Seer's Hope

by Anderson, Maree

  “I don’t know, Shikari. All I can do is my best.”

  “We have faith your best will be more than enough.” His form flickered.

  “Wait! Take me to the incorporeal world. I must learn what I can of it—the sickness. I need to know. I need to see!”

  “Are you certain, Sehan? It’s an ugly sight—not one for the faint of heart.”

  “I must.”

  “Hope, no!”

  Blayne lunged but Taran hooked an arm around his chest and held him back. “You can’t go up against a god!” he hissed, ducking Blayne’s blows as the man struggled to free himself.

  The god’s spectral hand clasped Hope’s. His eyes—now little more than glowing golden orbs—focused on Blayne. “I will keep her safe, Panakeya.” And he and the little Sehan vanished.

  “Hope!” Blayne’s anguished shout shattered the silence. He shook off Taran’s grip and sank to his knees, his face a mask of despair.

  “Kunnandi’s fickle fangs.” Taran chewed the inside of his cheek. Now what was he supposed to do?

  Lukas opened his mouth but the only sound he managed was another squeak. No help there.

  The Panakeya had buried his face in his hands. His back was bowed, diaphragm heaving. He wore despair like a shroud. The young woman was more than just another pretty face gracing his bed. Blayne truly cared for her. Poor bastard. Loving a Sehan wouldn’t be an easy path. “We’d better get him home, Lukas. Gods only know when Sehan Hope will be return.” Or if.

  “I’m staying.” Blayne climbed to his feet. “Sehan Hope and I thank you for your help, Master Tracker.”

  For the first time in his life Taran felt true compassion for another’s pain. He prided himself on never having required a healer his entire adult life. But Blayne was more than a dabbler in herb-lore. The man was an experienced hunter and a talented tracker—worthy of respect. As was this young woman he’d Chosen. “My apprentice and I will stand vigil with you, Panakeya.”

  Blayne gave a curt nod.

  Lukas cleared his throat. “What do we do now, Master Tracker?”

