Seer's Hope

by Anderson, Maree

  “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?”

  She 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.”

  Her voice 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 round 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.”

  When 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 she’d been misdiagnosed with a serious illness as a youngster.

  So far as Blayne could make out it 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. In his world such a severe infection would likely have been 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.” He’d hoped to be blessed with 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 she 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.

  He 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, or 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?”

  “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?”

  “It was not a Seeing like the others.” She related how she’d identified the sex of Treya’s unborn baby.

  His 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 then 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 examin
ed 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. A malevolent creeping darkness 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.

  She 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. Needing 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. She withdrew from his mind, pleased to have mastered the tricky technique.

  She inched closer to him, craving 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, she finally drifted back to sleep.

  And she dreamed.

  Foul oily grey 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.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hope rubbed her eyes and yawned again. She felt guilty for lying in, but couldn’t bring herself to move until her stomach settled. When she was going to get used to Dayamari food? She thought about asking Blayne for some tonic or herbal remedy to settle her stomach but he had real patients to worry about.

  She’d just flung back the blankets when he walked into the room.

  “Stay there. I’ve brought you breakfast.” He placed the tray of food in her lap and draped a spare blanket around her shoulders. “You need to rest. Dayamar’s been working you too hard. Before I leave I’ll have a word about him giving you the day off.”

  His concern touched her deeply. “No. It is all right. I will go. When do you think you will return?”

  A herd of cervidas—deer-like herbivores from what she’d been able to glean—had been spotted not far from the settlement, provoking Willem to organize a hunting party. The hunters preferred to lay down a good store of meat to see the settlement comfortably through the colder months and with autumn imminent, the nearby herd was too good an opportunity to miss. Blayne estimated he’d be gone for around five days. Today the party would travel to the last place the herd had been sighted, set up a temporary camp, and finalize their plans. The hunt would begin at first light. He’d told her most of the butchering would be done on site, and the meat, skins, antlers and hooves brought back for curing and storage.

  He bent to kiss her forehead. “Have you’ve changed your mind about coming with me?”

  She screwed up her nose. “I like to eat meat but I do not need to witness firsthand how animals become meat.”

  He chuckled. “Fair enough. Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

  “Go.” She made a shooing gesture. “Dayamar has plenty for me to do. Degan and Varaya are here to help me during the day, and Treya in the evenings. My days will be so full I will not have time to miss you.”

  Varaya barreled into the room without a by-your-leave. “Hope, would you mind terribly if I joined the hunting party? I haven’t hunted for so long I’d almost forgotten how exhilarating it can be. I packed last night—just in case you were happy to be left on your own.”

  She was sure she knew the real reason Varaya was eager to go on this hunt. Willem. “I do not mind Varaya. I am sure Dayamar will be pleased to have me to himself all day instead of half. I will see you both after the hunt. Be safe.” She beckoned Blayne closer so she could cradle his face in her palms and kiss him on the lips. Lingeringly.

  He heaved such a heartfelt sigh Varaya giggled. “Not too late for second thoughts,” she teased.

  “Yes, it is,” Hope said. “Go!”

  ~~~

  She made her way to the Sehani Hall without taking a single wrong turn. The pride she felt at finally making sense of the settlement’s sprawling layout was immense. Now, only the sprawling outer perimeter, inhabited by a few hardy souls who chose to live far from the main living areas, continued to elude her. That part of the settlement had few landmarks she could use to orient herself, and was where she’d been headed when she’d first stumbled into Willem.

  Since repetition was key, she ran through the settlement layout again to fix it firmly in her mind.

  The settlement was sheltered by a cliff-face. To the east was the waterfall and large pool used for washing and bathing. The small stream running off from the pool eventually formed a larger watercourse bordered by a forested area she hadn’t yet explored. Not that she ever had time to go exploring.

  Through trial and error she’d discovered the easiest way to orient herself was to visualize sections of the settlement in parallel rows, moving from west to east. The first row comprised the burial grounds, the area used for outdoor festivities, communal food-storage and cooking areas, along with large gardens cultivated with vegetables, herbs, and other plantings. It made sense that both the communal cooking areas and the gardens were close to a water source. Parallel to that ran a line of buildings housing various tradespeople, the Healing Hall, another garden for medicinal herbs, the Panakeya’s residence, and quarters for the other healers and their apprentices.

  The third row was easy, comprising simply the dormayres, a cluster of living quarters, and a fenced area encircling the Children’s Center and its large outside play area. Row number four included a bunch of empty quarters—why they were empty she hadn’t yet discovered. Next were Dayamar’s quarters and the Sehani Hall, and finally, another cluster of living quarters. Row number five began with the individual elders’ quarters, the vast Elders Hall—used for private meetings amongst the elders as well as public meetings and indoor celebrations—and more living quarters. Finally, adjoining the grassy rise overlooking the burial ground, were the Potters Hall, drying rooms and kilns—all conveniently sited near large clay deposits.

  Her thoughts turned to the upcoming lesson. Dayamar was excited by her description of Treya’s unborn baby, and had discussed it at length. He thought her experience might be some variance of the Sehani ability to discern an aureya, which he explained as a manifestation of a person’s psychic energies—an aura, in other words. Today he intended to begin training her how to see them.

  She rapped on the door and entered to find Dayamar already waiting. He greeted her and launched straight into his lecture, and despite her misgivings about anything she de
emed “supernatural”, Hope found herself fascinated by his explanation of this phenomenon.

  “An aureya,” he told her, “is the psychic energy surrounding the human body. In reality not only people but all matter, both animate and inanimate, have an aureya of some kind. In people, aureyas can best be described as thick colored bands of light surrounding the body. A person’s aureya reflects many things. For example, their emotional state, physical health, mental activity and internal action of the organs. Thus, an adept Sehan can also detect disease.”

  She opened her mouth but shut it again when he answered her unspoken question. “The ability to detect disease does not go hand in hand with the ability to cure it. And even if we could cure ailments and diseases, should we? I could devote every waking moment to trying to cure the sick, but eventually I would be forced to pick and choose amongst them. The healers understand the moral dilemma. They, too, must make difficult choices.”

  “I understand.” It wouldn’t stop her trying to help if she was asked, though. Or even if she was not.

  Dayamar continued his lecture. “An aureya’s colors emanate from seven main psychic centers of the body. Each centre has its own color. Base of the spine is red. Navel is orange. Sternum, yellow. Heart, green. Throat, blue. Forehead, violet. And finally, crown of the head, gold.”

  “Please can I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “If everyone has seven centers and each center has its own color, then are not the aureyas of each person the same?”

  “Good question. The answer is no. As each person is an individual, so is their aureya. A person’s nature, health, living habits, the way they think—for example, their morals, core beliefs and spiritual development—all of these have bearing upon the strength of each psychic centre.

  “All of the psychic centers generate separate energy, which is reflected into the aureya and mixes together, creating a predominant color. So in simplistic terms, a person’s aureya may appear to be one particular color. We call that the base color. But in reality, depending upon the situation and how a person is feeling at a particular moment, their aureya may be temporarily imbued with another color, or colors, before reverting back to its original hue. Do you understand?”