Seer's Blood

by Doranna Durgin

  She nodded, and moved in against the barn, out of the way and as out of sight as she was ever going to get. And she waited, thinking she’d never realized that a body could open a door so slow, while Trey and Burl inched open one of the small double doors of the loft. Then again, she’d never thought anyone could open that door without making the biggest kind of squeak, either. One after another, they slipped into the loft, making no more noise than the sound of Burl’s shirt brushing against wood.

  Once inside it got harder. There was a narrow walk space between the piled hay and the outside wall, but there was also enough hay scattered under their feet to make the going excruciatingly slow. Opening the door had been an instant’s work compared to moving so carefully, transferring her weight so slowly, while her muscles trembled with fear and burned from the unusual effort.

  At the edge of the loft Trey paused, the only one able to see below — if indeed he could make out anything in the darkness. Blaine heard nothing but the rustle of one of the mules as it spread its legs to make water.

  Under the cover of that noisy stream, Trey moved out, ignoring the ladder and swinging down to hang for a moment before lightly dropping to the floor; Blaine did not need Burl’s prodding to do the same, and even though she was less graceful than Trey, her light weight made no more noise. She felt more than heard Burl join them, and by then their cover was gone, except for the slight shuffling of the mule.

  While Trey and Burl silently checked the other stalls for Dacey, she backed up against the mule stall, close to the main door, and waited, every nerve trying to jump right out of her body.

  The mule behind her remained restless, nosing its hay and shuffling in the straw; if the boys made any noise she couldn’t hear them. She was aware when the mule came up behind her, and half expected it to nudge or lip at her — curiosity she could do without. She’d move closer to the door, then, maybe peer outside —

  Two strong hands clamped down on her arms and Blaine gave a muffled shriek, too startled to do anything else but stiffen in fear.

  “Well, well, missy,” said a voice in her ear, his breath on her neck making her skin crawl, “wandering around in the dark, are you?”

  Men make water, too, said a sarcastic inner voice. Out loud, Blaine stammered, “I — I — come to see the leader. ’Bout that man.”

  “Did you now? And you thought our boss might be sleeping out here in the barn?” The man tightened his grip on one arm so tightly it felt near pinched in two, and used the other to close and latch the stall door after he came around it. The mule snorted.

  “No, I — I —” I’m babbling “ — I done got scairt, is all. Changed my mind.” Trey, where are you?

  “Too late for that now.” He shoved her toward the door. “You won’t have any say about it once he touches you.”

  Blaine didn’t like the way he said it; she didn’t like his flatlander accent in her ear and his flatlander hands on her arm.

  She bit him.

  He jerked his fingers out of her mouth with a curse, never loosening his other hand despite her struggles. She cried out as he reeled her in and she felt more than saw him draw back his hand — but the blow didn’t come. His grip convulsed around her arm; his whole body stiffened. When he fell, he took her down with him, dragging her to the dirty floor. Then his bowels voided, and she realized that those tightly clinging fingers belonged to a dead man, that he was dead, and he was never going to let her go.... Blaine slid away into panic, scrabbling for purchase on the slick plank flooring while animal noises of fear grew inside her throat and forced their way out of her mouth.

  The boys were tugging on her then, as a strong broad hand clamped over her mouth and Burl’s anxious and angry voice hissed, “Then cut it off, Trey, I don’t care!” In her ear, soothing words — “We done got him, Blaine, it’s all right now, c’mon —” and then she was free, and heaving great hysterical breaths, but finally returning to herself. Burl patted her arm, suddenly awkward, and moved back from her.

  Trey’s voice came from near the door. “No one’s moving,” he said. “It warn’t all that much noise, anyway.” He came back to them and from the sound of it, wiped something on the dead man’s clothes. His knife, Blaine thought dully. He was the one who had killed the man. She ought to say thank you.

  “Did you find Dacey?” she whispered instead. “I done did my job — I found the guard.”

  Burl snorted from near one of the back stalls, while Trey whispered a curse. To Blaine, he said, “We found him. We can’t rouse him none, though. He wasn’t himself this afternoon, neither, but I was hoping....”

