Lady of Dreams Read online

  “Hurry along,” I told him. Jessamy hunched one of his shoulders up to his ear, his face screwed up to that side. He often did that when I talked to him in Dreams; I had come to the conclusion that he must feel something akin to a tickling in his ear. He certainly heard me whenever it seemed good to me to be heard.

  He saw Ae-jung laughing at him and made a face at her. “This one,” he said, and dragged her into the closest stall.

  They spent the whole morning wandering the market. I wondered if Hyun-jun was still popping in and out of his apartment with the air of an offended owl, but wasn’t curious enough to be tempted away from Jessamy and Ae-jung. Jessamy was still inclined to be prickly, but Ae-jung’s air of single-minded determination complemented his own, and they searched through the market like a pair of short-haired terriers, intent upon the scent of Scandian Sundrops.

  Toward early afternoon they found their first ray of purple-foiled hope: a thinly gilded and veneered stall that was as flashy as it was expensive. The stall ahjumma, seeing their interest in the chocolates, became very affable and verbose.

  “Not those ones,” I said to Jessamy, who once again twitched his head sideways and grimaced. “They’re fakes.”

  Ae-jung was looking them over very carefully and lending only half an ear to the stall ahjumma’s rapid sales pitch, her brow wrinkled.

  “They look good,” said Jessamy, with a cursory look at the golden balls. “Ahjumma—”

  “Don’t,” said Ae-jung, catching at his cuff.

  Jessamy shook her off, but was cautious enough to demand, “Why?”

  “It’s rubbish,” Ae-jung said under her breath. The ahjumma looked at her narrowly despite that, and she edged closer to Jessamy to murmur, “The goldy stuff; it isn’t gold. And the chocolate was heated too much. It won’t taste dreadful, but they’ll think we’ve been cheap about it.”

  “Oh?” Jessamy, to my amused gaze, was slowly and almost unnoticeably pinkening about the ears and neck. When Ae-jung, to escape the gathering wrath of the stall ahjumma, leaned even closer to add confidentially, “Maybe we should go back to that other stall where they were hinting at us,” I saw the flush spread to his cheeks. It was the first sign of consciousness I had ever seen him display around a female, unless impatience and vague disapproval could be seen as such.

  He jerked himself away, half turning, and said abruptly, “Let’s go back to the other stall.” He started out across the market again without waiting for Ae-jung—trying, no doubt, to hide his pink cheeks from her. I felt the unfamiliar warmth of laughter bubbling up in my stomach, delightful and disturbing at the same time. Oh, but I was glad I had Dreamed these Dreams!

  Ae-jung hurried after Jessamy, as oblivious to his pink cheeks now as she had been earlier to Yong-hwa’s far subtler hints, and I woke, gently laughing. I was reclining on the window seat of my room with late-afternoon sunlight speckling my cotton-clothed lap, and Eun-hee sat opposite me on my usual chaise longue.

  She looked at me in wonder. “Clovis-a! You’re laughing!”

  “Unni, I think I’m going to enjoy myself for a little while,” I said. Over Eun-hee’s shoulder I saw Carlin smiling, his eyes meeting mine for a companionable moment before he lowered them. “And don’t be too worried; Hyun-jun will certainly come.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it,” said Eun-hee, in satisfaction. “Clovis-a, you have no idea how comforting your premonitions are.”

  I smiled faintly at her. “Are they? Well then, I’m glad. I’m afraid it might be tiresome for you next week; Jessamy seems to be falling in love.”

  Eun-hee became thoughtful. “Is he so? Well, that could be amusing, though, Clovis-a!”

  “It is,” I said, a smile curling slightly at the corners of my mouth. “It really is, Unni!”

  4

  I often go to parties. You’re surprised. You probably never saw me at one you were attending; you’ve noticed yourself that I’m not easily seen at the best of times. At a party there is always so much movement that even the small chance of my being seen is whittled away to nothing.

  And inasmuch as I can be said to enjoy anything, I do enjoy parties. Parties are like Dreams, you see: so long as I arrange for my couch to be at a good vantage point, there are myriad things to see. And unless I’m in a very bad mood, the dancing is pleasant to watch. From a decent height, I can imagine myself to be Dreaming, my sight vast and almost all-encompassing. I’m able to see all the byplays and the small fights that always happen on a ballroom floor. Isn’t it a good thing I’m so nosy? A ball is a pleasant occasion for me.

