Seer's Hope

by Anderson, Maree

  “Of course.” The Panakaya’s expression softened as he tucked her beneath his arm. “Let’s get you home before you fall asleep and I have to carry you the entire way.” He escorted her out, leaving behind a very curious healer and one bemused man whose life had just turned upside down.

  The little Sehan’s actions astonished Willem. He’d expected retribution, only to be gifted with redemption and the hope his most heartfelt wish would come true. He came back to reality with a jolt when he caught the healer eyeing him in a disturbingly speculative manner.

  Johan gave him a wolfish grin that didn’t ease Willem’s mind one bit. “You’ve been given another chance, Willem. Don’t muck it up or you’ll upset her. And that would be bad.”

  “Agreed.” Willem flung back the bedcovers. “Can I go?” Like, before the healer got any bright ideas about experimenting on him. Johan had a reputation for such things.

  “Are you sure you haven’t been affected by that… that… gold-light thingy she did to you?”

  “I feel wonderful.” No lie.

  The healer’s face fell and he gestured Willem from the bed.

  Then Willem made the mistake of saying, “Gods I’m thirsty, though. I could drink a river.”

  “Dehydration. Excellent!” Johan planted a hand on his chest and shoved him back on the mattress.

  Willem watched healer bustling about until, finally, he produced a cup of liquid. “Drink this,” he commanded.

  Willem thought seriously about refusing.

  “You can go just as soon as you drink this,” Johan said in a wheedling tone.

  He eyed the contents of the cup and sniffed.

  “Go on. It won’t hurt you.” Johan nudged the cup closer to his lips. “Be a man.”

  He shrugged. The healer was hardly going to poison him and risk Sehan Hope’s wrath after everything she’d done. Where was the harm? He took a long draught and then pushed the mug away. “Gahhh! That’s disgusting. What was— Argh. Gods!” He clutched his stomach, retched, and vomited up the liquid.

  Afterward he wiped his mouth. “What was that stuff?”

  The healer stared mournfully at his vomit-splattered boots. “Serve me right for doubting her,” he said. “And to add insult to injury I’ve wasted a rather fine ale.”

  Chapter Nine

  Good Lord she was starving. If Hope had known it was customary to fast until the evening meal on the day of a burial, she’d have eaten twice as much dinner the previous night. Her stomach rumbled. She sternly told it to hush and refocused on Dayamar.

  Her comprehension of the intricacies of the Dayamaru language seemed to have expanded during his lecture—doubtless due to some magical tinkering on his part. She’d have been impressed by yet another demonstration of his supernatural abilities if she hadn’t been so disturbed by the incredible things he was telling her.

  He launched into finer details of how he’d brought her to Dayamaria. “There are two planes of existence, corporeal and incorporeal. The corporeal plane is the world that our bodies inhabit—this world, here and now. However, there is another plane of existence—an incorporeal, or spiritual plane, where the souls of each living being exist as pure energy.”

  A pause, that she suspected was to check her level of concentration, before he continued. “A very few souls shine with a pure white light because they have realized their full potential along the path of life. Others, having much yet to learn, are entwined with a myriad of colored threads, each one representing a path taken during the course of their life thus far. Colors and brightness are indicators as to the spiritual growth, or the potential for growth, of each soul.”

  Puhlease. Planes of existence and spirit worlds and soul-lights? Pure fantasy. How could it be anything else? But… what about her own “gifts”? She could no longer deny they were real.

  No. It was too much. Magic was one thing, but this was a whole new level of suspending disbelief.

  “Your light was a beautiful rich gold,” Dayamar said. “Your potential was awe-inspiring. I had never before seen the like. It’s how I knew you would be the one to heal our world.”

  “I do not want to burst your bubble, Dayamar, but have you considered maybe you were—” how to put it delicately? “—so fatigued from all this between-worlds traveling, you were mistaken?”

  “I’m not mistaken. The gods would not be so cruel.”

