Littlest nodded. "Fragments."
"We'll give her a very brief and gentle dream," he said. "I'll show you how."
Thin Elderly took her hand. "Come," he told her, and led her toward the door. Holding hands, they compressed themselves and slid in under. The night's work was beginning.
7
The woman shifted in her bed. Though it was late, she had been wakeful, troubled by the letter that had arrived in yesterday's morning mail. She had found it on the floor, just inside the mail slot, where it had been shoved through with an oil bill and a notice of a half-price sale on tuna at the local grocery store.
"Whatever is this?" she had said aloud, speaking as she usually did, to the dog. Toby had watched as she turned the envelope over and over in her hand. Then she had gone to the kitchen table, sat, and ripped it open.
Now the letter, folded and returned to its envelope, was on the table beside her bed. Littlest could see it there, in the moonlight.
"Should I touch that?" she asked Thin Elderly, whispering.
He had seen it, too. "No. It might be troubling."
The woman stirred, as if she had heard something.
"Dissolve!" Thin Elderly commanded in a whisper. Littlest obeyed, and concentrated on seeping her form into nothingness. It was very exhausting. But it worked. When the woman blinked herself awake in the moonlit bedroom, startled by a tiny sound, she saw nothing.
They could still see her. They watched as she looked around, sighed, plumped her pillow, and lay her head back down. She closed her eyes. After a moment her breath was even and slow. She was asleep again.
"Reintegrate," Thin Elderly whispered. "And stay very still."
Together they returned to their working selves, casting visible shadows in the moonlight. Littlest glanced with delight at hers, and moved her arms up and down, making a sort of marionette of herself. She was not accustomed to shadows yet.
Thin Elderly looked pointedly at her and she blushed and stopped playing.
"I'm going to bestow a dream on the dog," Thin Elderly whispered, "partly to keep him occupied, and partly to show you how. You've probably watched Fastidious do it, of course, but we all have different styles."
"She didn't like me to look," Littlest whispered in reply. "But I peeked."
"You seem the kind who would peek," Thin Elderly said, in an amused but slightly scolding tone. "What did you see, when you peeked?"
"She fluttered up and hovered. Then I think she breathed into the woman's ear. It was hard to see. She got very close. But I think she breathed."
Thin Elderly nodded. "It's the standard method. It's what she would have done. Fastidious is not very—"
He hesitated. "Well," he said, "I shouldn't criticize. But she is not very creative."
"I am very creative," Littlest whispered, and made a shadow picture of a duck with her small hand against the wall. "Sorry," she said. She stopped and folded her hands politely.
"Stay quiet and watch," Thin Elderly instructed. "First I center myself. Then I pull up the fragments I want to use, so that they are right there, ready. You know how to pull up fragments?"
"Yes. I practice, in the Heap."
"Good. Now, for a dog, like this one, it is almost always food. I will hover near his head. Then I'll pull up fragments regarding food and bestow them. Ears are the easiest way. But do you see the problem with the dog?" He pointed.
Littlest nodded. She giggled a little, very quietly. "Hanging-down ears," she said.
"Yes. Many dogs have those. I will bestow through his nose instead. Actually, the nose is a dog's best entry. Watch, now."
He fluttered over close to the dog and hovered there. She could tell that he was centering himself, making himself calm and receptive. Then he quivered slightly. She knew he was pulling up fragments now. She had felt her own self quiver when she practiced the pulling-up.
While she watched, he leaned forward so that he was almost touching the dog's dark, moist nose. For a brief moment she saw something like tiny sparks flicker from him. It reminded her of a time when she had been gathering touches near the fireplace, which had earlier been aglow, warming the woman as she read in a rocking chair nearby. The fire was out and the woman long asleep upstairs. But suddenly, as Littlest had hovered nearby, a dark log had shifted and a tiny flurry of sparks had burst into a brief constellation. Watching Thin Elderly bestow a dream, she remembered that bright moment.
Finished, he fluttered back to her side. They watched the dog. Toby's tongue quite suddenly emerged from his mouth and licked his own dark whiskered lips in satisfaction as he slept.
"He's dreaming now," Thin Elderly said, "of food."
"I saw it go from you to him," Littlest said. "Little sparkles, just for a second."
"Yes, it's visible for a second."
"Do the sparkles hurt? Or maybe tickle?"
Thin Elderly frowned. "Don't think about that. I suppose there is a moment's tickle. Ignore it."
"It's hard to ignore a tickle," Littlest said. "Sometimes in the Heap, if I'm near that plump one—what's his name? I forget his name—he likes to tickle me, and—"
Thin Elderly looked sternly at her. She hung her head in apology, for chattering.
"I'm going to let you try it now, on the woman," he said.
"Into her ear?" Littlest asked. "Hers don't hang down."
"Yes. Flutter up there. Center yourself. Pull up the fragments. You'll do the kiss, remember?"
She nodded. "But how do I—"
"It will just happen. You pull up the fragments and hold them there and hold them there until suddenly you can't contain them anymore, and then—"
"It's like sneezing!" Littlest realized in amazement.
"Shhh."
"Sorry," she whispered.
"You're right. Like sneezing. They'll just burst from you. Your job is aiming."
"I'm good at that. I flutter right to things. I hardly ever miss."
"Well, then. Here you go. Remember the sequence?"
"Flutter up. Hover. Gather. Then—"
"You forgot center," he reminded her.
"Sorry. I flutter up. I hover. I center. I gather. Then I aim. And I hold and hold and hold until I sneeze!"