“Indeed.” Zavier’s voice was deep and measured. He struck Hope as a careful and steady kind of man—a perfect foil for the more outgoing Roban. “We will support Treya in all ways,” he said. “We will see she and Hopian have what’s best for them.”
Blayne addressed the baby in Zavier’s arms. “What a lucky little boy you are to have two daddies, hmm?”
The object of all the fuss cooed.
“Can I hold him, please?” Blayne asked. “It’s been too long since I’ve held a newborn for the pleasure of it.”
“Of course.”
The baby fussed a bit as Zavier handed him over but Blayne quickly settled him down.
“You’d make an excellent father—you’ve always had a way with babies and children,” Treya said. “See? He’s almost asleep already.”
Yearning lanced through Hope. She ducked her head and sipped her tea, wishing with all her heart that she could see Blayne right now. She set aside her cup to knuckle away a tear, and disguised the gesture by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Treya said, and Hope sensed a flurry of movement.
“Slow down, Treya,” Roban called after her. “They’re not going anywhere.”
Treya returned and resumed her seat next to Hope. “I have something for you and Blayne.”
The “something” turned out to be two bulky rolls tied with cord.
“This top one’s yours, Hope. Go on, open it. Blayne’s got his hands full of baby.”
She picked apart the loosely knotted cord and unrolled what she thought was the pelt of some animal. She heard Blayne’s sharp intake of breath as he identified the heavy, coarse fur.
“Blayne couldn’t participate in the hunt because of me,” Treya said, “so I thought it only fair to give you these instead. It’s the pelt of a she-wolf. Blayne’s is the pelt of the male. They’re my gift to you for saving me and my baby.”
Hope ran her palm over the pelt. Her vision changed focus. Her heartbeat quickened. And then….
She lopes along with her mate at her side. He is cunning, strong—a worthy mate. As they approach a forested area she is distracted by a strange scent. She veers off to explore. Her mate follows her, curious. They slow to a walk.
The half-eaten carcass is propped against a tree. She sniffs it, lets the scent curl through her. It is one of the hind-leg-walkers that lives in a large pack by the big water.
She pads around the body. One of its legs is at strange angle. A sharp piece of wood lies by one of its forepaws. The tip of the wood is bloody.
She accesses pack memories, sees hind-leg-walkers using these sharp-sticks to kill creatures. She sniffs the carcass and the stick. The scent is the same. This one has impaled itself on its sharp-stick and died from blood loss. Some other meat-eater—a lynx from the pungent scent—has gnawed on the carcass.
The she-wolf has no taste for hind-leg-walker flesh. She touches muzzles with her mate, signaling her need to leave this place.
Her nose catches their scents but it is too late to hide. Sharp-sticks rain down on her. Her mate is already dead, felled by a piercing blow to his ribs.
She sees her death in their eyes. She snarls, baring her fangs. She knows it is hopeless but she is too hurt to run. One of their sticks finds her heart… and all is blackness.
“Now you have Seen the truth.”
The words echoed in Hope’s mind. Emotions smote her—sadness, an overwhelming sense of loss. Anger.
“Hope… Hope! What did you See?” Blayne’s hands were clamped on her forearms.
“The truth. I think— I think he wants me to tell you what I have Seen.”
“Who? Who told you to tell the truth?”
“I do not know. His voice echoed in my mind when the vision ended. He was not part of the Seeing. He was separate… different.”
Blayne’s breath hissed out. “Can you try and tell us what you saw?”
“Yes.” The importance of relating as many details as possible sank into her bones. The voice—whoever it had been—needed her to do this. She centered herself as Dayamar had taught her and related her vision. “These wolves did not want to eat the man,” she finished. “They had done nothing wrong.”
“And the voice?”
“He told me I had Seen the truth. It was not a human’s voice but I know it was male. He was saddened by the killings.” The hand that had been stroking the wolf’s pelt stilled. These were the pelts of the she-wolf and her mate from her Seeing. She knew it absolutely.
