Dream d3517-s: Two Stones, One Crease

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the paving of Dunnesquare was wider than I remembered from the earlier nights, or the lamp in the center stood lower, throwing its pale rectangle further out across the fitted stone. Night four of seven. Lano walked beside me, her nails clicking in a small regular pattern against the cold paving, her nose working the air.

The relay clerk followed three paces back. The entry-keeper had the ledger under her arm, closed, and I did not ask her to open it. The keeper of the place was at the far arcade, not facing us.

I had found the joint on the second night: two large flat stones, well fitted but with a seam wide enough for a folded sheet. I took the dated sheet from my coat, folded it once lengthwise, then once across, and pressed it into the gap. The stone was cold against my fingers. The sheet went in without forcing, its edge flush with the surface, one pale corner just visible if you knew where to look.

Lano pressed her nose to the joint, then lifted her head and sat.

I stood and walked back across the square toward the arcade. The paving was level underfoot. The stones were losing whatever heat the day had stored in them. I did not look back for some time, and when I did the sheet was still there, one white edge catching the lamp, a thin line at the level of the ground.

A figure crossed the far end of the square at a diagonal, carrying something long and wrapped. The figure did not stop. The square did not change.

The keeper of the place turned from the arcade and walked along the edge of the square in a different direction. He passed within ten feet of the joint and did not look down. The sheet stayed where it was, pressed into stone, taking the cold.

The entry-keeper shifted the ledger to her other arm. Nobody spoke. The relay clerk stood at the edge of the lamp's reach and looked at nothing in particular.

By the time we reached the covered walkway the square was as it had been before we crossed it. The lamp still fell across the center. The joint held the sheet the way the joint held anything that fell into it: without intention, without notice, closed around it by the weight of the stone on either side.

Lano made a small sound beside me. "Quieta."

The square went on.

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