  “Let me see,” Blaine said, not waiting for his response before she tripped to her feet, making an over-wide detour around where she imagined the dead man was, and aiming for where she’d heard Burl. “Is he in here?”

  “Right by the door,” Burl told her, his voice low. She crouched down and felt around with her hands until she found Dacey. She thought that at one point he’d probably been propped against the wall, but he’d fallen over. She found his hands in front of him, but though her fingers brushed the cleanly cut ends of the rope that had bound him, his fingers remained tightly entwined. She took those hands, tried to unclench the fingers and couldn’t, shook him to discover he was tense and almost stiff.

  “Get a mule,” she said quietly.

  “We can’t take a —”

  “Yes we can! We got to get him away from here! They done something horrible to him, we got to get him away, get him out of it —”

  “Maybe he’ll never get out from under it at all,” Trey muttered, but she heard him lift a halter from the nail by the stall and open the door. The mule snorted distrustfully at him. “Don’t give me no fuss, mule,” he muttered, flat dire threat in his voice.

  The mule must have believed him. There was silence, aside from the little snicking noises of the halter buckles; Blaine ran her hand up and down Dacey’s arm, trying to warm some life into his limbs. The quiet hollow clopping of hard oval mule feet in need of a trim came down the aisle and stopped beside her.

  “Here we go, then,” Burl said, bending down beside her to snag Dacey’s arm and leg, shift his grip a few experimental times, and then heave Dacey up without so much as a grunt — except on the mule’s part.

  “He ain’t going to stay,” Trey said. “And we got to get out of here — we done fooled around long enough.”

  “Put Blaine up behind him,” Burl suggested.

  “I don’t know how to ride no mule!” Alarm laced the protest in her voice, but Burl paid it no mind; his hands nearly met around her waist as he lifted her up and plopped her on the mule behind Dacey. Dacey’s hair tickled her forehead and his back warmed her as she clutched frantically for the mule’s sparse mane, her arms tight around Dacey’s ribs.

  “Don’t worry,” Burl said. “We’ll stay right here on either side.”

  Trey pushed the main door open, letting in the fresh smell of the damp night, the sound of gentle rain against the ground. Compared to the pitch dark of the barn, the overcast night seemed almost bright. “Nothing there,” he whispered. “Let’s go!”

  Blaine squeaked as the mule moved forward and she lurched backward; the mule snorted testily but moved on out of the barn, and she quickly learned the rhythm of its walk. Dacey was so close she had to turn her head aside, resting it on the broadness of his shoulders and trusting that the boys would not lead them under some low branch.

  Blue’s sporadic, frustrated bark led them to the top of the hill and far down the ridge, a slow process — full of grunts and “get him!” when Dacey tipped too far one way or the other, while Blaine’s fingers cramped so tightly in the wiry mane that she lost the feeling of them. The trees protected them from most of the slow rain, pattering in the leaves and only occasionally down her neck. She figured that the odd procession must have nearly reached Blue and the redbone when the mule gave an unexpected pitch, a snort of effort, and scrambled up one last projection — leaving Blaine behi
nd. She slid right off its rump, with one loud, indignant cry of protest that ended in a grunt when Dacey landed on top of her.

  “You all right?” Burl asked as he separated them, sitting Dacey up against a tree and standing Blaine on her feet. She staggered a moment, thoroughly disoriented in the dark. At her side, Mage appeared, whining anxiously.

  “She’s fine,” Trey said abruptly, turning the mule around, tying the rope up behind its ears, and giving it a hard smack on the butt. The animal kicked out at him and ran down the hill. “We’ve come far enough. Ain’t no way to take him as far as the clearing, and it’ll just mean a longer walk for Blaine come morning, iff’n we do.”

  “You mean...you mean you figure I’m gonna stay out here in this rain all night?” Blaine sputtered, building up a good head of indignant.

  “It’s not that far a walk,” Burl said quickly. “I’ll fetch your pack. You head on home, Trey. I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Don’t get lost,” Trey muttered, but added, in the silence that followed, “I’m obliged to you, Burl. Reckon I’m plumb tuckered.”

