The Seers

by Julianna Scott

  Damn it, Bastian, shut up!

  “True,” Jocelyn said, while I silently cursed Bastian into oblivion. “Why don’t you have a look at them now?”

  “I am available if you are,” Bastian said looking over to me.

  “It would seem as though I am,” I said gritting my teeth.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it!

  “This is so boring…” I droned, pushing yet another utterly unhelpful book to the side and reaching for the next. “How long do we really have to keep this up?”

  Bastian and I had been locked in the parlor next to the library for over two hours, flipping through musty book after musty book, looking for anything at all about Seers, and coming up empty handed. I was tired, I was irritated, the dry rotted dust from the old leather was starting to make my eyes itch, and worst of all I had a sickening strain in my chest that would not go away. Normally, that sort of strain meant that I was near Alex, but this time it only served as a physical manifestation of my guilt for leaving him and our plans to walk to play research assistant. I had asked him to come and help, but he’d only made some thin joke about not being in the mood to do homework and said he’d rather just go lie-down. I could tell he was disappointed; so was I, but then I guess we should have known better than to get our hopes up.

  “Until we find what we need, or get through them all,” Bastian said from across the table. “And what are you complaining about? I should be the one desperate to be done. Your work partner has been nothing but a delight,” he rested back in his chair with a grin, “it’s mine that’s been whining and moaning since we arrived.”

  “I’m not whining, I’m voicing my displeasure.”

  “Consider it voiced,” he chuckled.

  “And I have every right to moan, since it’s your fault we’re here.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “‘Becca and I won’t have had time to look through the volumes from the archives,’” I quoted with an exaggerated impersonation of his voice.

  His eyebrow cocked while he continued to flip pages. “Did you have something better to do this afternoon?”

  “As it happens, yes, I did.”

  “Then why didn’t you say that when I asked if you were available?”

  “Because it wouldn’t have mattered, Jocelyn would have made me come anyway.”

  “Then shouldn’t you be mad at him instead of me?” he asked coolly, not lifting his eyes from the book in his lap.

  “Yeah, well, he’s not here.”

  “Lucky him,” he chuckled, clearly amused by my griping – which of course only made me angrier.

  “For the record,” I glared. “I’m not like the other girls you know; I will throw a book at you.”

  “And I am not like the other guys you know,” he smiled, glancing up. “I’ll throw it back.”

  Luckily, before I could actually consider making good on my threat, I realized how childish I was being and gave up. Bastian didn’t deserve this from me, and I knew it. With a heavy sigh, I crossed my arms on the table and let my head fall against them. “Sorry,” I mumbled into the table. “I’m just frustrated.”

  “It’s fine. Actually, I’m rather enjoying our quality time together.”

  Hmm… Quality time...

  Suddenly an idea hit me and I looked up at Bastian with a bright-eyed grin. “I think we need a break.”

  “I’d agree,” he said skeptically, “but I can already tell that nothing good is going to come of that face…”

  “Teach me to port.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Teach me to be a Porter,” I said, standing and walking over to his side of the table.

  “Now?”

  “Sure, why not?” I took the book from him and set it aside. “Like I said, we need a break, and we may as well do at least one constructive thing this afternoon.”

  “What do you call this?” he motioned to the books stacked on the table.

  “A waste of time.”

  “I’ll have you know that time spent in my company is never a waste,” he said looking down his nose dramatically, “and as for this, we are assisting with the investigation into Ciaran’s notebook.”

  “Oh, come on, do you really think we are going to find anything in these things?” I lifted a book and let it thunk back onto the table. He didn’t answer, but his expression gave a definite no. “Exactly, so why not take a few minutes to actually do something productive?”

  “OK, I’ll make you a deal; you finish going through this one…” He handed me the book I’d taken from him and stood, “and I will teach you to port.”

  “Deal,” I agreed excitedly. “But hang on, where are you going?”

  “If I am going to teach you, I need to go get something. Now sit,” he ordered, taking my shoulders, turning me around, and pushing me down into his empty chair, “and read.”

  “Fine, but you better come ba–” But I choked on the last syllable when, without warning, Bastian vanished. Like a bubble popped in midair; there, then gone.

  Wow, that was cool…

  I opened the book and began to skim through, once again finding nothing at all of value. By the time I got the rest of the way through the book, more than ten minutes had passed, and I started to wonder exactly where Bastian had gone. However, the exact moment that I shut the book and set it aside, he came walking back in through the parlor door – the timing of which seemed like an awfully large coincidence.

  I glared at him. “You were standing out there waiting for me to finish, weren’t you?”

  “Would I do that?” he asked innocently.

  “What is that?” I asked, ignoring his denial in favor of the silver charm I saw hanging from a cord in his hand. As he got closer, I could see it was a thick round circle about an inch and a half or so in diameter, with a hole in the middle. It looked a little like a small flattened doughnut.

  “This,” he handed me the charm, “is my ancaire, or anchor. Every Porter has one – only one – and it is how we get around. We are tied to it, the way other Holders are their Sciath.”

  “You don’t have a Sciath?” I asked, as I examined the cool metal ring in my hand.

