The fourth Cardinal is an interesting one for two reasons:
One - he was born with no Gift.
Two - there is no evidence that he was born at all. It is said that he simply appeared, in one dreamstate or another – or in a million at once, it isn't known. But in one instant he never existed, and in the next he always had.
His job was parallel to the Nightwalker's. Where the latter threw black sand and terror and rode on a steed of shadow, the star-seller released from his hands little bursts of light that became the good dreams.
He came to Grimmus himself, alone. They met on a promontory over a laughing blood sea.
"Dreamsifter." Grimmus's back was to him, but still he bowed. He faced the ground until he heard it turn around. Then he rose to his feet again, waited for a reply.
At last, one came. "You bear a question?"
"Yes," he said. "Yes." But he did not ask it, not yet.
The sea roared. In front of him, Grimmus stood patiently. He took a resolute breath - it tasted like blood, and he tried not to gag. Inside him, the question became a statement.
"I will be your fourth Cardinal."
"Will you?" Grimmus sounded almost amused. "Yes. Yes," it said. "You will do nicely. But first, a test."
He blinked. "I will do it."
Grimmus smiled. "Bring my Nightwalker home."
In the time the Nightwalker had been caught in the destroyed dreamstate, he had simply floated in the nothingness, his mind empty and his body becoming part of the emptiness around him. He was used to travelling through the minuscule gaps between dreamstates – those took no trouble at all – but this newly-formed space was endless. He couldn't see where it ended and where it began.
There was absolute darkness. He couldn't see his own body – it felt like he did not even exist. Where was the woman now? he wondered. When the dreamstate was destroyed, was she forced to leave it?
He needed to get out, and he only had one idea – to close the distance between the dreamstates that surrounded this one. So he did something he hadn't in as long as he could remember.
He closed his eyes, and he dreamed.
"How must I reach him?" asked the star-seller to Grimmus.
The sifter stared at him for a moment, and then their location transformed. They were in a room with absolutely no light, but he could feel the floor, solid and there below him; feel the walls, invisible yet tangible somewhere nearby.
Instinctively, he held out his hand and from it came a blink of light. The room dissolved into highs and shadow. He saw where the walls joined, where Grimmus stood, and he relaxed. The light in his hand expanded.
"Yes," said Grimmus, a smile in its voice. "Your Gift. Use it."
He looked, for a moment, up at the sifter, and a thread of understanding passed between them. He knew what he had to do – create a rent in the nothingness with his light, rip open the very fabric of what held the dreamworld together – was he powerful enough?
The answer came as he worked. The illumination grew, little by little, until it encompassed the entire room. Then it began to tear the fabric of the room itself, and the star-seller could see the limp, hanging threads of space where they had been cut.
As the Nightwalker dreamed, the space around him changed. A dreamstate had been formed, and it grew, pulsing and living, in an orbit around where he floated.
His eyes, closed tight, missed the growth of the gentle cloud around him. The dreamstate filled with shapes, colors, people. After a while he did not need to focus much at all; it folded apart by itself, growing more and more intricate, its edges shimmering and pushing outwards like water.
He opened his eyes. It still wasn't enough – he could see the edges where they fuzzed into the blackness. Frustration wormed around him in little orange ribbons. He closed his eyes and tried again – but it was not as easy as before.
Suddenly, the star-seller's light ripped into the space, He pushed it open. Wider, wider. The dreamsifter helped. In the cotton of the Nightwalker's new dreamstate there formed a gash, its edges oozing light, and soon it grew wide enough for the Nightwalker to see the star-seller on the other side.
It was like looking into a mirror.
He froze, and it was the star-seller who had to reach through the tear and pull him into the room. To safety.
"Welcome back," Grimmus said. He did not reply, after all, there was nothing. He was nothing. "I am empty," he murmured, still lost.
Grimmus barked a laugh. "O Nightwalker, you have always been so. Get up. There is work to do."
He smiled.
end
