

# SEER'S HOPE

# By Maree Anderson

BOOK ONE OF THE SEER TRILOGY

Hope is snatched from her home and transported to a primitive world of magic and capricious gods. The Dayamari people believe she's a Seer and their only hope of salvation, but she's blind—she can't see anything at all, let alone the future. She must accept her destiny and learn to wield the awe-inspiring powers the gods have bestowed upon her. And if she's to save those she loves from the horrifying evil that lurks in the darkness, failure is not an option.

***

READERS' COMMENTS:

"I loved this book, it had me completely enthralled right from the beginning. I just didn't want to put it down. A must read book, both gripping and entertaining. Highly recommended."

"I read a lot of books and it's rare to find one with a storyline that hasn't been done. This is one of the best books I have read. I went right out and bought the trilogy; it was that good that in two days I have read two of the books."

"Incredible story. Well written and I could not put it down. The love story along with the paranormal as well as off world descriptions kept me enthralled. I have found another author to add to my collection."

"An epic whirlwind from start to finish. With a surprising twist at the end. Something I truly didn't expect. [...] I loved Hope's adventures and I highly recommend it to anyone who likes science fiction, romance, adventure, magic and best of all a good laugh."

"I loved everything about this book! The characters, the plot, the setting.... Anderson did a amazing job at creating this other world and what lives there. [...] I recommend this to anyone wanting to read something filled with romance, adventure, and courage."

***

## Dedication

This one's for my husband.

***

## Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Seer's Promise Excerpt

Glossary

Other Books by Maree Anderson

About the Author

Copyright

***

## Prologue

He was a _Sehan_ , the last of his kind, and his people would be appalled by the risk he'd taken. Piercing the veil between worlds was always perilous, and this time he'd pushed himself to the limits of his endurance. Hunger gnawed at him. He needed rest but his _Seeing_ left him no choice. When he died his people would be helpless to defend themselves. One more world, he silently promised his gods, just one more and then he would rest.

He drifted through the incorporeal plane until he felt an insistent tug from a blue-green world. He scanned the multi-colored soul-lights, searching for a hint of potential. Many souls showed promise but the one he had foreseen was not amongst them.

He had gathered his waning strength for the journey home when one flickering soul-light demanded his attention. It teetered on the brink of extinction. He yearned to intervene, to tempt fate by playing the god, but at the last instant he pulled back. A crisis point had been reached, an opportunity for the soul to evolve. He must not influence the outcome or all could be lost.

He prayed... and was rewarded for his faith, for the soul-light flared and reformed, pulsating with vibrant rich-gold hues. She seethed with such vast _Sehani_ potential that his weary heart beat with renewed vigor. He had found her—the savior he had foreseen. But even as he rejoiced, his soul twisted with regret for the horrors she would face.

~*~

## Chapter One

Hope leaned against the broad trunk of her favorite shade tree and closed her eyes—just for a second. But the dream took her, transporting her back to the night she'd lost everything she loved.

"Why didn't I die, too?" she whispered to the indifferent blackness.

And this time it answered her, a gentle compassionate voice. "You survived because you are needed. I need you— _we_ need you."

At some elemental level she believed the voice, understood she'd survived for some higher purpose she had yet to fulfill. Even so, she couldn't absolve herself of the guilt.

She awoke with a hiccupping gasp. Her parents and her brothers were dead and she had survived. There was no going back, no point playing "what if". She squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the pain, waiting for it to ease so she could function again. But this time her nightmare did not fade, and the voice that had dogged her dreams since the accident intruded upon her waking world.

His words drilled into her skull. "We need you, Hope. Come to me. Come. Now."

He snatched control of her body and jerked her to her feet. He called a breeze into existence, she heard—felt—him do it. And he molded it into a snarling vortex of energy that engulfed her.

When she would have slumped bonelessly to the ground, overwhelmed by the forces battering her unprotected mind, her knee joints locked. Her body was no longer hers to command and she stood, powerless, given no choice but to endure the pounding energy filling her, expanding her until she thought her skin would burst.

His invasion of her mind was a two-way channel and so she shared his regret that he must take her against her will. But he could not be reasoned with, and her pleas were overcome by demands that she trust him.

The vortex streamed upward, drawing her with it. Her physical body stretched, elongating to an impossible length.

"Hope!"

Her name on his lips was the last thing she heard before she exploded... and the oblivion she had craved crashed in on her. But not even _he_ could grant her respite from her dreams.

