Cayl patted her arm. “Sorry, Hope. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She managed to gasp a denial before doubling over with mirth.
“What’s so funny?”
Blayne sounded so puzzled she guessed laughter was the last reaction he’d expected. “You have had many women, so I think you must be a good lover, yes? I am a very lucky woman to have snared you.”
Cayl couldn’t resist another dig. “Blayne’s the lucky one. Only a very understanding woman could forgive his questionable past.”
“Tell me why you’re my friend again, Cayl? Surely I can’t be that desperate.”
Their banter made her giggle even more. It was so normal, so ordinary, that it helped her put aside what had happened to her.
Cayl paused at the entrance to his house to call out to Maya. Hope heard a patter of footsteps and a swish of skirts before she was enfolded in an enthusiastic embrace and kissed on both cheeks. She stood there, open-mouthed and a little breathless, until the woman she presumed must be Maya stepped back and gave her some breathing space.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you. Cayl’s been telling me all about you. You’re wearing the clothes I sent you—do they fit? Hmm, not too well. You’re much slimmer than me, you lucky thing. Blayne, you must ask Shay to outfit her properly. She can’t go around dressed in hand-me-downs. And what on Dayamaria are you wearing on your feet?”
Maya’s torrent of words flowed along in the same vein until Cayl finally got a word in edgewise. “Maya! Are you going to ask our guests in? Or shall we just stand here on the doorstep and entertain the neighbors?” He sounded fondly exasperated.
“I’m so sorry! Come in, come in. Hope, I’m Maya. Welcome to our home.”
Maya led her inside and Hope could swear the woman bounced instead of walking. It was easy to understand why she and Cayl were a committed couple. They were perfectly matched.
She sniffed the mouth-watering aromas wafting throughout the room. Her stomach twinged a protest, reminding her she’d refused Dayamar’s offer of breakfast. Thankfully Maya was all business, leading her to a comfortable cushion and handing her a goblet filled with a tart fruity drink that reminded her of cider. She gulped it down and asked for a refill.
The meal wasn’t very breakfast-like, consisting of dried and fresh fruits, freshly baked bread, cold meat served with a very tasty relish, and salad greens. But it was all delicious and she enjoyed every bite.
The men were discussing some sort of expedition. She soon lost interest, finding their conversation full of unfamiliar words that made it difficult to follow. She drained her goblet again and plucked up the courage to engage Maya in conversation. “I would like know about Dayamari women, Maya. Do you only wear dresses? What do you do during the day? Do you work in trades or look after your men? I want to know everything, please.”
Maya laughed and refilled Hope’s goblet again. “I’m sure we’re not too different from the women you know. Of course we wear trousers, too, especially for activities where a skirt isn’t practical, such as hunting. Mostly we wear whatever we like, depending upon the weather or the task. Let me see…. Most people have at least one talent or activity they prefer, so they tend to specialize in that particular area—like Blayne and Johan have with healing. Cayl’s specialty is hunting, and I’m a child-minder—I love being with the young ones. And with bigger tasks such as building, a hunt, or gathering food stores, the whole settlement usually pitches in.”
Hope sipped her drink and considered Maya’s explanation. “What does child-minding entail?” Perhaps it would be something she could help with.
“I look after a number of young children each morning so their parents can have a break and get on with their work. I teach the young ones songs, counting, reading, writing—that sort of thing. I enjoy it very much, though it can be exhausting. When a child turns ten, they generally help their parents. Or a child with a particular talent may be tutored by an experienced adult with the expectation they will eventually apprentice to that trade.”
“Ah. So you are a teacher. It is an important thing you do—teach children these things.” And, as an outsider—a blind woman who couldn’t read or write the language—she would be worse than useless at such a task.
“I suppose it is.” Maya sounded pleased. “Your footwear—I’ve never seen anything like it before. May I have a closer look?”
“Of course.” Hope stuck out a foot to display her sandal. It’d been walked into the ground during the journey to settlement but it’d held up better than expected.
