Seer's Hope

By Maree Anderson

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 ordered.

Hope 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." Blayne 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.

Could this be Blayne's 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 feeling queasy?" 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 out 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 the cause of your infertility. When you were transformed, the gods blessed you further by insuring you could have children."

Hope 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'd 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 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, 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.

~*~

Hope 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 Blayne 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?" Blayne called from the doorway. "It's Blayne and Hope."

"Won't be a moment," Roban's cheery voice responded. He swept Hope into a hug, and must have noticed her wrinkling 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, however, Roban 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 steeping 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 Hope's 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," Hope 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?"

"Indeed." Zavier's voice was deep and measured. He struck Hope as a careful and steady kind of man—a perfect foil for the more outgoing Roban. "We will support Treya in all ways," he said. "We will insure she and Hopian have what's best for them."

Blayne addressed the baby in Zavier's arms. "What a lucky little boy you are to have two daddies, hmm?"

The object of all the fuss cooed.

"Can I hold him, please?" Blayne asked. "It's been too long since I've held a newborn for the pleasure of it."

"Of course."

The baby fussed a bit as Zavier handed him over but Blayne quickly settled him down.

"You'd make an excellent father—you've always had a way with babies and children," Treya said. "See? He's almost asleep already."

Yearning lanced through Hope. She ducked her head and sipped her tea, wishing with all her heart that she could see Blayne right now. She set aside her cup to knuckle away a tear, and disguised the gesture by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Treya said, and Hope sensed a flurry of movement.

"Slow down, Treya," Roban called after her. "They're not going anywhere."

Treya returned and resumed her seat next to Hope. "I have something for you and Blayne."

The "something" turned out to be two bulky rolls tied with cord.

"This top one's yours, Hope. Go on, open it. Blayne's got his hands full of baby."

Hope picked apart the loosely knotted cord and unrolled what she thought was the pelt of some animal. She heard Blayne's sharp intake of breath as he identified the heavy, coarse fur.

"Blayne couldn't participate in the hunt because of me," Treya said, "so I thought it only fair to give you these instead. It's the pelt of a she-wolf. Blayne's is the pelt of the male. They're my gift to you for saving me and my baby."

Hope ran her palm over the pelt. Her vision changed focus. Her heartbeat quickened. And then....

She lopes along with her mate at her side. He is cunning, strong—a worthy mate. As they approach a forested area she is distracted by a strange scent. She veers off to explore. Her mate follows her, curious.

The half-eaten carcass is propped against a tree. She sniffs it, lets the scent curl through her. It is one of the hind-leg-walkers that lives in a large pack by the big water.

She pads around the body. One of its legs is at strange angle. A sharp piece of wood lies by one of its forepaws. The tip of the wood is bloody.

She accesses pack memories, remembers hind-leg-walkers using these sharp-sticks to kill creatures. She sniffs the carcass and the stick. The scent is the same. This one has impaled itself on its sharp-stick and died from blood loss. Some other meat-eater—a lynx from the pungent scent—has gnawed on the carcass.

The she-wolf has no taste for hind-leg-walker flesh. She touches muzzles with her mate, signaling her need to leave this place.

Her nose catches their scents but it is too late to hide. Sharp-sticks rain down on her. Her mate is already down, felled by a piercing blow to his ribs..

She snarls, baring her fangs. She knows it is hopeless but she is too hurt to run. One of their sticks finds her heart... and all is blackness.

~*~

"Now you have Seen the truth."

The words echoed in Hope's mind. Emotions smote her—sadness, an overwhelming sense of loss. Anger.

"Hope... Hope! What did you See?" Blayne's hands were clamped on her forearms.

"The truth. I think— I think he wants me to tell you what I have Seen."

"Who? Who told you to tell the truth?"

"I do not know. His voice echoed in my mind when the vision ended. He was not part of the Seeing. He was separate... different."

Blayne's breath hissed out. "Can you try and tell us what you saw?"

"Yes." The importance of relating as many details as possible sank into her bones. The voice—whoever it had been—needed her to do this. She centered herself as Dayamar had taught her and related her vision.

"These wolves did not want to eat the man," she finished. "They had done nothing wrong."

