The Shadow and Night Read Online Free PDF

suddenly released from his bonds. Driven by an overpowering sense of peril, Merral began to run over the loose sand away from the rippling waters. And in his fleeing, he woke up with a start of terror.
    Merral lay still for some minutes, wet with perspiration and aware of a thudding pulse in his head. It took him some time to come to terms with what he had experienced. It had clearly been a nightmare, a thing not entirely unknown in the worlds, but almost always in rare psychological ailments or in various poisoning accidents. He switched the light on and went over to the hand basin where he washed his face and checked himself over. To his surprise, he found no evidence of illness. He had no swollen glands, no spots, no pustules, and no distended stomach. Recovering something approaching calm, he went back to bed, switched off his light, and lay down, conscious of a racing pulse. He was vaguely aware of the wind gusting strongly against the walls and heavy footsteps from his uncle and aunt’s room next door. Then he committed himself again into the hands of the eternal Father, the great King, the maker of the heavenly glory, and fell asleep.
    This time he slept in peace.

    Over breakfast, Merral’s dream nagged at the corners of his mind. He had been talking over with Barrand some of Thomas’s stories from school when Zennia, robed in a warm blue gown, came in and reminded the children that it was time to leave for school. As they left in turbulent good cheer, Merral’s aunt sat at the table and turned to him.
    She stared at him, her eyes showing concern. “Did you sleep properly, Nephew? You still look tired.”
    Merral put down his cup slowly, perplexed at realizing that he wanted to avoid her question. “Er, no, Aunt. No, not really. The bed was fine, but I just had . . . well, a dream.”
    Merral was aware out of the corner of his eye of Barrand, standing against the kitchen shelves, and as he said the word dream, he had the strongest feeling that a look of surprise or dismay crossed his uncle’s face. But when he turned to Barrand, all he could see was a mild expression of quizzical sympathy.
    â€œNo! I am sorry,” his aunt replied, her voice full of consideration. “You mean a nasty dream? About what?”
    Merral found himself embarrassed. “Well, nothing much really. It was an oddly sort of static dream. Almost . . . well . . . a nightmare. I just . . .” He hesitated. “No Aunt, it’s too silly, really, to talk about. Perhaps it was something I ate.” Then he realized what he had said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that your food was—”
    â€œNo, I know what you mean,” she answered, giving him a caring look.
    Barrand turned to Merral. “Perhaps . . . perhaps it was the mushrooms.” His normally, smooth deep voice was now ragged.
    Then, as Merral watched, his uncle swung away toward the wall and began to move a plate along a shelf.
    â€œ I’ve never known them to have that effect,” Zennia commented, sounding slightly puzzled. “We all had them, didn’t we? Husband, you slept all right, didn’t you? I do remember you getting up.”
    For a moment, Barrand, apparently engrossed in finding dust on the plate, didn’t look up. “Oh, me?” he said eventually, in a level, flat tone. “Oh, I slept fine. No, nothing like that.”
    â€œBizarre,” replied Zennia. “Have you ever dreamed like this before, Merral?”
    â€œNever, thankfully.”
    Barrand turned toward them, his face expressionless. “Now, don’t rule out mushrooms. Fungal biochemistry is very complex. And they evolve in such a bizarre way; you get new strains all the time. There was a case some fifteen years ago: A whole community of sixty perished out in one of the Lenedian planets. Do you remember it?”
    â€œVaguely,” Zennia slowly