The Seer

by Rowan McAllister

  “Sorry,” Ravi muttered to no one in particular. “You should keep that thing tied up,” he continued, scowling at Daks. “It’s a menace.”

  Instead of rising to the bait and giving Ravi an excuse to vent his frustration and embarrassment, Daks merely yawned and said, “He’s a perfect gentleman with me.”

  “Now that we’re all awake, we might as well discuss our next moves,” Shura cut in blandly, stopping any snarky reply Ravi might have made.

  He huffed out a breath. She was right. The sooner they got going, the sooner he’d be free of these infuriating people and their equally annoying animals.

  He plopped back on the ground and folded his arms across his chest as Daks shook out his cloak and put it on without a word. He didn’t meet Daks’s gaze when the man came over to him and grabbed the waterskin Ravi had drunk from earlier. Daks loomed over him as he upended it into his mouth, and Ravi tried very hard not to look at the part of Daks’s anatomy that was currently at eye level, encased in supple, form-fitting leather.

  “Our next best chance at getting across will be Reyan,” Daks said. “We’re only half a day’s ride away. The town isn’t as large as Urmat, but we should be able to find someone with a boat for hire who won’t ask too many questions. If we hurry, we could get there and across the Matna long before any word of us could possibly come up from Urmat or Rassat. We’ll just be simple travelers needing a quick ferry across, nothing for the villagers to concern the guard with.”

  Daks continued to hover as he spoke. The wool of his cloak brushed Ravi’s shoulders, making it hard for him to add much to the conversation. He felt the heat rolling off the man, and he scowled and hugged his own ragged cloak tighter around himself, pulling the hood up to hide his face even as he rolled his eyes.

  At least the idiot hadn’t said “What could possibly go wrong?” But his blind optimism, given everything that had happened so far, didn’t inspire a great deal of confidence.

  Shura didn’t seem to share his attitude either, judging by the pursing of her lips, but she didn’t contradict him.

  “Do either of you know anyone in Reyan?” Mistress Sabin asked.

  “I doubt it. It’s been quite a while since we’ve had to travel this far from Rassat,” Daks answered, sharing a look with Shura. “Other, uh, associates of ours normally deal in the more rural territories, but we don’t know who their contacts are.”

  Mistress Sabin worried her lip. “I might know someone. Maran has family in the North, near Reyan. They could possibly be willing to help, but I make no guarantees.”

  “That’s better than nothing if we run into trouble,” Daks replied. “Do you think they’ll have a boat?”

  “I don’t know. They’re not fisherman. They’re farmers, from what I recall.”

  “It might be worth it to look them up anyway,” Daks said, sharing another silent conversation with Shura with just a look.

  The slight stab of jealousy Ravi experienced surprised him. Why should he be jealous? Their easy companionship? Their loyalty to each other? He’d had that with Vic and some of the others, and he’d have it again someday, once he got settled in Samebar.

  Daks suddenly crouched down next to him and began to rifle through the packs they’d piled behind the saddles, pulling small cloth-wrapped parcels out. Ravi gave the man a disgruntled look and scooted farther away.

  “There’s still enough food for today, but not much more than that,” Daks said as he stood, dusted his breeches off, and started moving about their campsite, finally putting enough space between them that Ravi could relax.

  “I’ll take the horses down to the water and fill our skins, while the rest of you divvy up the food,” Daks continued.

  Shura and Mistress Sabin moved as one to the parcels and unwrapped a couple of heels of bread, dried fruit and meat, and a small wheel of cheese.

  Ravi got to his feet and hovered nearby, feeling useless. “Should I, uh, get some wood for the fire?” he asked as Daks disappeared into the trees with the horses in tow.

  Shaking her head, Shura said, “We have enough coals to toast the bread and soften the cheese. We’ll be leaving soon, so there’s no need. Come. Eat. Everyone will need their strength.”

  Mistress Sabin eyed him warily as he closed the last few feet between them, but Ravi was used to that look from anyone who knew his secret. Even Vic had worn a similar expression sometimes, when he thought Ravi wasn’t looking. He guessed he should be grateful Mistress Sabin didn’t make the Holy Trinity symbol of Quanna, Moc, and Chytel with her hands and sing a warding hymn every time he came near.