  “Where I come from the gods people believe in so fervently are often cruel.” Only a cruel god would have left her virtually unscathed amidst the wreckage of the car while her parents and her brothers had been crushed and broken.

  He continued on, undeterred by her outburst. “There are many different worlds. Each is surrounded by an energy veil, which serves to prevent the untutored from accidentally passing between worlds. Once one learns to travel on the incorporeal plane, journeys are usually made in spirit-form. It’s rare that a physical body is transported. That is a very arduous undertaking, requiring great strength. I feared if I tore the veil to journey to your world the rent would heal behind me, and I would lack the strength to open it again while carrying you with me. So I begged assistance from our gods. They helped me spin a gate to ensure the veil remained open.”

  Those gods again. Hope suppressed a sigh. She’d write him off as a religious fanatic if he wasn’t so… so… convincing.

  “I entered your world in spirit form seeking your soul-light,” he said. “And when I found you my life-energy merged with yours. Your physical body became pure energy, too, allowing us to travel through the veil and reenter this world. At the end of the journey, my energy surrendered yours and rejoined its physical vessel. And your physical body was recreated, here, in this world. Do you understand what I’m saying, Hope?”

  “I understand the concept.”

  “It’s no concept. It’s fact.”

  “What you tell me is impossible,” she blurted.

  He laughed, but it was affectionate rather than derisive. “Anything is possible, Hope. How else do you explain how you came here?”

  She bit her lip as she shook her head. “I cannot.”

  The calming breath she snatched had no effect whatsoever. She was still strung tight as a… a… bowstring. Hah. Might as well get used to thinking in Dayamaru as well as speaking it. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

  “My gods have shown me a vision of the future, Hope. On the spiritual plane our world has been infected by a creeping darkness. I believe it is a manifestation of something happening here, on the earthly plane. And I sense that it is wholly evil.”

  His distress swirled about her, nipping at her senses. “If this darkness engulfs our spirit world,” he continued, “our souls will exist in emptiness. Eventually our physical bodies will wither and die, unable to be nourished by our souls. It will be a terrible death, with no hope of passing on to the afterlife.”

  She shuddered. Sounded like a midnight campsite horror story. “What else do you know about this darkness?”

  “Something about it interferes with my ability to travel the incorporeal world,” he said. “The last time I dared the trip I sensed hunger and craving, as though it wished to consume me. It took all my strength not to succumb to its hunger. I fear I cannot safely send you back to your world, Hope. Not while this darkness continues to grow and spread.”

  She might not wholly believe his claims of gods and spirit worlds but she couldn’t deny this world had magic. And Dayamar could command it. He’d been instrumental in bringing her to this world, but now he was admitting he couldn’t send her back? Chills skittered up and down her spine—bone-deep chills that leached the warmth from her veins. On the surface she might appear to accept what was happening to her. But that acceptance was underpinned with the knowledge that if she chose, she could return to Earth and resume her old life. To have that choice taken away, to be forced to make a life here because she could never return…. That was difficult to accept. And a nasty little inner voice wondered if perhaps the “creeping
darkness” was merely a convenient excuse for Dayamar to keep her here. She’d have to tread carefully.

  “How can I help?” she asked. Because, occasional supernatural powers and visions aside, how could a blind girl from another world possibly save these people from who knew what? She was barely capable of looking after herself in this world.

  “I do not know,” came his wholly unexpected reply. “The gods do not deem it necessary to tell me how you will save us, only that you will.”

  Gods. She was heartily sick of hearing about these capricious, all-powerful beings. “Why do your gods not simply destroy this evil darkness?”

  “Their influence extends to this world and its people only. Their strength and power is drawn from our implicit belief in their existence and their abilities. Try as they might, they have not been able to vanquish this infection. They speculate it stems from something that does not believe in them and thus they have no sway over it.” Dayamar sounded so weary she felt a pinch of guilt that she was adding to his burden.

  “All I can do is train you to the best of my abilities,” he said. “All I can do is teach you what I know of Sehani powers so that when the time comes you will be ready.”

