The Butcher's Ring: Episode Seven

Introduction
Welcome to Dreamwalker’s Diligence, a biweekly, bite-sized fantasy serial about a magical antiques shopkeeper with a penchant for mysteries.
If you are new to the serial, here is Episode One. You can also check out The Complete Guide for episode and character lists.

Episode 7

“Begin? Right now?” The words come out of William flustered and surprised. He looks around as if he expects someone else to tell him what to do. “I mean, would you like a cup of tea or ... should we talk a bit first?”

“No. I am not here to seduce you. I am here to fix your magically induced nightmare situation,” Faolán says. “We don’t need any foreplay.”

And it is, of course, at this exact moment that a woman who is in all likelihood William’s wife enters the room along with the child who opened the front door.

Faolán has no idea how much they heard. He sweeps into a bow and flashes the woman a charming smile as he straightens up again because that is better than apologising. “Good evening, ma’am,” he says.

“Hello, dreamwalker. I’m Sophie,” the woman says and returns his bow with a nod. Her hazelnut brown hair is tied back into a practical bun, and she is wearing an apron with wet spots as well as a worried expression. “Thank you for agreeing to help my husband.”

“My name is Faolán,” he replies. “And of course.” Because the moment it became clear that whoever made that ring is on dreamwalker turf, there was no question of whether he would. This is personal.

“May I take your cloak?” Sophie asks.

“Please,” Faolán answers and hands it over. Little formalities to make the humans comfortable.

There is an awkward moment, then, when all three humans are looking at the dagger at Faolán’s waist, the child unabashedly and her parents with some concern. None of them says anything, though, and while Faolán knows the polite thing would be to hand his weapon over for safekeeping as well, he is not about to give away his blade to someone who is not even a mage.

“Can I take the dreamwalker upstairs and show him the bedroom?” the little girl whispers into the silence.

“Yes,” Faolán replies, though he is absolutely the only person the question could not possibly be meant for.

“Maybe that’s not …” William begins.

Faolán directs an almost-glare at him because the tension in the room makes it obvious that the butcher is not concerned that his offspring will be an inconvenience to Faolán. He is hesitant to leave his child with the strange creature who looks so much like a young human until you notice his pointed ears and the inhumanly dark irises of his large eyes. “It’s fine,” he says and smiles. “You should do anything you need to do before we begin.”

“What ..?” asks the butcher.

“He means you should go to the outhouse,” Sophie puts in.

Faolán nods at her, grateful for her practical thinking. Indeed, Faolán once had to interrupt his work because his client had to get up to urinate, and it was a complete waste of his time.

“It’s this way!” the little girl says.

Faolán follows her up a narrow staircase with a banister worn shiny and wooden steps rounded by years of use. She leads him through a short hallway to her parents’ bedchamber. It is not large, but it has a bed with room for two people. Faolán prefers not to snuggle up to his clients and is glad to see a threadbare greenish armchair in one corner. Laundry has been deposited on it, but he can easily redeposit that.

“This is the bedroom!” the child announces, unnecessarily.

“Yes,” Faolán agrees. He sweeps the room with his senses. Nothing even faintly magical in here. Well, except himself, of course.

The little girl stares expectantly at him. What does she want? For him to compliment the furniture?

“Thank you for showing me up,” Faolán says.

“My name is Katelyn,” she announces.

“I see. Mine is Faolán, but I think you already know that.”

“Can you help with my nightmares too?” she asks.

Faolán studies the little girl. Just like the bedchamber, there is not a trace of magic on her. He is about to say something flippant, but there is this thing about children where you have to take certain things seriously. He is fairly sure this one has the normal, healthy amount of nightmares. And if she has a surplus caused by whatever worries she carries with her, there are other ways than bringing in a dreamwalker. “Do you have nightmares often?” he asks.

“No,” Katelyn says and looks down. “But I had one last night. I don’t want it to come back. Daddy …” She trails off.

Ah. Of course. Her father is plagued by recurring nightmares, and she is scared. “His nightmares are special. Magical. That is very rare, and it is why he needs my help,” Faolán tells her. “But I will let you in on a secret. I sometimes have nightmares too.”

She looks up at him sharply, as if he might be teasing her. “But you’re a dreamwalker!”

“Yes, I am. And that’s how I know what to do about regular nightmares.” She is too young to understand how dreams can be real but still apart from the waking world. She is too young for him to talk about recognising the problems nightmares can point to. “It is important to tell someone you trust about the things you are afraid of and the things that make you sad. That can keep nightmares away.”

Katelyn thinks about that for a moment. “But you have nightmares too. Don’t you have anyone to talk to about what you are afraid of?” she asks.

Well then. Gut-punched by a small human child. And although Faolán’s back is turned to the door, he can sense the butcher there now. Wonderful. “Talking about what scares you helps a lot. But you might still get a few nightmares,” he continues. Which is absolutely true though it is hardly an answer to her question. “And when that happens, a good way to get away from it quickly is to find something in the waking world to hold on to. Something you know is real and comforting.” A simplification of a rudimentary technique, but it works.

“Thank you. I’ll try to remember that,” the child says solemnly.

“You’re welcome. Now, I have an important task for you. Can you be quiet for a while? I need your father to be able to fall asleep.”

Katelyn nods energetically. “I can do that. Daddy!” she continues when she looks up and sees him. “The dreamwalker knows everything about nightmares!”

“Good,” William says and smiles wanly at her. “Do you have children?” he asks Faolán when the little girl is, noisily, on her way down the stairs.

“No,” Faolán says.

He unbuckles his belt, removes it and the dagger, and places both under the green armchair. A weapon is both impractical and useless to wear while he is working.

“But I have walked into plenty of child nightmares. Now, shall we get started?”

William sits down on the bed. He clasps his hands, then unclasps them. “So … what do we need to do?” He looks around self-consciously. “Do we need to hold hands? Burn incense?”

Faolán has enough years of experience to not even let his lips twitch. “No. Not unless you absolutely want to,” he says. “You just have to go to sleep, and I will follow.”

The butcher nods. “I don’t know if I can.”

Not the first time Faolán has heard that line. Probably not the last, either. “Make yourself comfortable and lie down,” he says. “I will assist you.”

William lies down on the bed. He does not look comfortable.

“Very good,” Faolán tells him. “Now, close your eyes and listen to my voice.” He was taught to do this once upon a time. Even if it is not his chosen path, the methods are ingrained in him. What he is doing now is not all magic, but it’s not all not magic, either. He begins to talk, but it’s as much about his breathing and the cadence as it is about the words themselves. And yes, it is also about that subtle, gentle stream of magic he swirls around the client and carefully slips into his mind. This is all dreamwalker magic and not human magic.

William falls asleep almost immediately. Faolán waits for a few moments, then leans back in the hideous armchair and closes his eyes. He lets himself drift, float towards his client’s consciousness.

And then he is in.

Continue to Episode Eight.

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