The Seer

by Rowan McAllister

  She shrugged. “I think he will have little choice. They could only spare a couple of mounts, and I’m the lighter of the two of us. He’s more than welcome to walk the whole way to Urmat, if that is his wish.”

  Daks’s smile widened. This was the Shura he knew and loved, not the sentimental stranger he’d encountered at the Dog and Duck. He still didn’t like the idea of splitting up again, but he supposed the rebels had a point. The less attention they drew to themselves, the better off everyone would be. A couple of tired farmers going home from the city after a long day at the markets was as ordinary as the dirt beneath their feet, and just as forgettable. Shura, on the other hand, was another matter altogether.

  They all pitched in unloading the cart so Daks and Ravi could squeeze into a crate behind the driver’s seat at the front of the wagon. After a quick and largely unspoken goodbye with Shura, Daks settled Ravi into the box first and then climbed in beside him. There wasn’t quite enough room for both of them to lie side by side, so he had to pull Ravi’s inert body partway onto his chest to squeeze the rest of the way in. In other circumstances, he might’ve enjoyed the cuddling. He hadn’t bedded anyone in weeks and wouldn’t mind a little human contact. But the box was far too small and he hurt far too much to take any pleasure in it.

  After putting the lid on the box, the others piled mostly empty crates, barrels, and sacks left over from a successful day at the markets in front of them. Thank the gods Daks wasn’t claustrophobic or he would’ve been on the verge of panic by the time they were done. The bumpy ride to the gate was tortuous enough. He almost envied Ravi being allowed to sleep through it all, but the poor man would probably be covered in bruises by the time they were done. Daks did what he could to protect Ravi’s head and shoulders, but he could barely move enough to brace himself within the confines of the box, so he wasn’t sure how successful he was.

  When the bouncing and rattling finally stopped, he held his breath and strained to listen as what sounded like gate guards questioned Haruk and Vahal. He tensed for a fight when the thud of boots moved toward the back of the wagon and someone began shifting the crates in front of him. As the noises grew closer, he silently cursed himself for not removing the dagger from its sheath at the small of his back, because he sure as hells couldn’t reach it now.

  Luckily, after a few tense moments, the rummaging stopped, and Daks blew out a long breath when the cart began moving again. They weren’t safe yet, but they’d hopefully passed the worst obstacle.

  Every single inch of his body ached by the time the wagon finally stopped again and Haruk called to him.

  “We’re far enough away now. You can at least come out of hiding and stretch,” he said in accented trade tongue.

  Crates and barrels suddenly moved and flickering torchlight flooded through the cracks of their hiding place. In other circumstances, Daks would have manfully refused the massive paw Vahal extended in his direction, but after the abuse he’d put his body through in the last day, he was embarrassed to admit he needed the help sliding out from under Ravi and climbing out of the box. His legs were asleep, and he had to roll his shoulders several times before he could work the crick out of his neck and lift up his head.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, and Vahal nodded.

  “You’ll need to stay in the back, but there’s no need to cram into that tiny space. How is the other?” Vahal asked in a rumbling bass Daks could feel in his chest.

  “Still asleep. I think he got the better end of that deal,” Daks grumbled, and Vahal chuckled.

  “Not far now,” Vahal said gently before heading back to the front of the wagon.

  Daks shoved some of the boxes aside to make room for himself and then crawled back in. He braced his back against a barrel a moment before Haruk snapped the reins and barked out an order, making the horse lurch forward. After the first new bump in the road, Daks tugged Ravi out of the box enough to cushion his head on one of Daks’s thighs so the hard boards of the cart wouldn’t do him any more damage than Shura already had. The last thing he needed was to have to carry the man yet one more time because he’d been brained unconscious again.

  As the cart rumbled along the rutted road by the full moon, Daks draped an arm across Ravi’s shoulders to hold him in place, settled himself as comfortably as he could, and tipped his head back to take in the stars littering the night sky. Away from the city and the smoky miasma of chimney fires, the view was breathtaking, and he was honestly too tired to try to make conversation with the men in front of him. He should be pumping them for as much information as he could, but Maran’s lieutenant probably knew more than they did anyway, so he could afford to be a little lazy. He’d lost a full night’s sleep to his own stupidity, after all.

