Seer's Hope 

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Five

Blayne clenched his hands into tight fists. All he could do was stand helplessly at Hope's side. Now he truly understood how the relatives of seriously ill patients must feel. Every muscle strained with the need to ignore Dayamar's command and render what little aid he could as he watched Hope writhe and clutch her stomach. She full-body shuddered, twitching and jerking. Her teeth chattered. A hoarse cry ripped from her throat... and one last gusty sigh that sounded like a death-rattle before she lapsed into unconsciousness.

They eased her down onto the mattress. Blayne checked her vital signs, and only then released the breath he'd been holding. Her pulse was now steady and her breathing had visibly eased.

He covered her with a blanket and told himself to relax. The danger was over. For now.

Cayl approached, jaw gaping at Hope's prone form. He shook his head, his body vibrating disbelief. "Sehan Dayamar, what does this mean? How can she possibly be a Sehan?"

He'd voiced questions Blayne wanted answered. How could this young woman be a Sehan when she was blind? How could a stranger, not of this world, be a Sehan?

"She needs rest," Dayamar said. "Nothing you have witnessed here is to be discussed outside this hall." His tone brooked no argument. "Blayne, we must talk. Johan will watch over Hope."

No way was Blayne leaving her side. "If you want to talk to me, Sehan Dayamar, do it here. I'm not leaving her."

Dayamar's penetrating gaze dissected Blayne, probing every nuance of his expression for answers. Whatever he learned apparently satisfied him for he nodded. "Very well." With a flick of his hand, he dismissed Cayl and Johan.

Blayne didn't respond to Cayl's clumsy attempts to catch his gaze. He turned back to Hope, seeking reassurance she was in no further danger. He knew Dayamar was observing him, doubtless drawing his own conclusions from the way Blayne fussed with the blanket he'd tucked around her. The old man could conclude whatever he liked.

Dayamar touched Blayne's shoulder to reclaim his attention. "Hope is merely sleeping now. She will soon recover fully. Sit with me and make me a cup of your excellent tea, if you please. Then you will tell me what I must know."

The old Sehan was right. Hope was as well as could be expected. Pointless to torture himself by watching her chest rise and fall as he counted each breath.

When the tea had brewed to his satisfaction, Blayne related his first encounter with Hope and the events since that day. The old Sehan's careful questioning drew out details he hadn't remembered until now. Dayamar was especially interested in Blayne's sighting of the phantom wolf, and Hope's eerie confrontation with the serpent.

At last the old man appeared satisfied. "Get some rest. I have much to think on before this night ends. If she has recovered by tomorrow we will officially introduce her to the elders then." He departed, leaving Blayne to watch over his charge.

Blayne stripped and washed off the travel grime before settling beside Hope and tucking blankets over them both. He held her close to him, listening to her steady breathing until fatigue dragged him under.

~*~

She dreamed of the animals again—a white owl, a silver wolf and a red-banded black serpent. All had the same golden eyes, ageless and glowing with power.

And then she fell into another dream....

Foul, oily gray smoke rises from the pyres, casting a pall over the settlement. Neither herbs nor fragrant oils can disguise the stench of charred and burning bodies.

She holds a damp cloth over her mouth and nose as she picks her way through the rows of dead awaiting burning. She does not mourn them. She cannot—compassion has been sucked from her soul, replaced by horror and soul-deep despair.

Hollow-eyed survivors stumble past, retching and coughing. She barely acknowledges them. There is nothing more she can do to ease their pain, nothing she can do to ease her own.

There is nothing more she can do....

~*~

The first thing Hope became aware of was the pungent odor of dried herbs. Her nose twitched. The sneeze took her by surprise, shattering the silence. The man curled protectively around her stirred and mumbled.

He'd stayed with her.

The smile curving Hope's lips faltered. They were no longer snug inside his travelling tent, safe from prying eyes—that much she knew. She twisted and levered herself onto one elbow to shake Blayne's shoulder.

