely different kind of reality from our universe of matter and energy.”
“True,” Alea countered, “but it does leave some very strong traces, such as life and personality.”
“Strictly, a soul is life-force,” Gar said thoughtfully, “and when it passes out of the body, perhaps it releases all the electrical energy patterns that it built up over the years—releases that part that belongs to our world, that is; it would take the spiritual energy, the memories and personality, with it.”
“So the local ghosts can’t gain the memories and thought patterns until a person dies,” Alea said thoughtfully, “which means they’re not really spirits.”
“No, just some very diffuse form of matter,” Gar said, “or perhaps a very concentrated form of energy; I know a physicist who claims that whether something is matter or energy depends on your point of view.”
“Not mine,” Alea protested. “Wouldn’t it be the ghosts’ viewpoint that matters?”
Gar shrugged. “What they’re made of doesn’t really signify anything. What’s important is that they take on the shapes, personalities, and memories of people who have died. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen them and heard their thoughts, but…”
“Well, they weren’t figments of your imagination,” Alea told him. “I saw and heard them, too. For all practical purposes, they are the ghosts of dead people.”
“Yes, and it would seem the local magicians can persuade them to do their dirty work. Which brings us to Mira.”
“A local serf on the run, just as you hoped to find,” Alea reminded. “But that first ghost’s thought of fear wasn’t the only one we heard. I felt a wave of sheer terror, and it wasn’t what the ghost was projecting, it was the response it raised in Mira.”
“Yes, and we weren’t particularly trying to read minds at the time,” Gar said. “She sent that through all by herself, so strongly that we couldn’t ignore it—and I don’t think she knew she was doing it.”
“So, she’s a telepath,” Alea concluded.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Gar said. “She doesn’t seem to have read our minds, after all. She’s definitely an empath though—able to feel others’ emotions and project her own.”
Alea frowned up at him. “Don’t sound so shocked. All right, it’s amazing, but if you found me, you shouldn’t be surprised to find other mind readers.”
“I suppose not,” Gar said, “but I grew up with the idea that most of the galaxy’s telepaths lived on my home planet, and even there they were rare.”
“Maybe so,” Alea answered, “but whoever told you that didn’t know about Midgard—or Oldeira, as it turns out.”
“No,” Gar said, “I guess they didn’t. I wonder if all the Lost Colonies have telepaths.”
“Not all,” Alea objected. “You’ve visited some of them.”
“Yes, some.” Gar recovered his assurance. “And SCENT has visited quite a few more; surely they would have reported finding telepaths. Still, it seems Gramarye isn’t the only world to foster espers. I’m going to have to approach other planets with an open mind.”
“Not too open,” Alea cautioned. “It might be better to keep your shield up.”
“Yes, it might.” Gar smiled, amused. “Though not so vital as it might be, with your shield to guard my back.”
“Is that all I am to you—a shield-companion?” Alea couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.
“Only?” Gar stared. “There’s just one way people can be closer! What do you mean, ‘only’?”
But Alea fastened on the first statement. “One way? What’s Number One?”
A shadow crossed Gar’s face; he turned away. “One that’s closed to me.” He smoothed his expression as he turned back to her. “I rejoice in the friendships I can know, and delight in the presence of so excellent a woman as my companion.”
Alea stared, dazed by the compliment but feeling a certain hollowness within her in spite of it. It was flattering to realize that if he were attracted to her, it was quite literally for her mind, or rather her telepathic abilities. Nonetheless, she was surprised to realize that she felt rather chagrined. That surprise bred fear, which sharpened her tone as she said, “But Mira doesn’t have such a shield and doesn’t know how to make one yet. Do you think her empathic ability attracted the ghosts?”
“No,” Gar said slowly, “I think her magical lord of the manor sicced them on her. But I take your point: her psionic talent probably helped them to home in on her.” He gave her a sudden grin. “No need to ask how you managed to banish them. I don’t expect they’re used to the intensity of anger you aimed at them.”
Alea turned her head a little to the side, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure my capacity for anger is a good thing?”
“That,” Gar said gravely, “depends entirely on who you choose as a target … and why,” he added as an afterthought.
“Well, there was a good deal of indignation in it too,” she told him. “After all, they had no right to pick on that poor girl.”
“They certainly did not,” Gar agreed, “but how did you know telepathy would banish them?”
Alea stared at him, momentarily at a loss. Then she said, “It only made sense. If they implanted fear in their victims by telepathy, they should have been vulnerable to it themselves.” A need for honesty made her add, “Of course, I didn’t think that through before I acted.”