by Fran Jacobs
"Trellany!" I gasped. "Trellany!"
My bodyguard woke instantly and sprung from her bed, snatching up her sword from the rack it stood in. Then she stopped and stared at me, eyes wide. "What is it?" she gasped. "Prince Candale, what is it?"
"Bruises," I whispered. "I-I dreamed that a child grabbed my wrists and when I woke there were bruises!"
Trellany came towards me slowly and took the candle from my shaking hands and set it down. I had spilt wax all over the floor and myself, but I hadn't noticed it until now. She sat me down on the edge of her white covered bed and took my hands in hers. "Oh," she whispered, and she turned very pale. "Does it hurt?"
"Yes. Yes, of course it hurts."
"Hang on." She left me sitting there as she went to her wardrobe and, opening it, she took out a large wooden box. "Healing supplies," she told me. "I take many injuries in the practice yard." She returned with a small vial and a wad of cotton and I held out my wrists to her, letting her dab a small amount of cold and rather stinky liquid onto my bruises. It numbed in a pleasant, cooling way, but it didn't smell too nice.
"Thank you."
Trellany shrugged. "Do you want to tell me what happened in this dream?"
"I was in a cell with a child," I began slowly, "there was a dragon, this black mist thing and then the child grabbed me, called me the Seer a-and asked me for help." I felt a shiver run down my spine. "And when I woke, there were these bruises on my wrists!"
"Yes," Trellany said thoughtfully. "I can see that. Hmm."
"What does this mean, Trellany? H-how could a child do this? I don't understand ... and it called me the Seer. Do you think it knows something?"
"It was a dream, Prince Candale," Trellany said, trying to sound comforting. "I don't know how it bruised you, I don't know why it would call you the Seer, but it was just a dream. I don't think you should take what you've heard in a dream to be fact or worry about it unnecessarily."
"How can I not worry about it?" I stared at the bruises on my wrist, then looked back at Trellany. "How can I not worry about this, Trellany?"
"You should try not to worry about it, because there isn't anything we can do about this now. In the morning we can talk to King Sorron-"
"No," I said, cutting her off. "No. I don't want to bother him with this. Not yet, not until we've had a better look in the library. Maybe we can find something that can explain all this." I dropped my gaze again to study the bright bruises around my wrist; there were flakes of dried wax over my fingers and I absently picked at it. "At least this is proof that the child was there in my rooms and I didn't just imagine it."
"You've encountered this child before?" Trellany asked me in a quiet voice, setting the bottle of lotion onto her bedside table.
I lifted my eyes from my wax-covered fingers. "Twice," I said. "Once in a dream and once in my rooms, although Kal insists there was no one there. My grandfather thinks I imagined it when I hit my head or that Mayrila created it. But ... but as we now know Mayrila isn't lying when she says she believes that I'm the Seer, then she probably didn't send that child to me."
"No," Trellany said. "I guess not."
"I've also heard a child singing to me, the same child I think."
"Singing about what?"
"A ... a creature called Ellenessia, but I have no idea what that is."
"Were you awake when you heard this song?" I nodded and her brow creased. "That is odd," she said. "Not the dream itself, dreams are always strange, but that you've seen the child in your rooms, that you've heard it singing to you, and now there's this." Then she shook her head. "I don't know what it means, but it's clearly more than just a dream. I really do think that we should talk to King Sorron about this."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Not yet. I will, of course I will, just ... just not yet."
Trellany nodded reluctantly. "It's your choice, Prince Candale," she said. "Now, it's late. We should try and get some more sleep. We can handle this better in the morning."
"Yes," I said. "I suppose so."
"Do you want something to help you sleep?"
I looked up at her. "I can't sleep alone," I said. "I'll sleep here, on the floor, or drag in the couch, or something. Please, I can't sleep alone."
"Alone or in here with me will make no difference, Prince Candale, I can't come into your dreams to protect you from them."