  Burl’s response was offhand, but startled Blaine — and made her instantly forgive any shortness of temper Trey might have shown this night. “That man done run you some today. You’d think he coulda found some others of us to run word around and gather us all up.”

  Trey shrugged, visible only in silhouette. He moved a few steps away, stopped again. “Meet us by that biggie sycamore below the hall, Blaine. Just after first light. Things’ll probably hop fast when they find that guard.”

  “Our luck, they’ll start Taking people right away, looking for answers,” Burl said, as if he was just now realizing it.

  “Oh, I’m betting they will,” Trey said dryly. “We’ll just have to get there first.”

  Blaine’s voice was hard. “I’ll be ready.”

  They left her alone then, getting wetter as the rain fell hard enough to come through the leaves. She fumbled to close the buttons of her coat — she’d lost one tonight, somewhere — and went to Blue. The dog’s entire bottom wagged with his tail, and instead of his usual deep-chested noise he gave her anxious whines. When she loosed him from the tree, he ran straight for Dacey, snuffling and nosing him, and finally giving one sharp, frustrated bark.

  “It’s all right, Blue,” Blaine said, even though she didn’t think it was. Blue flung himself to the ground and rested his chin on his forefeet, mournful, as Blaine knelt by Dacey, wishing it were light enough to see his face well. During the ride he’d loosened up, but it only meant that he was more like an old rag doll than a plank of wood. She found neither reassuring.

  She moved up until her knees bumped him, and — hesitantly — touched his shoulder.

  His eyes flew open. They stared at her, black in the darkness, and there was no change on his face, no recognition in his expression.

  Nothing.

  “Dacey?” Blaine asked, tentative and thinking of the jimson. Had they broken his mind with it? Or simply used some other vile, unimaginable magic? She trapped Dacey’s cold and lifeless hand between both her own, warming it. “Dacey,” she said, and squeezed the hand. “C’mon, Dacey, it’s me, Blaine. Look at me. Look at me!” Her voice rose and cracked, and momentarily gave out.

  It had no effect on Dacey.

  She couldn’t look at his dull stare any longer; she looked at Mage instead. The hound pawed his master, and not gently. In his throat, frustrated canine words gargled out as modulated whines. Blue responded, until both of them were whining in Blaine’s ear, enough to drive her to distraction. Mage was always the ringleader, always setting off the whole dumb pack — always setting off....

  “Howl, Mage!” Blaine urged, startling the dog into silence. Damn. “C’mon — he’ll hear it if he hears anything!”

  The dog stared at her, his ears low, cocked back in his resentment of her interference. Blaine rolled her eyes, beyond exasperation. “Ow-wow-wo-ow,” she tried, not finding it easy to hit the right tones without the dogs guiding her. “C’mon, Mage,” she muttered, tightening her grip on Dacey’s hand. “C’mon.”

  “Oowh,” Blue offered, the quietest of monotone howls.

  “Yes, Blue!” She repeated the sound just as he’d done it, only louder, and he talked back to her. Mage had had enough. He burst into full and glorious howl, and Blue sat up to sing with him; Blaine joined them, never taking her eyes off Dacey.

  After a moment, Dacey blinked.

  He blinked; his vacant expression turned to a frown. Blaine stopped howling, suddenly feeling silly, and the dogs faded uncertainly into silence. “Dacey?”

  He shook, shudders that came deep from within and trembled through his frame — wave after wave of them, while she held his hand and ached with the need to help, to make them stop. And eventually they did, fading into shivers that might just as well have been from the rain. His free hand reached slowly for his eyes, stopping a mere whisper away before falling to the ground again. It fumbled at the leaves and pebbles there, and slowly became sure enough of the earth to leave it be. What she could see of his face in the darkness showed her his confusion — absolute, unmitigated by anything he’d heard or touched.

  “It’s me,” Blaine said softly, convinced they’d somehow fooled with his mind. “It’s all right, now, I’ve done found you and you’re safe.”

  He shook his head, more like a dog with water in its ear than a man saying no. Then he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath; Blaine held her own. Waiting. Hoping.