He protested for a moment before promptly drifting back to sleep.

She shook him again.

His response was to pull her down and nuzzle her neck.

"Blayne. Wake up!"

He yawned and stretched, stilled.

She sensed him examining her face."You're looking better," he finally said. "You gave us a real scare last night."

"Why? Where is this place? And where are my clothes?"

She felt the tension in Blayne's muscles as he eased away from her. When she inhaled, she caught a whiff of emotion in the air—worry laced with apprehension. Why did she know that? How?

Her stomach swooped. What on earth had happened to her?

Blayne answered one of her questions. "You had difficulty breathing but you're... fine now."

That ever-so-slight pause made her question what he'd left unsaid. But whatever had laid her low yesterday couldn't be too serious because she did feel fine. More than fine—energized.

"This is the Healing Hall." He lowered his voice in a suggestive manner. "There aren't any patients at the moment. We're alone. And your clothes appear to be missing. What shall we do about that, hmmm?" He pulled her on top of him and kissed her until she melted into his arms, all her worries and fears drifting away.

Someone chose that moment to enter the hall. Hope heard a sharply indrawn breath and the gentle thuds of bundles falling to the floor.

"Johan." Blayne tweaked the cover over her. "I was just checking Hope's—"

"I don't need to know what you were checking." The newcomer's voice rang with barely repressed amusement. "Here. You might find this useful. I'm turning my back now."

Blayne helped Hope struggle into a shirt the visitor must have handed him. "Thanks, Johan," he said. "Appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Hope, we haven't been formally introduced. My name is Johan, and I'm a healer. I helped Blayne last night when you were... ill. Welcome to the Healing Hall."

Hope tugged the hem of the shirt down her thighs as she scrambled from the bed. "Hello, Johan. I am very pleased to meet you."

She'd begun to wonder at his hesitation when he grasped her outstretched hand. She smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease. A sharply indrawn breath. And then his hand clenched more tightly around hers. He seemed in no hurry to relinquish it.

"Great timing, Johan. Can I help you with anything in particular?" For some reason Blayne's tone sounded sour.

Johan quickly released her hand. "Uh, yes. Dayamar wants to introduce Hope to the elders. He insists you accompany her."

"Can we at least have breakfast first?" Blayne's displeasure was clearly evident in his tight, clipped tone.

"Dayamar has arranged for you both to breakfast with the elders. I brought clean clothes for you, Blayne. Got them from your house."

She heard the whoosh of something flying through the air. Johan must have tossed a bundle of clothing at Blayne. Heat crawled up her face at the thought of Blayne's nakedness. She ducked her head to hide her expression.

"I asked Maya for some spare clothes for you, too, Hope." Johan pressed a bundle into her hands. "She's about your height. She said you're welcome to keep them. She wants to meet you when Dayamar's finished with you. Blayne will take you, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Johan." She hoped the other Dayamari she would soon meet proved as kind as Johan and this Maya—especially these important-sounding elders.

She unrolled the bundle and identified each garment. A tunic. A wraparound skirt with an adjustable waistline. A smaller piece of soft cloth, and a long band of supple material with tapered ends. She held up the band. It struck her as rather wide for a belt. "Where is the underwear?"

"You're holding the breast-band," Johan said.

"Oh." Mystified, she felt around and retrieved the smaller piece of cloth. "What is this? How do I wear it?"

"Uh...." She heard scuffs as though Johan was shifting from foot to foot. "I'll leave Blayne to explain. I'll, uh, wait outside." He made a hasty exit, yanking the door shut behind him.

A warm hand cupped her buttocks and squeezed.

Hope squeaked and batted Blayne's hand. "We have no time for that. Will you help me with these clothes or must I ask Johan to dress me?"

He growled. "You'll do no such thing."