  “No, only my anchor. It is both a Porter’s ability and weakness all in one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The term ‘anchor’ is quite literal,” he said, taking the ring back. “I am anchored to this charm – tethered to it.” He set the anchor down on the table next to him, and began to slowly walk to the other side of the room. “I can travel by traditional methods anywhere I choose to go, be it across the room, or across the country. But when I port,” he paused, having reached the far corner of the room, then disappeared as he’d done before, only this time he reappeared an instant later, right next to where his anchor sat on the table, “I can only port to where my anchor is.”

  “Hold on,” I said, my heart racing at what I’d just seen. “You mean you can’t port anywhere you want to go?”

  He shook his head. “As I said,” he picked up the anchor and held it up, “strength and weakness. I can only go to where my anchor is, be it two inches or two countries away.”

  “So that’s why we ended up in your room that night? Because that’s where your anchor was?”

  “I usually keep it there during events like this, as obviously it does no good to keep it with me.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “It was on the bureau behind us. I’m never sure what direction I will be facing when I arrive, but I am always within arm’s reach of it. Or as close as physically possible if it is, say, inside a drawer, or in a trunk, or something like that.”

  “Wow,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning back against the table. “So how far can you go? Is there a limit?”

  “That depends on the strength of the Holder. The weaker ones can go only a few feet from their anchors, while the strongest can be on the other side of the world. I have not tested it that far, but I can tell you that I a
m able to go from Pennsylvania to France with no trouble.” He grinned. “I ported back and forth several times during my stay in the States.”

  “But how could you go back and forth, I thought it was a one way trip?”

  “It is, which meant I could travel back and forth as quickly as the postal service could deliver.”

  “Postal… oh,” I nodded, seeing what he meant. “You would port to France, then mail your anchor back to Pennsylvania, and vice-versa.”

  “That’s it.”

  “Cheaper than flying, I guess. And what about taking people with you? Can everyone do that?”

  “Again, it depends on strength. Some can take nothing, others can take anything. Personally, I am on the stronger side, and can take with me anything that has a mass smaller than my own. Clothing and anything else attached to you will port with you on their own, of course.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t remember if that was the second or third time I’d said that, but I couldn’t seem to come up with anything else.

  “Well?” he asked, almost seeming excited himself. “What do you say? Ready to give it a try?”

  “Yeah, but,” I hesitated, “I mean, I want to, but I don’t have an anchor. How will I be able to go anywhere?”

  “Normally, that would be a problem, yes. Each Porter’s anchor is made for them and honed to their specific ability, which means you can only go to your own. But you are not a Porter, you are simply going to be using my ability which is tied to my anchor. I would take that to mean that you would have to use mine. But don’t worry, you’ll feel it. And as far as what to do…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” I cut him off, “you can’t explain it. It’s fine, trust me, no one ever can.”

  “They can’t?”

  “No, but I get it, it’s inherent, you can’t explain it, so on and so forth.”

  “I can explain it.”

  I blinked. “You can?”

  “Sure, it’s quite simple, really. All you have to do is let go.”

  “Let go?”

  “Give it a try and I think you’ll understand. Oh,” he added, a smile in his eye, “don’t forget to close your eyes.”

  “Right,” I said, happy that he’d reminded me, as that dizzy feeling from the first port wasn’t something I wanted to relive.

  Taking a breath and squeezing my eyes shut, I reached out and merged our abilities, and from the moment our two energies melded together, I understood every word of what he’d said. Not only could I feel his anchor, which was undoubtedly working for me, but I could feel it pulling, attempting to draw me toward it. I couldn’t tell its distance by only the feel of it, and had I not known where I was, I wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was in the room with me or hundreds of miles away. All I knew was that it was calling me, like a helium balloon being called toward the clouds, and all I had to do to cut the string that held it down was let go.

  So I did.

  Just like the first time, there was the sensation of falling, and then suddenly I was grounded again. I had done it. With a satisfied smile, I opened my eyes… to find that I was standing not four feet from Jocelyn.

  “Gah!” he yelled, stumbling backward.

  “Agh!” I screeched, my hands flying to my mouth.

  He stumbled backward at the shock, grabbing both the bedpost to steady himself and his chest as it heaved under his gasping breaths. “Becca?” he choked out. “How in God’s name…?”

  I was in his room. Somehow I’d ported myself all the way from the library parlor to Jocelyn’s guestroom. Apparently, I wasn’t as good at this as I’d thought.

  “I-I don’t know,” I stammered, still shaken and desperately trying to ignore the fact that he had nothing on but pajama pants and an undershirt, “I was… We were trying…” I frantically looked around myself to try and figure out what had happened, which is when I saw it. Sitting on the nightstand right beside me, no more than an arm’s reach away, was the square leather pouch that I’d seen Jocelyn take the Iris out of back at the cottage. “Oh…” I said, as confusion cleared and embarrassment set in.

  The Iris. Looked like I had an anchor after all.

