Seer's Hope

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Six

Blayne was shaking her gently. "Tell me what happened," he said.

"It is nothing—a dream, that is all."

"Tell me."

She sighed, guessing he would not rest until she'd recounted the dream. "I am a bird and I watch people—a man and a woman. The man has red hair and the woman is blonde. Their clothes are brown. It is a burial. The woman holds a long stick—a... a... staff? Yes, that is the proper word. It has been decorated to resemble snakes. The woman cries. She places the staff in the grave. I see something rise up from the body. It is a part of the dead person—his soul, I think. And then his soul follows bird-me."

Maya's pained gasp left no doubt that she was shocked to her toes. "I have blonde hair. And the man must be Cayl. But you're blind. You've never seen what we look like. And the staff you described.... It's my father's. But... but that must mean—"

A muted thump, as though someone's legs had given way, forcing them to sit in a hurry. And then Maya's sobs filled the room.

"I'm so sorry, sweetling," Cayl murmured.

The fuzz in Hope's mind abruptly cleared. "It is only dreaming. It is not real."

Blayne spoke softly in her ear. "Maya's father is dying of a wasting disease. The staff you described is his most prized possession. Before he became ill he would walk about the settlement with it. He favors the god Kunnandi, so he carved serpents on it."

He paused, as though allowing her the opportunity to refute his words. When she remained stubbornly mute he said, "We believe that when we die, one of our gods in the guise of a great bird escorts our soul to the spirit world—just as you described. Maya believes you have experienced a true Seeing. She fears her father will die very soon."

Hope swore beneath her breath, appalled to have caused such anguish. "Maya, I am sorry. Please forgive me. But I do not see your future. It is a dream. Nothing more."

Maya sniffed, and when she spoke her voice sounded choked with tears. "You're wrong. It is not merely a dream. My father will die soon. I know this, just as I know you've had a true Seeing. That's why you have been brought here to us—because you're a Sehan and we need you." She grasped Hope's hands. "I beg you, do as Dayamar asks and train with him. Your powers will harm you greatly if you don't learn to control them."

Hope fisted a hand against her breastbone, willing her racing heartbeat to calm. "I will think on it, Maya, I promise. Blayne? We should go now." Before she unintentionally blurted something that might worsen the situation still more.

"What sort of bird were you in the vision?" Blayne asked as they walked back to his house.

"It is a night-bird. Big. White plumage. It makes a 'hoot, hoot!' call."

"An owl."

"Why do you ask?"

"Simple curiosity. Owls are much beloved by Dayamari. I find it... interesting you were an owl in your dream."

Hope quizzed him about Maya's insistence she go to Dayamar for training. When he didn't immediately respond she resorted to begging. "Please. It is important."

He huffed a sigh. "Maya had a younger sister. Katya was the first Sehani born since Dayamar, and she had the potential to be a powerful Sehan. But she refused to be trained. Maya believes Katya hoped her powers would shrivel and die if she didn't use them, but that was not so. The visions continued. Katya grew to loathe and fear them. She withdrew from daily life. She became a recluse and refused contact with anyone—even her sister. Maya discovered her lying by her hearth. She'd been dead for some hours."

"How did she die?" Hope dreaded his answer but had to ask.

"Dayamar says Katya's fear and hatred of her powers turned inward until they consumed her. Maya doesn't want the same to happen to you, Hope. Neither do I."

In this, too, it seemed she had no choice but to accept her fate. Hope ducked her head to hide her expression. "Tomorrow I will speak with Dayamar." And the old man had better have some answers.

~*~

At Blayne's house they discovered Degan industriously dusting items that Hope guessed hadn't seen a speck of dust in months. Sensing Degan's apprehension, Hope cursed her strange Sehani eyes. She'd have preferred to bolt for the sleeping room and hide, rather than confront another stranger, but the urge to put Degan at ease was too great to ignore. "I am very sorry my presence causes more work for you, Degan," she said.

"It's no bother, Sehan."

"Please, my name is Hope, not Sehan."

"It's my honor to serve you, Sehan."

It was uttered with such fervor that Hope heaved a sigh. This was not going well. "Degan, please call me Hope. You are not my servant. And I am grateful for your efforts because I cannot keep a house tidy and do necessary things for myself." Yet.

Degan's choked gurgle suggested he was appalled by the thought of Hope keeping house for anyone. "It wouldn't be right, Se— I mean, Hope. You're Sehani. You have far more important things to do."

