Seer's Hope

by Anderson, Maree

  Blayne shook his head. “This hunt is too important. You’ve all delayed enough already. We’ll be all right. If anything serious has happened we’ll send word.”

  Willem nodded and quickly herded everyone into some semblance of order. “Safe journey,” he called as he set off with Varaya and the hunting party in tow.

  Blayne watched until they were small specks in the distance.

  “Come on, lazybones.” Cayl grabbed his wrist and hauled him upright, steadying him as he regained his feet. “You sure you’re up to this?”

  No. But he had no choice. “Let’s go.”

  By the time they reached the settlement the sun had long since set and Blayne had pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion. At Treya’s quarters he had to lean on the doorframe to catch his breath. “Hope? Are you there?”

  “Wha—? Who’s there?” The sleepy male voice added, “Quiet or you’ll wake the baby!”

  Blayne bit back an imprecation. He’d not expected Treya to give birth for at least another four weeks.

  The shadowy figure of a man approached the door. Blayne blinked. Roban? The last person he’d expected.

  “Blayne.” Roban rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wisa’s white feathers, what happened to you? You look like you’ve been run over by a herd of stampeding cervidas.”

  “What are you doing here? Where’s Hope?”

  “Treya had a rough time with Hopian’s birth, so I volunteered to help her with the little one. Zavier wasn’t too happy but he’s coming around to the idea. And well all know Treya’s a sweetheart, so he just couldn’t help liking her, and—”

  Blayne threw up a hand to ward off further explanations. “Treya’s had her baby and named him Hopian.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are she and the infant well?”

  “They’re fine. More than fine. Dayamar says Hopian needs a father-figure and—”

  “Where’s Hope?” Cayl asked, thankfully cutting Roban short before Blayne’s head could explode. “We thought she was staying with Treya.”

  “We nearly lost Treya and the baby.” Roban gave a full-body shudder and hugged his middle. “It gives me nightmares. Anyway, whatever Hope did exhausted her, so Dayamar—”

  “Just get to the point,” Cayl said.

  “Dayamar’s taken her back to your place—”

  Blayne turned on his heel and headed for his quarters. He only managed a few paces before he wavered on his feet like a drunkard.

  Cayl rushed up and slung an arm about his waist. “Don’t keel over on me. You’re too bloody heavy to carry so you’ll spend the night wherever you land.”

  They reached Blayne’s house and stumbled inside, knocking over a couple of pots someone had left by the hearth.

  The darkened room abruptly lit. The small bright light danced in the palm of Dayamar’s hand. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said.

  “How is she?” Blayne demanded.

  “Exhausted—as are you, Panakeya. Go see for yourself. And then get some rest. Sehan’s orders.”

  Blayne disappeared into his sleeping room.

  Cayl had turned to leave but Dayamar called him back. “I’ll call for you in the morning, Cayl. I have some questions.”

  “Thought you might,” Cayl said. A pause and then, “Will they both be all right?”

  “Yes. Return to Maya now. Tell her I said she’ll hear all about it tomorrow.”

  “I’ll try, though I don’t think she’ll listen.” Cayl threw the words over his shoulder as he departed. “Not even to you, Sehan Dayamar.”

  “We shall see.” Dayamar paused in the entrance to Blayne’s sleeping room. Brightening his palm-light, he peered inside. The Panakeya had shucked his boots and crawled beneath the covers fully clothed. He’d curled himself behind Hope and hugged her to his chest. He was deeply asleep but a smile curved his mouth.

  Hope hadn’t stirred but she radiated contentment.

  Dayamar gazed at the young woman who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time. His seer-senses sharpened, and Blayne and Hope’s sleeping forms were joined by another tiny presence. His heart soared. But his Seeing did not fade. There was more.

  He did not fear death. He’d lived past his first century and death was merely the commencement of a new journey—one he would not hesitate to embrace once he’d ensured the safety of his people. Dimming his light, Dayamar returned to his room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hope’s sleepy brain registered movement. She pushed herself up from the bed and a wave of nausea struck her. She clamped a hand over her mouth, and whoever was in the room thrust a ceramic basin into her lap. Cool hands eased her upright and smoothed the hair from her brow. Blayne.