  I turned sheepishly back toward Jocelyn who was still catching his breath. “Well,” I said, an awkward grimace, “that’s good to know…”

  CHAPTER 24

  “The Iris? Hmm…” Bastian mused, as he and I sat in his room later that evening, waiting on everyone else to arrive for the shew experiment. “We probably should have considered that.”

  “Probably, yeah,” I agreed.

  “I’m just glad you’re still here,” he said with remnants of shocked fear in his voice. “You scared the life out of me!”

  “Scared you? What about me?”

  “You may have been surprised, but at least you ended up somewhere you were familiar with. For all I knew,” he threw his hand up, “you’d ported yourself to China! I damn near panicked!”

  “Aww, that’s so sweet,” I fluttered my eyelashes. “You’d miss me.”

  “Yes,” he laughed, “that’s it. I’d thought it was because I didn’t want to be the one who lost the daughter of Bronntanas, but sure, I’d miss you, we’ll go with that.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said, acknowledging his joke with a sneer. “I’m just glad Jocelyn didn’t decide to lock me in my room for the remainder of the trip.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Not much actually. Once he caught his breath, I just explained generally what we’d done, and left.”

  “That’s good, yes.”

  “Sure.” If not a bit unsettling. “Though the image of him in pajamas is one I could have done without.”

  He chuckled, the sound somewhat evil. “You should be grateful,” he glanced sideways at me, “after all, it could have been worse…”

  “Agh!” I squeezed my eyes closed, as he laughed, “Seriously? What is wrong with you? Not cool. Not. Cool!”

  Before Bastian could disturb me further, there was a knock at the door, and I ran to answer it.

  “Thank God,” I said, knowing it was Alex before the door was even fully open. “You’re just in time.”

  Alex looked confused as I pulled him the room. “Did I miss something?”

  “Welcome, Mr Bray,” Bastian said, still laughing quietly. “We were just discussing Becca’s luck.”

  “Not cool,” I repeated, glaring at him.

  “OK,” Alex said, as I wondered why there was a sudden odd tension in the room. “Anyway, Jocelyn wanted me to tell you that we are to start without him and Cormac. Jocelyn thinks he found a lead on our mystery Mentalist, and he and Cormac went to check it out, but he said that one or both of them should be here shortly.”

  “What did they find?” I asked.

  “He didn’t say, just that time was of the essence.”

  “That’s interesting,” Bastian said, standing and walking over to a box I hadn’t noticed before, sitting on the floor beside the couch. “Well, if they are delayed, we might as well have a look then.” As he reached inside the box, Alex and I took a seat on the couch and watched as he carefully withdrew what looked to be a heavy object that was wrapped in a wrinkled black satin cloth. Shifting it in his hands until it was right-side up, he set it down on the coffee table in front of us and pulled off the satin cover to reveal what looked to be a large glass ball, sitting on a silver three-legged stand that had intricate patterns of Celtic knots and design work carved into the metal.

  “This is it?” I asked, more than a little surprised. “It looks like something a fortune teller at a carnival would use.”

  “And who do you think the first fortune tellers were?” Bastian asked, tossing the satin aside and sitting next to me on the empty side of the couch.

  “Oh,” I said, leaning in for a close look, “right.” I admired the carvings and tiny details for a moment, waiting for someone to make a suggestion, but no one seemed to know what to do next. The craftsmanship on this thing was amazing; too bad it didn’t come
with instructions. Unable to wait anymore, I broke the silence. “So, what exactly are we supposed to do here?”

  “I suppose we start by doing as the prophecy says, and see what happens,” Bastian suggested.

  “Look into the shew and find the origin that will pierce the shroud of my sight,” Alex recited.

  “OK,” I sighed, “then we’ll look. But what are we looking for?” I wondered aloud.

  “The origin,” Bastian said, though I could tell he was being smart.

  “Gee thanks,” I squinted at him. “I meant, what does that mean? What’s an origin?”

  “Could be any number of things,” Alex said. “I guess we’ll know when we find it.”

  “Should we take turns?” I asked with a shrug.

  “We should,” Bastian said, “though in the interest of time, I think you should go first.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because, I think we all know that if anyone is liable to see something in that thing, it is going to be you.”

  “But no pressure or anything, right?” I added sarcastically.

  “Of course not,” he said, though the sound was oddly sincere. I looked over at him to see him looking back with nothing but casual confidence. “If you see something you see something. If you don’t you don’t. Either way, we will deal with it.”

  As unexpected as his words were, they brought me a welcome rush of calm and I turned back to the shew with a reassured breath, ready to give it my all.

  “What do I do?” I asked, shifting forward in my seat a bit. “I mean, I know I look at it, but I’m looking at it now, and I’ve got nothing. Did you ever see Ciaran use it?” I asked Bastian. “Did he do anything special?”

  Bastian blew out a long breath as he thought back. “The only times I actually saw him use it, he was in a trance, but I’m pretty sure he could use it out of trance as well.”

  “OK… that doesn’t really help…”

  “Can you sense it at all?” Alex asked, speaking up for the first time in a while. “The way you sense abilities?”

  “The stone? No. It’s just a thing, like any other thing as far as I can tell.”

  “Just take your time and concentrate,” Alex said.