Dream d2836-s: Copper on the Page

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the last of the light came in sideways and caught the wet ink, turning it briefly copper before it went dark. I sat at the point where I could still read clearly and read the count back plain.

One hundred and twenty-eight names in the book. Sixty-four have a drawing under them. Sixty-four do not. Not one drawn place lacks a name: the naming ran ahead every time, without exception. Sixty-three of the waiting names were set down together in one sitting, in the same hand, in one press of work that then stopped. One was set down long before the rest and has waited far longer than any of them. Thirty-one of the waiting names show a light. Fifty-four had work moved through them inside the last thirty days. The whole word-stock could make nine hundred and sixty names; it has made one hundred and twenty-eight. Forty-seven of the waiting names share a first part with a place already drawn. The busiest place standing under a waiting name has had one hundred separate pieces of work move through it in the last thirty days.

Lano sat pressed against my knee while I read it. Her ears were up. The country below ran out in long pale stripes, Reedhaven somewhere in the crease of it, the river a dull thread. Rurik had taken the highest stone behind me and sat with his back to the drop, amber eyes level with the page, blinking once.

I did not explain the count. I did not grade it or find fault with it. I wrote it and read it back and it held.

The one name set down long before the others: I marked it in the margin with a small line under it. Not an honor. Not a verdict. A mark that the interval was real and worth noting. Then I closed the book.

Lano rose when I rose. Rurik dropped from the stone without sound and went ahead on the path, taking the first bend before I reached it. The light was nearly gone. The open country below had lost its pale stripes and become one thing. The count was written. We descended.

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