“I would like that,” Hope said. “Can we—?”
“Hola! You in there, Varaya?”
Varaya scrambled to her feet. “Come on in,” she called to the visitor.
“I’ve been sent to find Sehan Hope. Is she with you?”
“You’re in luck.”
“Blayne needs you to come to Maya’s house, Sehan Hope. Maya’s father died a short while ago.”
Shock hunched her spine, and she wrapped her arms about her middle in a vain effort to protect herself from the truth. She’d been so happy for Varaya she’d pushed the horror of her first Seeing from her mind. And now it had come true.
Chapter Seven
Hope bade a hasty farewell to Varaya. Her pulse thumped a doom-laden tattoo and the bleak darkness of her world closed in on her. She pushed it back, forced herself to take deep, even breaths… and realized with a jolt that while she’d been wrestling with her fears, the young man she was supposed to follow had run on ahead.
She could no longer sense him. Perhaps he didn’t know he was supposed to wait for her. Or hadn’t been told of her blindness. She should turn back, ask Varaya to take her to Maya’s, but….
No. She firmed her lips and threw back her shoulders. She could do this. How hard could it be to find her own way? She’d managed perfectly well back home.
It was harder than she’d imagined. Very soon she’d lost all sense of direction. Worse, now there didn’t seem to be any people about to assist with directions. She loosed a few choice words beneath her breath. Oh well. It wasn’t the end of the world. When she didn’t arrive shortly after the messenger Blayne would surely come looking for her. She trudged along the meandering, dusty path, vowing not to be so pig-headed in future.
She was debating trying to retrace her steps when voices drifted to her ears. “Hello? I am lost. Can you help me?”
Silence. Nice. They could at least—
She smacked into a solid object. A man. His rough hands clutched her when she staggered.
“Hey, watch it, girlie. Ya blind or something?”
“Yes, I am.” She arched back, struggling to free herself from his grasp. “Please, I want to find Blayne—”
“She wants Blayne.”
Footsteps, heavy and measured. “Her and every other woman,” came another disgruntled voice.
Her captor sniggered. The ripe smell of the liquor on his breath made her gag, and the first stirrings of fear swirled in the pit of her stomach.
“Who’ve you got there?” the second man asked.
“No clue. Hey girlie, how’s about a kiss for ole Willem?”
“Let me go. Blayne has sent for me. I need to go to him.” She kicked him and twisted to escape his grasping fingers.
“Leave her alone, Willem. See her eyes? She’s the new apprentice people are talking about. Dayamar’ll have your guts for rope.”
“Ya take me for a fool, Dorian? She’s blind. No way she’s the one.”
He yanked her close and she turned her face so his searching mouth found only her ear. She kneed him but he pincered her knee between his thighs before she could do any real damage. Her struggles pulled her off-balance and she and her attacker fell, legs tangled, in a sprawling heap on the ground.
She landed hard, whacking her head on the firmly packed ground. Stars cavorted through her headspace. She moaned. The man—Willem—laughed. “See Dorian? She’s not really interested in Blayne. She prefers a real man like me. Doncha, girlie?”
She was only dimly aware of the other man—Dorian—begging Willem to release her. Her conscious mind had fled, leaving behind a hollow void that demanded to be filled. A tremendous roar reverberated through her body and the energy that surged in its wake was scalding hot. Her skin felt like an overripe grape, ready to split, and then power surged from her, leaving her limp and gasping.
Willem’s oppressive weight vanished. His shriek ululated through the too-still air, raising goose-bumps on her skin. She clapped her hands over her ears. But when his scream abruptly ceased and silence reigned, that was somehow worse.
She pushed up from the ground, scrubbing her face with her hands to banish the wooziness from her mind and the strange lethargy from her body. God. Felt like she’d run a marathon. Her attention flicked to the pounding of running footsteps, coming closer. Friend or foe? Her sluggish heartbeat ratcheted up another notch.
“Shikari’s hairy paws, what’s going on?” the newcomer demanded. “Did he try to force himself on you?” He clasped his hands beneath Hope’s elbows to haul her upright and then he brushed down her clothes. “Dorian, you piece of crap, answer me. What did he do to her?”