  He drew in a deep breath of clean sea air and blew it out again, allowing his mind to wander where it would as his gaze dropped to the rolling farmland they now traveled through. Shura was right. It was time for him to face facts and move on to some other job. His feelings were getting the better of him and he was making mistakes, possibly costly ones. If he quit, he could finally tell the High Council where to shove their bureaucracy, their greed, and their petty squabbles and venture out on his own… with Shura, of course. He might not be as young as he once was, but he and Shura were still young and capable enough they could find work anywhere. His gift would always be useful, even if it wasn’t particularly flashy.

  His glance drifted down to Ravi’s cloaked head resting on his thigh. He couldn’t save them all. And if he were truly honest with himself, he’d finally admit Josel was gone for good. He’d have found some way to contact Daks in the nearly ten years since his disappearance if he’d still been alive. He wouldn’t have left Daks hurting if he’d had any choice in the matter.

  Daks’s hand tightened almost of its own accord on the shoulder beneath his palm. One more rescue and maybe his conscience would be satisfied and the old wounds inside him could heal. After that, maybe he and Shura could find a bit of land somewhere with the wages he’d saved over the years. They’d settle down, find a husband for him and a wife for her. They could be farmers like the rest of his family, and Shura could invite her clan to stay for as long as they wanted and return as often as they wanted.

  He fidgeted, grimacing as he lifted one buttcheek and then the other to relieve the ache from the pounding it was getting. It was definitely not the kind of pounding he preferred. A small smile curved his lips as he glanced at Vahal’s broad shoulders above him. If he wasn’t doing this job anymore, he could find a mountain of a man like Vahal to climb on top of every night and hitch to the plow every day. Regular sex and not being on the verge of possible torture and death all the time had its perks, right? He glanced from Vahal’s back down to Ravi’s prone form again and pursed his lips. Or maybe he’d find himself a pretty little thing to curl around every night and hitch himself to the plow every morning instead. The options were limitless, really.

  The fantasy lasted for only a few more minutes before he snorted and shook his head. Shura would be ready to kill him within a week, from boredom. She came from a nomadic people, so staying in one place ran contrary to everything she was. She’d do it for him, but he would be cruel to ask it of her. He wasn’t exactly farmer material either… at least, not anymore. They needed a few more years of adventure under their belts before they could manage that level of settling down in any case… or the right partners to make the quiet life more interesting.

  With a smile still on his face, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Shura would probably laugh herself silly if he ever shared half the shit that ran through his head.

  He jerked awake when the wagon lurched steeply to one side, adding another bruise to Daks’s already sore body.

  “Almost there,” Haruk called over his shoulder as he guided the cart off the road toward a small stand of trees. “This is where we’ll wait.”

  As soon as Haruk pulled the horse to a stop, Daks eased out from under Ravi and crawled out of
the back of the wagon, eager to stretch his stiffened muscles and shake off the lethargy that threatened to render him useless. Nothing disturbed the land around them beyond the sleepy chirping of crickets in the tall grass along the roadside, but he loosened the dagger in its sheath anyway and peered into the darkness beyond the torchlight.

  “How long do you think it will take them?” Daks asked, twisting his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders.

  “Not long,” Haruk answered as he climbed down from his box. “They should be able to move faster than this old cart, despite having to go the long way ’round.”

  “Thank you again for helping us,” Daks said as both men moved to join him.

  “’Tis a fair trade,” Haruk murmured with a shrug as he pulled a pipe and a small cloth bag from his pocket and began to pack the bowl. “Things are happening here, happening fast. The whispers grow each day. Our prayers to the gods are being answered. If we are to take what the gods have given us, we must act and we must learn.” He turned to glance over his shoulder into the back of his wagon before lighting a stick from the mounted torch and using it to light his pipe. “We’ll need men and women like this one someday, I think. But there are many who’d disagree. Many who think magic is evil and should be snuffed out of all Kita forever. Lad will be safer in your land. Quanna, Moc, and Chytel willing, Rassa will be free afore too long, and without much bloodshed, and young ones like him will want to return to us.”