Another dream—a new dream that whisked her to some unknown place to confront a monster that was spiteful and cruel—the essence of evil. She tried to flee but it— _they_ —held her transfixed, and the cacophony of voices echoed in the confines of her mind. _You will give usss what we crave. We will consssume you._

Their poison-green eyes burned with unholy glee.

Agony lanced through her as they tore her soul from her body, feasted upon it. And at some unconscious level she understood this was not a dream but a portent.

~*~

Rhythmic humming banished Hope's nightmares, and for a few precious moments she wallowed in memories of her father singing her to sleep. The façade of comfort cracked when she sucked in a deep breath redolent of pungent herbs rather than salt-laden sea air. Another breath. And it was an effort to inflate her lungs because... because she hung head-down over something.

Pressure built behind her eyes until her head throbbed in perfect unison with each ragged breath she inhaled. She beat back the stabbing pains, compartmentalizing them until she could concentrate.

Her cheek rested against the textured material of a man's shirt. He bore her weight easily, as though she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. The surface he walked upon crunched underfoot, and the resinous odor of pine wafted on the cool breeze. But... her last conscious memory was of dozing in the shade of the oak. Could she still be caught in a dream?

Unlikely. This—here and now—felt far too real to be a dream.

She was about to demand to be put down when the man halted of his own accord.

Adrenaline scorched her muscles. He bent, lowering her from his shoulder, and the instant she felt solid ground beneath her feet she lunged, slamming him aside. She fled, hands outstretched for balance, scrambling to keep her footing.

The smooth aggregate pathways and manicured grass verges of her hometown had vanished. Knee-high coarse grass whipped her bare calves. Plant debris and leaves clogged her sandals, bunching up between her toes. He called out but her hammering pulse muffled his words.

A bird squawked, startled into flight. She listened for sounds of pursuit, detected the thuds of running feet behind her and increased her speed, heedless of the unfamiliar terrain. The only thought pounding through her brain was the safety a crowd would afford. She could beg a passerby to call her a taxi. Everything would be all right once she got home.

Her lungs protested her breakneck speed. The air seemed to thicken, coating her throat like thick cream. Spots danced before her eyes. Pain blazed through her skull and she staggered and fell, measuring her length on the ground.

Gentle hands rolled her onto her back and brushed hair back from her face. She wanted to tell him something was terribly wrong but her tongue lay thick and heavy in her mouth, and it barely registered that she couldn't understand a single word from his lips.

He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, raising her torso as he pressed a flask to her lips. The bitter liquid made her gag and choke. He muttered something, his tone laced with concern as he massaged her throat, forcing her to swallow.

Hope's mind blanked. All her senses shut down until, cocooned in nothingness, she floated in a place outside of time... and a mental barrier shattered. Foreign words flew through her mind in an unending data-stream. As each word flashed past, a voice chanted it aloud and it echoed in her mind. Hundreds upon thousands of words were then augmented by phrases. And the process continued, unrelenting, until comprehension burst through her brain in a blinding flash that robbed her of consciousness.

~*~

Her brain came back on line slowly—too slowly. Her sluggish, clumsy limbs didn't seem to belong to her body. She inhaled and caught a whiff of that herbal fragrance again. Oh God. She was not alone.

She rolled off the thin pallet, curling into a defensive crouch, and waited, increasingly uneasy when he did nothing, said nothing.

It was too damn quiet—no purr of luxury vehicles or steady thrum of pleasure craft motoring up the marina. No slap of waves against moorings. No other people. Only him.

When he cleared his throat her heart stuttered. She snatched a breath and exhaled slowly. She mustn't allow herself to be distracted again.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I'm the _Panakeya_. I won't hurt you."

Huh? Pana- _what_?

"You've been unconscious for more than a day. How do you feel now?"

"I feel fine." An out and out lie, but he didn't need to know that. "I will be fine on my own now," she told him. "I will find my own way home. I do not need your help."

Good grief. Where had those formal, stilted words come from? Her hand crept to her lips as she cast about for something more forceful to say, but the necessary words only popped into her head if she concentrated hard. It was like thinking in English but being forced to speak a different language. She pinched the bridge of her nose to help her to focus.

A callused hand grasped her chin, tilting her face upward.

"Leave. Me. Alone!" She slapped his hand away and punctuated her demand by lashing out with a fist, but he must have read her intentions in her eyes because she connected with air.

"Thought as much." A pause, and then, "I'm Blayne."

_Blayne_. Images of a man careened through her mind and somehow, she knew they were of him. It was a tantalizing vision of the future—her future—inexplicably intertwined with his.