  “What do you think we do, youngling? We wait.”

  ~~~

  The unrelenting darkness revealed no further astonishments. Taran estimated it was just gone midnight. He stretched the kinks from his spine and hid a yawn behind his hand as he pondered how this night would end.

  A pale swaying figure materialized before his eyes. Lukas darted forward and managed to catch her as she crumpled.

  Blayne snatched her from the youngling’s arms and lowered her to the ground. He sat with her in his lap, rocking her back and forth.

  Taran’s mind roiled and seethed with everything he’d learned this night. There was a sickness in the spirit world. Shikari hoped this young blind woman would be able to cure it. She was the most important person in Dayamaria right now. And if the Panakeya needed a kick in the pants to snap him from his daze so he could ensure she’d taken no lasting harm, then by Shikari’s hairy paws, Taran would administer a good firm one. “Panakeya, you must see whether she’s in need of healing.”

  No response.

  “Panakeya Blayne!” His voice cracked out, whip-like.

  Blayne recoiled and shook himself. To Taran’s relief, he began to act as a healer should. “Hope, how do you feel? Do you need healing?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Other than the fey expression in her eyes, Taran could see no injury—no physical injury at least. Blayne appeared to come to the same conclusion, for he stood and tugged her to her feet. When she didn’t immediately crumple again, Taran breathed out some of his tightly wound tension.

  Blayne had cupped his palm over the little Sehan’s stomach. “The baby?” he asked.

  “Our baby is safe.”

  “Sweet Wisa, I thank you.” Blayne hugged her to him. Overtop her head his gaze searched Taran’s face.

  “You can rely on our discretion, Panakeya,” Taran said. “Nothing that took place tonight will be repeated without your permission. Or yours, Sehan Hope. Isn’t that right, Lukas?”

  Lukas nodded enthusiastically.

  “Past time you were home, Sehan Hope. Lukas, lead the way.” Taran took up the rear, keeping an eye on the couple. Blayne supported Hope with an arm about her waist. She leaned into him. Their strides were perfectly matched.

  “What happened to you?” Taran heard Blayne ask her.

  “Let’s just say I’ve undergone a profound restructuring of my core beliefs.” She snorted in a wry fashion. “As they say in my home-world, it’s been one helluva night.”

  Taran didn’t know what helluva meant but he understood the sentiment. He was undergoing some profound inner belief restructuring himself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  First Elder Varon rapped his mallet on a gong and a sonorous tone echoed throughout the Sehani Hall. “Silence! This meeting is about to begin!” When he was ignored, he battered the gong until its sustained echoes drowned out the chatter.

  Hope knew the instant Dayamar had stepped forward because everyone assembled quieted until not a whisper could be heard. Unlike Varon, Dayamar had no need to bash a gong to command attention.

  “Thank you all for attending,” Dayamar said. “I know you’re curious about why I’ve chosen the Sehani Hall as the venue for this settlement meeting. But please be patient and all will be revealed. First, I will hand you over to Elder Evan.”

  Varaya muffled what sounded like a giggle and leaned in to whisper in Hope’s ear. “Elder Evan’s not paying attention. He’s a bit distracted by something he can see on the ceiling.”

  “Elder Evan,” Dayamar said.

  “What? Oh!” Some shuffling sounds, and then Evan said, “Thank you Sehan Dayamar. Now…. Er, where do I start?”

  This time Varaya’s giggle was echoed by a few more. “Evan looks like he’s just tumbled out of bed,” she murmured. “Varon’s not impressed. He’s making a face like he’s swallowed something nasty.”

  “That’s not a face,” Hope whispered. “That’s his normal expression.”

  Varaya giggled again.

  “Evan.” Dayamar’s tone contained infinite patience. “You’re facing the wrong way. Turn around.”

  “Eh? Goodness, look at you all!” With a considerable amount of prompting, the elder managed to stutter his way through Varon’s agenda. “I think that’s everything. Oh. My mistake. One last thing. I have pleasure in announcing the adoption of Treya’s infant, er, Hopian. Hopian. That’s a very nice name. Well done for choosing that. By… by…..”

  “He’s digging around in his pockets,” Treya whispered. “Ah. He’s found a scrap of paper. Here we go.”

  “By Roban and Zavier,” Evan said. “So Roban and… and … Zavier will be Hopian’s blood-fathers. Yes. Very good. The, ah, formal blood-ceremony will take place when the infant reaches one month of age as is customary. Are there any, er, objections?”

  Neither Treya’s mother nor mother-by-Joining risked making public spectacles of themselves by voicing an objection. Blayne, who was standing next to Hope, leaked satisfaction from every pore. His “chat” with the two women had worked a treat.

  “No? Good.” Elder Evan sounded hugely relieved. “Then this adoption is officially sanctioned.”

  Hope smiled, imagining the trio’s delight. Roban and Zavier had reconciled themselves to a childless union. Now they could share in the raising of Treya’s son—a privilege neither man had dreamed possible.

  “Thank you, Elder Evan.” Dayamar addressed the assemblage. “Now we come to the reason for choosing this venue. Hope, would you stand by me, please?”