  Daks opened his mouth to give a polite, noncommittal response, but the sudden, rhythmic clomp of hooves on packed earth stopped him. He tensed as he held up a hand for silence and searched the darkness beyond the torchlight. The sounds weren’t coming from Haruk’s cart horse or the direction of the city, and they were growing louder. The men beside him immediately fell silent and also tensed. When a blur of white crested the next hill, Daks narrowed his gaze until the shape resolved itself into that of a riderless horse. He blinked for a moment in surprise before glancing at his two companions, but they were staring also, no sign of recognition or understanding on their faces. At last Haruk turned to him, and Daks raised his eyebrows.

  “’Tis a bit odd,” Vahal rumbled as he stepped away from the wagon toward the approaching creature.

  The horse was very large and obviously well taken care of. It had no saddle, not even a bridle, but its long silvery mane and tail flowed freely, without a hint of a bramble or tangle. Shura’s admonition that they would only have two mounts for the four of them rang in Daks’s head, but he stayed where he was. He couldn’t afford to risk upsetting his newfound allies, if they wanted the beautiful beast. He wouldn’t be able to take it with him back to Samebar in any case.

  The horse continued its sedate trot toward them, showing no reaction to Vahal’s approach until they were within a few feet of each other and Vahal reached out to it. Then the horse snorted, arched away from his grasp, and bared its teeth at him. For each step Vahal took toward it, the horse took a step back, showing no signs of running away, but also not allowing Vahal to touch it.

  “Easy there, boy,” Vahal murmured in Rassan, continuing to try to get closer to it, but the horse would have none of that.

  Appearing to lose patience with Vahal’s attempts to capture it, the horse snorted again, lunged at him, and snapped at the air, forcing the big man to scurry backward. Apparently pleased with the result, the horse whickered and lifted its head proudly as Vahal cast a beseeching look toward Haruk. “A little help here?”

  Haruk’s lips quirked before he shoved his pipe between his teeth and strode purposefully over. He and Vahal approached the animal from opposite sides this time, while Daks watched in amusement. At least he had something interesting to pass the time until Shura got there. He folded his arms across his chest and rested against the side of the wagon as the two men tried time and again to coax the horse close enough to handle, but the animal continued to elude them, sending off periodic warnings of bodily harm with hoof and teeth, should they cross some internal line known only to it.

  “I need to find a rope,” Haruk finally puffed. “Maybe one of Daisy’s leads will do the trick.”

  “Or maybe we should unhitch Daisy and bring her over. She’s a mare. He’s a stallion. We might be able to woo him to follow us home,” Vahal suggested.

  The two men had stepped back to give the horse some room as they discussed their options. The horse eyed them for a short time, but when they made no move toward it, the creature seemed to dismiss them completely and began walking again, right toward Daks.

  Realizing the direction it was headed, Daks straightened and eyed the animal warily, keeping his hands unthreateningly by his sides. Amazingly, the horse didn’t stop until it walked right up to him and rubbed its muzzle against his cheek.

  “Uh, hi there,” Daks said as his lips curved into an uncertain smile.

  One huge pale blue eye captured his gaze and held. He wasn’t exactly sure how long they might have stayed that way, but a sudden cry rang out behind him, and a pulse of that strange magic Daks had experienced the night before flooded his senses.

  Seven Hells! Not now. Not so close to the city!

  Forgetting the horse, Daks swung around in a panic. Ravi’s back arched off the bed of the wagon only for a few seconds before he moaned and collapsed again. The horse squealed in distress and reared away as Daks vaulted over the side of the wagon, ignoring the animal completely.

  “Ravi, are you okay?” Daks asked he knelt by Ravi’s prone body. “Push it back if you can. Can you hear me?”

  Magic tingled along his skin but dissipated quickly. “That’s right. Push it back.”

