The Seer

by Rowan McAllister

  “Everyone ready?” he called brusquely.

  After receiving sleepy, disgruntled nods in return, he took Horse’s reins and started a brisk walk toward Traget. Luckily, Vasin’s cousin didn’t live too far outside of the town proper, and they reached the outskirts just as the temple bells began to ring for morning hymn. Like everyone around them, Daks reluctantly paused and piously bowed his head when the bells rang out, taking the opportunity to search their surroundings with his gift while everyone was busy praying.

  The hum of a large town, with so many bodies crowded together, made it nearly impossible to discover any subtler magics from this distance, but at least he didn’t feel any members of the Thirty-Six. The rumors were accurate thus far.

  Opening his eyes, he scanned the people around them and the market up ahead. He didn’t like the amount of guard blue he saw, but he wasn’t surprised. They’d been warned. He imagined, once the morning hymns were sung, there would be a great many bloodred robes joining the throng too, which made him itch with the need to get moving.

  Since he was stuck until the bells stopped, he closed his eyes and sent his gift out again, just in case. And this time, a strange tingle caught his attention from the direction of the market. It was too subtle for active magic, but it didn’t feel like a charm or an enchanted object either. Frowning uneasily, he strained to find it again, but like a scent on the wind, it was gone before he could identify or locate it.

  When the bells stopped and the people around them began moving again, Daks blew out a breath, clenched his jaw, and charged ahead. Whatever he’d sensed didn’t matter, as long as it didn’t get between him and that ferry. He was done being curious for the rest of his Rift-blighted life—or at least until he started getting fat and bored back home. At the moment, he was very much looking forward to a little comfortable boredom.

  Traget’s marketplace was larger and more diverse than any other in Rassa, outside of the king’s city. Merchants and farmers were already at their stalls, hawking their wares to passersby as soon as the bells stopped and customers in garb from all over Kita had begun to fill the streets—perfect for a few strangers heading toward the ferry to blend in and remain largely unnoticed.

  So why was he gripping the reins so tight his fingers lost feeling?

  Because it would be just their shit luck for something to go wrong. And even if nothing went wrong, he still had the lovely river crossing to look forward to.

  I hate water. I hate boats. I hate ferries. I hate everything about this cursed kingdom.

  As they made their snaillike progress through the bustling market, he kept his head low and reminded himself not to scowl so much or he’d spook the locals. The ferry didn’t leave Pazar to return to Traget until after the morning bells. Vasin’s cousin had assured them the schedule hadn’t changed. And even when it arrived, passengers and carts had to disembark before anyone could board. They still had plenty of time.

  Keep calm. Everything will be fine. You’re almost there and you’ve done the ferry before. It’s good and sturdy.

  But even as he tried to convince himself nothing was wrong, a sensation of being watched prickled along his spine. He searched the people around him as best he could without drawing any more attention their way and found nothing but smiling merchants hoping to catch his eye, bored soldiers, and the odd surprised look when a passerby spotted Shura. Ravi shuffled behind him, his head bowed and hood up. He’d switched back to the better quality borrowed cloak and boots that morning, so he looked like any other servant trudging through his daily labors and was largely ignored, with Shura drawing most of the mildly curious looks.

  Daks could have blamed the sensation of being watched on her, but he didn’t spot anyone actually staring. One of the reasons they’d decided on Traget was because visiting Cigani merchants weren’t unheard of in the market. She shouldn’t have been that much of an anomaly, yet the itch between his shoulders persisted.

  Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he gave up all pretense of being sneaky and boldly searched their surroundings. He didn’t spot the man until his second pass around the market. Leaning against the side of an inn, several merchant stalls behind them, stood a tall, red-bearded older man in plain homespun clothing, holding a tankard in one hand while his other rested on the hip of the rather pretty dark-haired youth pressed to his side. After studying the man for a few seconds, Daks realized the jerk was staring at one member of their group in particular, but it wasn’t Shura.

