Nightmare by Steven Harper Page A

was overtaking the feeling. Things had been so much simpler when he ran up to give her a hug whenever she picked him up from her sister and brother-in-law’s house after a recruiting mission. Ara had recently decided he was old enough to stay by himself during her shorter trips—with someone checking on him from time to time—but now she questioned the wisdom of that idea.
      "Who did you buy it from?" she asked. "And how did you get the money?"
      "Computer work," Ben said, referring to the occasional odd jobs he did on the networks. "Found a guy on the nets ..." Clank. "who had a gravity machine and was selling this one cheap." Clank. Sweat rolled off him and he paused long enough to wipe his face on his shoulder.
      "Well," Ara said uncertainly. "Don’t hurt yourself. Did you have dinner?"
    Ben shook his head, straining heavily to lift the bar one more time. His arms trembled and Ara was seized with the sudden impulse to help him lift it. At last he managed to straighten his arms and hold the weight stack in place for a moment before all but dropping them with a crash. Ara was about to suggest he end the workout and take a shower when the computer chimed.
      "Attention! Attention!" it said. "Incoming call for Mother Araceil Rymar."
      "Put it through to my office," Ara said. She nodded at Ben and went up the hall.
      Ara’s office was done in the same decor as the house, with pale hardwood floors, wood paneling, and large rugs covering the floor. A leafy branch shaded one window while the other looked out over the long drop to the forest floor below. Outside, the sun shone in a golden summer haze. Ara’s desk was a moderate mess, but nothing like the sty in Ben’s room. That was another change. Ben had always been tidy as a child, but in the last year he hadn’t cleaned a thing unless Ara stood over him. She dreaded seeing the kitchen.
      "Eliza," Ara addressed the house computer, "open call."
      One wall blinked into a view screen. A silver-haired man with a kind, worried face appeared. He wore a soft brown robe. "Araceil. I’m glad you’re back."
      "Grandfather Melthine," Ara said warmly. "If you’re looking for a report on my trip, I just got back. I can—"
      "There’s been another death, Araceil," Melthine interrupted. "Like the others."
      She stiffened. "Oh no."
      "We need you to recreate the scene, and we have to move quickly," Melthine continued. "Before the echoes die away from the Dream. How soon can you be here?" He recited a monastery address which appeared across the bottom of the screen. The place was within walking distance.
      "Give me ten minutes, maybe fifteen." Ara was already reaching for a computer pad from her desk. She also snatched up one of her dermosprays and checked to make sure the drug chamber was full.
      "Every moment counts," Melthine said. "I’ll watch for you." The wall went blank.
      Ara dashed out of her office and poked her head into Ben’s room. He was sitting up holding a free weight, elbow braced on the bench between his knees.
      "Emergency investigation," she said. "Order supper if I’m not back soon, all right?"
      Ben grunted and lifted the weight, biceps straining. Ara didn’t know if he meant the sound as assent or if it was a general noise, but she turned anyway and rushed toward the door.
      Outside, she clattered up a set of wooden stairs to a walkway that ran above the house. Tiny flying lizards chirped and croaked in the leaves and the air was warm where the talltree shade didn’t reach. The overhead sky was clear and blue, and the breeze remained pleasant. Ara, however, was covered with goosebumps. Another murder, and she had been called to investigate.
      Ara hurried up the walkway which connected her neighborhood’s talltree to the next talltree over. The entire monastery—and the city that surrounded it—was built into the canopy of the massive forest. Each talltree was over a hundred meters high, with thick, spreading branches