Aunt Rasa would take in a poor, illiterate seven-year-old girl because she liked the way the girl's mind worked when she conversed with her. For this alone, Rasa would deserve to be one of the great women of Basilica. And this was why, instead of teaching classes in the higher schools, the only teaching Shedemei did was here in Rasa's house, where twice a year she taught a class of Aunt Rasa's most prized science students. Indeed, officially Shedemei was still a resident here in Rasa's house-she even had a bedroom here, though she hadn't used it since the last time she taught, and always half expected to find it occupied by someone else. It never was, though, no matter how consistently Shedemei slept on the cot in her rooms. Rasa always kept a place for her.
Inside the house, Shedemei soon learned that Rasa's very greatness meant that it would not be possible to see her till later in the day. Though Rasa was not at present a member of the city council, she had been asked to attend this morning's meeting. Shedemei had not expected this. It made her feel lost. For the dream still burned within her, and had to be spoken aloud.
"Perhaps," said the girl who had noticed her and spoken to her, "perhaps there's something I could help you with."
"I don't think so," said Shedemei, smiling kindly. "It was foolishness anyway."
"Foolishness is my specialty," the girl said. "I know you. You're Shedemei" She said the name with such reverence that Shedemei was quite embarrassed.
"I am. Forgive me for not remembering your name. I've seen you here many times before, though."
"I'm Luet," said the girl.
"Ah," said Shedemei. The name brought associations with it. "The waterseer," she said. "The Lady of the Lake."
The girl was clearly flattered that Shedemei knew who she was. But what woman in Basilica had not heard of her? "Not yet," said Luet. "Perhaps not ever. I'm only thirteen."
"No, I imagine you have years yet to wait. And it isn't automatic, is it?"
"It all depends," said Luet, "on the quality of my dreams."
Shedemei laughed. "And isn't that true of all of us?"
"I suppose," said Luet, smiling.
Shedemei turned to go. And then realized again whom she was talking with. "Waterseer," she said. "You must have some idea of the meanings of dreams."
Luet shook her head. "For dream interpretation you have to pay the truthmongers in the Inner Market."
"No," said Shedemei. "I don't mean that kind of dream. Or that kind of meaning. It was very strange. I never remember my dreams. But this time it felt... very compelling. Perhaps even... perhaps the kind of dream that I imagine one like you would have."
Luet cocked her head and looked at her. "If your dream might come from the Oversoul, Shedemei, then I need to hear it. But not here."
Shedemei followed the younger girl-half my age, she realized-into the back of the house and up a flight of stairs that Shedemei barely knew existed, for this region of the house was used for storage of old artifacts and furniture and classroom materials. They went up two more flights, into the attic space under a roof, where it was hot and dark.
"My dream was not so secret that we needed to come here to tell it," said Shedemei.
"You don't understand," said Luet. "There's someone else who must hear, if the dream is truly from the Oversoul." With that, Luet removed a grating from the gable wall and stooped through it, out into the bright air.
Shedemei, half blinded by the sunlight, could not see at first that there was a flat porch-like roof directly under the opening in the wall. She thought that Luet had stepped into nothingness and floated on the air. Then her eyes adjusted and, by squinting, she could see what Luet was walking on. She followed.
This flat area was invisible from the street, or from anywhere else, for that matter. A half dozen different sloping roofs came together here, and a large drainage hole in the center of the flat area made it clear why this place existed. In a heavy rain, it could fill up with roof runoff as much as four feet deep, until the drain could carry the water away. It was more of a pool than a porch.
It was also a perfect hiding place, since not even the residents of Rasa's house had any notion that this place existed-except, obviously, Luet and whoever was hiding here.
Her eyes adjusted further. In the