“I won’t wake her,” he whispered.
“You wouldn’t be able to. I’ve put her under for her own good. It’s quite safe to talk normally.” Dreyfus touched the back of his hand against the side of Jane Aumonier’s face. Despite all the time they had known each other, this was the first moment of physical contact between them.
“I’m going now,” Dreyfus said.
“There’s something I need to attend to, before I put it off any longer. I have to go to Hospice Idlewild. There’s someone there I need to see, someone I haven’t seen in a very long while. I probably won’t be in Panoply when you come around, but I want you to know that I’m going to be with you every step you take. If you need a hand to hold, you can count on mine.”
“I’ll tell her what you said,” Demikhov said.
“I mean it. I don’t break my promises.” Demikhov was about to usher Dreyfus from the room when he paused.
“Prefect… there’s something I should show you. I think it’s rather wonderful.” Dreyfus nodded at the sleeping figure.
“This is enough for me, Doctor.”
“I’ll show it to you anyway. Look at the wall.” Demikhov conjured a pane into existence, filled with trembling neon-blue lines whose meaning Dreyfus couldn’t fathom.
“What am I looking at?” he asked.
“Dreams,” Demikhov said.
“Beautiful human dreams.”