"Oh, gods," I gasped, as I stared at her. She was right! I could die in my dreams! What if that child decided to cut my throat or the dragon crushed me, would I not wake? Would Trellany find my body lying in my bed, lifeless and crumpled?
"I'm sure that that won't happen, Prince Candale," Trellany said quickly, obviously guessing where my thoughts had gone, but it was too late to comfort me.
"How can you know that?" I demanded.
"I can't 'know' anything about any of this, Prince Candale," Trellany said, as she sat down beside me, her legs close to mine. It was then I realised she was just wearing a nightshirt and it was short. Short, white and nearly see-through. Her long legs, stretched out beside mine, were strong, muscled, but still feminine and pale, untouched by the sun, as mine were, such a strong contrast to her tanned arms and face. I felt my face flush and tore my eyes away from the sight of her bared flesh. "But I do know that if this child wanted you dead, you would be dead now. It would have killed you when it had the chance."
That was true. And the child had asked me for help, not tried to hurt me, but- "I still don't want to be alone. Please, let me stay here. I'll bring in the rug from in front of the fire. I'll be fine on that, I'm sure."
"Don't be silly." Trellany got to her feet and moved around to the other side of the bed. "The bed is large enough for two. If you're that afraid, then sleep beside me." I hesitated, just staring at her. "I will break your arm," she teased softly, "if you try anything improper."
"The whole concept is improper," I whispered, but I still slid under the covers, curling my body up as close to the edge of the bed as I could. I didn't look at her as she slid in beside me, the mattress creaking softly as she moved. The candle was blown out with a quick puff and the room was returned to its natural dark state. In silence, I lay there with eyes closed and my arms wrapped around myself, just listening to the sound of Trellany's slow breathing.
***
When I woke in the morning I was alone. It felt a little strange to come back to my senses in an unfamiliar room, with Trellany's pillow beneath my head, heavy with the scent of her perfume, and it took me a few minutes to gather my senses. When I felt more together I glanced down at my wrists. The bruises were still there, as dark and clear as they had been the night before, and they still hurt. A part of me had hoped they would fade, that the whole thing had just been in my imagination. But it was clear, in the cold light of day, that wasn't the case.
With a heavy, somewhat depressed, sigh, I got up.
I padded into the other room in my nightshirt and found Trellany there waiting for me.
"How are you feeling today?" she asked.
"Scared," I said simply.
"Do you want me to arrange a meeting with King Sorron? I know you said you didn't want to bother him but ..."
"No," I said. "I want to go to the library as planned. I want to find something that can explain this." I glanced down at my wrists, at the dark bruises. "Now more than ever."
"But there is no guarantee we'll find something about it in the library or that this is even connected to the Shadow Seer."
"It called me the Seer."
"Yes." Trellany nodded thoughtfully. "You said that last night, but that doesn't really mean anything. If it isn't Mayrila doing this, then perhaps it's the Order? They might have sent the child to hurt you, using magic of some sort? That would explain why the child called you the Seer, as the Order believes that you're him."
"But the Order want me dead, the child only grabbed my wrists. Like you said, if the child had wanted to kill me, I would be dead now."
"Yes," Trellany said s
oftly. "Yes, I know." She let out her breath wearily. "I don't know, Prince Candale. I don't know what to say, or what suggestions I can make to try and help you with this. I've never heard of anything like this before, of something in a dream leaving bruises in the waking world. Nor have I heard of people wanting someone, you, dead, not because you're a prince, or because they're against what you stand for, but because you might be a fabled prophet, one that we can find nothing about." I didn't know what to say, so I just shrugged. Trellany laughed. "No, I guess there isn't much that you can say to that. And you're right, it's probably best that we get on with our search in the library. Perhaps we can find something to explain this child, perhaps not, but the sooner we find something, anything, about this Shadow Seer, the happier I'll be."
"Me, too," I agreed.
"Well, go and get dressed. I'll have some breakfast sent up to the library. We can eat while we work."