  “When will that be?”

  “You will know when.”

  Could he be any more vague?

  “I think this is enough for now. Maya’s father will soon be interred and I must prepare for the ceremony. We will talk more tomorrow.”

  She had one more question. “Dayamar, who else knows of this darkness in your spirit world?”

  “Not a soul.” He spoke so quietly she strained to catch his words. He cleared his throat, and his command came out strong and implacable. “You must tell no one—not even Blayne. Come, it’s past time I returned you to him.”

  Escorting her proved unnecessary for Varaya was hovering outside the door. “Have you finished with Hope, Sehan Dayamar? I’ve told Blayne I’d like to help her get ready for the ceremony.”

  “It’s heartening to see your spirits so improved, Varaya. I believe Hope has been an excellent influence on you.”

  He seemed to be waiting for a response so Hope nudged her friend with an elbow.

  “Uh, yes, Sehan Dayamar. She has.” Varaya waited for the old Sehan to close the door behind them before hooking her arm about Hope’s and dragging her off. “Gods, he always turns me into a tongue-tied child. Let’s head to Blayne’s and check if you have something suitable to wear.”

  Despite her preoccupation with Dayamar’s unsettling disclosures Hope’s interest was piqued. “What do I wear for a burial? My custom is to wear black. What do Dayamari wear?”

  “Brown. It symbolizes the earth, the final resting place of everyone who passes on. We all dress our best as a mark of respect.”

  “What else?” God forbid she did something inappropriate that might embarrass Maya. She’d upset the poor woman quite enough already with her Seeing.

  “Anyone who knew Janus, or had anything to do with him, will be present. I’m going because he was kind to me when I was a girl, and I’ve always remembered that kindness. Six men, usually close friends and relatives, will bear Maya’s father to the burial ground. Blayne has known Janus a long time—that’s why he’s been chosen as a bearer. Janus’s life-partner and other daughter have already passed on, so as his sole remaining blood-relative, Maya will lead the procession. What else? Oh yes, people will sing to his soul before it makes its final journey. Then the bearers will lower him into the grave and Maya will place some item that her father valued alongside his body. Sehan Dayamar will perform the final rites and people will line up to place a handful of soil into the grave. This evening we’ll hold a feast of remembrance in his honor.”

  “It sounds beautiful.” Hope beckoned Varaya to follow her to the main sleeping room. She waved her hand at a shelf where all her clothes were neatly folded and stacked. “Is there anything brown?”

  Varaya rustled through her belongings. “Aha! Trust Shay to have thought ahead and provided you with the right outfit. Here, put this on.”

  Hope stripped and donned the garment. “It is right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what?”

  “You can’t wear those worn things on your feet.”

  She lifted one sandaled foot for Varaya to inspect. “Are they truly so unsuitable?”

  Varaya clucked her tongue. “For starters there’s a hole in the sole. We’ll go cajole some new footwear out of Mikel. He owes me.” She tugged Hope from the room. “Let’s get this sorted and I’ll help you with your hair.”

