Levi opened his eyes, but shut them rather quickly. The world was turning over, and so was his stomach. Why? He did not know. He did not want to know. He wanted to sleep. And so he did.
His dreams were filled with color, from a crystal yellow to deep amber, and from a pale pink to dark ruby. The colors were moving all around him, almost as if they were performing a captivating dance. He could not reach them, however hard he tried. The lighter colors had a lot of energy, the darker ones moved more tranquilly.
Soon others joined: joyful bubbles mixed with the pale straw, while the plum-like colors mixed with the sediments near the ground. The dance seemed to be complete, and Levi enjoyed the sight, although he wanted to dance with them. He moved closer to the colors, and now he could see the shadows following them. Some seemed to make even more seductive and sweet advances than the colors to which they were attached. Almost at the end of the twirling and whirling, everything moved slower and slower, until the colors were at rest.
It was an invitation for Levi to come closer. As he took some steps forward, he was taken aback by a combination of strong feelings that the colors seemed to radiate. A walk over the heather moorland on a spring day, surrounded by flowers and birds. Camping on a summer morning, after the rain wet the grass. The wood from the forest on an autumn afternoon. A campfire during a cold winter night, where vanilla and cinnamon brought extra warmth. All the memories related to these feelings, it was almost too much. The colors were not done with him, however. Now they moved closer and closer, until they, one by one, collided with his skin.
This was a new experience. He was reliving the memories he felt moments before. They started flying around like a butterfly slightly touching him, like a mosquito with a nasty sting, like a swan with graceful wing beats. Of course, a recollection of the past not only contained pleasant honeyed thoughts, but also the somewhat wry and dry ones. At times there were ones that lingered longer than others, although the colors that caused them were long gone. When a color left, emptiness stayed.
Now it was greed he felt, wanting all colors and experiences, because he knew they made him happy. However, the more colors that passed him, the less he felt them. Numbed by the experience he continued to the darkest of them all. This one slowly approached him like a syrup flowing down, until they became one. It was then he felt himself twirling all around, flying up, until he rested to move no longer. Everything became dark, and his fall was followed by a shattering noise.
Levi opened his eyes, but he could not shut them again. He walked in a whirl from his bed to the kitchen, as his dry mouth bothered him. He noticed a ruby trail of footsteps to the living area, which he followed. At last, pain hit him from all sides. A headache stronger than he had ever experienced troubled his sight, while his feet hit the shards of glass on the ground. His wineglass had not survived the winetasting organized by his housemates. Nevertheless, shrugging his shoulders was the only solution he could come up with at the moment, so he walked to the couch to doze off.
Levi laid down on the couch. He closed his eyes as his head landed on the soft cushions of the couch. He could feel himself fading, entering that world of colours and impressions.
He was almost back in that colourful realm, when he was abruptly torn from it.
Slowly opening his eyes, slightly dazed and drowsy, he tried to get his bearings.
He struggled to breathe as a woman dressed in a dark red gown held him up by his throat. Her eyes were an unnatural shade of green, too deep, too rich. Her hair was as black as ink, and her face seemed as white as chalk.
She grinned at him, as she tightened her grip on Levi’s throat.
‘Ah, good you’re still awake. Can’t have you entering that dream world again now, dreamwalker.’
He mumbled something.
The woman cocked her head, then smiled, loosening her grip. Levi barely caught himself on time to prevent faceplanting back onto the couch.
‘Sorry.’ She said, as her smile widened. ‘What were you trying to ask?’
All of Levi’s instincts told him to run. To break down and cry. To give up.
But rationally he knew there was no way this woman would let him go until she was done with him.
She chuckled. ‘Why are you so tense?’ She spread her arms. ‘I’m here to offer you the job of a lifetime.’ Then she looked at him again. ‘However long or short that may be.’
Levi’s brow furrowed. ‘Job? I’m just a college student, I work at McDonalds on the weekends.’
The woman chuckled again. ‘Oh my dear boy. You could do so much more than that. Your talents are wasted here.’
Levi shook his head. Talents? Him? The most extraordinary thing he’d ever done was beat Jackson at monopoly that one time, and that had mostly been luck.
‘You, my soon to be employee,’ she continued. ‘Are a dreamwalker.’ She turned away from him to grab and look at the picture of him and his housemates on the nearby table. She looked it over then put it back as she spoke. ‘A mind designed to traverse the realm of dreams, expression, and emotion.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘Those old Fae hags were stuck-up as fuck, but not even I have managed to quite reach their understanding of mental manipulation.’ She scoffed, then she shook her head. ‘Not that it matters, they’re dead now.’ She shrugged. ‘Or as dead as immortal beings can really be, I suppose.’
Then she shook her head. ‘Anyways, what really matters is that you, mister dreamwalker you, are a rarity, presumably one of a kind. Which makes you valuable and useful.’
