Seer's Hope
By Maree Anderson
Chapter Eleven
Blayne rolled until they lay face to face. His breath caressed her skin. The intimacy made her smile. They hadn't even made it to the main sleeping room—their makeshift bed was a pile of cushions beside the hearth. She stroked his arm, thrilling when he shuddered beneath her touch. "I am starting to feel the cold. Shall we move to the sleeping room?"
"You better not be sleepy."
"Insatiable man."
"You have no idea." He surged to his feet, scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder.
She drummed his back with her fists. "Put me down!"
He only laughed and patted her bottom before tossing her on the sleeping platform. She wriggled beneath the covers, drawing them up to her nose.
"I have something for you." She heard him rummaging about and guessed he was searching through the carved wooden box where he kept his personal belongings.
"I'm sure I put it in here," he muttered. "Aha. Got it."
He climbed beneath the covers and she heard him drag in a long, uneven breath. Uh oh. Her heart drummed in her chest. Sounded like this was important.
"I have a gift for you. Hold out your hand."
She sat up but kept her hands tucked in close to her chest. "I do not need a gift from you. You love me. That is all I need." He'd given her enough already. He was all she needed.
"Sweet Wisa. I've finally found the woman I want to give this to, and she refuses to accept it." His tone turned serious. "Please. I want you to have it. I need you to have it."
"If it is so important to you." She held out her hand and he dropped something cool and heavy into her palm. A necklace—of small smooth stones, with one much larger stone hanging from it. So frustrating not to be able to see it. "Paint me a picture of the necklace with words, please."
"It is made of kuruvindas, which are precious gems of a deep red. The large stone forming the pendant is rare because of its size. It's very old and has been in my family for generations. It was my mother's. My father gave it to me before he died."
Her breath caught. "It feels beautiful. But the color...."
"Yes."
"A red necklace is given when a man Promises to a woman."
"Yes." He tapped the tip of her nose with a fingertip. "This necklace is a token of my Promise to you. Will you accept it?"
It was hard to get the words out through the tightness in her throat. "You have not known me long. Weeks."
"I'm sure. Are you?"
"Yes. Yes, I am sure. I will Promise to you." A tear dripped down her cheek. And another. And she knew in that instant she would never ask Dayamar to send her back to her home-world. She wanted to stay with Blayne—would do anything to stay. Anything. Even face Dayamar's demons.
He fastened the necklace around her neck and kissed her, stroking away the tears with his thumbs. "Don't cry." He enfolded her in his arms and drew her against his chest.
Her tears were for an ending and a new beginning. She would never return to her own world, never again visit her parents' and brothers' graves. But she would hold their memories in her heart and never let them go.
She sucked in one deep, shuddering breath and banished the tears, embracing the joy instead. "I am sorry."
"I was getting a bit soggy."
She snuggled closer... and then jerked as the realization slapped her.
The hand stoking her back stilled. "What are you thinking?"
"I do not have anything red to give you in return and— Wait. I do have something." She twisted the ring from her thumb and held it out to him. "This is what we call a 'signet ring'. The red stone is a ruby. It belonged to my father. My mother gave it to him when they were Joined, as you would say." She paused, beating back the memories. "It— It became mine after they died."
"I'm afraid it won't fit my thumb."
"It is meant to be worn on your ring finger." She took his left hand and tapped the appropriate finger. "This one." She waited while he slipped it on, bouncing with impatience. "Does it fit?"
"Yes."
"Do you like it?"
"I've admired it often." He took her hand, fingering her other rings. "These other rings you wear—do they have special meaning, too?"
"They were my mother's. This one—" she indicated the diamond solitaire "—was given to her by my father as a token—like for a Promising. And this plain band was given for what you would call their Joining as life-partners. My parents loved each other very much."
"I'm proud to wear your father's ring. I believe he'd be happy you've given it to someone who loves his daughter as much as he loved your mother."
That comment struck a chord. She chewed her lip. Would her dad have been pleased? Or would he have been concerned she was jumping in feet first? "Blayne, you do not know much about me. And I do not know much about you."
"I know many things about you. For instance, you're unique."