"So I am told." Life here would be simpler if she were ordinary. "I wish I am like you, Degan. Not a Sehan."

The young man patted her shoulder. "We can't all be as lucky as me. But you've got Panakeya Blayne. For some reason women think he's very handsome."

Hope smothered a giggle at the guileless comment, and had to duck her head to hide her expression.

"Some would say I'm the lucky one," Blayne said. "Are you finished for today, Degan?"

"Yes, Panakeya."

"Thank you for your help—I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You're welcome, Panakeya. Goodbye, Hope. Don't try to do anything on your own. You must leave it all to me. I'll be cross if I come tomorrow and find I have nothing to do."

"I promise." She hid another smile and waited until she was certain Degan had left before saying, "He is very sweet."

"Yes, he is. And I'm fortunate he's content to assist me. I shudder to think who I'd be assigned if the elders had their way."

At Hope's tentative suggestion they rearranged his home a little to better accommodate her needs. That done, she'd officially moved in. She'd never cohabited with a lover before. Blayne was patient and obliging, but her helplessness still chafed. She didn't want to have to rely on him—or anyone, for that matter—but even the simplest tasks in this primitive world were beyond her. And she feared he might soon tire of such a burdensome relationship. God only knew how long it would take her to become self-sufficient if left to her own devices.

"The clothes in my pack need washing," Blayne said. "Degan usually sees to my clothes but I might as well show you the pool and get these done."

"Please say you wash clothes in a... a...." There was no Dayamari word for "washing machine", which didn't bode well. "A washing device."

When she tried to explain Blayne sounded rather taken by a "device" that washed clothes. "It would be a popular invention," he agreed. "Sorry to disappoint but it's hands on and hands only. Let's head down to the pool."

Hope concentrated on the path they took, noting the smells, sounds, and even the texture and feel of the ground beneath her feet. Next time she might be able to find her way here on her own.

Splashing water tinkled musically and a playful breeze sprayed a fine mist over her face. She licked droplets from her lips. Mmm. Fresh water, not heavy with minerals, and so pure she knew she could drink from its source. At her prompting, Blayne described a waterfall cascading over rocks to form a pool that drained into a small stream. It sounded picture-postcard-worthy.

Hope hiked up her skirt, and they waded calf-deep into the shallows to wet down her clothes. Blayne handed her a cake of soap and she gave in to the inevitable and set to work. A companionable silence ensued as they scrubbed and wrung and rinsed off the soap. Even her sandals got a thorough scrubbing. Finally, Blayne led her back to some convenient boulders where they spread everything out to dry in the sun.

Hand-washing was hard work and Hope was hot and sweaty, despite the delicious coolness of the pool's water. She rinsed her face and blew moist air down her cleavage.

"How about a swim?" Blayne suggested. "The soap quickly breaks down and degrades, but any murky water is carried away by the current. The pool's quite clear already."

He'd read her mind. Hope removed her skirt and tunic but hesitated when it came to her underthings. Best to leave them on, perhaps. She entered the water, feeling her way along the fine gravelly bottom with her toes. The pool gradually deepened and she stopped when she was chest-deep.

Blayne splashed her. "No point swimming in clothes."

Apparently public nudity was acceptable—good to know. But that didn't mean she was comfortable stripping off when anyone could wander by. Not that she'd see anyone passing by but—

The water surged as Blayne moved closer, and before she could react, his nimble fingers tugged the bow of her breast-band. The cloth quickly unraveled, heavy with the water it'd absorbed. She clutched the material to her chest. "Blayne!"

He didn't answer. Where had he gotten to?

Another tug yanked her loin-wrap down around her ankles. He surfaced with a laugh and splashed her again.

She scowled. "You are a pain in the neck."

"I've been called many things but never that before." He lunged and grabbed her around the waist, tickling her until she released the breast-band.

Fine. He could have his way for now. She kicked the loin-wrap from her ankles, allowing it to float free.

Hope heard a slap! as Blayne tossed the wet clothing up on the bank. She loved swimming—in a pool. The open sea was a little too nerve-wracking for her these days. But this naturally formed pool was perfect. She dove beneath the water and breaststroked away from the bank until she couldn't hold her breath any longer. When she surfaced it was too deep to stand so she tread water, wiping her eyes and brushing wet hair back from her face.

Hands pulled her close, and then Blayne's lips were on hers. Butterflies loop-de-looped in her stomach. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed closer to take full advantage of the kiss. Joined mouth-to-mouth, they sank beneath the surface.