  As the last vestiges faded to nothing, he blew out a relieved breath, but they weren’t necessarily safe. That Finder or another could have been searching the area for any magical sign. And while a Sensitive’s range was usually not that long, and scrying was forbidden magic in Rassa, after witnessing that brother use a summoning stone last night, Daks couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

  “Is your friend okay?” Haruk asked, sounding spooked despite his earlier declarations of magical tolerance.

  “He’s seems okay now. I don’t know what that was, maybe a nightmare,” Daks replied, still frowning at the sleeping man in front of him.

  “Okay. Good,” Haruk breathed.

  An outraged squeal rent the air.

  Daks whipped around in time to see Vahal get knocked on his impressive ass by the enraged stallion. A leather strap swung from the creature’s neck as it reared, but just when Daks thought it would trample the man, the thing settled back on the ground, flapped its lips at them, and sauntered toward the back of the wagon.

  Bemused, Daks glanced between Haruk, Vahal on the ground, and the regal animal gazing benignly at him from a few feet away.

  “Are you okay?” Daks called to Vahal without letting the horse out of his sight.

  “I’m fine,” Vahal answered irritably.

  Daks cast a quick concerned glance at Ravi; then he scooted hesitantly toward the back of the wagon. He extended a cautious hand toward the horse’s silver-and-pink muzzle, and it nuzzled his palm and gently lipped his skin.

  “Oooooookay,” Daks murmured.

  “Feh,” Vahal grumbled as he climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. “Do you two know each other?”

  “No. I’ve never seen it before in my life.”

  “Well, it seems you have a new friend, then.”

  Daks cocked an eyebrow at the horse, but the creature just gave him what appeared to be a smug look. “I guess so.”

  Ignoring the strange horse for a second, he glanced back at Ravi and then anxiously scanned the horizon. They needed to get on the road before Ravi had another episode. A moving target was harder to find. He slid out of the wagon, past the horse, and walked toward the road, searching for any sign of Shura. If she took much longer, he might have to start their journey alone and make her catch up. But she and Maran’s lieutenant had the horses, and Daks had a still-un
conscious Ravi and all the packs stowed inside crates in the wagon, so that wasn’t going to work. He worried his lower lip as he pondered his options until a nudge from behind nearly sent him sprawling in the dirt. He caught himself just in time and threw a glare over his shoulder at the white stallion. It shook its head and whickered in response.

  Pursing his lips, Daks temporarily dismissed the problem of Shura and approached the animal. As before, it nuzzled his outstretched hand. Encouraged, Daks stepped close and ran his palm down the horse’s neck to its shoulder, and it leaned into his touch. Something tingled at the edge of his consciousness, but when he tried to pin it down, it disappeared. Shrugging it off, he returned his attention to the horse. It really was a magnificent animal. Someone out there was obviously missing it, but they could definitely use another mount.

  “What do you say, horse? If I sling some packs and an unconscious man over your back, are you gonna kick me and bolt?”

  He’d need to rig up a bridle somehow, at least. He could ride bareback, but with only the horse’s mane to hold on to, he didn’t like his chances if it bolted. The stallion held his gaze with one calm pale blue eye until the sound of hoofbeats approaching made them both turn toward the road.

  Even at a distance, with little more than moonlight, Daks would know Shura’s silhouette anywhere, and his shoulders slumped in relief. He hadn’t been overly worried for her safety, getting out of the city. No one was looking for her, and there shouldn’t be any reason for her to be detained, but shit sometimes happened, and it was always better to have her where he could watch her back.

  “Any problems?” he called when she was within easy earshot.

  “No. Couple of gate guards got a little handsy, and I was tempted to remove said hands at the wrists, but calmer minds prevailed.” She jerked her head toward her companion as she said that last, and Daks’s attention shifted to the other rider.

  Maran’s lieutenant was a petite woman, possibly in her late twenties or early thirties. Her pale blonde hair had been coiled around her head in a modest thick braid that looked like it might reach her thighs when it was unbound. Even in the austere woolen tunic and leggings pious Rassans seemed to prefer, she was a pretty little thing, and Daks cocked an eyebrow at Shura as he fought a smile. “Calmer minds?”