  “Don’t fight it,” he said.

  She gave in and vomited into the bowl. His capable hands set it aside and then gently wiped her face. She flopped back onto the cushions with a sigh and listened to the glug of liquid being poured.

  He handed her a mug of something warm. “This should settle your stomach. We figured you’d wake soon, so I brewed it for you.”

  She took a tentative sip. And another. And then her roiling stomach began to settle. “Thank you.” Between sips of the fragrant herbal tea she pondered the events of the previous day. “How are Treya and her baby?”

  “They’re both doing well. The first few days were a bit fraught, but yesterday Treya finally convinced Zavier to move in permanently with her and Roban. They should all feel more settled now.”

  Hang on. Yesterday? She must have misunderstood. She threw back the covers and swung her legs to the floor.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  His stern tone made her grimace. She wasn’t an invalid. “I would like to wash and— And what are you doing back already? Did Willem call off the hunt?”

  “You’ve slept two full days. And you will not get up until I’m satisfied you’re well. Is that understood?”

  She eased back onto the mattress. Two days?

  Blayne smoothed her blankets. “If you promise to take it easy, I’ll help you get dressed. Then you can finish your lunch.”

  When she didn’t respond he said, “Well?”

  “Yes.” He was very no-nonsense when he was in full-on healer-mode. She didn’t like it at all. “Please,” she added as an afterthought.

  In what seemed like no time at all she was bathed, dressed, and propped up in bed again with a steaming bowl of broth. “Taste good?” he asked.

  Hah. His tone was all affability now she was behaving. “It is delicious. What has happened over the past two days? The last thing I remember is bidding Dayamar goodnight after he helped me back to your quarters.”

  Thankfully, Blayne quit looming and sat beside her while he filled her in. “I hope I’m not going to have a fight on my hands if I insist you stay in bed for the rest of the day. You have to take care of yourself—especially now.”

  “I’m glad to see you awake, my dear,” Dayamar said as he entered the room.

  “Shall I proceed?” Blayne asked him.

  “By all means.”

  “Proceed with what?” she asked, wondering at Blayne’s stiff, formal manner.

  “Hush and lie still.”

  His examination was far more thorough than she’d expected. The hands that had touched her body so intimately, so tenderly, were now impersonal and professional. He had distanced himself, was treating her as a patient and nothing more. It hurt. And it worried her. Was this his way of coping because there was something seriously wrong with her? She desperately wanted to tell Dayamar to leave but the gleeful eagerness she sensed from him confused her, so she held her tongue.

  “She’s doing well,” Blayne said.

  “Agreed.” That, from Dayamar.

  “Are you still nauseous?” Blayne asked.

  Oh. Now he was talking to her. “Why do you ask that? Is it because I was sick? Do I have a stomach problem, maybe?” Why wouldn’t they spit it o
ut and tell her what was going on?

  “I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” he said, his careful tone revealing nothing.

  But when Dayamar spoke his voice was laced with amusement. “You should tell her, Blayne.”

  “Tell me what?” she demanded, heartily fed up with all the mystery.

  “You’re pregnant,” Blayne announced.

  That had been the last thing she’d expected. “Impossible.”

  “Evidently not.” Now he sounded more like the man she loved, but any relief she felt was overshadowed by the startling news.

  “H-how?”

  “In the normal way, I expect,” Dayamar said.

  “No. This can’t be happening. No!” She winced when it came out as a wail.

  “I need to talk to Hope,” Dayamar said. “Alone.”

  A prolonged silence, and then Blayne said, “Of course.”

  He’d barely left the room when she blurted, “I am infertile. I cannot be pregnant.”

  “But you are, my dear.”

  “God! What am I going to do?”

  “Striving for a semblance of calm would be an excellent start,” he said. “I understand you were told you could never bear children?”