Friend, then. Just as well. She was too drained to defend herself again.
“He was only trying to kiss her,” Dorian whined. “You know what he’s like. But she fell over, a-and— Gods!” His voice broke, squeaking with fear. “Her eyes are glowing.”
“Yes, I can see that.” The newcomer sounded more amused than worried. “Willem bit off more than he could chew this time. This little lady is Dayamar’s new apprentice.”
“I don’t care who she is. Make her stop!”
“Are you doing that to him, Sehan?” the newcomer asked her.
“I… I do not know what is being done to him. Maybe?”
“Of course. My apologies.” He paused as if choosing his words. “Here’s what I’m seeing. Willem is unable to move or speak. He’s spread-eagled on the ground, looking terrified out of his tiny mind. And I believe you’re responsible for his current, uh, predicament, Sehan. Do you think you might see fit to release him?”
Sure. If she knew how. God, what was she doing to him? How was she doing it? The panic grew, threatening to swamp her.
“Sehan?”
“I am trying,” she told him. And then, a corner of her mind disengaged from… from… something, and there was a twanging sound, as though a line had been pulled taut. Willem groaned once and then fell silent.
“Is he hurt?” Please God she hadn’t killed the man.
The newcomer left her, presumably to check on Willem. “Unconscious,” he reported. “Pulse seems strong and steady, though. Dorian, drag this heap of shit to the Healing Hall. And don’t discuss this with anyone or Sehan Dayamar will have your hide—after I’m done with you.”
He approached and touched her arm. “I’ll take you to Dayamar. He needs to hear what happened.” His voice lowered to a mutter. “And when he does, I wouldn’t want to be in Willem’s boots.”
“May I ask your name?”
“Of course. I’m Gerayne. Dayamar is my great-great-granduncle. I’m sorry we met in such circumstances.”
Hope fumbled with her torn shirt and was irritated to find her hands shaking.
“Allow me.” He deftly tied her shirt-fronts together. “Hmm. Bad scrape you’ve got there. Your cheek is bleeding.” He dabbed at it with something—his sleeve, at a guess. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“My head.” She indicated the place with her fingers, and winced when he probed the lump that was forming.
“Ouch. I’m not much of a healer so best get Blayne to look at that. Where is Blayne anyway? Why were you wandering alone down this way?”
“Maya’s father died. Blayne sent a man to fetch me but I got lost.” She knew her voice sounded shaky but she refused to give in to tears. One over-amorous drunk with foul breath was not going to make her cry in front of a stranger.
He inhaled sharply. “That’s sad news. Maya’s his only living relative so his body will have been taken to her home. That’s where Blayne will likely be. I’ll take you there.”
“Thank you.”
He hooked his arm through hers, and as he led her up the path, she wondered at his easy acceptance of her. “Why are you not scared of me like the other man?”
“With Dayamar as a relative I’ve become inured to the unusual and unexpected. Though I can’t say I recall him doing anything that interesting when he got annoyed. He prefers to flay people alive with his tongue
.”
He was silent for a long moment, and she sensed he was observing her expression. Wait for it—
“You haven’t the slightest idea how you pinned Willem like that, have you?”
“None.”
“Dayamar’s going to have his hands full with you.” Gerayne chuckled, and a little of Hope’s inner tension eased.
“I think you need to begin training very soon,” he said. “Not that Willem doesn’t deserve whatever you threw at him, but you might have seriously hurt him. This time you were lucky.”
He was right. And there was no point railing over fate. Or telling herself that magic didn’t exist and what had happened to her was impossible. She was here. Her eyes had changed color. She saw visions that came true. She had magical powers. And now she must do whatever it took to ensure she didn’t harm others with her ignorance. End of story.
Her lower lip wobbled. Fine words, but they didn’t banish the tight fear in her chest that made it hard to catch her breath, or calm the panic simmering in her belly.
~~~
Blayne spotted them from the doorway. He took in Hope’s disheveled clothing and pale, bleeding cheek, and snatched her from Gerayne’s side. She muffled her face in his chest. The worry churning in his gut kindled to slow-burning fury. “What happened?”