  “How long has it been?” he asked, his eyes still closed, another shudder running through him..

  “Just a day,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Me an’ Burl an’ Trey just stole you back from ’em. Are...” she hesitated, not knowing if she should ask, not able to stop herself. “Are you back to yourself, Dacey?”

  “As near as I can tell,” he muttered, and seemed to be taking inventory. “Just...trying to put it all together.”

  “What did they...I mean, how did they —”

  He gave a low laugh. It sounded on the edge of a sob. “They didn’t,” he said. “That is, they done plenty...but it was me who had the last say. Old seer’s trick — I’d heard of it from my gran-mamaw. Didn’t ever think I had it in me.” He covered his vacant eyes with his hand, squeezing hard on Blaine’s at the same time. “Spirits,” he whispered. “I didn’t ever think I’d need to have it in me.”

  “I was so afraid I wouldn’t get you back...Dacey, I didn’t know what to do.”

  He laughed again, sounding the same as the last one. “So you started a howl. Right clever of you. Takes another seer, usually. There ain’t no coming back from that place on your own.” He squeezed her hand again, a clear thank you, and then withdrew his own. “You were right. Oughtn’t to have gone back to that camp, not feeling like I did.”

  “You had a seeing, didn’t you,” she said, letting the accusation into her voice. “Right then, when we were talking about it. You were gonna let me go, and then suddenly you wouldn’t.”

  He nodded. “I had a seeing,” he admitted. “You and Blue...” He didn’t finish, and clearly didn’t intend to. “Just goes to show you there’s more to being a good seer than getting a seeing now and then. It’s what you do with them.”

  “We can use any kind of seer tomorrow,” Blaine said. “We...we’re making our try, Dacey. Taking the hollers back. Come morning.”

  He needed a moment to think about that. “Is Trey keeping them boys in line?”

  She nodded.

  “Blaine?” he asked, his face and voice filled with an uncertainty that was foreign to her.

  Nodding. Stupid. “Trey’s done fine,” she said quietly, and without thinking, brushed sorrowful and uninvited fingertips across his brow and lashes.

  He took her hand away from his face and gripped it hard, and Blaine realized that he again drew strength from her instead of the other way around. Hatred flared in her. Annekteh, she thought, making it into a curse. “We’re
going to drive them out,” she said, and that hatred found its way into her voice.

  It was Blue, naturally, who lightened the mood. The big dog came up behind Blaine and stuck his cold nose down her neck, eliciting her undignified squeal.

  “You sit on the wrong thing?” Dacey asked, wry humor in his voice.

  “Just Blue an’ his cold ol’ nose,” Blaine told him. She looked at the hound — he panted amiably in her face — and thought of his sour companion. “Dacey,” she said, “about Maidie —”

  “I figured she was hurt pretty bad,” Dacey interrupted, his voice flat. “She...she was a good ol’ dog. Too old to be taking on men.”

  “I don’t think she suffered none,” Blaine said, stroking Blue’s absurdly long ear. “She was gone by the time we reached the bearskin, and Blue drug me there right quick, soon as we heard Mage howl. Nearly kilt me, he did,” she added, a complaint made to keep up her end of that disaffection. She realized she was petting the dog and quit.

  Dacey seemed to be struggling, still trying to gather his thoughts. “Tell me about tomorrow.”

  “They were going to kill you in front of the women and children. We don’t know what they’ll do now, but everyone’ll gather up like they’re supposed to, and we can ward ’em all if we take the hall. I...I told Trey and Burl about the wards — I had to, it was the only way to convince them we still had to make a try at it —” She hesitated, but Dacey only nodded.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “You done good to keep ’em thinking about an attack at all.”

  “They got the boys divvied up, give ’em their roles. I’m s’posed to meet ’em at the bottom between the river and the hall tomorrow morning.”

  “Where are we now?”

  “Not so far from there,” Blaine said, her own question in her voice as she heard the intent in his inquiry. “You ain’t planning —”

  “I can set the wards, Blaine, an’ it’ll free you up to do something else — talk to the women, most likely — they’re gonna be some scared, not knowing what’s happening and all.”