"And the voice?"

"He told me I had Seen the truth. It was not a human's voice but I know it was male. He was saddened by the killings." The hand that had been stroking the wolf's pelt stilled. These were the pelts of the she-wolf and her mate from her Seeing. Hope knew it absolutely.

The shock that had only grown during her recitation boiled and crackled about the room until finally, Treya broke the silence. "You saw Lyam. I— Everyone believes those two wolves killed him. But... but you're saying he was already dead? That his death was an accident?"

"Yes. That is what I have Seen."

Treya's answering moan chilled Hope's heart.

"I am so very sorry, Treya." Mere words were inadequate in the face of this anguish.

Self-loathing coated Hope's skin. "I hate this," she spat. "I hate this... this... causing pain and misery!"

"Hope—" Blayne tried to gather her close but she pushed him away.

"I think we're overlooking something even more important than the truth of Lyam's passing." Zavier spoke quietly but the intensity in his voice commanded attention. "Who do you think felt it imperative that Hope to learn the truth?"

"Wisa's white feathers," Roban said. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Who holds wolves in such high esteem? Who would know the truth about these two wolves in particular? And who, other than Dayamar, would have the ability to speak to Hope through her Seeing when she touched this she-wolf's pelt?"

"Shikari," Roban whispered.

"Yes. Shikari."

Hope felt a warm hand encompass hers. Zavier's hand. "Hope, you were sent this Seeing so you could tell Treya the truth about her life-partner's death. You were right to think the voice wasn't human. It wasn't. A god spoke to you."

She didn't want to believe him. But the presence in her mind had been so overwhelmingly "other" she couldn't think of another logical explanation. And, at some elemental level, her tightly held internal beliefs had shifted. She'd been profoundly affected by this encounter. It left her no choice but to believe.

Believing didn't make her any less angry, however. "Why tell me this and cause Treya more pain? Has she not she been through enough? Are your gods so very cruel?"

"Since Lyam died I've hated wolves." Treya's voice sounded very small and subdued—almost childlike save for the undertone of deep guilt. "And when you Saw my baby was to be a boy I was glad to know I would bear a son. I vowed to teach him to hate the animals I believed killed his father. I vowed to teach him to hunt them, so he could kill them all. Every time I looked at these pelts, my hatred gnawed at me until I knew I had to be rid of them." Her sigh eked out, tangled with pain and regret. "I'm ashamed I've given you a gift so tainted by hatred, but I truly did think you and Blayne would find them useful."

"I understand," Hope said. And she did. "When my family died, I could not bear to have some of their possessions in my house. They reminded me too much of what I had lost. I gave them away."

"I know why I had so much trouble birthing Hopian," Treya said. "Something inside me knew I would warp my son with my hatred. What sort of legacy would that be for him? Taught to kill—not for food or clothing—but for revenge? I would have encouraged him to spend his whole life killing. What kind of man would he have grown into because of me?"

Hope couldn't bear the anguish she could See hovering about her friend like some malicious ghost. "Treya—"

"Let me finish. You don't understand, Hope. This goes against all our beliefs—everything the gods have taught us. And my son would have become a vicious killer because of a mistake." Treya dissolved into sobs while her infant son snuffled in his sleep, oblivious to the emotion-charged atmosphere.

"Does that answer your question, Hope?" Zavier asked. "Your Seeing is allowing Treya to finally mourn Lyam's death in a healthy way. Your Seeing will insure her son knows the truth about his father's death. It may not seem like a good thing right now, but it is good."

Abruptly exhausted, Hope sagged against Blayne. So much for not overtaxing herself.

He tucked her beneath his arm. "If it's all right with you, Treya, I'll announce what happened to Lyam at next week's settlement meeting. People should know the truth. There have been far too many senseless killings of wolves since his death."

"Yes, yes. Of course." Treya sniffed and huffed out a shaky breath. "Hope, please don't blame yourself. The truth needed to be told—surely you can see that?"

"Yes. I see."

"I'll understand if you don't wish to accept my gift. Perhaps these pelts would be better burned."

"No. I accept your gift, Treya." And Hope had already decided how she would use them.

~*~

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com