  She sensed the undercurrents swirling about her as she made her way to Dayamar’s side. The attire Dayamar had presented her with, and insisted she wear tonight, would leave no doubt about his intention to formally announce her new status. He’d told her the dress was slightly more elaborate than was traditional, but hinted that was Shay’s fault. The deep vee-neck of the dress and its sleeves were orn
ately beaded with a subtle oval pattern, reminiscent of the “third eye” tattooed on Dayamar’s forehead. A similar pattern had been etched around the tops of her boots with black dye.

  “The dress looks wonderful on you, my dear,” Dayamar had said. “And the flowers in your hair are a lovely touch. You look quite exquisite.” Treya, who’d dressed her hair, followed with a comment about the colors suiting her complexion.

  Come to think of it, she didn’t have a clue what color her dress and boots happened to be. Or the flowers in her hair, for that matter. She swallowed a sigh. Gods only knew what she looked like.

  As she took her place at Dayamar’s side, Elder Varon’s outrage hit her with the force of a physical blow. She’d been warned to expect a protest but it took every ounce of willpower to ignore him and not react.

  Dayamar cut off whatever protest Varon might have been about to voice. “I, Dayamar, Sehan and Spiritual Leader of the Dayamari, do this day formally elevate my apprentice, Hope, to the status of Second Sehan of the Dayamari. Let anyone who objects speak now or forever hold their peace.”

  “I object!”

  Of course he did. She resisted the desire to roll her eyes.

  “I, First Elder Varon, object to this… this… travesty! To sanction the elevation of an apprentice Sehan, all elders must be present to cast their votes.”

  She frowned. What was Varon’s problem? All the elders were present.

  Dayamar merely said, “Observe.”

  His power zinged across her skin. He’d summoned something. Or somebody. Make that somebodies, for she could sense twelve distinct forms. But when she attempted to scan them their essences eluded her. They were here but… not. It was as though she was Seeing phantoms or shimmering reflections of real people.

  Whatever Dayamar had done seemed to have foiled Varon’s plan, however, for he changed tactics. “But she is a stranger to us—a foundling. Who knows where her alliances lie? Can we trust her? And she has been training with you for mere weeks, Sehan Dayamar.”

  “You have a talent for stating the obvious, First Elder Varon.”

  Dayamar’s response provoked the First Elder to lose what little tact he possessed. “This is insane!”

  Dayamar touched Hope’s shoulder and stepped back, leaving her to face Varon.

  She knew she’d missed something of import, something to do with the settlement and its elders, but there was no time to chew over what had just occurred and make sense of it. Dayamar had given her his prearranged signal and she was obliged to respond.

  She fixed her gaze on Varon. Although she couldn’t see him in the physical sense, she viewed him psychically, noting his aureya and the colors and energies that were uniquely Varon. She grimaced. The shades and intensities of his colors were as unpleasant as the man himself.

  With a casual gesture she conjured a sphere of light. Varon squawked in a most gratifying manner as she expanded the sphere until it was man-sized. A little over the top, perhaps, but this was supposed to be a spectacle and the sphere needed to be seen by as many people in the hall as possible. “What proof of my abilities do you desire, First Elder Varon? What would you like me to See for you?”

  When Varon remained mute, she shrugged. “Anyone else?”

  “I-I have a request, Sehan,” a voice piped up.

  She identified Lukas, the apprentice tracker. Interesting.

  “You should show them the truth about the wolves. A-a-and what happened afterward.” The young man stood his ground against the murmurs of discontent, determined to have his say. “Everyone should know the truth,” he said.

  Perfect. The apprentice tracker had saved Blayne the trouble of broaching the subject.

  “Treya?” Hope’s gaze swept the room, searching for her friend’s aureya. “It’s your truth and your decision.”

  “I agree with Lukas,” Treya called. “The truth of Lyam’s death needs to be told.”

  “Thank you, Treya. Lukas, I give you your Seeing.”

  Hope found herself looking through another person’s eyes. Lukas’s, if she was not mistaken. She suppressed a grimace. It would be useful to do this consciously and not unintentionally. She’d have to practice more.

  Through his eyes she watched the sphere became crystal clear save for a small, dark smudge growing in its center. The spot expanded, churning with a multitude of swirling, muted colors. The colors sprang vividly to life, depicting a forest clearing. A man could clearly be seen slumped against a tree. In the dappled light, he seemed to be merely sleeping.

  The scene blurred. There was sense of rushing forward… and then an abrupt refocus and a close-up of the man. It was immediately apparent from the amount of blood and his ashen, lax features that he was dead.