  She sucked in a shaky breath, held it until tiny stars danced in her headspace, and then let it out slowly. It didn’t help. “Yes.”

  “I’ve often pondered the intensity of your reaction to the changes the Sehani transformation wrought in you. This is pure speculation you understand, but I would guess those agonizing stomach pains centered around your infertility. When you were transformed the gods blessed you further by ensuring you could have children.”

  She was not the least gratified by this supposed godly benevolence. “A blessing? How is curing my infertility a blessing? The last thing I planned was to have a baby in this place.”

  “Planned or not, this baby is now a fact,” Dayamar said, neatly side-stepping the thorny issue of godly intervention. “Speaking of babies, would you like to see how your namesake is doing?”

  Before she could formulate an answer he called out to Blayne. “I believe a visit to Treya is in order. I’m sure Hope is capable of a short excursion, and the fresh air will do her good. Hope, I do not presume to be a healer but please don’t over-exert yourself. I’m moving back to my own quarters, and I will see you in a couple of days when you’re rested enough to resume your training.” And so saying, he departed with unseemly haste.

  She scowled. Sneaky old man. She would get to the bottom of this, one way or the other. “A baby? Hell!”

  “You’re swearing in your native language, aren’t you.”

  She thrust out her lower lip. “Yes, I am.”

  “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

  “I’m about as thrilled as you are.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You were so distant when you examined me. I know you’re upset.”

  He blew out a sharp breath. “I’m too personally involved to be as professional and impartial as I needed to be. All I wanted to do while I examined you was shout and sing, and sweep you up and kiss you breathless. I think….” A long pause. “I think it would be best to hand your care over to Johan—for both our sakes.”

  She wished she could see his face, read his expression. “Are you happy, Blayne? Truly?”

  “I am.”

  Her body fizzed with joy. He meant it. She could sense the happiness vibrating through him. Her worries and concerns melted, and then surged anew.

  “And you?” he asked.

  She strangled the blanket between her fingers. “Of course I want your child. Just… not right now. Not here. Oh, I do not know how I feel!” She smacked a fist on the blanket.

  Blayne gathered her in close and she buried her face in his chest. “It will be all right, dear one,” he murmured. “I know how you feel—believe me, it was a shock when Dayamar confirmed you were pregnant. I’d wondered, of course, because you were showing signs, but you were so adamant you couldn’t have children I didn’t trust what I saw.”

  “This changes everything.”

  “I know. But we love each other. That’s what matters. Doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” A lie. Because she knew love wouldn’t be enough. Love couldn’t help a pregnant, untrained, blind Sehan save the Dayamari spirit-world. But for now she would do the right thing and not spoil this moment for Blayne. She summoned a smile and blotted her eyes with the backs of her hands.

  “We’re alone,” he said. “Finally. I know it’s a great honor to have Dayamar living with us but he scared poor Degan half to death.”

  She managed a watery giggle. “I can imagine.” And then her giggle turned to a squeal as he pounced on her, his hands busy with her tunic.

  “Blayne!” She tried to fend him off. “We should visit Treya. And I have missed days of learning.”

  “Good point,” he said, pulling the tunic over her head. “We’ll start with an anatomy lesson.”

  “But I already know all the Dayamaru words for parts of the human body.”

  He nibbled her cleavage, and lipped his way down her navel. “Bet I know a few you haven’t come across yet.” He paused in his downward journey. “Can you tell me the anatomical name for where I’m going to kiss you next?”