Blayne seemed to instinctively sense when she'd run out of breath. The instant they surfaced, he hooked an arm around her torso and towed her toward shore. When he could touch the ground, firmly planting his feet, he took her in his arms and settled her thighs about his hips. He kissed her again, deeply, insistently, stroking her spine, coaxing deliciously shivery responses from her body.

The cool lapping water, the tantalizing promise of his clever fingers, the heat of his skin and his passion.... All combined to lower Hope's inhibitions. Blayne made love to her as only he could, capturing her mind, making her a slave to nothing but sensation. She no longer cared who might see them. She no longer cared about anything or anyone save the man she clung to.

~*~

They floated on their backs, hand-in-hand, bodies and minds relaxed. Hope's hair fanned the water. The sun caressed her breasts and belly. Her spirit felt light—buoyant as her body. Blayne squeezed her hand. It was easy to pretend she'd truly been transported to paradise....

And then a sneering female voice shattered the spell.

"Are you going to introduce me to your new playmate?" Varaya knew she'd caught Blayne unawares from the tightness of his mouth as he gathered his companion close in an effort to shield her. And she was viciously pleased by his woman's crimson-hued mortification.

Timid little mouse, burying her face in Blayne's shoulder like she was wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. Varaya wished that were a possibility. Wisa's wings, what did Blayne see in her?

"Varaya. I haven't seen you around lately."

His tone was carefully neutral. He didn't want to provoke her. Too bad. She was spoiling for a fight. "I've been busy with my other interests. You were spotted heading in this direction. I thought you might need help with your washing."

His little lover stiffened in his arms. She understood it had not been Blayne's clothes Varaya had hoped to help wash. Good.

Blayne waded toward the bank, towing his companion along with him. Once their feet hit the bottom of the pool, he grasped the little mouse's hand and led her from the water. She tried to pull back but he was having none of it. She had no choice but to follow.

Varaya laughed, scornful and mocking, piqued by the care he showed the mouse. "Your little friend is so shy. How childish."

Her smile deepened when Blayne's "little friend" thrust out her chin and shook off his hand, picking her way forward until she stood directly in front of Varaya.

This should be fun.

Varaya's gaze raked the woman's nude body. She was small in stature but her figure was lush, womanly. Her skin was pale, a stunning contrast to her rich brown hair. Attractive enough, Varaya supposed. If you liked that sort.

Her rival snatched a deep breath and then extended her hand. "Hello, I am Hope."

Varaya choked on a sharply indrawn breath. Gods, those eyes.... She'd swear the woman was staring into her soul.

The woman—Hope—dropped her hand. Blayne retrieved the wet clothing that had been tossed up onto the bank and sauntered back to his lover. "You've forgotten your manners, Varaya. Dayamar's new apprentice is waiting for you to introduce yourself."

It was an unsubtle reminder of Varaya's lower status, and Blayne's appreciation of her obvious discomfit danced in his eyes. She longed to defy him, turn on her heel and spurn this woman he'd taken up with. But she didn't dare. Blayne ranked her. If she pushed him too far he could make her life a misery. He was not usually the sort to enjoy such petty revenges but gods only knew the influence his new woman might have over him.

She swallowed her pride. "Greetings, Sehan Hope. I'm Varaya." She clasped Hope's hand but released it as quickly as she could.

Blayne pulled on his clothes and helped Hope into hers.

Varaya's eyes narrowed as she watched him assisting the woman to dress, personally dealing with the fastenings of her clothes. Bitterness twisted her lips when he collected the woman's footwear and grasped her hand. So solicitous. Varaya wanted to vomit.

Until now, she hadn't quite believed the rumors, the malicious gossip whispered in her ear in the hopes she would do exactly as she'd done—confront Blayne and make a fuss for the entertainment of others. She cringed when a group of women sauntered past, whispering and giggling behind their hands.

Once they'd passed, she said, "I see you've found the perfect woman at last, Panakeya. A beautiful blind Sehan—typical of you to choose a woman none of us could possibly compete with."

"Enough, Varaya." Blayne's voice was a growl. It wouldn't take much to provoke him to a full-on argument. But Varaya knew there would be no wild and passionate making up afterward. Not this time. Not with her around.

Hope reached out, her hand blindly seeking something.

Varaya automatically grasped her hand, reacting to her disability. Realizing too late what she'd done, Varaya jolted and tried to tug her hand free, but the Sehan gripped her wrist. Varaya stiffened, expecting a well-deserved tongue-lashing.

