“This is an outrage,” said Lesley. He was standing in the center of the summon circle. He had materialized a moment before, pulled into a round room, and he wasn’t alone. A Dream Eater stared down at him from the judge’s bench, her beady eyes dark and unblinking. “I will not stand for it.”
In her true form, she would have been a mess of a creature — Dream Eaters barely counted creatures of the light, really, all wild tusks and tacky, spotted fur, easy to mistake for a common chimera — but, here, in the Realm, it was more popular to take on one’s dormant form in the day to day press of things. So, here, she was an older woman with a pair of beady glasses and a brush between her knobby hands.
“A unicorn?” asked this peculiar one, peering down over her podium where Lesley had already begun to turn in a circle to get his bearings. “Well, don’t see that every day — and what have you done that they’ve thrown you here?”
“Nothing at all,” said Lesley, standing prouder. He crossed his arms and raised his chin. He had reason for pride: he was a unicorn, as it happened, and quite proud of that fact. Even in his dormant form, which had the general shape of a young man, his white hair and robes stood testament enough. He let his horn shine proudly in the darkness of the… viewing room? The observation hall? Stadium? It cast everything in a harsh white relief. He tossed his hair and let it trail behind him like a magnificent white flag. “You needn’t concern yourself with me. This is a mistake. I intend to rectify it.”
He gestured once.
Then he gestured again.
Then he stamped his foot.
The summon circle stayed dark.
“Nice try,” said the Dream Eater, “but your magic won’t work in that direction. They sent you here with a banishing spell. There’s no return trip that way.”
“Thank you for telling me,” said Lesley. He tried a portal instead, carving it in his mind and with tip of his horn.
Nothing. His eyes flew open. The Dream Eater laughed.
“Ohh, you’re spunky,” she said. She was reading from the scroll on her desk. “Let’s see. How about that. Injunction signed by the Lord of Dreams himself. Says here treason, criminal negligence—”
“Lies, more lies.”
“—Corruption of dreams,” added the Dream Eater.
“How dare you!” screeched Lesley, he tried to fling a wind right across her desk to scatter the papers, but all he succeeded at doing was pointing quite accusingly.
“And insubordination,” finished the Dream Eater. “That last one I’m giving you right now.”
“I object to your accusation,” said Lesley.
“You’re a spunky one, I’ll grant ya,” said the Dream Eater. She dipped her brush into the bowl of ink next to the papers, swirling it until it was full. “Would’ve loved to have you around for awhile. Shame you’re next on the list.”
“The list?” Lesley stared up at her. No, surely. There was a spell that would work. He tried to call another wind. It wouldn’t answer. He tried to carve a hole in the floor. He felt nothing shift under him. Nothing, nothing, nothing. The only power he could feel in this room came from the low hum of the summoning circle he’d arrived in. He scraped his foot along one of the lines.
“The summon’s list,” said the Dream Eater, “for those wizards in the other place. This whole city’s on call, you know. Here is how it works: We give you a name. The wizards call it. You get a free trip to the one of the other places. You’ll work off your crimes in no time. All you’ve got to do—”
“I know what that is,” said Lesley, who had once worked for the Tower of Dreams and knew all about the summon’s lists. He stamped his feet. He tried to walk out of the circle, and walked straight into a stinging invisible wall. He jolted back, clutching his arm. “What world? What world are you sending me to?”
The Dream Eater laughed. She made the first stroke with her brush. Lesley froze. He could feel the line appear on his neck. “Dimension Mg.”
‘Mg’ meant a magic world. Well, that made sense. There weren’t many who’d attempt a summons in an Mt world, or even an Ma world. Maybe he had a shot. Maybe he could do something there. They might call him in his true form. They might—
“World A,” continued the Dream Eater. She put down another stroke.
Lesley touched his hand to his neck. He tried to rub it off.
A. Shoot, that was top on the priority list. That meant summons were frequent, with high name turnover. That could mean a number of things. It could mean a world with entirely too much ether and a lazy populace, the kind who expected creatures from the Realm of Light to carry them about for fun, or—
“Class F.”
—or it could be a Wizard World War. The absolute worst place for a summon of any kind to ever be.
“No,” said Lesley. “That’s all wrong. Put me somewhere else. Don’t you know what I do?”
“Know what you did,” said the Dream Eater. “I know you were Second Summoner of the Cloud Spire, but that’s about to be in the past. I’m about to give you a shiny new job and a shiny new name.”
“I refuse,” said Lesley. “My name is Lesley Windham Chiaroscuro. I am, in fact, Second Summoner of the Cloud Spire, Keeper of the Spark, Walker of Rainbows, and First Clerk to the Lord of Dreams, and I will not be subject to the likes of some common hedge mage with a grudge!”
But the last stroke came down with a sideways slash, as the Dream Eater finished the ‘T.’
“Your name’s Libertus,” she said, laughing at the joke of it. “You fight for whoever wants you.”
The finished script burned hot and red on Lesley’s neck. He fell to his knees. The lines of the summoning circle under him connected and exploded in light.
His hands and feet were hooves by the time it fully engulfed him and the name echoed in his ears and all around him as he felt his body pulled out of this one and into the next.
Libertus.
Libertus.
Liber—