"All right," I said, not bothering to tell her that I was far from hungry.
The day passed slowly, much like the one before had and, by the end of it, we still hadn't found even a brief mention of the Shadow Seer. Nor did we find anything the day after, or the day after that. In fact, it was the fourth day, when I was completely sick of the sight and smell of books and of the way the ink stained my fingers, and I would have been happy to never see another book again, that Teveriel finally found something.
He came over and set the book down in front of me, on top of the book I'd been reading. Staring down at the open page presented to me I found a picture of the boy with dark curling hair and violet eyes looking back.
It looked a little different from the picture Mayrila had shown me, but I hadn't expected it to be identical. This book, like most of those in the library, was just an accumulation of earlier sources, which made the picture a copy of an original, but it still looked enough like me to break the goosebumps out all over my body. Even Trellany looked unsettled, but then it was the first time she had seen the picture.
Teveriel put his hand on my shoulder, a heavy, but comforting weight, as I took a deep breath, and started to read the text that ran alongside the picture.
"'The Shadow Seer,'" I read out loud, my voice shaking, "'is a prophet of an ancient legend. The oldest surviving reference to him is in the Rose Prophecies, now kept in the archives of White Oaks, the Carnian mage school, but the Seer legend is much older than that book, although it's impossible to say just how old. The legend is that he will be born, following five signs, and will give his prophecies and visions of a world of darkness and chaos, where the kingdoms have fallen-'"
"There are five signs?" Teveriel interrupted. "Well, that will give you your answer right here and now, Candale. If the signs don't relate to you, there's nothing to worry about."
"That's true," I said. I skimmed the length of the page anxiously and then turned it over with my sweaty fingers until I found the small heading that introduced the five signs. By this point the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering around so furiously I thought I would vomit. "A comet will signify his birth," I said, wiping my sweaty hands on my breeches. "He will be the second son to a family of noble or royal blood, but he will be the heir, although he will never inherit." That stopped me for a moment and I had to take a deep breath. The Seer would not inherit. He would not become king, or the lord of his estate. "He ... will be born to a witch, the last of her line, yet he will have a sister younger than himself." Mayrila had said the same, that the Seer would be the end of her line. That must mean that the Seer would have no children. "He will take for himself a three-headed dragon seal. The final sign is that he will die, just before he becomes a man, yet he will live on." I narrowed my eyes, my brow creased with concentration as I skimmed the page further for what that might actually mean. "Oh," I said softly, suddenly feeling very cold, "scholars believe that this doesn't mean he will actually die, but that he will fall ill, or have an accident, of some sort, just before he comes of age. That illness, or accident, will mark the end of his life as a normal boy and the start of his life as a prophet." I swallowed back a tight lump and glanced over my shoulder at Teveriel. I could see the same look of anxious concern in his eyes, as I was sure were present in mine.
"It will then take a full year for the Seer's gifts to awaken fully," Trellany said, reading ahead. "Well," she said, "that answers your question as to why, if you are this Shadow Seer, you don't have any gifts yet, but really, Prince Candale, I don't think you should worry any further. The boy in the picture does look like you, but the signs, well, they're not all true for you, so we can put this down to a coincidence."
"Yes," I said, with a nervous smile, turning to look at her. "That's true. I'm not the second son and I never heard of any comet flying about before I was born." While the other signs might be true for me, if there hadn't been a comet and as I had no older brother to make me the second son, then it didn't matter how true the other signs were.
"You are the second son," Teveriel said in a small voice.
I whirled around to face him. "What?" I gasped.
Teveriel bowed his head, his face hidden beneath his honey hair. "By the reckoning of other kingdoms, by Idryan, say, or Drasa, you are the second son. King Sorron is the head of your family, the oldest living male, and all other male children, as long as they're in a direct line of lineage to him, are his sons. Prince Gerian would be the first son, and as he has no brothers, you would then be the second. By Idryan and Drasan logic, at least."