‘Which is why you’re offering me a job?’ Levi asked, slightly more relaxed now that he realised she really was not here to kill him.
She nodded with a smile. ‘There you go! I knew you’d get it eventually!’
She sat down next to him with a flourish, and gestured widely with her arms. ‘This is my vision: The greatest form of entertainment streamed straight into the audience’s mind! Forget movies! Forget video games! Forget the dusty old pages of a book! With your help we’ll pioneer the final form of entertainment!’ She smiled widely. ‘There will be no need for interpretations of artworks, as the intended meaning will be directly sent to the recipient! No arguing over who is best girl, or whether the ending was satisfactory or not! No need for complex discussions about representation and washing of any kind! All intentions and experiences will be communicated exactly as intended!’
Levi found himself nodding. The woman’s sales pitch did at least seem to make sense.
The woman smiled. ‘Sooooo what do you think?’ She asked, her intense green eyes meeting his dull blue ones. He felt strangely drawn in by them. Like they were the centre of a black hole sucking up all his attention. As if they drained colour out of the room, like everything else would soon fade to black.
Mesmerised by these eyes he spoke. ‘That sounds wonderful.’
The woman perked up. ‘I know, right?!’
Levi then hesitated. ‘But how exactly do I help? You mentioned I was a dreamwalker? But what does that mean?’
‘Oh don’t worry about that, darling.’ She said, waving his problems away. ‘All you have to know is that your mind, particularly your soul, has a very special structure, and that allows you to slip into the mental world, where eventually the minds of all living beings intersect. After some training you’ll be able to traverse that world, and affect it, instead of having it affect you, like when you dreamed last night.’
Levi shook his head. ‘But I’ve never experienced dreams like those before-’
‘Tonight?’ She grinned. ‘That’s because I poisoned your wine last night. Did you not notice any nausea or headaches of the like?’ She chuckled. ‘Or did you think that was the alcohol?’ She added as she playfully flicked a lock of her now suddenly dark brown hair past her face. And it passed her dark green eyes, they suddenly shifted to a light brown, and her chalk white face gained a small bit of colour.
Levi’s eyes widened.
‘Miranda?’ He asked, recognising the woman in front of him as the girlfriend of one of his housemates.
The woman shook her head. ‘That is how you and your housemates would know me, yes. But,’ she snapped her finger, and her features immediately turned back to the pale black haired women with the mesmerising eyes. ‘I think you’ve realised I am far more than that.’
Levi shook his head. This was a lot to take in. Miranda, Cain’s girlfriend, was offering him a job as a dreamwalker?
The woman sighed. ‘No not as a dreamwalker, boy, but as an entertainer, an engine for my grandest work of art yet!’
Levi shook his head, he was not sure about this, but he also did not think this woman, Miranda, would take no for an answer. And she seemed dangerous. No Levi did not have much of a choice at all.
Without Levi even saying anything the woman grinned, and held out her hand. The room seemed to darken again, the deep green in her eyes once again seeming to be the only colour left.
‘So, it’s a deal then?’
“Rest mij enkel nog de Zoute Zusters hartelijk te bedanken dat zij gastvrouw willen zijn tijdens dit tienjaarlijkse congres van de Vakvereniging voor Magisch Ingenieurs,” besloot de dagvoorzitter het welkomstwoord vanachter zijn lessenaar. “En daarmee is het 368e tovenaarsconclaaf geopend!” Hij sloeg een hamer op een daarvoor bestemd blokje om zijn woorden kracht bij te zetten. Een gedempt pok klonk als gevolg. De dagvoorzitter, een Grijze Tovenaar van de Shetlandeilanden, keek vertwijfeld naar het instrument dat hij in zijn hand had. “Het 368e tovenaarsconclaaf is geopend,” herhaalde hij en sloeg nogmaals met zijn hamer op het blokje. Pok. “Ik zei…,” begon hij enigszins verbouwereerd terwijl hij de hamer voor een derde keer op het blokje sloeg, maar niemand hoorde de rest omdat een oogverblindende flits met een oorverdovende knal in het kielzog de zintuigen van alle aanwezige tovenaars benam. De hamer van Thor had wat ouderdomskwalen, maar hij deed het nog steeds.
Nadat iedereen weer bij zijn positieven gekomen was stroomde de centrale vergaderhal grotendeels leeg. Laurent was één van de laatsten die de zaal verliet. Hij zag nog net hoe de Grijze Tovenaar zijn plaats achter de lessenaar terug innam. Die was dusdanig geschrokken van de knal dat hij was uitgegleden en met zijn hoofd akelig tegen het spreekgestoelte aangevallen. De schade leek beperkt, maar Laurent kon horen dat er een stukje onzekerheid in zijn stem was geslopen. De Grijze Tovenaar raspte zijn keel. “Goed, laten we beginnen met agendapunt twee: inkomende en uitgaande post.” De weinige preciezelingen die voor deze agendapunten waren blijven zitten bladerden mee door hun vergaderstukken. De voorzitter vervolgde: “Voor u hebt u een brief van de Stichting voor Magische Bemiddeling, die zij ons negen jaar en acht maanden geleden stuurden, met het verzoek of wij…” Laurent was inmiddels de deur uitgelopen achter het merendeel van de congresgangers aan. Vandaag stonden enkel verenigingsformaliteiten op het programma die, de een enkeling die er zijn hart aan ophaalde daargelaten, de meeste tovenaars absoluut niet interesseerden. Laurent was daarop geen uitzondering, hoewel hij dat tot vandaag niet had geweten.