“The design is very unusual,” Maya ventured. “Do many people where you come from own footwear like this?”
Hope understood it was a leading question and that Maya was dying of curiosity about her origins. The fruity drink had relaxed her inhibitions enough that she didn’t see the harm in responding. “Yes. Many wear such sandals. They are very comfortable in warmer months.”
“You’re obviously not from around here. Where are you from? How did you get here?”
Hazy memories formed into a stunningly clear vision that Hope described without considering the ramifications. “I am resting in the shade of a tree in my garden. I hear a voice—Dayamar’s. He calls me. I try not to listen but I am forced to. A strange power enters me and fills me up until I feel like I will burst. I am stretched and stretched. And then I explode and it is like my world does not exist anymore. When I wake up, I am somewhere else, somewhere that is not my home. And Blayne is carrying me over his shoulder.”
Silence met her explanation. She hiccupped loudly, and clapped a hand over her mouth.
“What have you been giving her to drink, Maya?” Blayne asked.
“Sekar—but she hasn’t had that much of it,” Maya said.
On cue, Hope hiccupped again and heard Blayne heave a sigh. He had nothing to worry about. She was merely relaxed, not intoxicated.
“I’ll take her home and let her sleep it off. And we need to keep what we’ve heard today to ourselves until I can talk to Dayamar.” He pulled her to her feet, steadying her when she swayed.
Maya gave her a brief hug. “I’m sorry, Hope,” she said. “You’re obviously not used to drinking sekar and I should have thought before I refilled your goblet.”
“Please, there is no need to—” Hope’s senses reeled. She grabbed onto Maya as the ground seemed to lurch under her feet with a life all of its own. And then the vision took her.
Chapter Six
Blayne was shaking her gently.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
“It is nothing—a dream, that is all.”
“Tell me.”
She sighed, guessing he would not rest until she’d recounted the dream. “I am a bird and I watch people—a man and a woman. The man has red hair and the woman is blonde. Their clothes are brown. It is a burial. The woman holds a long stick—a… a… staff? Yes, that is the proper word. It has been decorated to resemble snakes. The woman cries. She places the staff in the grave. I see something rise up from the body. It is a part of the dead person—his soul, I think. And then his soul follows bird-me.”
Maya’s pained gasp left no doubt that she was shocked to her toes. “I have blonde hair. And the man must be Cayl. But you’re blind. You’ve never seen what we look like. And the staff you described…. It’s my father’s. But… but that must mean—”
A muted thump, as though someone’s legs had given way, forcing them to sit in a hurry. And then Maya’s sobs filled the room.
“I’m so sorry, sweetling,” Cayl murmured.
The fuzz in Hope’s mind abruptly cleared. “It is only dreaming. It is not real.”
Blayne spoke softly in her ear. “Maya’s father is dying of a wasting disease. The staff you described is his most prized possession. Before he became ill he would walk about the settlement with it. He favors the god Kunnandi, so he carved serpents on it.”
He paused, as though allowing her the opportunity to refute his words. When she
remained stubbornly mute he said, “We believe that when we die, one of our gods in the guise of a great bird will escort our soul to the spirit world—just as you described. Maya believes you have experienced a true Seeing. She fears her father will die very soon.”
Hope swore beneath her breath, appalled to have caused such anguish. “Maya, I am sorry. Please forgive me. But I do not see your future. It is a dream. Nothing more.”
Maya sniffed, and when she spoke her voice sounded choked with tears. “You’re wrong. It is not merely a dream. My father will die soon. I know this, just as I know you’ve had a true Seeing. That’s why you have been brought here to us—because you’re a Sehan and we need you.” She grasped Hope’s hands. “I beg you, do as Dayamar asks and train with him. Your powers will harm you if you don’t learn to control them.”
Hope fisted a hand against her breastbone, willing her racing heartbeat to calm. “I will think on it, Maya, I promise. Blayne? We should go now.” Before she unintentionally blurted something that might worsen the situation still more.