"I am sorry Blayne being with me hurts you, Varaya. I am alone and he finds me, helps me, brings me here. Now Dayamar says I am a Sehan, but I am afraid and I ask to be with Blayne. He agrees and I am happy, relieved. But if you have a prior claim on him, I will go to live with Dayamar. I will not stand in your way."

"Don't be ridiculous. I—" Blayne's protest was cut short by Hope's sharply raised hand. He lapsed into brooding silence.

Varaya knew he didn't trust her. He'd seen firsthand how vindictive she could be when crossed. She couldn't blame him, but it hurt all the same. He'd once complained Varaya had been cursed with a sharp tongue and a temper that flared as hotly as her passion. He'd proceeded to incite that passion in a way that'd left her breathless and panting for more. She missed what they'd shared. She might have won him back—or at the very least had a little fun—if not for this small blind stranger by his side. She gazed into Hope's earnest golden eyes and tried to summon anger but instead of that lovely fiery burning in her gut, another emotion welled.

Shame.

Varaya glanced beneath her lashes at Blayne, gauging the emotions plainly showing on his face whenever he looked at Hope. Love and longing gleamed in his eyes. He had never once looked at her like that.

She wanted to hate Hope but she couldn't help admiring the blind woman's courage. In Hope's boots, Varaya would never have handed Blayne on a platter to another woman—prior claim or not. Hope was a stranger, without friends or family, and terribly physically disadvantaged. Attracting a high-ranking man like Blayne would be a boon. Yet she was prepared to step aside for Varaya, deny herself the love Varaya so desperately craved. And it was as plain as the feathers on an owl Hope didn't yet realize the true depths of Blayne's attachment to her.

Varaya eyed her ex-lover, her mind in turmoil. Gods the man was handsome—damn him. Tall and well-muscled, built for physical strength. She, along with many other settlement women, often sighed over his long thick hair, dark brown eyes, and firm jaw. He was the quintessential male.

During their time as lovers, Varaya had learned to see beyond the honed physique and handsome features to Blayne's sharp, intelligent mind. It was no surprise to Varaya he'd become Panakeya at such a young age. She'd been so proud to be seen with him. She'd boasted about him to all her friends, even though she knew in her heart he didn't love her. And truthfully she didn't love him, either. It'd been mutual physical attraction, a joining of bodies for pleasure—a vast amount of pleasure given his skill as a lover. She'd basked in the envy of the other young women, but when Blayne ended their relationship, Varaya's heart had remained untouched.

She squeezed Hope's hand, inexplicably wanting—needing—to redeem herself and be honest about her feelings. "We have not made any such Promise to each other. I have no claim on Blayne. We were lovers for a while and I enjoyed the status I gained as his woman. But I don't love him. Only my pride was hurt when he ended our relationship, not my heart."

Blayne's jaw dropped at her unaccustomed candor. Under any other circumstances Varaya might have been amused. But not now. This was too important. Why she felt so strongly Hope should know the truth, she couldn't fathom. Nor could she understand why it was so important for Hope to like her.

"Varaya, thank you for your honest words."

Hope's smile warmed Varaya's heart. She dared slant Blayne a "so there!" glance. "The female population's going to be devastated, you know," she told him.

"Why?" Hope appeared genuinely confused.

Varaya rolled her eyes before remembering the other woman wouldn't see the gesture. "Because you're pretty. And Blayne loves you. And you're pretty."

"Oh."

Varaya tossed her head and laughed at the other woman's blush. Hope was so ingenuous it bordered on painful. The laughter quickly became forced because Varaya knew she would be subjected to cruel gossip once news of Blayne's relationship spread. She told herself she didn't care. She had a thick skin. She was used to being talked about. Besides, better it was Hope who'd scored the most eligible man around than one of Varaya's other so-called friends. Those same "friends" who'd been so quick to spread malicious rumors after she and Blayne had parted ways. Some hadn't even let a day go by before they'd thrown themselves at him.

"I'm sorry I was nasty, Hope. I'd like it very much if we could be friends."

"I would like that, too, Varaya." Hope's face glowed with such pleasure Varaya's wounded heart healed a little more.

Blayne shook himself like he couldn't believe this turn of events. "You two, friends?" He guffawed. "That'll be the day. Varaya, you couldn't be friends with another female if your life was at stake. You see them as rivals. Your friendships always end in tears—and never yours."

Varaya flinched. His words were like a slap in the face. This was what she got for trying to turn over a new leaf. "I do have female friends," she said. Okay, not friends plural, but one at least. Not that she'd seen much of Treya lately.

