Elishua had dressed down for her trip. If the Mission District was a slum, then where she had to go, the South Side, was a slum to that slum. It contained the more virulent industries of the City and was where the lowest of the low ended up. Nothing grew here, and the streets were dissolving into some sort of toxic dirt. She wore thick boots to deal with the caustic puddles and was careful to stay aware of her surroundings without looking like a target. But, as bad as it was, people lived here. Haunted eyes watched her from the buildings as she passed, even a few children. She had little to worry from the watchers. By the time they registered her presence, she was gone.

The City management occasionally tried to clean up the South Side, but it would be expensive and, although the pollution was contained, there wasn’t an easy way to get rid of it. Instead, the whole region had been declared a waste site, and no one was supposed to enter. Unfortunately, the law was not vigorously enforced.

It was true that the dregs living here could be a danger, but she was warier of the other things lurking in the shadows. She should be relatively safe in the daytime, but took no chances. That care and her intimidating size resulted in an uneventful walk through the wasteland.

Eventually, she arrived at the coordinates she’d been given. A small nondescript man in rough clothing separated from the wall of a shack where he’d been waiting in the shade. Nonchalantly, he sidled up to her.

Elishua had learned her lesson. This latest set of inquisitors were significantly better at blending in than the initial ones.

“Hey, Drex.”

“Lish.”

“What ya got?”

“Old druggie lives here. Wasted most of the time. Like now. Kite or Momma’s Tears. Didn’t appear to be anything special, but I talked to the neighbors and they tell me this guy started showing up here ‘bout twenty years ago. They say when he’s sky high, he starts crying about his kid being a demon or somethin’. Made weird things happen, and such. Also, something about a no-good wife. It ain’t much, but the timings about right for your boy.

“He’s in there now, completely out of it. Don’t know what you wanna do. Whatever he’s on, he can’t talk and when he wakes, more than likely he’ll be as sober as he gets and won’t remember nothin’.”

Elishua leaned over and pushed aside a curtain to peer inside. She assumed the person passed out on a makeshift bed in the corner was Drex’s guy, mostly due to a lack of anyone else. The only other things in the room were a few worthless rags and pottery shards scattered about. The local kids would have pilfered everything while the old geezer was out of it, although he probably had a stash or two hidden away somewhere.

A small spell verified that she wouldn’t be able to get a good read on him at the moment. She needed him less unconscious. A little time was all it would take, so she turned back to Drex.

“I have a few tricks, but no hurry. Might as well talk to the neighbors first. See if I can pick up anything else. You got something to help loosen their tongues?”

“Yeah, here.” He passed her a few packets, legal, but barely, and some food.

“What’s his name?”

“Goes by Fuzzy. That’s all anyone knows.”

“Ah. No clue there.”

“Nope.”

Elishua wandered the neighborhood, if it could be called that, rooting out people in the remains of the buildings. They were pretty intimidated by Elishua’s size, but the adults would loosen up fast when she bribed them with the drugs. She was surprised to find that the kids were more practical, mostly opting for the food.

Everyone she could get to talk verified Drex’s findings, and there were enough of them she could start to look for common threads.

It was much as Drex had said: the old man often ranted that his kid, probably a son, had weird things happen around him, starting when the boy was five or so. Food simply appearing, Fuzzy’s girlfriend suddenly sober, him waking up outside the city walls when he got violent, stuff like that.

The story was certainly odd; not the normal drug-fueled rantings. Elishua had mixed feelings. From what she’d been told, the kid didn’t match up that well with Tenthé. On the other hand, he did have a lot in common with what could be expected from a Dreamer, although manifesting that young was unusual.

Canvassing the neighborhood had taken a few hours, which might be sufficient time for her guy to have sobered up enough that she could get something out of him.

She made her way back to the shack and entered, quietly kneeling to examine the old man. The rasp of his breathing was the only noise in the room. One thing about the South Side, it was quiet.

He looked to be on his last legs, having been healed so many times that it couldn’t do much anymore. She could tell he was still flying on the wings of whatever he’d taken. It would be a day or two before he really came down, but he was probably sober enough for what she wanted to do.

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She sat cross-legged and centered herself. This would take some concentration. Loosening her thoughts, she drifted toward the impression the old man left in the aether. The imagery grew slowly as she began to visualize his reality. Carefully, she floated through the outer parts of his mind. Far, far in the distance, she could see blue lightning flashing in the clouds of his consciousness; this was the drug’s effect. It would be too chaotic to travel over there. She was aiming for somewhere more stable.

Ah… this was a good spot. A sunny meadow with grass and flowers. Very pastoral. She entered and settled, sending out a gentle call to get the old man to come and enjoy the memory. Taking her time, she ramped up the power until a ghostly figure formed beside her. It did nothing other than sit, looking like Fuzzy, but a much younger and healthier version. Maybe in his young twenties. Her pulling eventually attracted enough of him so they could have a conversation. The figure lay back, an arm over its eyes, chewing on a stalk of grass.

“Hey Fuzzy. How’s it going?”