"What do you mean?"
"You're the only person I know who's from another world. And a man of my importance couldn't Promise to just any woman, could he?"
She smacked him with the palm of her hand for teasing her, and then soothed the small hurt with her lips. "What else do you know?"
"I know your parents are dead." He turned her hand palm up to plant a kiss. "As are mine. My mother died giving birth to me. And my father died in a hunting accident when I was a boy."
"That must have been hard for you, losing your parents so young."
"What happened to your parents?"
"My family died in a... a...." There was no Dayamaru word for "car" or "vehicle". "They died in a bad accident, along with my two brothers. I was the only survivor. I lost my family and my sight that night."
He said nothing, merely hugged her tight and held her while the pain bit deep, as it always did. She was grateful. Explaining further would be too much to bear.
Eventually he said, "I know I wasn't the first man you've been with."
Uh oh. This could get interesting. She hoped he wasn't big on double standards or they'd be having their first argument. "No you were not."
"How many other lovers have you had?"
"Many. More than thirty."
"Really?" She felt him jerk in surprise. "But you're so young."
"I am twenty—not so young. And not really thirty men."
"Good."
She rolled her eyes. "One lover is all. We parted after I lost my sight. There have been none since the accident. I could not be close to anyone like that afterward."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "In my world I have many possessions and much wealth. But I do not want men to feel sorry for me. Nor do I want men who only covet my wealth. It is hard to tell whether they want me or what I own. And it is easier, safer, to have no man."
"Why me, after all that time?"
"You were kind, gentle. You held me in the night to comfort me. You taught me, cared for me. I liked you very much. I thought perhaps you liked me, too. But I did not believe you would make the first move so I took matters into my own hands." Her face heated at the memory.
"I'm very glad you did."
She giggled at his fervent tone. "And I am glad you did not mind my forward behavior."
"No man with a pulse would have minded your forward behavior. Do you want to know how old I am and how many women I've slept with?
"I do not care about your other women."
"There haven't been so many—despite what Cayl says."
"Good."
She felt his chest vibrating with silent laughter. "I began training as a healer at age ten. Now I'm twenty-four."
"So old." She squealed when he grabbed her, holding her down and tickling her so unmercifully she was left gasping. And then he kissed her, and the urgency of the lips on her skin, and the hands that skimmed her body, told her what he wanted.
She wanted it too, so much that she ached with the wanting. She stroked his hard flesh. "Not so old after all," she murmured.
~*~
Hope sat cross-legged on the mat, struggling to come to grips with the current lesson. And trying not to dwell on the porridge incident. She'd burned her hand while trying to cook breakfast over the hearth. Her swearing had brought Blayne running from the washroom, and he'd been forced to minister to her and clean up the mess. She scowled. So much for surprising him with breakfast.
"Concentrate, Hope."
"I am sorry, Dayamar." She shouldn't allow herself to be distracted. Sehani training could be difficult to the point of impossibility at times. This was one of those times.
She quieted her mind and accessed the trance-like state Dayamar had taught her. Picturing a scene, she held it in her mind until she had every minute detail clearly defined. That was the easy part.
She slowly extended one hand. Then she allowed a portion of her mind to disengage and visualize a ball of pure light floating just above her palm. Sweat beaded her brow as she concentrated on transferring the scene in her mind into the light-ball. A soft whoosh confirmed she had succeeded. Then slowly, so slowly it was an agony, she allowed the ball to expand and—
It burst with a loud bang that made her ears ring. "Blast!"
"Don't fret, my dear," Dayamar said, his tone meant to soothe. "I'm amazed at your progress. It took many weeks before I could access the trance-state for any length of time, yet you accomplished that in barely half an hour. Don't be so hard on yourself."
She attempted to explain her difficulty. "The trance state is easy. But I cannot see the light-ball, so I do not know when it is expanding too quickly."
"Hmm. Perhaps do not try to see the light, try to sense it instead. Trust your senses, Hope. Perhaps if you didn't close your eyes, either. You're fortunate because you cannot be distracted by what your eyes physically see."
Fortunate? Hardly.
She tried again. Imagine the scene, conjure the light, transfer and enlarge....