She shook her head, rejecting the vision, refusing to dwell upon the wonder, the magic of such a gift. She didn't need anyone. She sure as heck didn't need him.

"Have you been blind from birth, or were you blinded in an accident of some sort?" Professional curiosity infused his tone. Better than pity, at least, but it didn't incline her to reveal such private details to a stranger.

"I want to go home. Please call me a— a—" Her jaw sagged. She could clearly visualize "taxi" but the word had vanished from her vocabulary as though it had been excised from the language.... Or never existed at all.

Panic stroked her spine. This bizarre situation was getting way out of hand. She crawled to her feet, took a couple of hesitant steps to test her ankle and—

Her shoulder scraped against an expanse of cold unyielding stone.

Biting back a startled whimper, she extended her hands, feeling her way inch by cautious inch, patting the stone wall with her palms. The ambient temperature was cooler the farther she ventured. The air was unnaturally still. And those echoes....

He'd brought her to a _cave_? No way. Seaview was a trendy seaside resort town. She'd lived there all her life. There were no caves.

"I know you're scared but I won't harm you. I'm a healer for gods' sakes!"

He sounded affronted and intuition told her he'd spoken the truth. He wasn't going to hurt her. She could trust him. He would help her. She knew this absolutely to be true. But in the aftermath of the car wreck she'd learned to be self-contained. Too often, people claiming to have her best interests at heart had tried to take advantage. Now she didn't trust anyone except Maggie, the woman who'd been her mother's best friend. So damned if she'd trust a stranger, and put herself entirely at his mercy—

Strident voices boomed in her mind. _You can trust him. Trust him... trust him... trust him.... TRUST HIM!_

A pulse at her temple throbbed with each echo. The band of tension across her forehead tightened until even her sinuses ached. Pressing the heels of her palms to her eye sockets, she willed herself not to scream. Coherent thought was almost impossible. It was easier to give in, easier to believe the voices. Easier to trust Blayne.

She hunched her shoulders. She would let him help her—for now, anyway. And as though a switch had been flipped, the headache and accompanying pains instantly vanished.

A ragged sigh escaped her lips.

"Are you all right?" His voice again, gentle, concerned.

"Yes." Another lie. Because what on earth was right about any of this?

"What's your name?"

"My name is Hope."

"Hope."

His unusual accent gave her plain, uninteresting name an exotic quality . Despite her churning belly and racing heart, her lips quirked upward.

"Okay, Hope. You've got some minor cuts and scratches, and from that limp I'm guessing you've twisted your ankle. Will you let me check it? Please?"

What other choice did she have? "Yes." She tensed her muscles, fighting the need to flee, and waited for him to approach and guide her. And when he grasped her hand, she couldn't help a muffled squeak.

He led her to another area of the cave and urged her to sit. "First I'm going to clean this scrape on your knee, okay?"

He dabbed on a liquid that smelled of minty turpentine and stung like blazes. She hissed beneath her breath, biting the inside of her cheek until the stinging eased.

He pulled her foot into his lap and fumbled with her footwear for a moment, before undoing the buckle and easing her sandal from her foot. And as he ran his hands over her ankle, his fingers gently probing for injuries, she held herself very still, painfully aware of her vulnerability.

He hit a sore spot. When she winced and bit her lips, his probing fingers stilled. "Sorry," he said. "It's nothing serious. Just a sprain."

He slathered on a salve and massaged it in with firm but careful fingers. Warmth infused her skin, relaxing her twitching muscles. And finally, he wrapped her ankle tightly with a supple strip of material and tucked in the ends.

"Where are we?" she plucked up the courage to ask, dreading his answer.

"Dayamaria."

She knit her brows. "Dye-a- _mah_ -ree-a. Where is that, exactly?"

"My home. My settlement is a few days walk from here. Where are you from?"

"What makes you think I do not come from around here?"

A pause. "It's obvious you don't."

Oh. Okay. "I come from Seaview."

Another pause, longer this time. "See-View? I've never heard of such a place."

Not good. Sooo not good. Where the hell was she? She shivered and rubbed her arms.

Something bulky plunked into her lap. A blanket. She draped it cape-like over her shoulders and huddled into its warmth.

The dull, solid strike of stone against stone shattered the silence. Blayne puffed loudly a couple times, and then a burnt odor wafted through the air.

If he was trying to start a fire, why use flint instead of matches or a lighter? It didn't make any sense. None of this made sense.

The fire crackled, warming Hope's small portion of the cave. She racked her brains for clues as to how she'd gotten here—wherever _here_ might conceivably be.

"Hungry?"