  Dinnertime is a little more difficult, but so long as I have Carlin with me, I always manage to be fed.

  Mwoh?

  I’m so sorry.

  So long as you’re there, I’m certain to be looked after. Satisfied?

  Why do I talk about Carlin so often?

  . . . mwoh . . . ?

  I don’t.

  Am I supposed to speak only of you, then?

  I . . . what? I am? Don’t be silly.

  Now be quiet, I haven’t finished . . .

  ***

  I woke the next morning to Eppan sunshine and a sense of stickiness that I never feel anywhere but Eppa. There were Dreams hovering, but not so closely that I wasn’t able to enjoy a cold breakfast with Eun-hee. She was inclined to eye me narrowly, which usually meant that a shopping trip to replenish my hopelessly out-of-date wardrobe was in the wind. I sat up a little straighter and smoothed out my skirts. That could be amusing.

  Eun-hee saw me smoothing my skirts and immediately said, “The town house? Shall we? I’ve nothing fit to wear, either, and there are a few entertainments I was invited to in the city.”

  “You’re not expecting any other guests this week?”

  “Not a one!” said Eun-hee firmly. “Only Dong-wook, and you know I don’t count him. It only encourages him.”

  “One of these days,” I said, “you’ll end up married to him, Unni. Flirting with him like this at your age—!”

  “Flirting with him! Clovis-a, if I’ve kicked him out once, I’ve done it a dozen times! Not to mention deliberately leaving the house when he’s expected and instructing the butler to tell him I’m not home—”

  “That’s what I mean,” I said. “To Dong-wook, that is encouragement. He wouldn’t have any interest in you at all if you didn’t beat him away with a stick.”

  “Clovis-a,” said Eun-hee, with great dignity. “I may not be as young as I used to be, but I’m quite capable of interesting young men without the use of stratagem, thank you very much!”

  “Ah,” I said. “I’ve hurt your feelings. That’s not exactly what I meant, Unni. All I mean is that you know exactly how Dong-wook thinks, and that it seems to please you to keep him around.”

  Eun-hee glared at me. “Oh, is that all you meant? Clovis-a—”

  “Unni. I’ll have sheer sleeves this season, I think.”

  “Sheer sl—” Eun-hee’s painted mouth worked for a few useless moments. “Clovis-a, how can you be so countrified! Sheer sleeves went out of fashion two years ago!”

  “I like sheer sleeves.”

  “I suppose you also like being laughed at,” scoffed Eun-hee. “Sheer sleeves, really! No, there are only three choices for sleeves this summer: three-quarter with a banded cuff, puff sleeves, or the tiniest of cap sleeves.”

  “Cap sleeves, then,” I said.

  Eun-hee gave me an appraising look. “Much better,” she agreed. “With those slender arms of yours it would be a waste to wear three-quarter sleeves. Barely-there cap sleeves will suit you much better. We’ll go up to the city today then—unless it will be too much for you?”

  “Today is fine,” I said. “As for it being too much, that’s something you’d be better off asking Carlin; he’s the one who will have to carry me to and fro.”

  “I’ll tell the maid to prepare the small overnight trunk, miss,” said Carlin.

  Most unusually for me, I remained awake for the enti
re journey from Eun-hee’s estate to her town house. I could have slipped into the Dreams if I’d tried to, but it was a beautiful day, so I contented myself with watching the countryside, and then the city streets. I lent an ear to Eun-hee’s near-constant chatter and let my mind range free, from mild interest in Eun-hee’s plans on my new wardrobe to mild curiosity about whether I would see any of my Dream characters while in the city. It was unlikely, of course—but then, I would also have said that it was unlikely for me to last an entire day without being sucked into at least one Dream.

  I pushed my way into the Dreams when I woke up the next day. While I wasn’t in the habit of slipping into them under my own impetus, this time I had a purpose, and that purpose was to make Jessamy aware of my presence in the city. I could have sent a note, but it was much less troublesome for me to send a message in my own way, and it was more likely to succeed than a letter sent by the hand of a servant who could well forget to deliver it as soon as they were out of sight of me.