This time the sensation was different—like she was floating above her body, watching herself perform the task. The light above her hand throbbed, and then puffed outward to form a large globe with the scene she held in her mind vividly depicted inside.
She'd done it.
A portion of her mind constricted the sphere until it disappeared with tiny pop. She could hear Dayamar praising her success but she remained oddly detached, emotionless.
Hope observed Dayamar shaking her arm, calling her name. Her physical body, seated before him, felt no desire to respond—not when there was a far more efficient way to communicate with her tutor: inserting her thoughts directly into his mind.
Dayamar, it is me, Hope.
She watched the silvery coil of his seer-senses leap from his body to sweep the room. Her own sensory perception expanded and she could see the colors flickering about his physical body.
His aura? That would be the most logical explanation.
I am here, she told him. Above myself and above you. I am floating free... light... so light. It is wonderful!
Try to rejoin your body. His tone was calm but his colors danced about like an agitated rainbow.
I do not want to rejoin my body. I want to stay free, peaceful....
You must try.
She glanced down at her physical body, thinking it frail, cumbersome. Unbidden, thoughts of Blayne flooded her mind. The way he touched her when they made love. His kisses. His tenderness and concern. Her physical body seemed to tug at her. A rushing sensation coursing through her... and then she was diving into her body.
When the two parts merged the impact was profound—and not in a good way. She slumped forward, retching, one hand clapped over her mouth, the other clutching her stomach.
"It appears you've mastered the art of leaving your body." Dayamar's tone was matter-of-fact. "It takes much training and preparation before an acolyte is ready to attempt this. If one lacks the strength of will to return to one's physical body, the body will sicken and die."
She raised her aching head and stifled a groan. "What happens to the soul that cannot come back to its body?"
"Do you understand what I mean by a phantom?"
She shook her head, not recognizing the word.
"When you spoke to him, Janus's spirit was hovering between worlds. If he had not followed the gods and journeyed onward, he would have been cast adrift—neither part of the physical world nor the spiritual. A phantom."
He spoke as a teacher lecturing to a student but she could sense something else, some strong underlying emotion he sought to suppress. Fear?
No. Horror. Why would discussion of phantoms disturb him so? Unless—
"This is what you fear will happen to the Dayamari."
"You're very intuitive. A phantom may eventually sever its ties to this world. But I fear the darkness contaminating our incorporeal world will consume us all and trap our spirits on this plane."
The bleak silence unsettled her, and then he said, "Hope, what made you want to rejoin your physical body? Tell me what you were thinking."
"I was thinking of Blayne."
"Ah."
She sensed his satisfaction and wondered at it. Could he be pleased by her relationship with Blayne? Perhaps he wished to encourage it for his own ends—
A frisson skated down her spine as she recalled her reaction the first time Blayne had introduced himself. She'd seen a vision of her future—a future inextricably intertwined with his. Could Dayamar have foreseen that same future? What else might he have Seen?
A knock sounded at the door. "Enter," Dayamar called.
"Is Hope finished for today, Sehan Dayamar?"
"Yes, Varaya." Dayamar assisted Hope to rise. "You have done well, my dear. It becomes apparent that tasks I find easy are more difficult for you. Conversely, you find difficult tasks simple. Perhaps your blindness has a greater effect on your innate abilities than I imagined. I will have to meditate on this some more. Shoo, now." He ushered her in Varaya's direction with a gentle push. "This old man needs to rest."
Varaya grabbed Hope's arm and towed her from the hall before dissolving in giggles. "Whatever have you been doing to poor Dayamar? I never thought I'd see the day he shooed off an apprentice."
"It is a little difficult to explain, Varaya."
"I bet. Hey, who gave you that necklace? It's gorgeous! But... do you know what the color signifies?"
"Blayne gave it to me. Last night." Hope held her breath, hoping Varaya would not be hurt by the significance the gift. When Varaya didn't comment, she offered, "It is a gift for his Promise to me. And in return, I gave him a ring."
"What's a 'ring'?"
Hope displayed her rings and explained the significance of the one she had given Blayne.
Varaya hugged her. "I'm pleased for you both."