  Scowling, Daks dropped back to stand closer to Ravi, blocking the red-beard’s view. The man met Daks’s gaze with bright, amused green eyes, and the bloody bastard actually winked. Ravi let out a startled noise when Daks dragged him against his side, but Daks didn’t take his eyes off the red-beard. He glared hard at the man, but that only made the bastard’s grin widen.

  In a parting gesture he hoped red-beard understood, Daks also bared his teeth, but in a much less pleasant manner. With Ravi still clamped to his side, he began pushing more forcefully through the crowd.

  Pimp, procurer, slaver, or just horny old goat, whatever red-beard was, he’d need to find some other lamb to pounce on.

  By the time they reached the ferry landing, Daks was sweating hard, and Ravi had pulled away from him, giving him a confused scowl. That was fine with Daks. Ravi could stay angry until they were all safely in Samebar. Shura lifted her eyebrows at him, but he gave her the look that said they’d talk about it later.

  “How many?” the thin little man taking the coins at the landing asked in trade tongue, not bothering to look up from his tally slate.

  “Four and a horse,” Daks replied, palming the sad little pile of coins left in their purse.

  The man glanced up at him then, assessing before cocking his head to study Daks’s companions. “Four coppers a head, and a silver for the horse,” he said in a monotone.

  Daks gave a purely internal wince. He hoped Eben would be fine with taking credit for their stay at his inn, because Daks really didn’t want to give up that horse. A beast like that was worth at least twenty times that much. He’d take the cost out of his own salary when he reached Scholoveld.

  “Done,” Daks said begrudgingly as he counted out the coins for the three of them and the horse.

  Then Fara stepped forward to hand over her portion.

  “We can only take two of you now, and not the horse,” the man added, after taking their coin, and Daks tensed.

  He glanced in confusion at the few people who’d been ahead of them in line and at the number of people still disembarking the sizable ferry.

  “Why?”

  The man tipped his chin toward a large, heavily-laden wagon in a fenced yard behind him. “That goes on first thing. Merchant paid extra last night.”

  As he spoke, a man in plain but quality wool clothing led a large horse toward the wagon and began hitching it up.

  “If you want to go together, you’ll have to wait for the next one.”

  The man holding the slate returned Daks’s glare with a bored stare of his own, and Daks was sorely tempted to wipe that bland expression off his face, but he held his temper. Too many guards around.

  “What’s wrong?” Shura asked in Cigani at his elbow.

  “He says only two of us can cross now, and not with the horse,” he replied in the same language.

  Shura threw a glare at the man too, which seemed to have a slightly better effect, but he still lifted his chin stubbornly and waved for the people in line behind them to come forward, calling, “First ferry is full. Taking payment for the next.”

  The couple behind them, a young man and woman in plain homespun carrying bundles of pastries, eyed them warily as they took a few nervous steps forward, and Daks took pity on them and stepped to the side.

  “You go. Take the Seer with you. Fara and I will follow with the horse,” Shura said as soon as they were out of the way.

  Daks shook his head. He didn’t like the thought of separating now, even for only
a couple of hours. They were so close to the safety of their home kingdom, but a very large body of water separated the two. He wouldn’t be able to come charging back to help if anything happened.

  “You need to get him out of here,” she said, tossing a look at Ravi. “You know this. So then it is either you or I who must go with him, and I—” She hesitated and cast a furtive, almost shy glance toward Fara. “I would prefer to stay and go on the second ferry.”

  Daks was tempted to tease her, but one narrow-eyed glare from her stopped him. “I don’t like it,” he said uselessly.

  “Neither do I. But this is the best we have. He is the reason we rush. There may be no pain priests here, but there are plenty of soldiers. And if they’re fortifying against a wizard, I would assume they would have at least one Sensitive here as well. The Seer must go first.”

  Daks lifted a troubled gaze to the town behind them, remembering the strange feeling he’d had and the man watching them in the market. She was right. They had to get Ravi out first, before anything else could happen.

