Seer's Hope

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Thirteen

Hope folded like a damp rag. Before Roban could react, Dayamar moved lightning fast, scooping her up and laying her gently on the floor. "See to Treya, Johan," Dayamar said. "I promise you Sehan Hope will be all right."

Roban clenched his fists, his body straining with the need to do something—anything. But when Johan gasped, Roban tore his worried gaze from the young Sehan to check on Treya.

Instead of a weary, pain-wracked woman, hovering at death's door, he saw a healthy-looking female who merely seemed to be sleeping. Her breathing had strengthened and her color was good. In fact, she practically glowed. The relief he felt was so immense he had to lock his muscles to keep himself upright.

Her eyelids fluttered, and when they opened, her gaze was lucid. And determined. Brow creased with effort, she bore down, and began to push.

"Gods!" Johan snatched a couple of quick breaths. "That's it, Treya. You're nearly there. The baby's crowning."

Roban could not look away. Some unknown force held him captive, compelling him to bear witness.

Treya grit her teeth and rallied for another tremendous push. Johan gently assisted the baby's head to turn to the side. A final push, and then Treya's baby slithered out in a rush.

"It's a boy!" the healer announced.

But the baby was silent and limp. Roban held his breath until he saw stars, while Johan held the little one by his ankles and administered a smart tap on his backside. The healer was rewarded with a lusty wail of outrage. He checked the baby's vital signs, wrapped him in a soft cloth and handed him to the nearest able person....

Roban.

"But—" Roban's half-hearted protest was ignored while the healer focused on the newborn's mother, and delivering the afterbirth.

Roban had never been present at a birth before. He'd imagined the process to be painful, messy, and not in any way, shape or form, a spectator sport. What he'd just witnessed didn't change his mind one iota. But as he examined the squalling, red-faced bundle of baby in his arms, he knew in the depths of his soul he'd witnessed a miracle.

His hands shook as he unwrapped the swaddling cloth. He marveled at the perfection of the little body. Tiny fingers and toes, wrinkled skin.... Treya's infant son was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The baby stopped wailing, opened his eyes, and gurgled. And Roban was smitten.

"Johan, how is our patient?" Dayamar asked. "She looks very well to me."

Treya surprised them all by speaking for herself. "I'm fine, Dayamar. Really. My baby? Is he all right?"

"Roban!"

Johan's bark startled man and baby both. The baby whimpered, tiny bowed lips quivering. Roban soothed the infant and spared a glare for the healer.

"Stop cooing over him and bring him to his mother. She's done all the hard work. She deserves the cuddling, not you." Now the drama was over, Johan's biting wit was firmly back in place.

"Johan?" Treya's voice sounded thready and small, and the healer's attention snapped back to her. "I don't know how, but I think Hope helped my baby to be born. How could she do that?"

"Don't worry about that for now." Johan helped her sit up and tucked a blanket around her. "All that matters is that you have a healthy son." He clicked his fingers at Roban.

Roban's reluctance to hand the baby over surprised him. He'd blocked children from his mind long ago—an act of self-preservation that allowed him to cope with knowing he'd never have a son or daughter of his own to raise. He loved Zavier with all his heart, but two men could never have a child together. He'd accepted that long ago. Or so he'd thought.

Treya gazed at her son. "He looks just like Lyam." She put the baby to her breast. He rooted for the nipple, then latched on and suckled noisily. She gulped. Her chin quivered. And fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

Roban surprised himself yet again by perching on the edge of the sleeping platform and draping an arm about her shoulders. He didn't even have to cast about for the right words to say—they rolled off his tongue. "He does look like his daddy. Lyam would have been so very proud of you both."

He meant every word. And when Treya smiled at him through her tears, he felt a surge of pride and something else—a deep, warm, heady emotion he'd only felt once before... for Zavier, the man he loved.

As Johan approached Hope she seemed to come to her senses. She managed a dazed smile and cocked her head, listening to the baby's contented gurgle.

"I gather you had a lot to do with this happy outcome. How do you feel?" Johan took hold of her wrist to check her pulse. Strong and steady. Good.

