‘Where am I then?’ Vredech obliged.
‘Where you were before. If it was before, and not after — I don’t know. It’s difficult.’
‘Where am I?’ Vredech persisted.
‘In my dream — what did I have you call yourself? — Vredech, wasn’t it? Allyn Vredech. Funny foreign-sounding sort of a name — where could I have got it from? You’re in my dream, Allyn Vredech. All things where I am are in my dream. I create them.’ He gave a massive shrug. ‘I don’t know how. Still less, why. But I create them, then...’ His voice tailed off and the flute was at his mouth. Low sombre notes came from it.
‘You’re troubled,’ Vredech said.
‘Indeed, indeed, indeed.’ The Whistler executed a jigging dance step to each word, angular elbows flying. ‘Why else should I bring me a priest but to debate dark matters of the soul?