  She mentally nudged Lukas to seek out Treya. Her friend had turned her face away, unwilling to look upon the lifeless body of the man she’d loved. Being told about Lyam’s death was one thing, but seeing it? Hope enveloped Treya with a soothing mental balm that gave her the strength to wipe her face and to watch the rest of the Seeing.

  Two wolves loped into view. Some voiced revulsion they watched the animals sniffing the dead man’s body. Others grasped the significance of the scene they were watching. And dismay turned to horror as they watched the wolves being slaughtered by the hunters.

  Lukas/Hope watched the sphere to fade to opacity once more. “Lyam’s death was a tragic accident,” she said, making sure her voice carried. “Now all know the truth, the unnecessary slaughter of wolves must cease.”

  She cut her mental connection with Lukas and turned her focus back to Varon. “Do you require another display, Varon?” Since returning from her journey to the spirit world a week ago, she’d been able to perform most of the tasks Dayamar set her with ease. It was as if a window had opened up inside her, allowing her to understand her own Sehani potential for the first time. So bring it on, you pompous bastard.

  It didn’t take long for him to gather his wits. “An interesting display. But how do we know it is the truth? All we’ve seen so far is that you can conjure up a scene from your imagination. A pretty feat to be sure, but it does not make you worthy to be Dayamar’s successor.”

  He’d neatly side-stepped the issue of how Lyam had died and cast a doubt on her abilities. Clever. She could just imagine his smug smirk.

  Perhaps a god would convince him.

  She projected her encounter with Shikari into the sphere. This time she tried to consciously form a mental connection with a random bystander, and to her delight she could see through the man’s eyes, feel his awe as the huge silver wolf shimmered into human form. Through this man she’d never met, Hope understood that Shikari transforming wolf-pelts into living wolves was considered little consequence. The Dayamari had implicit faith in the supernatural abilities of their gods. What stunned them was the casual ease with which she conversed with a god.

  She broke the connection with the man and faded out the conversation before any mention of the threat to the spirit world was made. That was her burden to bear.

  “My dear child, what an imagination you have.” Varon’s voice dripped sarcasm.

  She sensed him rallying for another scathing putdown, but he was interrupted by the gruff voice of Master Tracker Taran. “First Elder Varon, I would speak.”

  She heard his heavy footfalls as he stomped to the front of the room and took up a place beside her.

  “All you have seen is true,” he said. “I was there. I, Master Tracker Taran, vouch for the truth of this Seeing. Do you dare cast aspersions on me, too, First Elder?”

  “Of course not, Master Tracker,” Varon said. “All I’m saying is you were the victim of a clever hoax.”

  She felt his spite pelting her, searching for a weakness he could exploit. “You’ll have to do better than this if you want me to believe,” he said. “I am not so easily tricked.”

  She smoothed her expression to blankness. “It is no more than I expected of you, Varon. Perhaps this will convince you.” />
  The elder’s aureya flared, revealing his deep-seated anger at her deliberate omissions of his formal titles. Before he could voice another put-down she began the summoning. With consummate ease she wove together the aureyas of every person present in the hall. She infused the ropelike weaving with her own power, casting it upward and outward, using it to summon the Dayamari gods.

  Blayne knew what Hope had planned but even so his heart pounded and his mouth went dry when three golden pillars of light arrayed themselves around her. The pillars shimmered, taking on physical substance, forming into two men and a woman. The trio were barefoot and clad in blindingly bright silver cloth. Willowy graceful Wisa, her shining waist-length silver hair framing her calm face. Slight, shrewd-eyed Kunnandi, his short-cropped silver hair sticking up in untidy spikes. And Shikari, the heavily muscled giant with the luxurious silver beard.

  Those present beheld their gods and dropped to their knees. Hope alone remained standing to welcome the beings that, a short time ago, Blayne knew she hadn’t believed existed. “Shikari, Wisa and Kunnandi, we are honored by your visit.”

  Wisa inclined her head. “We greet you, Second of the Sehani and hope of the Dayamari.” She stepped forward to embrace Hope.

  Shikari followed suit by sweeping her into a bear-hug that left her feet dangling.

  “Put her down, Shikari,” Kunnandi said to his sibling. “She’s only a little thing and you’ll squash her.” He took Hope’s hand and with a flourish, planted a kiss on her palm. His gaze slid to Blayne’s and he quirked an eyebrow as if in challenge.

  Blayne clenched his fists and did his utmost not to scowl. He had no reason to be jealous of a god… did he?

  Wisa took Dayamar’s hands and assisted him to his feet. “We greet you, old friend.” She waved a hand at the bowed heads. “Please, everyone stand. Or sit if you prefer. We will be here for a while so you may as well be comfortable.”

  Kunnandi’s gaze held a disturbing glint as he approached the First Elder and yanked him to his feet. Blayne shuddered. He wouldn’t want to be in Varon’s boots right now.