Page 59 of A Theory of Dreaming
He turned and followed Master Gosse out of the administrative building.
In Master Gosse’s office, Preston sank into one of the armchairs. He expected Master Gosse to sit behind his desk. Instead, he perched on the chair beside Preston’s, so that their faces were level. He was silent for a long moment. The radiator hissed and rattled.
Then, at last: “What’s wrong with you, boy?”
There was no cruelty in his voice. In fact, there was something approaching concern. Preston could not meet his gaze. He stared blankly down at the floor.
“Come on, then.” Gosse put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. “Speak.”
“I don’t know.” Preston’s eyes were beginning to sting for how long he had gone without blinking. “Dean Fogg should have expelled me.”
“Oh, be serious now, Héloury,” Gosse said exasperatedly. “Do you think this is the worst thing one of his students has ever done? This doesn’t even come close. Once a second-year tore up his professor’s office in revenge for a bad grade, and all he received was an admonishment.”
“He was an aristocrat, I’m sure.” Preston’s tone was too hollow to be bitter. “A Llyrian.”
At that, Gosse let out a breath. Silence fell over them again.
“Yes, well, it is what it is,” said Gosse, after several moments of contemplation. “You can’t change your country of origin. And perhaps it would have been better if you’d scrapped with anyone else but the son of a baron. However, I’m very much inclined to believe that Southey deserved what he got.”
Preston looked up. His adviser had a rather indulgent smile on his face. He waggled a brow.
“It doesn’t matter,” Preston said. “Whether or not he deserved it... nothing will happen to him. But even if I’m not expelled, this will go on my permanent record, and—”
“Don’t worry about that.” Gosse waved a hand. “I’ll keep it off your record.”
Preston simply stared at him in disbelief.
“That is,” Gosse went on, “if you agree to perform a service for me in return.”
Of course.Preston tensed in his seat. Warily, he replied, “What sort of service?”
“Helping me with my work, of course. You’re still my teaching assistant in spirit, if not in law.”
“Your work,” Preston repeated. He suddenly felt odd, almost numb. “I can’t anymore. I won’t be allowed into the classroom—”
“Oh, don’t play coy,” Gosse cut in. “You know exactly what I mean, and it isn’t grading papers or preparing lecture notes. I mean the work offantasy. The work ofdreams. That world of myth and magic, running underneath our conscious reality. I have tried mightily over these past weeks, but I have not been able to access it without you. Unbeliever or not, you are the key. I don’t have the faintest idea of why, but it seems I can’t do it without you.”
Preston fixed his gaze on his adviser for a long, long moment. In the back of his mind, the bells were echoing. He could even see them now, brass and bold, gonging impossibly from beneath the waves.
“It can’t be me,” he said. “It shouldn’t be. Like you said, I don’t believe, so...”
“Yes, it does seem rather perverse, doesn’t it? Perhaps the world of magic has a sick sense of humor. Your mother—she’s Llyrian, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Preston replied, his tone guarded. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Gosse smiled. “Oh, I’m not sure yet. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything.” He glanced down at his watch, then back up at Preston. “I’d say we should renew our efforts now, but you looka bit worse for wear, and I need you in tip-top shape for where we’re going. Say you meet me here at my office tomorrow morning, bright and early?”
Preston felt very weary. But this world held no escape hatch, no secret door in the wall. Here, he was mortal, and utterly at the whims of those who held power over him. And they kept pressing him, molding him, until he fit the shape that pleased them.
“All right,” he said. “Tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” Gosse rose, rubbing his hands together and beaming with a childlike anticipation. Preston rose as well, eager to be dismissed. But before he could make it to the door, Gosse said, “Wait just a moment.”
Preston turned, dread pooling in his stomach.
“Now, you know this isn’tmychoice. If it were up to me, you’d have gotten off with a finger wag and a warning. But Dean Fogg is at the mercy of his benefactors, and ultimately, he is a weak man. It’s better that we appear to bend to his orders, at least for now. We wouldn’t want him to grow suspicious and impose on our important work.”
Preston waited without a word, his body tensed.