  He claimed his share of breakfast from Shura, ducked his head, and hurried to the other side of the dying fire to eat, separate from the women. Shura hadn’t stinted on his portion, and he stopped halfway through his breakfast and opened the flap of his bag to save the rest for later.

  “Eat it all, Ravi,” Daks’s deep voice rumbled behind him, making him start.

  “You said it was the last,” he argued, tipping his head back but not quite meeting the man’s eyes.

  “We’ll reach Reyan this afternoon,” Daks replied gruffly. “Even if something happens and we have to keep traveling, we aren’t going to be able to go much farther without resupply. The horses need more than a few spring shoots and grasses. Hells, even if all goes well, we’ll have to get more food from the town to tide us over on the other side… one way or another.”

  He turned toward the women as he said that last, and Mistress Sabin shifted and frowned at him. Ravi glanced between the two of them until Mistress Sabin flinched away from his gaze. He silently swore and averted his eyes before tugging his hood forward and tucking into what was left of his food—doing it because he was still hungry, not because Daks had ordered him to.

  When they had finished eating, Daks and Shura saddled one of the mares and Horse, while Ravi threw dirt on the fire. After some discussion, in which Ravi’s opinion was largely ignored, Daks and Shura decided to keep the riding arrangements the same as the night before. Begrudgingly, Ravi had to admit the stallion miraculously seemed to still be faring much better than the mares, despite having to carry two grown men on his back much of the night. Ravi could also reluctantly admit he was the biggest liability in their party, so complaining too loudly about anything wasn’t a great idea, no matter how much he wanted to.

  He stubbornly refused Daks’s offer of help and climbed into the saddle himself, despite the protests of his aching body. He held himself stiffly in the saddle for the entire ride, trying to avoid any accidental contact with the brick of a man behind him, but it wasn’t easy. He swore the damned stallion was in on some dastardly plan to make his ride as uncomfortable as possible, jostling him back against Daks’s chest any time he started to relax.

  Daks had attempted to start light conversation with him a few times, like the ladies were doing behind them, but Ravi had stubbornly refused to be drawn out, and Daks had quickly given up. Of course, Ravi paid for that bit of spite by having nothing to distract him from his discomfort. But at least the sun had warmed him enough he was no longer cold and miserable, just miserable.

  As the journey dragged on, the lure of Daks’s hard chest and thick arms hovered at his back, tempting him. Maybe he could let go for just a little while. Daks didn’t seem averse to touching him, quite the contrary really. It had been so long since he’d been touched or been able to touch anyone without fear. What would be the harm, really? He could just lean back a little bit, to ease his sore muscles.

  Daks suddenly pulled on the reins and ground out a curse, jolting Ravi out of his argument with himself, heart pounding. When Ravi twisted around to glare at him, Daks’s jaw was set in a hard line.

  “What is it?” Shura asked as she drew alongside them.

  “Pain priest,” Daks growled and cursed again.

  “You’re sure?” Mistress Sabin asked, eyeing him askance before scanning their surroundings.

  “He’s a very talented Sensitive,” Shura said
. “If he says he feels one, then there is one.”

  “Maybe more than one,” Daks replied absently.

  “A Sensitive?” Mistress Sabin asked, her expression wavering between seeming distaste and curiosity.

  “You’d call him a Finder, if he were a member of the Brotherhood,” Shura explained, her expression hardening ever so slightly. She turned her attention back to Daks. “More than one Pain priest in a little town like Reyan?”

  “This is a problem,” Daks muttered.

  You think? Ravi’s stomach twisted, and he seemed to be having trouble getting enough air into his lungs.

  “Keep calm.” Daks’s voice rumbled in his ear as a large, warm palm settled at the join of his neck and shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Breathe and keep control.”

  Ravi closed his eyes and tried, not bothering to shake the hand off him, though he didn’t want to admit how comforting he found it.