  It was a tiresome business, pushing into the Dreams, and since I once again found myself nose to nose with Yong-hwa, I experienced a greater twinge of annoyance than I’m usually capable of feeling.

  “You again,” I said sourly. Yong-hwa’s head tilted slightly to the side, his ear twitching briefly toward his shoulder as if someone had whispered in his ear. I retreated slightly, frowning, and muttered, “Don’t do that.”

  It wasn’t until I’d pulled away from Yong-hwa that I recognised a second focal point in the room: Jessamy was also there, frowning over papers at the low table by the window and tapping a Contraption pen against his temple. I floated over to my brother, taking vague pleasure in pushing through Yong-hwa’s gayageum as I went, and bent over him to say very clearly, in his ear, “Jessamy!”

  Jessamy made an involuntary movement with one hand that sent papers fluttering from the table. “Nuna!”

  Yong-hwa said, “Mwoh?” in some surprise.

  Jessamy, looking as confused as he usually did when I used this particular method of getting his attention, shuffled his palms over his ears and then shook his head. “My ears are buzzing,” he said. “Hyung, I think Nuna must be in town.”

  “Any nuna in particular?” enquired Yong-hwa, sitting in one of the elegant chairs and crossing his legs just as elegantly. He wasn’t looking at Jessamy directly, but I was certain he was listening carefully.

  “Mine, of course,” said Jessamy. “Clovis-a.”

  Yong-hwa’s head tilted back a little. “You have a sister?”

  “Mm,” Jessamy said absently, scrabbling for escapee papers. “Didn’t I tell you about her?”

  “No.” Yong-hwa slid a look sideways at Jessamy, who was tidying up with more haste and goodwill than efficacy. “Jessamy-a, I’m hurt. Didn’t you want her to meet me?”

  “It’s not like that,” protested Jessamy, scrambling to his feet. “I wasn’t afraid you’d break her heart, Hyung. Actually, I don’t think anyone could break her heart; she’s a funny little thing. Abeoji doesn’t like me talking about her, that’s all. She can’t walk, you see.”

  Yong-hwa watched Jessamy’s dashes here and there to collect his scattered belongings with a glow of amusement to his eyes. “Ah. You’re going now?”

  “Nae,” nodded Jessamy . “I told you: she must have arrived.”

  “And yet, I’m still confused as to how you know,” said Yong-hwa, but he said it to an empty room; Jessamy had already gone. He said to himself, “So the puppy has a crippled sister? How does she keep him off the furniture, I wonder?”

  “Never you mind,” I told him, and wriggled myself back to my body. It was an uncomfortable feeling, knowing that Yong-hwa was thinking about me. He would soon forget about me, of course, but I still didn’t like the feeling. When I emerged from the Dream, it was with a distinct shiver.

  Jessamy arrived with a clatter and a bang just a little later, the clatter his personal Horseless Trap and the bang the front door as he dashed through it and left it to slam while he took the stairs three at a time. I caught a brief sight of it in a snatch of Dream, but I would have known that sound anywhere. I was smiling as he bounded through my bedroom door.

  “Nuna!” he crowed, gleefully tossing his hat away without regard to its disposal. Unlike most Eppans, who rarely embrace even those they love best, Jessamy is ruthless in his affection. He kissed me soundly on both cheeks, then dragged me from my couch to spin us in a wild, unsteady circle that soon had me laughing as much as he was. “Nuna, I missed you! Nobody has the same ice chips in their eyes as you!”

  I seized the spiky tufts of hair at the crown of his head and tugged hard enough to make him squeal. “Put me down.”

  “Nuna! Ow! I apologise!”

  “You’re a well-brought-up boy,” I said approvingly, and he put me carefully back on my chaise longue. I patted down the hair I had mangled, and Jessamy immediately went from injured to sunnily smiling.

  “All the nunas love me,” he said. “But you’re the only one I love.”

  “Oh, is that so?” I said, smiling in spite of myself. I was already feeling heavier, and if the Dreams had seemed few before, they were positively scarce now. “Jessamy-a, put a pillow or two behind me, will you?”