  “Ravi,” he called, “you’re with me.”

  Ravi startled as if he’d been miles away, but he moved to Daks’s side without saying anything. Shura moved to Fara’s side and explained the situation. Then they all waited in heavy silence as the last of the debarking passengers trundled up the landing toward the market.

  The ferry consisted of thick tree trunks lashed together, with a layer of planks nailed to the top and a railing to keep anyone from accidentally pitching into the water. A huge rope, as thick as Daks’s arm, spanned the narrowest spot on the Matna and was connected to a large wheel on either side. Massive horses turned the wheels on each bank to pull the raft across while the current tried to push it downriver. Everything about the setup seemed sturdy and well-maintained, but Daks’s stomach still churned just thinking about trusting his life to it. He had no intention of letting anyone else see his distress, but Shura knew and eyed him with concern, which only made him more irritable.

  Swallowing against the sudden tightness in his throat, he turned his back on the water so he wouldn’t have to think about it more than absolutely necessary, now that it was almost time. Ravi stepped closer to him, close enough Daks could feel the heat from his body and the brush of his cloak against the back of his hand. Daks glanced down at him curiously, but Ravi’s head was bent as usual, hiding his face within the shadows of his hood.

  “Are you all right? Is your chest hurting you?” Daks asked.

  “I’m okay… just ready to be across the river and away from all these people,” he answered tightly.

  Daks nodded.

  “Soon,” he replied, trying to sound reassuring despite the fear riding him.

  Daks shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the last of the passengers to get out of the way. Focusing on his breathing, he sucked in a long, slow breath and blew it out again, studiously ignoring the sound of rushing water at his back and the thick, dark clouds overhead. When Horse suddenly snorted and raised its head, Daks nearly jumped out of his skin. He scowled at it, but the stallion was looking over its shoulder, back toward the town.

  Daks searched the milling throng for anything amiss. A few brothers in russet robes had joined the crowds heading toward the market, but none of them seemed to be paying them any attention. But as Horse continued to stare fixedly at something, the hairs on the back of Daks’s neck rose. He sent his gift out one more time when his other senses failed him, and that odd whisper of magic brushed his consciousness again. His heart kicked up, and he searched every shadow and every face until his eyes stung. When he spotted the red-beard and his companion again, he tensed. The man had moved from his perch by the inn and was watching them from the edge of the market now.

  “Shura,” he murmured under his breath, “red beard, northern end of the square. Can you see him?”

  Both women turned in the direction he indicated as he felt Ravi shift and tense by his side.

  “I see him,” Shura replied.

  “He’s watching us. I saw them earlier too. I didn’t think it meant anything, but there they are again. He’s clearly watching us, right?”

  “He is. He’s not a guard or a priest,” Shura said.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Do you sense anything?”

  “Maybe… I’m not sure.” Daks dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in the braid, and gritted his teeth. “I don’t like it.”

  “Forget it,” Shura said firmly. “Go. Get on the ferry. They can watch all they like. It changes nothing. He can’t be a mage, not in Rassa—unless he has a death wish—so whoever he is, he can’t interfere with your crossing.”

  “But you’ll still be—”

  “For an hour, maybe two. I’ll keep an eye on him, but we will be fine here. We can handle ourselves.”

  Daks closed his mouth, swallowed his anxiety, and nodded. To keep arguing with her would only insult her and piss her off, neither of which he wanted to risk.

  “Loading next ferry. Next ferry loading!” the little man with the slate barked out, and Daks grimaced.

  He searched the space where red-beard and his companion had been once more, but the two men were gone.

  “Just be careful, okay?” Daks said, holding her gaze.

  She smiled. “Always. See you on the other side, Vaida.”

  “You better.”

  He turned away from her and forced himself to walk to the ferry while Ravi shuffled along silently behind him. The cart and horse were loaded onto the ferry first before the other passengers were allowed to squeeze on around it. Daks gave the cart and driver an ugly scowl as he moved to the far side of the deck, making the man start and eye him nervously.