The smaller piece of cloth turned out to be a loin-wrap—deemed necessary when wearing skirts or dresses—which he showed her how to tie. By the time he got around to the fastenings of the skirt and tunic, Hope felt as though her body was on fire. She'd never imagined how sensual it could be to have a man help dress her.

"You'll need new footwear at some stage," he said when she sat to pull on her battered sandals. "And your own clothes are a little too, uh, different, so I'd advise you not to wear them. People will notice and rumors will spread like wildfire. Hmm. Better do something about your hair. Can't have you meeting the elders looking like you've been dragged backward through a bush." He knelt behind her to unbraid her hair, running his fingers through the locks to separate them before he combed them out.

Beneath his gentle ministrations, Hope felt her apprehension over meeting more of his people diminish. She hugged her knees and some of the tension that had plagued her since Johan had entered the hall diminished.

"You two ready?" Johan's impatient voice made her jump.

Blayne led her from the room and they trailed the healer through the settlement. Hope didn't feel self-conscious at first. She was too busy listening to the passersby and imagining what they looked like, where they were headed, their plans to fill the day. And then snatches of conversation drifted to her ears.

"Who's that?"

"—eyes like Dayamar's."

"—new Sehani apprentice."

"—her eyes—she's the one they're talking about."

She halted mid-step, dragging Blayne around to confront him. "People say things about my eyes. What is wrong about them? Tell me!" The tension she could sense in him was infectious. Dread enveloped her. What was wrong with her eyes?

"Hope, your eyes are no longer blue. They're gold. Like Dayamar's."

"Gold? How can that be?" She barked a sharp laugh as she patted her eyelids, trying to imagine herself with gold eyes.

He squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about what people are saying. It's only— The color is rare for us."

"Our eyes are usually brown," Johan chimed in. "Not blue like yours are—were, I mean."

Good God. They were serious. They weren't playing some silly trick at her expense. What was happening to her? Hope desperately wanted to ask more but they had reached the Elders Hall and Johan was rapping on the door and requesting permission to enter.

She heard voices but the conversation was too muted for her to comprehend what anyone was saying. Johan patted her shoulder as he departed. "Everything will be fine—you'll see."

The hum of conversation ceased as Blayne led her forward. He whispered for her to sit and to her dismay, drew back, leaving her alone. Hope craved the comfort of his touch but understood he must bow to the demands of etiquette. After all, she was about to be introduced to the most powerful people in the settlement.

An aura of power emanated from the person directly in front of her. Strange multi-colored bands of light etched onto her retinas. Dayamar. But how could she know it was him? And what were those... those... rainbow-colored bands of light?

She blinked and rubbed her eyes, and didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when the world reverted to its usual black-on-black. She snatched a breath to calm herself before speaking so she didn't make any embarrassing errors. Public speaking wasn't her thing at the best of times and knowing she was speaking another language only made it more harrowing.

"I greet you, Dayamar."

The room buzzed with whispers and Hope distinctly caught someone voicing shock that she hadn't used the honorific of Sehan.

Dayamar must have demanded silence with a gesture for the room hushed. "How did you know I was here, Hope?"

"I, uh, sensed you—your power. I know it is you."

Her words provoked another babble of conversation before one unpleasantly nasal voice shushed everyone. "Young woman—"

"My name is Hope." She turned toward the voice and caught a sharply indrawn breath. She guessed he must have caught sight of her eyes. Wonderful. Obviously there'd be no hiding while she tried to figure out what was making everyone so jumpy.

"First Elder Varon," he said, identifying himself. "I have a question."

"Of course."

"Sehan Dayamar tells us you are blind. Is this true?"

The way he said it—like an accusation. But... what reason could he have to disbelieve her?

Hope swallowed her dismay. Keep calm. Don't let anyone see how scared you are. "Yes, this is true. I lost my sight two years ago in an accident."

Varon promptly began a heated exchange with Dayamar. "Blind, Sehan Dayamar. A mere slip of a blind girl. How can she be our next Sehan?"