“No need to glare at me like that,” Gerayne said. “Your idiot messenger left her to find her own way.”
“Kunnandi’s teeth. I told him to—” Blayne swallowed the angry words. “I’ll deal with him later. Tell me what happened.”
“Willem happened. She ran into him and he decided to have a little fun.”
“Did he—?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.
“No.” Gerayne shook his head emphatically. “He might be a drunk but he’s never gone that far. And by the time I happened on the scene your little Sehan had the matter well in hand.”
Hope gave a full-body shudder and burrowed closer. He rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back. “What did you do to him, sweetling? You can tell me.”
She lifted her head from his chest. His heart fisted at the misery on her tear-stained face. “I-I do not know,” she said.
“She had Willem spread-eagled on the ground, unable to move or even scream. Dorian nearly wet himself.”
“Dorian was there, too?” Blayne ground his teeth. The palm smoothing Hope’s back clenched into a fist and he had to force himself to relax. “Go on,” he told Gerayne.
“Dorian’s too weak to stop Willem doing anything—you know that. I had him take Willem to a healer and told him to keep his mouth shut. You’ll want to see them both later, I presume.”
“Indeed.” And he’d make them both regret the day they were born. “Thank you for coming to Hope’s aid.”
“Any decent man would have done the same.”
Blayne hugged her tighter, furious with the men who’d accosted her, and himself for not being there to protect her. “I can’t leave you alone for a moment, can I?” he said, hoping to raise a smile.
“I am sorry. I got lost, and—”
“Hush. There’s nothing to apologize for. Gerayne, would you fetch Dayamar? He left a short while ago for the Sehani Hall.”
“Sure. You should check her out thoroughly, Blayne. She’s got a nasty bump on the back of her head.”
“Thanks, Gerayne. For everything.”
The other man nodded and loped off. Blayne ushered Hope inside, shielding her from the group of people conversing in hushed tones—friends of Maya’s father who had come to pay their respects. Fortunately they were too preoccupied to pay any great attention to newcomers.
Cayl spotted them and detached himself from the group. “You’ve found her.” He blinked at her tear-streaked face. “Kunnandi’s snaky fangs, what happened?”
“I’ll fill you in when we talk privately with Dayamar. I’d like Maya to be there—is she up to it? I’m sorry, Cayl. I know it’s shitful timing but this can’t wait.” Maya’s sister had been Sehani. Any personal insights Maya could reveal about a fledgling Sehan coming into her powers could be invaluable.
Cayl searched his face. Then he gave a terse nod and beckoned them to follow.
Maya’s father had been dressed in his burial clothes and laid out on a sleeping platform in the spare room. A few of his most prized possessions lay beside him, including the carved staff Hope had described in her Seeing. The reminder of what Hope would become chilled Blayne to his bones. It was the one thing he couldn’t protect her from.
Maya was kneeling by the sleeping platform, head pillowed on her arms. She lifted her head and her hand flew to her mouth. “Wisa’s wings! Hope, you look like you’ve been dragged backward through a bramble bush. What happened?”
“Her powers have begun to manifest,” Blayne said. “We need to discuss this with Dayamar at once, and we—” He squeezed her shoulder. “I need your input, Maya. I’m truly sorry for the awful timing.”
“Of course. I completely understand.” She blotted her face with the heels of her hands as she stood. “Cayl, please apologize to everyone and tell them they must go. Make something up about me being too distraught to cope with any more visitors. It’s not far from the truth. Tell them I appreciate their kind thoughts and we’ll see them tomorrow at Father’s burial.”
“Don’t fret, sweetling. I’ll deal with it.” Cayl dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and exited the room.
“How are you bearing up, Maya?” Blayne asked.
She wiped her eyes with the hem of her shirt. “I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with his illness. I’ll be fine.”
He noticed Hope’s gaze was fixed on the exact spot where Maya stood. Her ability to sense people and her surroundings was growing.
“I am sorry, Maya,” she said. “This is all my fault.” Her lower lip trembled.
“He was dying before you arrived on the scene, Hope. So let’s hear no more nonsense about it being your fault.”