  He was instantly serious, a look that sat oddly on his expressive little face. “Are you all right, Nuna? Should I call for your Carlin-automaton?”

  “There’s no need for Carlin,” I said, giving his head one last pat. “Such a worrywart! Why shouldn’t I have pillows?”

  “I wasn’t worried,” said Jessamy, pouting, but he fetched the pillows and put them behind me just the same. “You should love me, Nuna; we haven’t seen each other for a whole year!”

  I tilted my head back to watch his mobile face as he arranged the pillows for me, and sank back when he finished, feeling a certain contentment to my heaviness. Seeing Jessamy again after a year’s absence is always a tiring occasion, but it carries its own compensations: there’s a feeling of suddenly breathing again after a year without air, and if there’s a little pain with that returning function, well, what’s a little pain, after all?

  I didn’t realise that I was still gazing at him until he tugged at his hair and said, “Nuna? Are you all right?”

  “Dae,” I said, with half a smile. “Just learning to breathe again, Jessamy-a.”

  “Mind your skirts, Nuna,” he said cheerfully. “I’m sitting down!”

  Despite the warning, he sat down without giving me a chance to sweep the folds of my skirt away, even if I had been lively enough to be able to do so. I abandoned my dress to wrinkles and creases; it wasn’t much of a sacrifice when new ones would begin arriving over the next few days anyway. Jessamy pulled his brightly stockinged feet up on the chaise longue but hugged his arms around my knees instead. “What are you doing in the city, Nuna? I didn’t know until you made my ears buzz.”

  “Eun-hee unni wanted to do some shopping,” I told him. “We only arrived yesterday and will probably only stay until the end of the week.”

  “Will you see Abeoji?”

  On balance, I was fairly certain that Jessamy loved me better than he loved our father; it was the only thing that made his puppylike endeavours to push us together amusing. If I hadn’t thought so, it might have annoyed even me.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Don’t be tedious, Jessamy.”

  “I’m not tedious,” said Jessamy, making a face at me. “I’m a charming young light in the literary world.”

  “Ah. Did you talk Abeoji into doing a pamphlet run of your poems?” That was a little bit surprising, but Jessamy was the favourite and the heir.

  “It was my first publishing job,” said Jessamy proudly. “Abeoji said that if I wanted them published I could do it myself and see how much work it was. I’m working at the Publishing house now. Didn’t you know, Nuna? I thought you knew everything.”

  I smiled a little. There was always a period after returning to Scandia when it hurt too much even to watch hi
m in Dreams: it usually lasted a few weeks or months, easily enough time for me to have missed Jessamy’s first publication. “I know more than enough,” I told him. “Scandian Sundrops left to melt!”

  Jessamy grimaced. “Don’t bring that up again, Nuna! I still haven’t heard the last of it from Abeoji.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “Then we’ll talk about why you didn’t send me a copy of your poetry pamphlet.”

  “Nuuuuuna!” he whined. “You have to be nice to me! I want to tell you about my new client.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “But if you’re a charming light in the literary world, I want a little bit of that light for basking in.”

  “I’ll bring a copy with me when I come to Eun-hee nuna’s estate,” he said readily. “No, I’ll bring two! Eun-hee can have one, too: it’ll be a bribe, because I’m bringing along a friend. Nuna, you’ll never guess who my client is!”

  I could have told him otherwise, and perhaps he was waiting for me to do so, because he looked at me expectantly for a moment or two before he couldn’t wait any longer and burst out with, “Ma Yong-hwa! It’s Ma Yong-hwa, Nuna!”

  “Why did Abeoji leave such a brilliant star with a little prawn like you?” I said, smiling into my hair. “Oh no, I beg your pardon; you prefer to be referred to as—”

  Jessamy grinned and finished, “Charming Light of the Literary World! It’s a good thing I know you’re not as mean as you pretend to be, Nuna!”

  “Who says I’m not?” I demanded.

  Jessamy launched himself forward in a sneak assault hug and did his best to make my previously uncreased bodice as wrinkled as he had made my skirt. “I do. You couldn’t really be mean to me anyway, I’m too lovable. Yong-hwa says I’m a puppy.”

  “One that should be kept off the furniture,” I said, nodding. “How do you happen to be handling a client as important as Ma Yong-hwa?”