Others muttered agreement. Hope ignored them to puzzle Varon's usage of the word Sehan. It must have more significance than she'd thought. What could it mean, exactly?

Dayamar chose to ignore the First Elder. "Hope, have you had any strange dreams since you... came here?"

From the almost imperceptible pause and the deliberate phrasing, she hazarded a guess he was reluctant that her origins be revealed at this time. Very well. She would play his game and tackle that issue with him later. In fact, she would insist on answers. "Dreams? I do not remember."

"Think, Hope. Look deep inside yourself. Show me your dreams. Show me. Show me...."

The power of his hypnotic voice ensnared her. Hope's thoughts turned inward, swirling aimlessly before focusing on a hauntingly familiar scene.

"Show me...."

As the scene replayed in her mind, Hope sensed another presence. His. Dayamar's. He watched with her—inside her mind.

Power thickened and built, was reined in and controlled. And then released.

He was doing something—something magical. She felt it skimming her skin, raising the fine hairs on her nape. She smelled it, a rich, heady scent that tempted her to draw it deep into her lungs. She tasted it, a tart fruitiness redolent of apples and apricots that exploded on her tongue. She moistened her lips with her tongue, craving more. She could almost see it forming around her. Almost. So close. Why could she not see?

And then she was looking through someone's eyes. Dayamar's. And somehow, her waking dream was visible to all present.

Through him she saw a young woman standing statue-still, her eyes closed. All around her was blackness but the trio of beasts attending her could clearly be seen. A black red-banded snake curled about her neck. Its head rested by her ear, forked tongue flickering. A huge silver wolf loped from the inky blankness to sit panting, tongue lolling, at her feet. A white owl ghosted down to perch on her shoulder.

Without warning, the forms of the animals shimmered, each becoming a beam of pure golden light shooting upward into the night. High above in the starless sky, the lights entwined, merging into a beam that arced gracefully downward.

The instant before it would plunge into the ground it spiraled outward and encircled the vision-woman, swirling ever faster before flashing upward to hover before her face. She opened her eyes. The beam pierced them and they were forever altered, gleaming in the inky darkness, radiating an inhuman golden glow. And the elders gasped as her golden gaze surveyed them, fixing upon each individual in the room in turn.

There could be no doubt. The vision-woman was Hope.

Her mind-link with Dayamar shut down and blackness reigned again. She fought dizziness. Whoa. There was some serious supernatural stuff going on here and she was rapidly becoming a believer.

"Blindness is no barrier when a Sehan is chosen," Dayamar said. "You all saw her dream. The gods have chosen her. She will be our next Sehan."

A hush descended. Not even First Elder Varon dared voice further concerns.

"She will reside at the Sehani Hall," Dayamar continued. "I will personally oversee her training."

Defiance howled through Hope's veins, prodding her to climb unsteadily to her feet and face Dayamar as an equal.

"No! You will not tell me how to live my life." Her voice surged, pummeling him with an almost tangible force. "I will not be treated like some disowned parcel. You have no hold over me—none of you. I owe you nothing. If I must remain in this place, I will stay with Blayne—if he will have me. If not, I will manage on my own, as I have always done. And as for training to be a Sehan—what is such a thing, anyway? A person who does magic? Prepare to be disappointed, then, for I have no such abilities."

Dayamar addressed Varon with a lilt in his voice that suggested fierce pride rather than dismay at her outburst. "Your 'mere slip of a girl' has spirit, Varon."

When the First Elder had nothing to say in response, Dayamar said, "I apologize for my rudeness, Hope. It was wrong of me to make decisions involving your future without first consulting you."

She inhaled a few deep, calming breaths. She needed to explain herself further, to make him understand she wasn't like him, wasn't worthy of awe. "I am not a Sehan. I do not even know what a Sehan is."

"You are a Sehan, Hope," Dayamar said. "You are able to See the future and the past, and your other abilities will be revealed in time. Nothing can change that now. For your own protection you must be trained."