“What sort of bird were you in the vision?” Blayne asked as they walked back to his house.
“It is a night-bird. Big. White plumage. It makes a ‘hoot, hoot!’” she mimicked.
“An owl.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. Owls are much beloved by Dayamari. I find it… interesting you were an owl in your dream.”
She quizzed him about Maya’s insistence she go to Dayamar for training. When he didn’t immediately respond she resorted to begging. “Please. It is important.”
He huffed a sigh. “Maya had a younger sister. Katya was the first Sehani born since Dayamar, and she had the potential to be a powerful Sehan. But she refused to be trained. Maya believes Katya hoped her powers would shrivel and die if she didn’t use them, but that was not so. The visions continued. Katya grew to loathe and fear them. She withdrew from daily life. She became a recluse and refused contact with anyone—even her sister. One day Maya discovered her lying by her hearth. She’d been dead for some hours.”
“How did she die?” She dreaded his answer but had to ask.
“Dayamar says Katya’s fear and hatred of her powers turned inward until they consumed her. Maya doesn’t want the same to happen to you, Hope. Neither do I.”
In this, too, it seemed she had no choice but to accept her fate. She ducked her head to hide her expression. “Tomorrow I will speak with Dayamar.” And the old man had better have some answers.
~~~
At Blayne’s house they discovered Degan industriously dusting items that Hope guessed hadn’t seen a speck of dust in months. She sensed Degan’s apprehension and cursed her strange Sehani eyes. She’d have liked to bolt for the sleeping room and hide, rather than confront another stranger, but the urge to put Degan at ease was too great to ignore. “I am very sorry my presence causes more work for you, Degan,” she said.
“It’s no bother, Sehan.”
“Please, my name is Hope, not Sehan.”
“It’s my honor to serve you, Sehan.”
It was said with such fervor that Hope heaved a sigh. This was not going well. “Degan, please call me Hope. You are not my servant. And I am grateful for your efforts because I cannot keep a house tidy and do necessary things for myself.” Yet.
Degan’s choked gurgle suggested he was appalled by the thought of her keeping house for anyone. “It wouldn’t be right, Se— I mean, Hope. You’re Sehani. You have far more important things to do.”
“So I am told.” Life here would be simpler if she was ordinary. “I wish I am like you, Degan. Not a Sehan.”
The young man patted her shoulder. “We can’t all be as lucky as me. But you’ve got Panakeya Blayne. For some reason women think he’s very handsome.”
She bit back a giggle at the guileless comment, and had to avert her head as Blayne said, “Some would say I’m the lucky one. Are you finished for today, Degan?”
“Yes, Panakeya.”
“Thank you for your help—I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome, Panakeya. Goodbye, Hope. Don’t try to do anything on your own. You must leave it all to me. I’ll be cross if I come tomorrow and find I have nothing to do.”
“I promise.” She hid another smile and waited until she was certain Degan had left before saying, “He is very sweet.”
“Yes, he is. And I’m fortunate he’s content to assist me. I shudder to think who I’d be assigned if the elders had their way.”
At her tentative suggestion they rearranged his home a little to better accommodate her needs. That done, she’d officially moved in. She’d never cohabited with a lover before. Blayne was patient and obliging, but her helplessness still chafed. She didn’t want to have to rely on him—or anyone, for that matter—but even the simplest tasks in this primitive world were beyond her. She feared he might soon tire of such a burdensome relationship. And God only knew how long it would take her to become self-sufficient if left to her own devices.
“The clothes in my pack need washing,” Blayne said. “Degan usually washes my clothes but I might as well show you the pool and get these done.”
“Please say you wash clothes in a… a….” There was no Dayamari word for “machine”. That didn’t bode well. “A washing device.”
When she tried to explain Blayne sounded rather taken by a device that washed clothes. “It would be a popular invention,” he said. “Sorry to disappoint but it’s hands on and hands only. Let’s head down to the pool.”
