Book One of The Seer Trilogy Page 8

  “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. Good. She understood it had not been Blayne’s clothes Varaya had hoped to help wash.

  Blayne waded toward the bank, towing his companion along with him. Once their feet hit the bottom of the pool he grasped her 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 little 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. Her 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 his 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 the sort for 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 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 her footwear and grasped her hand. So solicitous. She 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.

  When 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 suddenly, her hand blindly seeking something.

  Varaya automatically grasped her hand, reacting to her disability. When she realized what she’d done she jolted and tried to tug her hand free, but the Sehan gripped her wrist tightly. She 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. 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 she’d 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.

  She 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 and 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 she had learned to see beyond the honed physique and handsome features to his 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 her heart 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 by being his woman. But I don’t love him. Only my pride was hurt when he ended our relationship.”

  Blayne’s jaw dropped at her unaccustomed candor. Under any other circumstances she 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.”

  Her 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 s
hook 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 felt the flush crawl 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.

  She 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 I met you. You have to trust my judgment. And I must make my own choices.”

  Blayne appeared to be chewing over her 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. He didn’t like the prospect of bartering with the opinionated clothes-maker. She didn’t blame him. Shay was hard as a 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! 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 escape the inevitable lecture. 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 away from the pool.

  Blayne gathered up the clothing and strode 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 her head spun. No wonder Blayne hadn’t been keen to accompany her.

  Finally 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 her protests about accepting this bounty as welcoming gifts with a negligent wave of her hand. “Blayne will just 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-expected 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 she asked about 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. Or they 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 her around the women’s quarters, describing the interior and the furnishings in such detail she 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 her 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 her 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. The inner skin of his left arm and his 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 she 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? I’d really like to show you more of the settlement.”