The shock at her recitation boiled and crackled about the room until finally, Treya broke the silence. “You saw Lyam. I— Everyone believes those two wolves killed him. But… but you’re saying he was already dead? That his death was an accident?”
“Yes. That is what I have Seen.”
Her answering moan chilled Hope’s heart.
“I am so very sorry, Treya.” Mere words were inadequate in the face of this anguish. Self-loathing coated her skin. “I hate this,” she spat. “I hate this… this… causing pain and misery!”
“Hope—” Blayne tried to gather her close but she pushed him away.
“I think we’re overlooking something even more important than the truth of Lyam’s passing.” Zavier spoke quietly but the intensity in his voice commanded attention. “Who do you think felt it imperative for Hope to learn the truth?”
“Wisa’s white feathers,” Roban said. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Who holds wolves in such high esteem? Who would know the truth about these two wolves in particular? And who, other than Dayamar, would have the ability to speak to Hope through her Seeing when she touched this she-wolf’s pelt?”
“Shikari,” Roban said.
“Yes. Shikari.”
Hope felt a warm hand encompass hers. Zavier’s hand. “Hope, you were sent this Seeing so you could tell Treya the truth about her life-partner’s death. You were right to think the voice wasn’t human. It wasn’t. A god spoke to you.”
She didn’t want to believe him. But the presence in her mind had been so overwhelmingly “other” she couldn’t think of another logical explanation. And at some elemental level her tightly held internal beliefs had shifted. She’d been profoundly affected by this encounter. It left her no choice but to believe.
Believing didn’t make her any less angry, however. “Why tell me this and cause Treya more pain? Has she not she been through enough? Are your gods so very cruel?”
“Since Lyam died I’ve hated wolves.” Treya’s voice sounded very small and subdued—almost childlike, but with an undertone of deep guilt. “And when you Saw my baby was to be a boy I was glad to know I would bear a son. I vowed to teach him to hate the animals I believed killed his father. I vowed to teach him to hunt them, so he could kill them all. Every time I looked at these pelts my hatred gnawed at me until I knew I had to be rid of them.” Her sigh eked out, tangled with pain and regret. “I’m ashamed I’ve given you a gift so tainted by hatred, but I truly did think you and Blayne would find them useful.”
“I understand,” Hope said. And she did. “When my family died, I could not bear to have some of their possessions in my house. They reminded me too much of what I had lost. I gave them away.”
“I know why I had so much trouble birthing Hopian,” Treya said. “Something inside me knew I would warp my son with my hatred. What sort of legacy would that be for him? Taught to kill—not for food or clothing—but for revenge? I would have encouraged him to spend his whole life killing. What kind of man would he have grown into because of me?”
She couldn’t bear the anguish she could See hovering about her friend like some malicious ghost. “Treya—”
“Let me finish. You don’t understand, Hope. This goes against all our beliefs—everything the gods have taught us. And my son would have become a vicious killer because of a mistake.” Treya sobbed while her infant son snuffled in his sleep, oblivious to the emotion-charged atmosphere.
She sagged against Blayne. So much for not overtaxing herself.
He tucked her beneath his arm. “If it’s all right with you, Treya, I’ll announce what happened to Lyam at next week’s settlement meeting. People should know the truth. There have been far too many senseless killings of wolves since his death.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” Treya sniffed and huffed out a shaky breath. “Hope, please don’t blame yourself. The truth needed to be told—surely you can see that?”
“Yes. I see.”
“I’ll understand if you don’t wish to accept my gift. Perhaps these pelts would be better burned.”
“No. I accept your gift, Treya.” And she had already decided how she would use them.
Chapter Fifteen
The Master Tracker halted so abruptly Hope had no chance to avoid him. “My apologies, Taran,” she said, even though it was hardly her fault.
He grunted.