Hope sensed Varaya's delight was genuine and allowed herself to relax. "What happened with Roban? He is a good lover?"
"Who? Roban? I wish. Willem was right after all."
"What do you mean?"
"Roban was using me to make his male lover jealous." Varaya huffed a sharp breath through her nose. "I can't believe I didn't catch on sooner. I must be losing my touch. I'd better find a life-partner soon or I'll be a laughing stock. Please will you point me in the right direction when it comes to choosing a man?"
"I cannot influence your choices."
"I know. But it was worth a try." Varaya's laugh was tinged with sadness. "So who do you want to meet first—others from my dormayre, or some more tradespeople?"
"I would really like to wash my hair. I never got around to it this morning." Hope explained the incident with the porridge and extended her hand for inspection. "And now Blayne says I should keep it out of the water for the next couple of days until it heals."
Varaya took Hope's hand, gently turning it this way and that. "Are you sure you burned it?"
"I spilled hot porridge over myself. It was very painful. The skin is not blistered?"
"No. I think you healed it."
Hope's pleasure in this unexpected accomplishment was dampened by her friend's subdued tone. "Varaya, I am still me. I would never hurt you. You are my friend—my best friend." She clutched Varaya's arm. "Please. I need you to be my friend. I need you not to fear me."
"I am your friend. It's just— Sometimes I forget what you are. And that's very unusual, you know? I mean, Dayamar commands respect. Everyone knows what he's capable of. Everyone knows he can take care of himself and anything that gets in his way. He is first and foremost Sehani, and we don't get too close to him. But you—"
"I know. I am weak. I need people, need friends."
"You're not weak for needing people, Hope." Varaya seemed to be struggling for the right words. "You're just... different. You're powerful—we've seen that. But not in the same way Dayamar is. We clamor to help you because we know you need us. I think that's a strength. In a way I think you're more powerful because you do need us. Dayamar's never needed anyone." She squeezed Hope's hand and gave a self-conscious giggle. "That was quite, uh, a profound observation for someone like me, wasn't it?"
"You should not put yourself down like that, Varaya. You are an intelligent woman." Hope mulled her friend's words... and discounted them. No way could she ever be more powerful than Dayamar. No way could she ever replace him.
After Varaya helped wash her hair, Hope dried off and pulled on her tunic.
"It's on backward," Varaya said.
"Really? I was sure I had it right this time."
"It must be very hard. Being blind."
"Sometimes."
"How did you manage at home? Where you lived before, I mean."
Hope towel-dried her hair. "Most of the time I stayed home. But I had a friend of my mother's visit often. She has known me for many years, and became a close friend. She would sometimes cook a main meal for me, too. She was always worried about me eating properly. And there was a woman who cleaned the house and a man to tend the garden because both were too large for me to handle on my own."
"Did your family ever visit?"
"My mother and brothers died. I have no other family."
"You must have been so lonely. I'm glad Dayamar brought you here. We're your family now."
Warmth pooled in Hope's heart. Varaya was a good friend.
"Your hair is a mess of tangles," Varaya said.
"I do not have a comb. I wanted to cut it but Blayne would not let me."
Varaya snorted. "The man has some sense at least. It could do with a trim, though. I'd do it myself but I can't cut a straight line to save myself." She clicked her fingers. "I know, we'll go see Treya and kill two birds with one stone. You'll like Treya. I got to know her before she was Joined. She's very sweet—not a nasty bone in her body."
It was a short stroll to Treya's dwelling. Varaya ushered Hope through an open doorway, calling out, "Treya? I've brought someone to meet you."
The woman who greeted them had such unusually slow and heavy footfalls that Hope wondered whether she was obese.
"Lovely to see you, Varaya. I'm sorry to disappoint you but I'm not taking on any clients at the moment— Oh!"
"Hello, Treya," Hope said. "I am sorry if we intrude."
"No, no, Sehan Hope. I'm using my pregnancy as an excuse to be lazy. I get tired quickly these days, and some of my customers can be rather... demanding."