  She wrinkled her nose. The right clothes, shoes, hair…. Preparing for this ceremony was worse than primping for a date.

  ~~~

  Varaya rapped on the door of Mikel’s home and entered without waiting for a response. “Mikel? Are you there?”

  A man’s voice boomed from another room. “Varaya! I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me. Come in, my lovely, and let me show you what you’ve been missing.”

  Hope clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

  Varaya groaned. “I’ve brought you a customer, you big fool.” She ushered Hope inside.

  From Mikel’s sharply indrawn breath Hope knew he was reacting to her golden eyes. She cringed inwardly. Was this to be the reaction of each new person she encountered? She hated it.

  “Mikel, this is Hope, Dayamar’s new apprentice.”

  “I am happy to meet you, Mikel.” She smiled and extended her hand.

  “Uh, I’m happy to meet you, too, Hope.” He recovered himself enough to grasp her hand. And then, to her surprise, he laughed. “Let me guess. New footwear is needed in a big hurry. Those sandals sure have seen better days.”

  Her face heated. She had no goods or skill to barter. How would she pay him? “I do not have anything to give you in return, Mikel.”

  “Don’t worry about that. The rest of ’em will be spitting threads they didn’t get to you first. The envious expressions on their faces would be compensation enough but if you’d give me these old sandals so I could examine the design I’d be a very happy man.”

  “Of course.”

  “Sit, and I’ll check my stock for your size.”

  “You are not even going to measure my feet?”

  Mikel grunted as he exited. “Haven’t you told her how talented I am, Varaya?” he called from the next room. “Shame on you! I made this pair of boots for a youngling with a huge crush on a girl. But by the time I’d finished them, she’d taken up with someone else and he didn’t want them anymore. He’s lucky I’m such an understanding man or I’d have made him pay for them regardless.”

  He returned with what he described as a pair of calf-length boots. “These are dyed a rich deep brown. I think they’ll be just right for you.”

  She slipped the soft boots onto her feet and took a few hesitant steps. “Very comfortable,” she said, impressed he’d accurately guessed her size.

  He insisted on presenting her with another pair of boots and a new pair of sandals, which he promised to deliver to Blayne’s house. As Shay had done, he brushed aside her protestations. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Hope. And you and I must catch up again soon, Varaya.”

  “Thank you Mikel.” Hope reached out to embrace him and he awkwardly patted her shoulder.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Mikel,” Varaya advised in a dry tone. “Or Blayne won’t be at all happy. Come on, Hope. We have to get ready for the ceremony.”

  ~~~

  Given the buzz of voices, Hope figured a large number of people were already milling about waiting for the ceremony to start. Varaya managed to find a comfortable spot on the grassy rise overlooking the burial ground. She spread a small mat on the ground. “We’ll sit on this so we don’t soil our clothes.”

  “We sit for the ceremony?”

  “Unless we’re called on to sing.”

  Huge fluttering butterflies loop-de-looped in her stomach. This was her first formal
ceremony, her first time exposed to the greater settlement populace. She briefly pondered what could be meant by “called upon to sing” but was distracted by a presence she recognized.

  Varaya nudged her. “A man’s waving at you, Hope. I wonder who he is. Oooh, he’s coming over. My… he’s gorgeous.”

  She hid a smile as she waved back. “Willem,” she called. “Come and sit with us.” And in her mind’s eye she could picture Varaya smoothing her hair.

  “Is that the same Willem who—?” Varaya bit off her question as he approached.

  “Hello, Sehan Hope. How’d you know it was me?”

  “I just know, Willem.” This seemingly magical ability was puzzling. Perhaps it had something to do with the way her mind had linked with his during their last encounter.

  “I wanted to thank you for what you did. I never thought I’d want to thank anyone for making liquor taste bad but—”

  “In your heart you wished to stop drinking. I merely reinforced that wish.” Not that she had a clue how, or whether she would ever be able to replicate the process. She heard Varaya wriggling restlessly beside her and realized it’d been impolite not to have made introductions. “Willem, this is my friend Varaya.”

  “Hello, Varaya. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  He didn’t sound pleased at all, prompting her to wonder what gossip he might have heard. Nothing good, given his frosty tone.

  “Hope, please tell that man he is not welcome.”

  She guessed Varaya was only being protective but her rudeness was embarrassing all the same. Not the best start to an encounter that was supposed to end in a love-match. “You should not judge so harshly, Varaya. Willem has overcome a difficult past. He has a good future. This I have Seen.”

  “Thanks.” Willem squeezed her hand. “But I can speak for myself. I’ve done things I’m ashamed of and it’d be easy for me to blame my upbringing, but that is no excuse. Thanks to Sehan Hope I’ve changed. She’s given me a second chance, despite what I did to her. I’m working hard to prove myself and I hope that regardless of my reputation—” his heavy emphasis on the word obviously hit home for Varaya choked on a gasp “—people will eventually overcome their prejudices.”