Hope reached out as if to pat Varaya's arm but missed, and let her hand fall awkwardly back to her side. "I am sorry if he hurt your feelings. He did not mean it, truly."

"I meant every gods-damned word."

"He's right." Varaya ducked her head, unwilling to meet his gaze. "I'm not a very likeable person."

Hope shrugged. "People change."

"Maybe."

Blayne's tone was cutting enough that Varaya's flush crawled down her neck. She lifted her chin and pleaded her case. "You can't be with her every minute of the day, Blayne. I'm between trades right now, and the gods know I could use a friend these days."

Treya had changed since her life-partner Lyam had died. She barely had time for Varaya anymore.

Varaya bit her lip. She would not cry in front of Blayne. She wouldn't!

Hope tugged on his arm. "You are Panakeya. You have responsibilities to the other healers and to your patients. I managed on my own for many years before we met. You have to trust my judgment. And I must make my own choices."

Blayne appeared to be chewing over Hope's words. From his dark frown, he wasn't liking them overly much.

"Well, perhaps Varaya's right," he finally said, and Varaya let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "If anyone can show you the ins and outs of settlement life, she's the one to do it." He slanted Varaya a glare that plainly said, Don't cross me or you will regret it.

"I'll watch out for her, Blayne, I promise."

You'd better, he mouthed at her. "Hope, I need to take you to see Shay for some new clothes."

Varaya bit her lip, hiding her smile at his sour expression. Blayne could hardly be termed eager at the prospect of bartering with the opinionated clothes-maker. Varaya didn't blame him. Shay was hard as a stale travelling cake when it came to driving a bargain. "I'll take Hope to Shay," she offered.

Hah. Sheer relief written all over his face. Typical man.

"Wonderful!" he said. "I have some patients I must follow up on and— Uh, I mean, is that all right with you, Hope?"

"It is perfectly all right," Hope assured him.

"Tell Shay to give Hope whatever she needs and I'll compensate her later." He was transparently relieved to have escaped the inevitable lecture, too. Panakeya or not, Shay would scold him roundly for not bringing Hope to her sooner.

Hope crouched to buckle on her strange-looking sandals. As she rose, she held out her hand. Varaya entwined her arm in Hope's and led her from the pool.

Blayne gathered up the clothing and walked alongside for a few minutes. Then, apparently satisfied Varaya was taking care not to let Hope stumble, he bade them goodbye and strode off with nary a backward glance or a wave. Varaya figured his mind was already focused on his patients. He'd always been nauseatingly single-minded when it came to healing.

~*~

To Hope's dismay it was many hours later when the clothes-maker finally dismissed her. Shay kept a large stock of clothing in varying sizes, and had unearthed garments that needed only minor adjustments. Hope would have been content with any of them but Shay and Varaya insisted she try on a range. Then they bickered back and forth about color, cut and style until Hope's head spun. No wonder Blayne hadn't been keen to accompany her.

It seemed an eternity had passed before she was outfitted with a pile of suitable dresses, trousers, skirts, tunics with sleeves of varying lengths, and many changes of underthings. The clothes-maker airily dismissed Hope's protests about accepting this bounty as "welcoming gifts" with a negligent wave of her hand. "Panakeya Blayne will simply have to cope with owing me a favor," she said. "It's always a good thing to have a man of Blayne's status beholden to you—isn't that right, Varaya?"

Hope held her breath, half-expecting Varaya would respond to the veiled barb by losing her temper, but her new friend only laughed. "Of course. Please will you have the clothes delivered to his house, Shay? Hope and I have another errand to run."

"What is this errand?" Hope asked when they'd taken their leave.

"It's not really an errand. I thought you might like to see the dormayre where I live."

When Hope queried the unfamiliar term, Varaya treated her to a fascinating insight into Dayamari society.

Once an adolescent turned sixteen, they could opt to cease living with their parents and move into the large, spacious quarters known as dormayres. Male and female sleeping quarters were segregated but the two buildings were joined by a communal kitchen area, where both sexes mingled to share cooking duties and meals. The interior of each dormayre was partitioned into smaller areas, each containing a sleeping platform and storage for personal effects.

The dormayres were overseen by a group of adult advisors who made themselves freely available. The young people were permitted to have a bed-partner stay the night so long as they asked permission from a dormayre overseer—it was deemed beneficial to get to know a partner thoroughly before making a formal Promise. If a love-match was made, able-bodied settlement members banded together to build a dwelling for the couple. Alternately, the couple might be invited to move in with another pair who already had a house of their own.