Ruefully she rubbed her sore nose. His spine was as rigid and intractable as his personality. He’d been asked to accompany Willem’s hunting party but he’d refused to take part in anything “that drunken good-for-nothing” had a part in organizing. His attitude suggested he didn’t feel charitable toward anything Hope had organized, either.
Too bad.
“Is this the place, Taran?”
“Yes.”
His terse response bordered on rudeness. She waited for him to elaborate further but he remained silent. She skimmed his surface thoughts, certain that if she’d been able to physically see right now his feelings would be written all over his face.
Immediately she wished she hadn’t probed his mind. If she hadn’t been backed by Blayne and Dayamar, two of the most influential men in the settlement, Taran would not be out here “traipsing around”. He could not understand why this “fool’s mission” was being taken so seriously. He thought Hope was the worst kind of fraud. Ignorance would have been slightly more comfortable than knowing exactly how little he thought of her.
“Thank you, Taran. I will have the pelts now please.” She knew he was unimpressed that she continually “forgot” to use his formal trade title. Petty of her, perhaps, but once she’d realized how much it irritated him she made a point of omitting the title he considered his due.
Taran clicked his fingers at his apprentice and the young man handed over the wolf-pelts to her. “You and Lukas may both go now, Taran,” she told him. “Blayne will stay with me.”
The tracker grunted again. His thoughts spilled out, begging Hope to read them. He was tempted to leave but damned if he’d miss out on whatever “farce” this weird young woman was about to perpetuate. He’d not come all this way for nothing. He could imagine the incredulous faces of his friends when he regaled them with details of this… this… ceremony. Golden eyes did not a Sehan make—no matter what others claimed.
She sighed inwardly. Serve her right for reading private thoughts. Life had been far less complicated before that particular talent had developed. Not to mention all the moral issues it raised.
“I’ll stay,’ he said.
“Don’t get in her way, Master Tracker.” Blayne’s voice was so flat and curt Hope suspected that he, too, had gleaned Taran’s true opinion of her.
Taran must have recognized Blayne’s displeasure for he made a belated effort at politeness. “If it pleases you, we’ll wait over there, Panakeya.” He stomped off, and Lukas’s lighter footfalls followed.
“Master Tracker or not, I have little time for that man,” Blayne muttered.
She responded with a weary smile. Taran’s attitude was getting old.
“Are you sure you’re up for this, Hope?” he asked. “Perhaps you should have waited another couple of days.”
“I am sure. I will start now. You should stand back, too, Blayne. I do not know what might happen.”
“Call out if you need me. I won’t be far away.”
She listened to him making his way toward Taran and the young apprentice.
“This should be interesting.” Taran had made no effort to lower his voice.
“Yes, Master Tracker. It certainly will be.” Blayne’s silky tones promised retribution if Taran didn’t watch his mouth.
Hope’s smile died as she turned her full attention to the task ahead. She moved until she stood beneath the tree where Lyam had died. She clutched the rolled wolf-pelts to her chest and extended her senses, feeling for some difference, some indication of negativity. Surely evidence of a man’s untimely death would linger, infecting the energy of the surrounding vegetation? But she sensed only regret. Lyam had not raged against his fate. Some small consolation for Treya, perhaps.
She inhaled the cool crisp night air, and allowed her mind to slowly expand outward. It was ridiculously easy to enter a trance now. Even so, she knew she still had much to learn.
The muddled mass of aureyas from the living entities surrounding her became more vibrant, more defined, until she could See each individual aureya vividly in her mind. Probing tendrils of her seer-sense intertwined with the myriad of aureyas and wove them into a whole. She used this living energy to shoot her will upward and outward in an umbrella-like net that swept the sky. She didn’t know how she did this, or even why it happened precisely this way, only that it was needed. And thus she summoned an entity the Dayamari called a god to her.
The watching men moved restlessly. Even Taran, skeptical of Hope’s abilities, was gripped by the first stirrings of fear. His skin prickled. The night seemed to close in on him. He knew in his bones something other-worldly was brewing.