Maya was a strong woman but Blayne had feared her father’s death would hit her hard. He suspected having Hope to fuss over helped her put aside her grief. Perhaps something positive might come from this mess.
“I keep a good store of herbs,” she told him. “You’ll find everything you need.” She ushered them into the partitioned off stores area, keeping her head down so as not to invite conversation from visitors Cayl hadn’t seen off yet.
Blayne urged Hope to sit and tilted her chin for a better look at her bleeding cheek.
Maya peered over his shoulder at the injury and handed him a small pot. “It’s full of dirt. Nasty. How’d it happen?”
He poured a small amount of lotion onto a soft cloth and dabbed Hope’s face.
She winced and drew a shaky breath. “I am sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Blayne said. “No one thinks you’re weak or silly for being upset about being assaulted.”
Maya hissed out a breath that promised dire consequences. “Who?”
“His name is Willem,” Hope whispered.
Maya swore beneath her breath, and promised a retribution that would have made any male wince. Blayne applauded her inventiveness. He’d like nothing more than to track Willem down and thrash his worthless hide until he begged for mercy. Instead, he cleaned the scrape on Hope’s cheek before applying a salve. He sifted his fingers through her hair to gently probe her skull with his fingertips. “Gerayne’s right. There’s a good-sized lump on the back of your head.”
Maya placed a small flask within his reach. “Thanks,” he said. “You’d make an excellent healer’s assistant.”
“I’d miss the children too much to consider changing trades.”
“Our loss. How’s your head feeling now, Hope?”
“Sore. It aches.”
He shook a few drops of the fragrant oil into a bowl of water and soaked a cloth. He wadded the cloth, held it to the lump on her head, and instructed her to breathe deeply. “The compress will help bring down the swelling. Inhal
ing the oil’s aroma should help ease the headache, too.”
“I’ve made you a special tea, Hope.” Maya handed her a mug. “Drink this—it’ll also help your headache. It’s a bit bitter but very effective.”
While Hope sipped the brew Blayne examined her face. She seemed calmer and her natural color was returning. Good. “Any other injuries we should know about?” There’d better not be or heads would roll.
“No.” She flipped her hair back from her face to toy absently with an earring.
His stomach performed a lazy dip and roll. “Where did you get those earrings?”
“Varaya gave them to me. To welcome me and for friendship, she says. It was very nice of her, do you not think?”
“Well—” Over her head, Blayne cast a pleading glance at Maya, hoping she would help him out. Just his luck for once Maya had nothing to say.
“I know you gave these to her,” Hope said, “but she wants me have them. She says they are for me now, because I am with you.” She gnawed her lip when he remained silent. “Are you angry?”
He guessed she hadn’t considered how he might feel about her wearing earrings he’d gifted to another woman. “Not angry, merely surprised Varaya would be so generous with someone she hardly knows.”
“Varaya is lonely. She cries when no one can see. She needs a friend. And I like her.” Her lips firmed to a tight line and those eerie golden eyes glared at him.
Blayne exchanged another glance with Maya, who only shrugged and said, “The earrings look wonderful on you, Hope. They suit your coloring very well. Oh, listen to that. It’s so blissfully quiet. I think Cayl’s seen off the last of our guests.” She exited the room in a rush.
He took Hope’s hand and drew her close. The healer in him knew she had come to little harm but the man needed reassurance. He needed to touch her, hold her. She shivered as he kissed a tender spot beneath her ear. It wasn’t a shiver of fear. Some of his anxiety eased.
“Dayamar’s here.” Maya’s warning doused the flames that’d sprung up between them.
Hope ducked her head to hide a grimace as Blayne ushered her into the main living area. She didn’t want to have to relate what had happened all over again for Dayamar’s benefit. She didn’t want to be cajoled into admitting that something had irrevocably altered inside her. Her perceptions of the world about her were sharpening. Sometimes she could sense people’s emotions. Sometimes in her mind’s eye she could see vibrant colors swirling about a shadowy representation of a person standing close by. How any of this could be possible was beyond her. Added to her visions, and now this incident with Willem.…
Book One of The Seer Trilogy Page 9