Hope's stomach gave a slow, sickening lurch. These people believed she had magical powers? God help her. God help them.

"I will stay with Blayne. Or I will leave." It was no baseless threat. She would ask Blayne—or maybe Cayl if Blayne wasn't willing—to take her back to the cave. It wouldn't be an easy life but it would be far preferable to staying here, letting others dictate the way she lived, shouldering the impossible weight of their expectations. Living a lie.

"I would not have you go—for your own sake as well as ours. I agree to your terms. But there I go again, making decisions without asking first."

Dayamar smiled at her. She knew he'd done so because of the pleasant warmth welling in her belly, the sudden desire to smile back in response. She stubbornly refused to comply with her body's instincts.

And then Dayamar spoke again. "Blayne, will you take this woman into your heart and your home?"

Something about his deliberate phrasing provoked gasps and shocked murmurs.

"I will," Blayne said, his firm, ready response eliciting more excited chatter.

Too much was happening at once. What was she missing?

The old Sehan moved closer and took her arm. When she tensed, he whispered in her ear, "Everything will be explained in good time. Meanwhile, it would be best if you didn't talk about how you came here. We will discuss that later." He raised his voice again. "Will you break your fast with us now?"

Hope shook her head and summoned a degree of a courtesy she didn't feel. "Thank you, no. I have no hunger now." Her stomach was a churning mass of nerves. All she wanted was to distance herself from Dayamar and his precious elders and the supernatural weirdness. She wanted to be alone with Blayne. She wanted—needed—the comfort of his arms.

As if tapping into her thoughts, Dayamar said, "Go with Panakeya Blayne and familiarize yourself with your new home. Ask him to bring you to me when you're ready."

His kindly tone mollified her somewhat. He could have ordered her, after all. He could have forced her, too. The smile she offered in response was wary, and she only lowered her guard once Blayne had escorted her from the building.

They walked a short way before Blayne halted, turning her to him, cupping her face in his palms. "Are you sure you want to live with me, Hope?"

"What does it mean to live with you?"

"Living together is a Promise. It means a couple are serious about their intentions. It's a time to get to know each other, and confirm compatibility as life-partners. Dayamar worded his request with the same phrasing used during a formal Promising ceremony. When I accepted, it was deemed the equivalent of me making a formal Promise to you."

Like becoming engaged. Hope's disquiet segued to full-fledged misery. She'd placed him in an awkward predicament. And if the way she felt about him was not reciprocated....

"If you are not interested in me in that way, I understand," she told him. "I will stay with Dayamar."

Blayne let out a whoop and swept her into his embrace. "Not want you? Have you no idea how I feel about you?"

A blush heated her cheeks. "Maybe?"

He laughed. "Foolish creature. There's no 'maybe' about it. But we've only known each other a short time. Are you certain you want this?"

She sensed him gazing intently at her, seeking answers, but she was too overwhelmed to trust herself to speak. She could only trust he understood what the tears welling in her eyes signified.

He pressed a kiss to her brow and even that brief caress made her body tingle. "Come," he said. "I will show you my home."

Blayne's house was conveniently located near the Healing Hall. As befitting his status it was a large building, consisting of a roomy circular central space and four smaller living areas. He described the layout and helped her pace it out to fix it in her mind.

The house had two separate sleeping quarters and what passed for a bathroom. Carved wooden screens partitioned off storage areas in the main living space. The floors were paved with large slabs of stone that had been split and smoothed, and were strewn with hand-woven rugs. The central area would comfortably seat a half-dozen or so people around a cooking hearth, and Blayne had stacked cushions to one side. Ceramic pots hung from a sturdy frame above the hearth, and kindling had been stacked nearby. He'd hung bunches of dried herbs from the eaves, and the shelves were crowded with lidded pots and containers.