In the fading light the young Sehan’s golden eyes blazed. Taran heard a howl, faint at first, as if from a great distance. Then louder. And louder still.
“Sounds like a wolf,” Lukas murmured.
Taran glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye and glanced skyward, squinting as cloud cover abruptly dissipated to reveal a too-bright starry sky.
“Look!” The boy’s voice squeaked like a child’s.
A group of stars had fused together into a circular shape. Wolf-song rang out again, so piercingly loud Taran clapped his hands over his ears. The twinkling circle burst… only to reform into a wolf-shape with glowing eyes. And right then Taran started to believe Hope truly was Sehani through and through.
The star-wolf floated downward. A blinding flash and a silver wolf stood before the young Sehan. A real wolf. The biggest Taran had ever seen. It sniffed her and then sat back on its haunches, waiting.
“Shikari’s paws,” he breathed. “Look at the size of that thing!”
The beast glanced in his direction, it’s glowing golden eyes fixing on his face. When he shrank from its feral gaze, it bared its fangs in a wolfy grin.
Sehan Hope inclined her head as if in greeting. “So, it is true,” Taran heard her say. “You do exist.” She sounded more resigned than awed. Silence reigned and he got the distinct impression she was engaged in wordless communication with the wolf.
The beast shimmered, and in the blink of an eye a rugged, powerfully-built man towered over the young woman. His hair and beard were an unruly silvery mass. His eyes were bright gold. He was barefoot, and clad in pants and tunic of some material that shone with many different colors all at once. It hurt Taran’s eyes to stare at him for too long.
“Please, Shikari?” the young Sehan said.
“Very well,” the god said. “It shall be as you wish, little Sehan.”
She offered him the wolf-pelts and as Shikari took them all-too-human anger twisted his face. “My children are often act without thought for the consequences. What is to be done about them, Sehan?”
“Not a thing Shikari. It’s a part of what makes us human. We’re sometimes ruled by our e
motions and true, we often make mistakes. But most of the time we learn and grow wiser. It’s the way of our kind.”
A chill goosed the hairs on Taran’s nape. Prior to this moment the young woman’s speech had been stilted and overly formal—just one more thing about her that had irked him. Now when she spoke she could have been a native of this land.
“Hmm.” The god deliberated a moment before placing the pelts on the ground. A brief incandescent blaze of his golden eyes and the pelts disappeared. In their place stood two wolves—a mated pair.
Shikari placed a hand on the head of each wolf. He murmured something—their names, perhaps?—and the fur of each flashed to pure white. “You are forever marked. Never again will you be harmed by humans. Live long and produce many cubs, my friends. Now thank the Sehan for your lives and be off with you.”
The wolves yipped and butted their heads against Shikari’s thighs. They nosed Hope’s hands before loping off.
She knit her brows. “How have you marked them, Shikari?”
“Their pelts are pure white.”
“Won’t that make them easy targets?”
The god chuckled. “Of course, little Sehan. And every hunter who sees them will desire their pelts. But no weapon aimed at either wolf will ever fly true. No human-made weapon will harm them.”
She shook her head. “Our hunters will see them as a challenge and only try all the harder to kill them. Your poor wolves will never have a minute’s peace.”
She chastised a god? Taran sucked in a horrified breath.
But Shikari only threw back his head and laughed—a deep, resounding belly-laugh that coated the night with warmth and delight. “You’re right, little Sehan. But as you said, humans learn by their mistakes. I’m sure word will get around that white wolves are gods-marked. And you do not know wolves as well as I. The beasts appreciate a good game. They’ll tease your hunters unmercifully.”
The god’s gaze licked the length of her, weighing and considering. “Hmm. We were right to choose you. Fragile as the petals of a flower on the outside, but inside as resolute as stone. Are you ready for what lies ahead, young Sehan?”
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