"I vote for the dream," said Issib.
"Even madness can come from the Oversoul," said Hushidh.
Everyone looked at her. She was a rather plainish girl, always quiet in class. Now that Nafai saw her and Luet side by side, he realized that they resembled each other closely. Were they sisters? More to the point, what was Hushidh doing here, and by what right did she speak out about family matters?
"It can come from the Oversoul," said Father. "But did it? And if it did, what does it mean?"
Nafai could see that Father was directing those questions, not at Rasa or even at Hushidh, but at Luet! He couldn't possibly believe what the women said about her, could he? Did a single vision turn a rational man of business into a superstitious pilgrim trying to find meanings in everything he saw?
"I can't tell you what your dream means," said Luet.
"Oh," said Father. "Not that I actually thought-"
"I f the Oversoul sent the dream, and if she meant you to understand it, then she also sent the interpretation."
"There was no interpretation."
"Wasn't there?" asked Luet. "This is the first time you've had a dream like this, isn't it?"
"Definitely. This isn't a habit of mine, to sec visions as I'm walking along the road at night."
"So you aren't used to recognizing the meanings that come along with a vision."
"I suppose not."
"Yet you were receiving messages."
"Was I?"
"Before you saw the flame, you knew that you were supposed to turn away from the road."
"Yes, well, that."
"What do you think the voice of the Oversoul sounds like? Do you think she speaks Basyat or puts up signposts?"
Luet sounded vaguely scornful-an outrageous tone of voice for her to adopt with a man of Wetchik's status in the city. Yet he seemed to take no offense, accepting her rebuke as if she had a right to chastise him.
"The Oversoul puts the knowledge pure into our minds, unmixed with any human language," she said. "We are always given more than we can possibly comprehend, and we can comprehend far more than we're able to put into words."
Luet had a voice of such simple power. Not like the chanting sound that the witches and prophets of the inner market used when they were trying to attract business. She spoke as if she knew, as if there was no possibility of doubt.
"Let me ask you, then, sir. When you saw the city on fire, how did you know it was Basilica?"
"I've seen it a thousand times, from just that angle, coming in from the desert."
"But did you see the shape of the city and recognize it from that, or did you know first that it was Basilica on fire, and then your mind called forth the picture of the city that was already in your memory?"
"I don't know-how can I know that?"
"Think back. Was the knowledge there before the vision, or was the vision first?"
Instead of telling the girl to go away, Father dosed his eyes and tried to remember.
"When you put it that way, I think-I knew it before I actually looked in that direction. I don't think I actually saw it until I was lunging toward it. I saw the flame , but not the burning city inside it. And now that you ask, I also knew that Rasa and my children were in terrible danger. I knew that first of all, as I was founding the rock-that was part of the sense of urgency. I knew that if I left the trail and came to that exact spot, I'd be able to save them from the danger. It was only then that it came to mind what the danger was, and then last of all that I saw the flame and the city inside it."
"This is a true vision," said Luet.
Just from that? She knew just from the order of things? She probably would have said the same thing no matter what Father remembered. And maybe Father was only remembering it that way because Luet had suggested it that way. This was making Nafai furious, for Father to be nodding in acceptance when this twelve-year-old girl condescendingly treated him like an apprentice in a profession in which she was a widely respected master.
"But it wasn't true," said Father. "When I got here, there was no danger."
"No, I didn't think so," said Luet. "Back when you first felt that your mate and your children were in danger, what did you expect to do about it?"
"I was going to save them, of course."
"Specifically how ?"
Again he closed his eyes. "Not to pull them from a burning building. That never occurred to me until later, as I was walking the rest of the way into the city. At the moment I wanted to shout out that the city was burning, that we had to-"
"What?"
"I was going to say, we had to get out of the city. But that wasn't what I wanted to say at first. When it started, I felt like I had to come to the city and tell everybody that there was a fire coming."
"And they had to get out?"
"I guess," said Father. "Of course, what else?"
Luet said nothing, but her gaze never left his face.
"No," Father said. "No, that wasn't it." Father sounded surprised. "I wasn't going to warn them to get out."
Luet leaned forward, looking somehow more intense, not so-analytical. "Sir, just a moment ago, when you were saying that you had wanted to warn them to get out of the city-"
"But that wasn't what I was going to do."
"But when you thought for a moment that-when you assumed that you were going to tell them to get out of the city-what did that feel like? When you told us that, why did you know that it was wrong?"
"I don't know. It just felt... wrong?
"This is very important," said Luet. "How does feeling wrong feel ?"
Again he closed his eyes. "I'm not used to thinking about how I think. And now I'm trying to remember how it felt when I thought I remembered something that I didn't actually remember-"
"Don't talk," said Luet.
He fell silent.
Nafai wanted to yell at somebody. What were they doing, listening to this ugly stupid little girl, letting her tell Father-the Wetchik himself, in case nobody remembered-to keep his mouth shut!
But everybody else was so intense that Nafai kept his own mouth shut. Issib would be so proud of him for actually refraining from saying something that he had thought of.
"What I felt," said Father, "was nothing." He nodded slowly. "Right after you asked the question and I answered it-. Of course, what else-then you sat there looking at me and I had nothing in my head at all."
"Stupid," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. To Nafai's relief, he was finally noticing how disrespectfully Luet was speaking to him.
"You felt stupid," she said. "And so you knew that what you'd just said was wrong."
He nodded. "Yes, I guess that's it."
"What's all this about?" said Issib. "Analyzing your analysis of analyses of a completely subjective hallucination?"
Good work, Issya, said Nafai silently. You took the words right out of my mouth.
"I mean, you can play these games all morning, but you're just laying meanings on top of a meaningless experience. Dreams are nothing more than random firings of memories, which your brain then interprets so as to invent causal connections, which makes stories out of nothing"
Father looked at Issib for a long moment, then shook his head. "You're right, of course," he said. "Even though I was wide awake and I've never had a hallucination before, it was nothing more than a random firing of synapses in my brain."
Nafai knew, as Issib and Mother certainly knew, that Father was being ironic, that he was telling Issib that his vision of the fire on the rock was more than a meaningless night dream. But Luet didn't know Father, so she thought he was backing away from mysticism and retreating into reality.