“Good, man. Really good.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, I like it. Been coming here since I was small.”

“Oh, when was that?”

“I’m a Lamby, born in the year of the Lamb. Don’t know when. Ma and Pa weren’t none too clear.”

They talked generalities for a while. Elishua had to set the mood; get him comfortable and willing to talk.

Eventually, she started to steer the conversation. “So, I’m Lish. Lish Taylor. How about you?”

“Ronny Day, you know… once a Day’s enough!” and he laughed.

“Ah, good one. What do you do?”

“I’m a tailor. Ha! Like you, uh, your name!”

He chortled to himself for a while, then went on, “Man, who’d have thought it, but I like to make things, sewing and such. I really do.” He sighed, enjoying his memories.

Elishua could see what he was remembering, to a certain degree. She watched for a while. It seemed he actually had been a tailor; the details were too specific.

In one scene, a young lady came in and left him a basket for lunch. She was idealized, somewhat pretty.

“So, you got a girl?” Elishua probed. She had to tread lightly. This might be where the whole thing fell apart. Strong emotions were a problem.

“Yeah, Janey. She’s my girl. I got others, but then, she likes a good time too. It’s all good. We fight, but make up, you know? We got a kid too.”

“Really? That’s nice.”

“Well, kinda. He screams a lot, and, you know, eats way too much. He get too fat.”

“You mean he’s fat?”

“Nah, if we let him eat what he wants, he get too fat. He not fat.”

“Oh, do you and Janey live together?”

“Yeah, sometimes, she like to party. Me too.”

“Good times?”

“Uh-huh. Real good times.”

For a moment there Fuzzy’d been getting anxious, but he calmed down. Elishua gave it time.

Eventually she asked, “What was your kid’s name?”

“Ah. Let me see. Mostly we just called him Boy. A few other things, but yeah, he was Boy. Janey had some other name for him, but Boy, he was just Boy.”

“Was he smart?

“Oh yeah, smart! Too smart for his own good. Sometimes I had to give him somethin’ to calm down. You know what I mean. He’d eat everything on me, too. It was harsh when I wanted something to eat, and he already ate it. You know?”

“Yeah, that’s tough. So, what happened to… uh, Boy?”

“Strangest thing, you know? When he was five or ‘round that, the weirdest stuff started going on! We’d, like, have food everywhere, you know? And Janey was coming over more. Me and her’d broken up, but still she came over. Weird, huh?”

He paused, then continued, “Yeah, you know Janey, well, she looked a bit worn, you know? The drugs and all, but one day she be happy and homey-like, making us breakfast. Man, though, she couldn’t cook! Could burn water, but, you know, she was trying. Kind of strange, but good, you know?”

“Where’s Janey?”

“Her? Oh, I dunno. Dead maybe? Don’t see her ‘round no more. Once the boy took off, she left. I think.”

“Then what happened to Boy?”

“No idea. He woulda been a little kid ‘bout three or four, started going to the Mission, you know? Maybe was in a gang. I dunno that neither. Came in one day, and I said Boy, get me a beer, and he said, you know, he said he wasn’t Boy, no more and he ran out. This was later. He was, what, five, eight, ten maybe? The nerve of the kid. I was being so nice to him, and all. I didn’t see him much after that.”

He stopped talking and started to get up, exclaiming, “Hey, wait! You know? I forgot I had a kid! Huh? A kid! I’m a dad? Huh.”

He struggled for a moment, then lay back.

A cloud came over the sun, Fuzzy was becoming perturbed. Elishua looked at him lying in the grass. He’d taken his arm down from over his eyes and was looking around. He was starting to age, and his gaze centered on her.

“You! Hey! Who’re you? Why’d you make me think I had a kid? Hey. Hey! Who are you? GO AWAY!”

Ultimately, a person has a lot of control in their own mind, and Elishua felt herself being flung into the maelstrom of the drugged part of Fuzzy’s thoughts. It was extremely rough; she worked to pull herself to the periphery and get out. After quite a struggle, she flowed back into her own head. Everything snapped into place and she opened her eyes.

That had been a long session. She was stiff, and it was getting dark. Fuzzy remained in a semi-unconscious sleep. None of the energy he had in his dreams leaked out to the real world. When she stood, her joints crackled and popped. After one last shake, she reached into her cowl and pulled out a small vial, which she held against Fuzzy’s arm until it was full of blood. She put the vial away, then exited and walked to where Drex was sitting.

“What’d you find?” he asked.

“Pretty much what you said. Not sure if we got anything about Tenthé. There’s some tie-in with the ages and timeline, but, you know? I starting to think that we’ve found a clue as to where our Dreamer went.”

“Hmph, didn’t expect that.”

“Me neither. From your message, I thought he could be our boy’s dad, but now, I’m thinking that he could be the dad of the Dreamer.”

“If you’re right, that would be a bit of a boost to the old career. Might justify why we get paid the mediocre coinage.”

“Yeah.”

They headed out. Although Elishua had worried about being here late, it turned out to be not much of a problem. She only had to stomp on one aggressive rat creature, and the others fled.