October 31, 1976

In John Rowlands' warm cottage, on John Rowlands' harp, Bran tries to pick out the melody that carries him to that other place. The music sounds wrong, wrong instrument, wrong sound. Even so, there is enough power in the music to earn Bran a sharp look from the shepherd. When the lesson is over, Bran pulls on his dark glasses and climbs on his bicycle. He doesn't think about his path or his destination; he just rides away from the small rooms and the ordinary harps, the mortal father and the human restraints. Cadfan's Way flows beneath his tyres.

When the pressure in his mind, go, go, go, decreases, Bran dismounts. He is standing by the banks of Tal y Llyn. The Sleepers awoke here, four years ago. Sleepers...dreams...a piece of a dream... Bran pulls the stone he gave Jane out of his jeans pocket and stares at it. A piece of a dream from the Lost Land,, Gwion said. What lies under the wave isn't lost, really, just caught in time, somewhere. They drink Atlantean wine at Milliways. Not lost...not lost... Bran grips the stone tightly. From some long-unused corner of his brain, instructions are beginning to rise.