Many of the day-to-day chores were performed by Degan, a young man who acted as Blayne's quasi-housekeeper. "When I became Panakeya, the elders insisted my time was too valuable to be taken up with what they termed 'menial' tasks like cooking, cleaning, washing and fetching water," Blayne told her. "But I didn't want my dwelling invaded by some nosy busybody they'd chosen, so I picked Degan."

"Why?" Hope asked, curious at the undercurrent of anger she detected in his tone.

"He's simple-minded, and his mother treated him as a virtual slave. He wasn't physically abused but his situation appalled me. I was convinced he'd flourish given the chance, but none of the trade-leaders were interested in apprenticing him. My new status gave me the opportunity to help Degan. And deliver a few choice words to his mother, so the woman understood I would not tolerate her maltreating her son."

Degan was thorough and Blayne admitted his quarters had never been tidier. Plus, he no longer had to make late-night treks to the settlement's foodstores for supplies if he'd been with patients all day and found he was running low on staples. In the afternoons, Degan often helped Maya out with child-minding duties. He was popular with the young ones—perhaps because he was so childlike himself.

"Blayne? You there?" Cayl poked his head through the doorway with an invitation to share a midday meal. "Maya won't leave me in peace until she meets you, Hope. Please come. For me? I have no idea what I'll do if you don't. Drown myself, I expect."

The instant Blayne accepted the invitation Cayl dragged them off, loudly declaring himself to be starving and enthusing about the meal that had been prepared for them. "Of course I'm not cooking," he assured them. "Maya would hardly risk me poisoning Hope before she has a chance to get to know her. She won't even trust me to boil the water for your tea."

Cayl's sly laughter cued Hope he was about to say something teasing. "You wouldn't believe the stir you two have caused. A certain woman—who shall not be named for fear of calling her wrath down upon us—will be livid. I can't imagine her being at all pleased to meet you, Hope."

"Cayl."

Blayne's tone promised retribution, but Cayl was warming to his theme and paid no heed. "I swear he's bedded every available woman in the settlement. Some of the stories I've heard would make your hair curl—if it wasn't already curly, that is."

"For gods' sakes, Cayl," Blayne growled, "shut your big mouth before I shut it for you."

A muffled giggle escaped Hope's lips.

Cayl patted her arm. "Sorry, Hope. I didn't mean to upset you."

She managed to gasp a denial before doubling over with mirth.

"What's so funny?"

Blayne sounded so puzzled Hope hazarded a guess laughter was the last reaction he'd expected. "You have had many women, so I think you must be a good lover, yes? I am a very lucky woman to have snared you."

Cayl couldn't resist another dig. "Blayne's the lucky one. Only a very understanding woman could forgive his questionable past."

"Tell me why you're my friend again, Cayl?" Blayne asked. "Surely I can't be that desperate."

Their banter made her giggle even more. It was so normal, so ordinary.

Cayl paused at the entrance to his house to call out to Maya. Hope heard a patter of footsteps and a swish of skirts before she was enfolded in an enthusiastic embrace and kissed on both cheeks. She stood there, open-mouthed and a little breathless, until the woman she presumed must be Maya stepped back and gave her some breathing space.

"It's so wonderful to meet you. Cayl's been telling me all about you. You're wearing the clothes I sent you—do they fit? Hmm, not too well. You're much slimmer than me, you lucky thing. Blayne, you must ask Shay to outfit her properly. She can't go around dressed in hand-me-downs. And what on Dayamaria are you wearing on your feet?"

Maya's torrent of words flowed in the same vein until Cayl finally got a word in edgewise. "Maya! Are you going to ask our guests in? Or shall we just stand here on the doorstep and entertain the neighbors?" He sounded fondly exasperated.

"I'm so sorry! Come in, come in. Hope, I'm Maya. Welcome to our home."

As Maya led her inside, Hope could swear the woman bounced instead of simply walking. It was easy to understand why she and Cayl were a committed couple. They were perfectly matched.