Varaya huffed a laugh. "Ignore that last comment. She couldn't possibly be referring to me. Treya is the best with hair, Hope. She also does body-painting for celebrations. Treya, would you believe Blayne hasn't even given this poor girl her own comb? Men."
"I saw Blayne earlier this morning when he came to check on me," Treya said. "If I'd known, I'd have given him a piece of my mind."
Hope suspected Treya might have been choking on laughter, though whether the laughter stemmed from Varaya's claim she wasn't demanding, or Blayne's transgressions, it was impossible to tell.
"I usually plait my hair to keep it out of my way," Hope felt compelled to say in Blayne's defense. "But I have just washed it so it is a bit unmanageable."
"If it's annoying you I can cut it short." Treya fingered a lock of Hope's hair. "It'd be a pity, but it's entirely up to you."
"Blayne would never forgive me if I let you cut it all off," Varaya piped up.
"I do not think he would forgive me, either," Hope admitted. "But even though the choice is mine, I would like to keep it long."
"Good. After you wash it, you should comb conditioner through the ends to keep it manageable. Blayne's an excellent herbalist. He can make some up for you but I'll give you a supply in the meantime. And you need a good quality comb—of your own. Not one of those nasty wooden ones. I'll find one for you to keep. It can be my welcoming gift for you."
Hope ran her fingertips over the handle of the bone comb Treya presented to her. "What are these engraved circles please?"
"The repetitive circular designs represent an owl. One circle for the head, ovals for wings, two smaller circles for claws, all enclosed by a large circle for the body. The design has a lot of significance for women. The owl is the chosen of Wisa, our goddess and Mother figure, and the circles also represent the cycle of birth, life and death."
"It's a beautiful piece," Varaya added.
"Uh uh. Keep your hands off it you greedy thing. This one's for Sehan Hope."
Hope giggled. "Thank you, Treya. It is a gift I will treasure."
Treya combed the tangles from Hope's hair and trimmed it. Then she pinned front locks of hair back with a couple of ornately carved smaller combs that had long teeth. "You can have these, too," she said. "They should keep your hair out of your face when it's not plaited."
"Thank you so much, Treya."
"My pleasure, Sehan Hope. You're the easiest client I've had in a while—unlike this creature next to you."
"Humph."
"Ignore her," Treya said. "She knows I'm right. Can I get you tea and something to eat? It's no trouble."
"Hope's been with Dayamar all morning so she hasn't eaten since breakfast," Varaya said. "But let me get it, Treya. You look like you could do with a break." She bustled off into the next room.
"Sehan Hope?"
"Just Hope, please."
A pause and then Treya said, "Hope, would you do me a favor? I have an ache in my back that I can't reach. Any chance you could give it a rub?"
"Of course." Hope positioned herself until she knelt behind Treya's stool. She felt a little self-conscious as she fumbled for the pregnant woman's shoulders, but Treya didn't seem to mind her clumsiness. She eased her palms slowly down Treya's spine until, in her mind's eye, she detected a smudge of shadow. As she concentrated, the smudge morphed to a pulsing, dim green blob. She probed the spot, and knew she'd hit the mark when Treya winced and groaned.
"Yes, there."
Hope dug her thumbs into the tight knot, feeling the tight muscles relax and the knot disperse beneath the pressure of her fingers. The green shade faded.
"Thanks. That feels much better. You have a knack for finding the right spot."
"It was strange. I could see the tight area in my mind."
"Not strange at all. You are Sehani. Here." Treya grabbed Hope's hands and placed them on her protruding stomach. "What do you See now?"
The baby's kick rippled Treya's belly. Without consciously thinking about what she was doing, Hope entered the trance state Dayamar had taught her. Her mind's eye pierced the layers of Treya's physical body, arrowing down until it reached her womb. She Saw the tightly curled fetus, its tiny mouth moving as it sucked a thumb, its steady heartbeat, the shadows of its organs and brain, the genitals—
It was a boy. And he was surrounded by an extraordinarily beautiful, pale blue nimbus shot with minute silver sparks that flashed and twinkled. "Ohhhh."
"What is it? What do you See, Hope?"
The trance-state disintegrated in a rush, leaving her so disoriented the words spilled from unheeded her lips. "I Saw your son, Treya."