  His tongue swirled and she gasped, arching her back. Her answer was a moan. But she did manage to learn a few new words as the “lesson” progressed.

  ~~~

  She lay in Blayne’s arms and idly ran her fingers over his chest. Pregnant. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or appalled. Suddenly restless, she wriggled from his embrace and swung her legs from the mattress. “I need to wash before we visit Treya.”

  “Need any help?”

  His suggestive tone made her smile. She could imagine him waggling his eyebrows. “No. Or else we will never leave this house.”

  As she tended to her needs in the washroom area, her mind wandered. Her hands drifted to her stomach and her thoughts to the small life growing inside.

  It would be difficult for her to raise a child in this world. She could barely look after herself, let alone a baby. Combine her Sehani duties and the added stress of coping with a child, and Blayne might decide she wasn’t worth the hassle. What did they have to keep them together? A great sex-life… that probably wouldn’t last once her pregnancy began to show. They still barely knew each other. And he’d not formally committed to her.

  God! Why did she have to get pregnant now?

  Visions of dying in childbirth—or worse, her baby dying from some ghastly childhood illness—cascaded through her mind, echoing over and over in her head until a vision formed.

  She was alone in the darkness. Hissing voices echoed all around her. Her stomach muscles rippled with a contraction so intense she couldn’t catch her breath. Her baby. Something was wrong. Pain sliced through her abdomen and—

  Blayne’s voice dragged her from the nightmare. “Are you all right in there?”

  “I am fine. It is just—” She shook her head, unwilling to confess her fears. “It is nothing. I am being silly.”

  “Hope—”

  “I do not want to talk about it.” Her heart thumped as though it would burst from her chest, and her skin felt clammy with remembered fear, but she refused to worry him with the silly imaginings of a pregnant woman. She stalked into the sleeping room and pulled on her clothes. “Are you dressed? Can we go and visit Treya now?

  “Sure.”

  She sensed him watching her intently, but she remained stubbornly silent during the walk to Treya’s house.

  “Treya?” he called from the doorway. “It’s Blayne and Hope.”

  “Won’t be a moment,” Roban’s cheery voice called. He swept Hope into a hug and must have noticed she’d wrinkled her nose for he said, “Sorry. Hopian burped all over me and I haven’t had time to change. It’s wonderful to see you, Hope.”

  Blayne was treated to a more formal greeting. “Blayne. Nice to
see you, too. You look much better than when I last saw you, I must say. I was about to fix everyone a snack. Will you join us?”

  “We would love to,” Hope said. “How are you all coping?”

  “I never thought I’d ever say this, but I’m loving every minute.” Roban launched into a lyrical description of Treya reclining on cushions and rocking her sleepy baby, Zavier whittling a wooden teething ring, and a pot of tea bubbling over the fire.

  Hope inhaled through her nose while she found a comfortable spot to sit. Hmmm. Mint tea, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  Treya patted her arm to snag her attention. “I’ve been so worried about you. Everyone said you were simply exhausted and needed to sleep it off but I was afraid it might be more than that.”

  “I am fine, Treya.”

  “Is she, Blayne? Really?”

  “Yes, she is,” she snapped before Blayne had a chance to answer. God. She was so tired of being treated like she was made of spun glass.

  Blayne finally spoke into the shocked silence. “Hopian’s thriving, Treya. And you look wonderful.”

  “I’ve never been so pampered,” Treya said. “Roban and Zavier are naturals, the way they handle my little one. He’s a lucky little boy.”

  “We’ve got a good routine going now,” Roban said.

  “And I enjoy having Zavier and Roban living here so much, I’m petitioning to have the arrangement made formal,” Treya said.

  Hope heard a soft crooning in a register too low to be Roban’s, and presumed Treya had passed the baby to Zavier.

  Roban handed around tea and cake. He oozed contentment—as did Treya and Zavier. She envied them.

  “Excellent idea,” Blayne was saying. “Are there likely to be any objections to formalizing the arrangement?”

  “Both my mother and mother-by-Joining could be problems,” Treya admitted. “My father and father-by-Joining don’t mind either way. They can see the sense in such an arrangement. But my mother feels strongly I should move in with her. And my mother-by-Joining wants me to live with her. They’re both arguing fiercely about it. Things have become somewhat… unpleasant.”

  “Neither one of them is considering what’s best for Hopian and Treya,” Roban said, his tone heavy with what Hope thought might be satisfaction. “They’re in for a shock—aren’t they, Zavier?”