Mouth-watering aromas wafted through the room. Hope's stomach twinged a protest, reminding her she'd refused Dayamar's offer of breakfast. Thankfully Maya was all business, leading her to a comfortable cushion and handing her a goblet filled with a tart fruity drink that reminded Hope of cider. She gulped it down and asked for a refill.

The meal wasn't very breakfast-like, consisting of dried and fresh fruits, freshly baked bread, cold meat served with a very tasty relish, and salad greens. But it was all delicious and she enjoyed every bite.

The men were discussing some sort of expedition. Hope soon lost interest, finding their conversation full of unfamiliar words that made it difficult to follow. She drained her goblet again and plucked up the courage to engage Maya in conversation. "I would like know about Dayamari women, Maya. Do you only wear dresses? What do you do during the day? Do you work in trades or look after your men? I want to know everything, please."

Maya laughed and refilled Hope's goblet again. "I'm sure we're not too different from the women you know. Of course we wear trousers, too, especially for activities where a skirt isn't practical, such as hunting. Mostly we wear whatever we like, depending upon the weather or the task. Let me see.... Most people have at least one talent or activity they prefer, so they tend to specialize in that particular area—like Blayne and Johan have with healing. Cayl's specialty is hunting, and I'm a child-minder—I love being with the young ones. And with bigger tasks such as building, a hunt, or gathering food for the stores, the whole settlement usually pitches in."

Hope sipped her drink and considered Maya's explanation. "What does child-minding entail?" Perhaps it would be something she could help with.

"I look after a number of young children each morning so their parents can have a break and get on with their work. I teach the young ones songs, counting, reading, writing—that sort of thing. I enjoy it very much, though it can be exhausting. When a child turns ten, they generally help their parents. Or a child with a particular talent may be tutored by an experienced adult, with the expectation the child will eventually apprentice to that trade."

"Ah. So you are a teacher. It is an important thing you do—teach children these things." And, as an outsider—a blind woman who couldn't read or write the language—Hope would be worse than useless at such a task.

"I suppose it is." Maya sounded pleased. "Your footwear—I've never seen anything like it before. May I have a closer look?"

"Of course." Hope stuck out a foot to display her sandal. It'd been walked into the ground during the journey to settlement but had held up better than expected.

"The design is very unusual," Maya ventured. "Do many people where you come from own footwear like this?"

Hope understood it was a leading question and that Maya was dying of curiosity about her origins. The fruity drink had relaxed her inhibitions enough that she didn't see the harm in responding. "Yes. Many wear such sandals. They are very comfortable in warmer months."

"You're obviously not from around here," Maya said. "Where are you from? How did you get here?"

Hazy memories formed into a stunningly clear vision that Hope described without considering the ramifications. "I am resting in the shade of a tree in my garden. I hear a voice—Dayamar's. He calls me. I try not to listen but I am forced to. A strange power enters me and fills me up until I feel like I will burst. I am stretched and stretched. And then I explode, and it is like my world does not exist anymore. When I wake up, I am somewhere else, somewhere that is not my home. And Blayne is carrying me over his shoulder."

Silence met her explanation. She hiccupped loudly, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"What have you been giving her to drink, Maya?" Blayne demanded.

"Sekar—but she hasn't had that much of it," Maya said.

On cue, Hope hiccupped again and heard Blayne heave a sigh. He had nothing to worry about. She was merely relaxed, not intoxicated.

"I'll take her home and let her sleep it off," he said. "And I'm sure I don't need to reiterate that we keep what we've heard today to ourselves until I can talk to Dayamar." He pulled Hope to her feet, steadying her when she swayed.

Maya gave her a brief hug. "I'm sorry, Hope," she said. "You're obviously not used to drinking sekar and I should have thought before I refilled your goblet."

"Please, there is no need to—" Hope's senses reeled. She grabbed onto Maya as the ground beneath her feet seemed to lurch.... And then the vision took her.

~*~

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com