Varaya had cohabited with a number of lovers, always moving back to the dormayre once the relationship ended. Presently she was not involved with anyone, and admitted to wondering whether she would ever find the right partner. Although the admission was accompanied by a wry chuckle, Hope sensed deep unhappiness. Varaya's sharp tongue and brash confidence were barriers she'd thrown up to hide her loneliness.

Varaya showed Hope around the women's quarters, describing the interior and the furnishings in such detail, Hope found it easy to form a picture of her surroundings. Afterward, they lounged on Varaya's sleeping platform to chat about this and that.

"I would like to give you something to welcome you, Hope—like Shay did." Varaya pressed something into Hope's hands. "These earrings are made from ambre, which is a rich gold, translucent resin. I thought of them because they complement your eyes. And your ears are already pierced."

Hope ran her fingertips over the smooth, oval-shaped drops. "They feel beautiful, Varaya, almost alive, somehow. Thank you." She removed her plain gold studs and stowed them in a pocket in her skirt. Carefully, she inserted the fine bone hooks of her new earrings through her earlobes and then flung her arms around Varaya. Her instincts had been right. She'd made a good friend—someone she could confide in. Someone who didn't have an agenda.

"They were a present from someone I lived with for a while," Varaya said. "But they should belong to you now."

"Was the someone, Blayne?"

She caught Varaya's sharp intake of breath and knew she had guessed correctly. "Varaya, I do not want these if the giving of them causes you pain."

"I'm over him. It's just... I'm worried I'll never find someone to love. I don't want to be alone forever."

A sob wracked Varaya's body. Hope hugged her more tightly. "There is a man for you somewhere. I am sure—" The powerful vision struck her dumb.

A couple stands together, hands entwined. The woman is a raven-haired beauty with thickly lashed brown eyes. She wears a sleeveless red dress elaborately decorated and cut to a deep vee that laces up the front. Around her neck is a string of red beads. Her upswept hair is adorned with a circlet of white flowers.

The man's sun-bleached hair contrasts starkly with his dark brown eyes, deepening them to almost black. His left arm and palm are marred by old scar tissue, puckered and livid against his tanned skin. On his wrist there is a bracelet of red beads—a match to the woman's necklace.

The woman raises his hand to kiss his scarred palm, and he smiles at her. Their love for each other radiates from them, a tangible presence surrounding them both in a glowing nimbus. And the glow intensifies until it is too bright for human eyes to bear....

~*~

Varaya was shaking her, calling her name. Her voice throbbed with fear. "Hope! What happened? Your eyes glowed. A-and you were staring right through me! Shall I send for Blayne?"

"I am all right. I was dreaming.... No." She shook her head. This time she couldn't pretend it was a dream, couldn't deny what she'd seen. "I was Seeing—Seeing you, I think."

She described the woman in her vision and when Varaya finally managed to summon words, they tumbled out in an eager rush. "That is me. A-and the dress I had made for when—if—I made a formal Promise to a man. And the red necklace and bracelet.... They're obviously Promising gifts. Hope, you've seen me being Promised to someone! Was he handsome?"

"Yes, very handsome."

Her friend bounced about on the bed like a child who could barely contain her joy. "Tell me what he looks like."

"No, I cannot." Instinctively Hope understood it would not be a good thing for Varaya to select potential partners based on a description of the man in the vision.

"I suppose you're right." Varaya's momentarily dampened excitement didn't take long to bubble over again. "Thank you. I'm so happy to know I'll finally meet someone who's perfect for me."

"You are very welcome Varaya." Hope shucked off the last of her disquiet over her Seeing and grinned, caught up in Varaya's delight, thrilled to bring someone happiness with her Seeing instead of misery and grief. They giggled together like schoolgirls sharing a secret.

"Shall we meet up tomorrow after you've finished with Dayamar?" Varaya asked. "I'd really like to show you more of the settlement."

"I would like that," Hope said. "Can we—?"

"Hola! You in there, Varaya?"

Varaya scrambled to her feet. "Come on in," she called to the visitor.

"I've been sent to find Sehan Hope. Is she with you?"

"You're in luck."

"Blayne needs you to come to Maya's house, Sehan Hope. Maya's father died a short while ago."

Shock hunched Hope's spine, and she wrapped her arms about her middle in a vain effort to protect herself from the truth. She'd been so happy for Varaya she'd pushed the horror of her first Seeing from her mind. And now it had come true.

~*~

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com