She concentrated on the path they took, noting the smells, sounds, and even the texture and feel of the ground beneath her feet. Next time she might be able to find her way here on her own.
She heard musical tinkles of splashing water. A playful breeze sprayed a fine mist over her face. She licked droplets from her lips. Fresh water, not heavy with minerals and so pure she knew she could drink from its source. At her prompting, Blayne described a waterfall cascading over rocks to form a pool that drained into a small stream. It sounded picture-postcard-worthy.
She hiked up her skirt and they waded calf-deep into the shallows to wet down her clothes. Blayne handed her a cake of soap and she gave in to the inevitable and set to work. A companionable silence ensued as they scrubbed and wrung and rinsed off the soap. Even her sandals got a thorough scrubbing. Finally Blayne led her back to some convenient boulders where they spread everything out to dry in the sun.
Hand-washing was hard work and she was hot and sweaty, despite the delicious coolness of the pool’s water. She rinsed her face and blew moist air down her cleavage.
“How about a swim? The soap quickly breaks down and degrades, but any murky water is carried away by the current. The pool’s quite clear already.”
He’d read her mind. She removed her skirt and tunic but hesitated when it came to her underthings. Best to leave them on. She entered the water, feeling her way along the fine gravelly bottom with her toes. The pool gradually deepened and she stopped when she was chest-deep.
Blayne splashed her. “No point swimming in clothes.”
Apparently public nudity was acceptable—good to know. But that didn’t mean she was comfortable with stripping off when anyone could wander by. Not that she’d see anyone passing by but— She felt the surge of water as Blayne moved closer, and before she could react his nimble fingers tugged the bow of her breast-band. The cloth quickly unraveled, heavy with the water it’d absorbed. She clutched the material to her chest. “Blayne!”
He didn’t answer. Where had he gotten to?
Another tug yanked her loin-wrap down around her ankles. He surfaced with a laugh and splashed her again.
She scowled. “You are a pain in the neck.”
“I’ve been called many things but never that before.” He lunged and grabbed her around the waist, tickling her until she released the breast-band. Fine. He could have his way for now. She kicked the loin-wrap from her an
kles, allowing it to float free.
She heard a slap! as he tossed the wet clothing up on the bank. She loved swimming—in pools, that is. The open sea was a little too nerve-wracking for her these days. But this pool was perfect. She dove beneath the water and breast-stroked away from the bank until she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. When she surfaced it was too deep to stand. She tread water, wiping her eyes and brushing wet hair back from her face.
Hands pulled her close, and then his lips were on hers. Butterflies loop-de-looped in her stomach. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed closer to take full advantage of the kiss. Joined mouth-to-mouth they sank beneath the water.
He seemed to instinctively know when she ran out of breath. The instant they surfaced, he hooked an arm around her torso and towed her back toward shore until he could touch the ground. Firmly planting his feet, he took her in his arms and settled her thighs about his hips. He kissed her again, deeply, insistently, stroking her spine, coaxing deliciously shivery responses from her body.
The cool lapping water, the tantalizing promise of his clever fingers, the heat of his skin and his passion…. All combined to lower her inhibitions. He made love to her as only he could, capturing her mind, making her a slave to nothing but sensation. She no longer cared who might see them. She no longer cared about anything or anyone save the man she clung to.
~~~
They floated on their backs, hand-in-hand, bodies and minds relaxed. Her hair fanned the water. The sun caressed her breasts and belly. Her spirit felt light—buoyant as her body. Blayne squeezed her hand. It was easy to pretend she’d truly been transported to paradise….
And then a sneering female voice shattered the spell.
“Are you going to introduce me to your new playmate?” Varaya knew she’d caught Blayne unawares from the tightness of his mouth as he gathered his companion close in an effort to shield her. And she was viciously pleased by his woman’s crimson-hued mortification. Timid little mouse, burying her face in Blayne’s shoulder like she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Varaya wished that were a possibility. Wisa’s wings, what did Blayne see in her?
Book One of The Seer Trilogy Page 7