  “They’re in the town,” Daks continued, his voice calmer and more assured. “I’m close enough now that I can feel them, so we’re going to have to avoid it until we have a plan.”

  Ravi let that voice wash over him, ignoring the one in his head reminding him how much Daks’s confidence and certainty had been worth in the past.

  “I’m the least, uh, noticeable of all of you. The brothers should have no reason to question me. I can go into town to ask about a boat or find Maran’s family,” Mistress Sabin offered, her gaze locked on Shura rather than either of the two men.

  “We can both go, as we did before,” Shura said with a reassuring smile.

  Mistress Sabin shook her head even as she grimaced in apparent apology. “I think it best if I go alone this time. Word may be on its way already from Urmat, and you are… distinctive, Shura. My coloring may be a bit fairer than most Rassans that live this far south and east, and a woman traveling alone a little odd, but not so noteworthy as all that. I should be able to make my inquiries and leave without causing much fuss.”

  Shura and Daks exchanged a long look this time. Eventually Daks nodded, but he didn’t seem happy about it.

  “This trip has been more harrowing than you’d originally bargained for,” Shura said to Mistress Sabin. “We are very grateful for your help.”

  Mistress Sabin smiled and her cheeks pinked. “I’ll admit I hadn’t anticipated this much excitement. It makes me doubly sorry Maran and the others couldn’t risk finding us a boat out of Rassat’s harbor instead.”

  “None of us could have foreseen all the difficulties we’ve faced,” Shura replied, making Ravi wince. “Thank you for sticking it out, when you could have safely returned to your people.”

  Mistress Sabin blushed darker. “I wouldn’t be much help to my people if I gave up at the first sign of adversity.”

  Ravi was the only one close enough to hear the low groan Daks let out before he pointedly cleared his throat. “Still, we’re grateful to you, Fara. But we should get moving if we want to stay ahead of those who may be chasing us.”

  “Oh. Right.” The mistress’s face flushed even darker as she seemed to suddenly remember he and Ravi were there. She urged her horse forward and wrinkled her brow at Daks. “Where should I meet you?”

  If Ravi hadn’t been staring at Daks over his shoulder, waiting for his answer, he might have missed the quick glance Daks shot his way as he said, “I think we should keep our distance from the town, but I don’t like staying so near the road, and there will be too many people by the river. If I remember right, there’s a festival space to the west of town across a shallow stretch of the Kun, where they hold their high holy days. We’ll swing wide of town and meet you in the woods behind it.”

  “All right. That should be easy enough to find. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.” With one last small smile for Shura, the mistress nudged her mare toward town.

  When she was far enough away not to hear them, Daks turned to Shura and asked, “Are you sure we should trust her?”

  Instead of immediately jumping to her defense, as Ravi half expected given some of the flirting he’d witnessed over the last couple of days, Shura shrugged and pursed her lips, gazing in the direction the mistress had gone. “I don’t know. But our options are somewhat limited at present. If we can get across to Samebar cleanly and quietly, I’d much prefer it to trying to steal a boat and supplies under the noses of pain priests. Ordinary men might not be able to do much, even if we’re spotted crossing in the dark of night, but a stone-wielder could use their magic to sink us or force our boat back to Rassa with little effort, particularly if they’re warned of our presence in time to prepare.”

  She shot a glance at Ravi, but was much less subtle about it than Daks had been, and Ravi flinched and turned away.

  Yeah, he knew he was the problem. He always knew it. The thought of being the reason some poor villager was taken as an offering and tortured to recharge a pain priest’s stone made him almost as queasy as the fear of being captured by the Brotherhood.

  Daks swung off the saddle behind him, then reached up and offered him a hand. “Come on. We’ll need to cut through the woods, and Fara may be a little while. We might as well give the horses—and our asses—a break and walk the rest of the way.”

  This time, Ravi took it and allowed Daks to help him down. Shura dismounted as well, and Daks led them across the road and into the woods on the other side.