"I am well, Johan," the young Sehan assured him. "Just a little tired."

He laid the back of his hand on her forehead, and studied her wan face before glancing in askance at Dayamar. And when Dayamar smiled and nodded, Johan finally allowed himself to fully relax.

"Both you and Treya require bed-rest for the next couple of days," Johan told her. "You'll both recuperate in the Healing Hall so we can keep an eye on you."

"Roban can look after Treya and her baby," Dayamar announced in a firm tone that suggested neither party had a choice in the matter. "There's a spare room for him—and Zavier, too, if he's amenable to the arrangement."

Johan opened his mouth to comment that Roban wasn't exactly the kind of caregiver he had in mind, and besides, Treya might be far more comfortable with a woman staying to help, but he didn't get the chance.

"And I will stay in the spare room at Blayne's house to take care of Hope's needs until the Panakeya returns," Dayamar announced.

Johan's jaw dropped. His mouth worked but despite the questions seething in his mind, no words were forthcoming.

The old Sehan answered him mind-to-mind. The Gods have decreed this unusual pairing will take place. Roban's involvement with Treya and her baby is meant to be.

Johan shut his mouth with a snap. Far be it for him to question godly decrees. He called in the boy he'd set to guard the door, and sent him off to locate Zavier. "Now make sure you tell him these exact words: 'Roban's with Treya, and he'll be staying awhile.' Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Close your mouth or something nasty will fly into it. Shoo!"

"Healer Johan." Dayamar tried for sternness but the twitching of his lips gave him away. "You're deliberately stirring the pot."

"Sehan Dayamar. After the stress I've been through today, surely you won't deprive me of my fun?"

This time Dayamar outright guffawed. "I haven't the heart. Come, Hope. Let's get you home."

"Not until I hold the baby. Treya, may I?"

"Of course." Treya smiled at her. "Roban? Would you please give him to Hope?"

Johan observed as Roban carefully transferred the infant from his mother's arms to Hope's.

Gently, reverently, Hope caressed his head and cheek. The baby's eyes drooped. Yawning, he relaxed into sleep. "Oh, he's wonderful, Treya," she whispered.

Johan frowned. The young Sehan's eyes were shadowed with such a deep sadness he couldn't help but wonder at the underlying cause.

"Have you thought of a name for him yet?" Hope asked Treya.

"Yes. I'm going to call him Hopian. It means 'hope' in old Dayamaru."

"Very apt," Johan said. And blinked rapidly to get rid of whatever had gotten into his eye.

~*~

Blayne pried open his eyelids, groaned, and quickly shut them again. After a minute or two he tried again, and this time the world stayed still. He tensed his abdominal muscles, preparing to sit up, and then thought better of it when his body protested some more. His head spun like he'd drunk too much potent liquor, and he felt weak as a newborn kit.

Cayl and Varaya eased him up, and Willem proffered a water-skin. Blayne quenched his thirst and then tipped the skin over his head, scrubbing his scalp and face with the cool water. "Ah. That's better."

"Shikari's shaggy hide, what happened?" Cayl demanded.

"I'm not sure. Hope needed help. She was fighting... something. I need to see her." Gritting his teeth, Blayne rolled to his knees. Cayl restrained him with a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't summon the strength to resist, and sat back on his heels, head hanging, chest heaving with exertion.

"Where do you think you're going?" Varaya demanded.

"Back to the settlement."

"I don't think—"

"I'm going. Now."

She threw up her hands. "Good luck getting there without falling on your face."

"I'll go with him," Cayl said. "The rest of you should continue the hunt."

Willem gnawed his lip. "I think we should call it off."

"I agree," Varaya said. "If something's happened to Hope, you can bet Sehan Dayamar will be affected, too."

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 a reluctant 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 little 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 the door to Treya's quarters he had to lean on the frame 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 we 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 be spending 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, courtesy of a small bright light dancing 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 behind Hope and now 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. Dayamar's 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 insured the safety of his people.

Extinguishing his palm-light, Dayamar returned to his room.

~*~

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com