"Oh," I whispered. "Yes, you're right. I-I'd forgotten about that."
"And," Teveriel continued, "And the Shadow Seer ... the references, they aren't necessarily bound to Carnian law and tradition, so this can still apply to you. Besides, I think it was the tradition here to organise families in the same way, a few hundred years ago."
"Yes," I said. "Yes, it was." I took a deep breath. "What about the comet?"
"I was four years old when you were born, Candale," Teveriel replied. "I can't remember that far back."
"There was a comet," Trellany said, her voice a whisper, "the day before you were born. Everyone was very excited. It was meant to be a good omen, a sign that you would make a good king."
"Oh," I said again, quieter this time, my voice barely audible, even to myself. "Oh, gods."
"What I meant by you not having all the signs true of you, is that you aren't the son of a witch," Trellany said quickly, pointing it out on the page, needlessly. "So there's no need to worry."
"Oh, gods," I whispered again. "Oh, dear gods." I couldn't think of anything else to say. My mind was suddenly blank and I felt cold. Bile rose up in my throat and I swallowed it down miserably. The world was collapsing, imploding, falling into a giant hole that had opened up by my feet, and I wanted it to drag me down with it.
"He is the son of a witch," I heard Teveriel say very softly. His hand squeezed my shoulder tightly but I could barely register it.
"Don't say that!" Trellany snapped, shock leading her to anger. "Princess Silnia is his mother. Don't say that she's a witch! She isn't even a damn healer!"
"Mayrila is my mother," I said, in a voice that didn't sound like mine at all and when the words were out I couldn't even remember having said them.
"What?"
Trellany's outraged gasp stung and I flinched from it, even as more words tumbled out of my mouth against my wishes. There seemed no point in holding it back, not now. "Mayrila is my mother. My father paid her to give birth to me. She's a witch, I'm a bastard, and all the damn signs are true for me. I am the bloody Seer!" I lowered my head down onto the page with a dull thud and shut my eyes to close out the world. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Mayrila's insane story had come true. I was the Seer. All the signs pointed directly at me. Five signs, all being true for me, couldn't be a coincidence. I had to be that foretold prophet.
"There has to be some mistake!" Trellany protested.
I didn't bother to answer her. I heard Teveriel's quiet voice as he gave her a reply, but I d
idn't really listen to what he had to say. The book said it would take a year, following his illness for the Seer's gifts to fully awaken. Did that mean they would awaken gradually, that it would be a sporadic start, a vision here, a strange dream there, before they came to life more fully and I became someone unrecognisable, even to myself? Was I going to have to live every day in fear, terrified that that would be the day when I would have my first vision? I wasn't going to be able to cope with that. I wasn't going to be able to do this at all.
Finally I lifted my head from the book. Behind me Trellany and Teveriel were arguing and it wasn't difficult to catch what they were saying. Trellany was furious that Teveriel knew that Mayrila was my mother, but no one had told her and that the bard knew everything and she wasn't sure he was trustworthy. While Teveriel was arguing that he couldn't be sure that she was trustworthy and that she was just a bodyguard, after all, so why did she think she had a right to know any secrets?
I listened to them for what felt like a lifetime, their quiet voices arguing the same points over and over while I sat still and stared down at the pages in front of me. My eyes refused to focus on the words. The letters were all blurred together into a mess of black swirls. It took all my strength to force myself to blink and refocus.
When I could see again I reread the part about the signs another three times. I wanted to see if the words had magically changed or if I had missed something the first time I had read it, or even the second time, but the words didn't change. Still in neat black script on yellowing parchment were those five detailed signs, and those five detailed signs still pointed at me. With a heavy heart I forced myself to read on. Now I was searching for some other form of comfort, some idea as to what the visions would be like, or how long this all might last for me, or just some details as to what I might expect. But I could find nothing that eased my anxiety. In fact, what I read next only made me feel worse.