  None of them bothered to talk much during their trek. Picking their way through the underbrush required a bit of attention, and Ravi needed to save his breath. He was used to working long hours, running errands, stacking crates, and any other odd jobs he could get in Rassat, but this was a whole different level of exertion, and the constant anxiety and fear didn’t help.

  When Daks finally stopped, the woods around them didn’t appear any different from what they’d been struggling through, and he gave the man a questioning look.

  “The green is over there.” Daks pointed to a slightly brighter area off to his right.

  Feeling completely out of his depth, Ravi simply nodded and slumped onto a fallen log. The other two settled farther up the log while the horses were left to graze nearby.

  After only a short rest, the silence began to feel oppressive. The only sounds around him were the occasional trill of birdsong and rustle of branches in the breeze.

  “Do you still feel them?” he asked Daks, cocking his chin toward the town.

  “Yes. Members of the Thirty-Six are hard to miss. The relics they wear are quite… loud, for lack of a better word, very distinctive, especially when charged.”

  He’d said that last with a grimace, and Ravi worried his lip as he studied the man. Daks might be an impulsive brute, but he knew a hell of a lot more about magic than Ravi did. The scholar in him longed to pummel the man with questions, draw out everything he knew, and write it down in a journal, but he bit the words back. He’d have plenty of time to learn from actual wizards when he reached Samebar.

  “Will Mistress Sabin be able to find us here?” Ravi asked instead.

  Both of his traveling companions were staring at him now, and he squirmed.

  “She should have no trouble,” Daks replied kindly. “The festival green isn’t hard to find. Anyone in town should be able to point her in the right direction. I’ve kept back a bit because the big guy over there stands out like a sore thumb.” Daks nodded in the direction of the white stallion, who gazed placidly back at them. “But I should be able to see her when she makes it to the tree line.”

  “What if she doesn’t come back?”

  Shura’s jaw hardened, and Ravi winced.

  “If she doesn’t come, we’ll wait until dark, and I’ll make a foray into town to explore our options,” Daks replied evenly. Shura opened her mouth, but Daks shook his head at her and placed a hand on her arm. “I’m less—what was the word she used—distinctive than you are… or at least I can be when I want to. If anyone could have possibly sent word up from Urmat, they’ll be looking for you. I’m just a unsav
ory dark-haired type they may have caught a glimpse of in a dark alley. They were following you, and the farther we get from Rassat, the more attention you will draw.”

  She sniffed but didn’t argue with him.

  “You’d steal a boat, with members of the Thirty-Six around?” Ravi asked nervously.

  Daks grimaced. “Not if we don’t have to. As Shura said, we risk magical attack even if we manage to get a boat big enough for all of us to go at once. I’d rather find someone amenable to a trade, someone with no great love for the Brotherhood, or with no great love for law and order in general… though I’m not sure Fara was the right person to send on such a mission.”

  “She will get us information, and we can go from there,” Shura huffed, as if they’d had this conversation already, and Daks grunted noncommittally.

  Chapter Seven

  DAKS CRACKED his neck and rolled his shoulders as he resisted the urge to get up and pace the clearing. They were all anxious. He didn’t need to make it worse by prowling like a caged animal, but he sure as hells wanted to. Sitting on his ass while he left his fate to a stranger went contrary to everything he was.

  He glanced pensively over at Ravi, huddled beneath his ratty cloak, the hood pulled all the way up despite the warmth of the spring sunlight filtering through the trees. Had he done the right thing? Each time things went from bad to worse, he asked himself that question, and he was still afraid to answer it.

  Seers were always the most unpredictable of the magic users. Even after hundreds of years, the scholars hadn’t perfected training them or predicting when their power would manifest. At least half of the Seers he’d ever met were borderline insane… but they had their own tower at the Scholomagi and were well taken care of, particularly now when any tiny bit of information they could glean from their gifts was necessary. Ravi would be better off there than here at least, right?

  Despite his best intentions, Daks stood and started pacing. He didn’t like it when he had too much time to think. He started questioning everything and tying himself in knots. He’d been cut adrift by the High Council. He had no clear directive anymore, no one else calling the shots. Was he making good decisions?