Treya gasped. "A boy? Are you sure?"
Hope clapped a hand over her mouth. What if Treya hadn't wanted to know the sex of her baby? "I am so sorry. I did not mean to tell you the sex. I am too excited at Seeing him, I think."
"I wanted a boy. This baby is all I have left of Lyam. To have his son means so much to me." She hugged Hope tightly.
Varaya entered the room at a run. "Kunnandi's scaly skin! You're not having the baby right now, are you Treya?"
"Hope's Seen my baby, Varaya. I'm having a boy."
"You had another Seeing? Great Wisa!"
"Not a Seeing. It was different. I could see the baby inside Treya. When I put my hands on her stomach it was like a window opened inside her body and I looked in. I saw the baby sucking its thumb. I saw... I saw...." She placed a hand over her heart and mimicked heart beats.
"His heart beating?" Treya prompted.
"Yes, his heart. He will be born very soon, I think."
"That's incredible," Varaya blurted, her tone awed.
"A son!" Treya sounded as though she could barely contain her joy, so when she abruptly sobered the contrast was shocking. "I wish Lyam could be here to see him born and watch him grow."
Treya's wish was infused with such longing that Hope ducked her head to blink back tears.
Varaya retrieved the tea tray from the other room. "I think we should celebrate Treya's good news."
Treya grunted as she heaved herself off the stool to sprawl beside Hope.
Varaya handed around mugs. "A toast. To Treya's baby son."
The three women sipped their tea and scoffed biscuits until Varaya reminded Hope of the time.
"I must get back to Blayne. May we visit you again, Treya?"
"I would love that." Treya's groan of dismay was loud and heartfelt. "But before you both go, could you both please help me up off this floor?"
~*~
Blayne noticed Hope rubbing her temples as she tried to recall the names of the different herbs he'd shown her. Perhaps he should ease up on the lesson.
"Why is this so difficult?" she complained. "I have a very good memory and all the herbs have their own particular aroma. But now it is like all the herbs have been mixed up into one big mess. Can we do something else? My head aches and the smells are making my stomach feel funny."
"How about we move into the sleeping room?"
"Please."
Once she'd stretched out on the mattress he broached a subject that'd been gnawing at him. "When's your next cycle due?"
"What do you mean by 'cycle'?"
"When a woman bleeds."
She flushed pink and chewed her lip. "I have always had irregular cycles so I do not bother to keep track."
His breath caught. "So you could be pregnant and not even realize?"
She didn't appear perturbed by the thought. "This nausea is not because I am pregnant, Blayne. You need not worry. I cannot have children. I am infertile."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I had an infection when I was young."
She haltingly explained that she'd been misdiagnosed with a serious illness as a youngster. So far as Blayne could make out, she'd suffered an internal infection, and by the time it'd been correctly diagnosed and her lower abdomen cut open to clean out the contagion, it had affected her fertility—something to do with internal scarring. He was amazed she'd survived. Here in Dayamaria, such a severe infection would likely be fatal.
"Does not being able to have a baby matter?" she asked, her face pinched with anxiety. She'd obviously reconciled herself to her childlessness long ago and was more concerned by his feelings.
"Of course not, dearling." Blayne had hoped for children of his own one day, but he loved Hope and she loved him back. That was enough. It was all that mattered. He wouldn't grieve for things that couldn't be changed.
He traced her scar with a fingertip and then pressed his lips to it, bestowing a gentle kiss. "I thank the gods—and the healers of your world—for your recovery." He paused, and then gave in to his curiosity. "Tell me more about your world."
"What do you want to know?"
"Anything. Everything!"
Her wry laughter warmed him. "That could take awhile," she said.
"I don't mind."
For the rest of the afternoon, Hope described life in her world. Some of the concepts she tried to explain were beyond him but he got an impression of a world so full of conveniences, and devices designed to save time and labor, that he couldn't imagine how the inhabitants filled their days. In some ways it seemed an easy existence. But it was a lonely world, too. Especially for a solitary young blind woman.
When her voice started to give out he called a halt and left her to rest while he prepared a meal. Tonight sandwiches and cake would suffice.