  Once he’d found them an empty spot, he gripped the rail tightly and kept his gaze riveted on the far shore, away from the swirling murky water below him and the thickening clouds above. He really hoped the rain would hold off until Shura managed to make it across, not that a little rain should make the crossing more dangerous, but he thought he just might’ve glimpsed a flash of lightning in the far-off mountains. If that storm moved south, it could delay the next ferry considerably.

  A horn blared behind him, and the ferry jerked as the rope pulled taut a few moments later. He swallowed thickly and breathed in the fishy, damp air through his nostrils before blowing it out again through his mouth. He took several breaths like this until he could release his white-knuckled grip on the railing.

  Ravi pressed closer to his side, and when Daks glanced down at him in surprise, Ravi’s bright amber gaze held his, shadowed with concern.

  “Will you be all right?” he asked quietly.

  Daks frowned. He hadn’t thought he was that obvious. “I’m fine.”

  It came out a little gruffer than he’d intended, but Ravi didn’t look away.

  Ravi was silent for a few beats before he licked his lips and said, “Shura told me what happened to you, years ago. I just… I wanted to say thank you for what you did in the boglands and for all this, now. I haven’t said it yet, and I should have. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

  Despite the pitch and sway of the chunk of wood barely separating them from watery death, Daks felt his lips curve. “Don’t get soft on me now. You’re going to make me think you might just like me a little.”

  Ravi’s open, concerned expression closed off, and Daks was immediately sorry. He shouldn’t poke. He knew he shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t seem to help himself sometimes.

  Ravi took a step back, putting distance between them, and Daks felt the loss like a punch to the chest. Without thinking, he released his death grip on the railing, snagged Ravi’s hand, and squeezed it.

  “I’m sorry. I’m an ass. If Shura told you, then you know why, but that’s no excuse. I appreciate the gratitude, but it’s not necessary. I’m partly to blame for the mess in the first place, remember? Plus, that bit by the river yesterday wasn’t fair with everything else goin
g on. I shouldn’t have teased you.” He was rambling. He knew he should stop but couldn’t seem to stem the nervous flow of words. “We’ll be safe on the other side in no time, and we’ll both get a good, hot meal and a long rest… and maybe start over? How’s that sound? Good? Eben has some of the best ale in Samebar, and believe me, I’ve sampled ales from north to south. It’s—”

  Ravi’s cold hand suddenly squeezed his, shutting Daks up. Ravi wasn’t looking at him anymore, he was staring down at the water. Daks couldn’t read his face, but all the color had drained from his cheeks.

  “What is it?” Daks asked when Ravi didn’t move or speak again. The rest of the people on the ferry were chatting and laughing, but the silence coming from his companion was deafening.

  “Ravi?” he prodded again.

  Ravi took in a long, shuddering breath and slowly lifted his gaze to meet Daks’s. The look in his amber eyes made Daks’s guts clench.

  “I… I was wrong,” Ravi whispered hoarsely. “I thought that my Visions were blocked somehow. For a while, I even tried to convince myself those Visions could have been about what happened to us in the boglands, but I knew it wasn’t true. It didn’t feel true.”

  “Okay. You’re starting to scare me here,” Daks replied breathlessly. “Are you having one of your feelings? I don’t sense a Vision.”

  “Not exactly. It just clicked. The water… it’s the same color as in my Visions, the exact same color. It’s coming. I can feel it.”

  “What’s coming?”

  “The wall. The gray wall.”

  Daks’s skin grew cold as he turned to look upriver again, past the treetops, to the mountains, and then up to the sky. The clouds had darkened, and the lightning was more pronounced now, as was the pitch and yaw of the ferry. He wasn’t imagining it.

  “You’re sure?” Daks asked, hoping Ravi would say he wasn’t.

  Ravi scowled at him and tried to pull away, but Daks tightened his grip on the hand he held. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand.”