Niet wetend wat anders te doen volgde hij de mensen die net voor hem de zaal hadden verlaten door de lange gangen van de Zilte Zetel. Het geroezemoes van zijn voorgangers werd grotendeels overstemd door de regen die op het dak kletterde. Die was niet de schuld van Thors hamer, maar een consequentie van het bouwen van een kasteel in het hoge noorden van Schotland. Laurent keek door de hoge ramen en zag hoe in de verte bliksemschicht na bliksemschicht het hemelgewelf dooraderde. Daaronder zag hij een woelige zee. Golf na golf wierp zich op de branding en verloor met groots vertoon haar strijd tegen een standvastige kust. Dat zij verloren was overigens maar schijn, wist Laurent, die zich tijdens zijn studie had verdiept in de interactie tussen zee en kust als onderdeel van een vak over de vroege Toverkunde. De Zeeuwse Zeemagiërs ontleenden hun kracht aan het langzaam maar zeker afkalven van de kustlijn ten gevolge van golf na golf na golf.
Laurent keek terug de gang in en zag tot zijn ontzetting dat de mensen die hij achterna dacht te lopen verdwenen waren. Hij bleef twijfelend staan, maar toen hij na een paar minuten nog geen teken van leven zag haalde hij zijn schouders op en liep door. De Zilte Zetel, het hoofdkwartier van de Zoute Zusters, was gigantisch. Op zoek naar de refter waar tijdens het gehele conclaaf eten en vertier te vinden zouden zijn liep hij gang na gang door. Allerlei deuren ontsloten grote en kleine vertrekken, die allemaal leeg en in duisternis gehuld waren. De refter was nergens te bekennen. De Zoute Zuster waren vroeger een grote toverfactie geweest maar in de laatste paarhonderd jaar waren lichtingen van novices steeds kleiner geworden. Hoewel tovenaars heel oud konden worden hadden ook zij niet het eeuwige leven en inmiddels waren veel Zoute Zusters van weleer gestorven. Dat zij het tovenaarsconclaaf mochten organiseren – iets dat normaal was voorbehouden aan de meeste invloedrijke toverfacties – was dan ook meer uit respect voor wie zij vroeger waren geweest dan voor wie zij nu waren.
Laurent verstomde. Hoorde hij stemmen? “…ben niet gek…” ving hij op en “…precies waar ik het over…”. De stemmen kwamen om de hoek vandaan. “…otheus nooit de gezondste…”. Laurent schuifelde zachtjes dichter naar het einde van de gang en drukte zich tegen een pilaar aan die boven hem weg boog richting het plafond, waar hij de twee onbekende sprekers om de hoek duidelijk kon verstaan. “Sinds jij tot de MR bent toegetreden is hij alleen maar harder achteruitgegaan.” Het bleef angstig stil. Toen antwoordde een zoete vrouwenstem: “Maar Harald, waarom zou ik dat ooit doen?” De man, die blijkbaar Harald heette, antwoordde na enige momenten weifelend: “…dat, Marta, dat is het enige dat ik niet snap.” “Och, Harald, lieve Harald, dan begrijp je er echt he-le-maal niets van, schat.” “Huh? Wat bedoel…” Marta ging onverstoord door: “Gelukkig, lieve Harald, hoef je je er ook niet meer druk om te maken.” “Maar…” “TOTA DIE MANDUCO PULLUM.” Laurent voelde een gigantische hittegolf de hoek om komen die wegviel zo plotseling als zij ontstond. Kort daarop rook hij een lucht als van verbrande kip. Laurent drukte zich met alle macht tegen de pilaar aan, hopend dat ze niet zijn kan op zou lopen. Om de hoek hoorde hij een diepe zucht geslaakt worden en voetstappen die de andere kant opgingen.
Laurent bleef tegen de pilaar staan tot lang nadat de voetstappen in de verte waren verstomd. Pas toen durfde hij zich van de muur los te maken. Hij keek de hoek om. Een zwarte schroeivlek was alles wat er van Harald over was. Marta Fitzgerald, voorzitster van de Magische Raad, het hoogste medezeggenschapsorgaan van de Vakvereniging voor Magisch Ingenieurs, was een moordenaar.