Blayne placed a plate in her lap before settling down beside her. "Cold meat, relish and salad sandwiches, with a treat for dessert."
"Yum."
"How's your hand? Let me see."
"It is healed," she informed him between mouthfuls of her sandwich.
"I can see that." Not a trace of blistered skin, nor even residual redness from the burn. He didn't state the obvious, that it was further proof of her self-healing abilities. She seemed to have accepted this one ability at least.
"What is the treat for dessert?" she asked.
"Greedy. I haven't even finished my sandwich yet." He handed her the largest piece of cake.
She took a bite. "Did you bake this?"
"Treya did. I saw her this morning when I was doing my rounds. She makes the best cakes—but don't tell Maya I said that."
"I like Treya. She is so happy to be having a son."
He stared at her. "How do you know she's having a boy?"
She nibbled her lower lip. "It was not a Seeing like the others."
At his coaxing, she related how she'd identified the sex of Treya's unborn baby. Blayne's mind raced, imagining how much more effectively he could treat his patients if Hope could See whether anything was wrong inside them. "I should bring you with me when I visit my patients."
"Maybe." She sounded noncommittal. "I think I must talk with Dayamar first. I may need more training."
"Yes, of course." He grounded himself with a thump. All the same, he would definitely keep Hope in mind if he came across a patient he couldn't diagnose.
He noted her trying unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn. "Why don't you have an early night? You don't have to wait up for me."
She gave him a grateful smile and eased from the sleeping platform to make her way from the room. He heard her moving about in the bathing area, and a short time later, she re-entered their sleeping room shivering and stark naked save for her necklace.
"Did Treya give you those decorative combs, too?"
She nodded and handed them to him.
He examined them. "Nice workmanship. I'll put them with your other things."
When he opened the carved wooden casket he'd set aside for her use, he noticed a flattened bunch of reeds—the hat he'd made when they were traveling. "Why have you kept this old thing?"
She obviously knew what he referred to. "It was your first gift to me," she said, then yawned widely again and snuggled down beneath the covers.
He smiled at the picture she presented. And thanked his gods again for bringing her to him.
~*~
She was not strong enough to break free of the nightmare holding her in thrall. In the dream her belly was heavy with child, and she was running from a malevolent creeping darkness that hunted her. And then she could run no longer for her feet were glued to the ground.
The darkness settled over her like a smothering blanket, miring her in evil. The more she struggled, the more it overwhelmed and possessed her.
She could see them now, six pairs of gloating, inhumanly green eyes. They latched on to her and sucked the unborn life from her body. But her baby did not die. Somehow they kept the fetus alive... and used it to commit atrocities she'd never imagined.
Hope woke, her heart racing, skin clammy with sweat. She knew she'd been dreaming, but she couldn't recall any details. Only her fear remained.
As Dayamar had taught her, she swept her seer-senses in a wide arc throughout the settlement, seeking threats. All was as it should be but she still felt unsettled.
Craving reassurance, she turned to Blayne and delicately probed his mind. He remained undisturbed and deeply asleep. He was too much the hunter not to wake immediately if danger threatened, and she finally allowed herself to relax and withdraw from his mind.
Her pleasure at mastering the tricky technique couldn't dispel her unease. She inched closer to Blayne, needing the closeness only he could offer her.
He murmured beneath his breath and wrapped her in his arms. Cradled in his embrace and soothed by his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, Hope finally drifted back to sleep.
And again she dreamed....
Foul, oily gray smoke rises from the pyres, casting a pall over the settlement. Neither herbs nor fragrant oils can disguise the stench of charred and burning bodies.
She holds a damp cloth over her mouth and nose as she picks her way through the rows of dead awaiting burning. She does not mourn them. She cannot—compassion has been sucked from her soul, replaced by horror and soul-deep despair.
Hollow-eyed survivors stumble past, retching and coughing. She barely acknowledges them. There is nothing more she can do to ease their pain, nothing she can do to ease her own.
There is nothing more she can do.
She has failed. And now it will use her to destroy the people she loves.
~*~
Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson
www.mareeanderson.com