She jolted and swallowed a squeak, hating that she sounded like a scared little girl. "Yes. Please."

The smooth-skinned fruit he pressed into her hands smelled like a ripe apple. She dared a small nibble. Sweetness burst on her tongue.

Once she'd gnawed it down to the core she shuffled forward on her knees, one hand outstretched, intending to toss the core into the fire.

His hand clamped her wrist. "Unless you want burns on top of everything else, stay put."

She choked down the angry protest bubbling to her lips. He had a point. This wasn't her house, where she knew the exact placement of every last item of furniture and appliance, and could putter about with minimal risk. She handed him the fruit core and backed away, taking refuge beneath her blanket.

Scenarios chattered in her mind. Where had he found her? Why had he brought her here? What were his intentions?

She had no clue she'd been gnawing on her thumbnail until he took her hand from her mouth, cupping it instead around a mug. At least this time, she'd managed not to squeak at the unexpectedness of his touch. Things were looking up.

"Herbal tea," he said. "Careful, it's hot."

Herbal tea? Hope wrinkled her nose. She could do with a strong black coffee right about now. Cupping the mug in both hands she took a cautious sniff. "What is it?"

" _Anthemisia_ plus a mix of various other herbs."

Riiight. Smelled like chamomile— She paused with the mug midway to her lips.

"I haven't drugged it," he said, his tone flat.

She bit back the automatic apology that sprang to her lips. She didn't know him. She hadn't asked him to bring her here. Why should she apologize for anything? "I imagine that being a healer, such underhanded actions are beneath you."

Her sarcastic tone provoked a wry chuckle. "Depends wholly on the patient."

"And?"

" _And_ , I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"Oh. Thank you."

When she'd drained the brew, he substituted a bowl for the empty mug. The contents smelled savory and so delicious that she almost moaned.

Her stomach gurgled so loudly he'd have to be deaf not to hear it, but his sole reaction was to hand her a spoon. And then he ruined it by commenting, "I like a woman with an appetite," and not making any effort to hide his amusement.

Hah. Nice that someone found this situation funny. She examined the utensil with her fingertips. "What is this made of?"

"Wood. What else would it be made of?"

A wooden spoon. Sure. Why not? It was in keeping with the flint. And the odd utensil didn't stop her demolishing the food with unseemly haste. She listened to the sounds of Blayne cleaning up and thought how ironic it was that her situation, which had seemed so dire a short time ago, was much improved by a full stomach.

A portion of her mind drifted like seaweed buffeted by the tide. Wind whistled an eerie chorus, carrying with it the faint howl of a wolf. And in her mind's eye, Hope was transported elsewhere.

Moonlight swathed a velvety black sky, highlighting the woman who sat cross-legged atop a large boulder. Her eyes were closed, face serene. A silvery corona of pure power licked her pale skin.

At her side, a silver wolf lifted its head to howl at the night. The beast circled the woman once before settling to lay its shaggy head in her lap. The white owl perched on the woman's shoulder preened its feathers. It stretched its wings and hooted once before settling to survey the night. And the red-banded black serpent coiled about the woman's neck hissed, tasting the air with its forked tongue.

The woman's eyelids fluttered, and slowly opened. She and her non-human companions gazed at Hope, their glittering golden eyes boring into hers....

And the instant Hope recognized herself, her vision cut to the blackness of her current reality. She felt tightness as the tiny muscles around her eyes twitched and spasmed. A pleasant tingling sensation warmed her toes, her feet, her calves. It swirled in her pelvis, building to a breath-stealing burn before moving upward.

The blanket slipped unnoticed from her shoulders as the heat coiled in her chest, moved upward again, intensifying still more as it reached her eyes.

Fiery power licked her eyeballs, burned down her optic nerve and into her brain. A pained gasp choked in her throat. Tears tracked heated trails down her cheeks. She wanted to scream. She yearned to blink. But all she could do, all she was _permitted_ to do, was to open her eyes wide. Wider—

"Hope?" Blayne reached out to shake her and halted, hand outstretched. Gold flecks swirled amidst the intense blue of her eyes. The bizarre dance mesmerized him. And then her irises flashed to molten gold.

He recoiled, snatching back his hand. Sweet Wisa protect him!

As he watched, the golden color drained away, leaving her irises their natural blue. And then she slumped forward and toppled onto her side.

Blayne rocked back on his heels, shocked to the core. Only when the clamoring of his healer instincts became too loud to ignore did he rouse himself. Even then, his hand hovered over her prone form for an achingly long moment before he dared roll her onto her back.

He checked her pulse and respiration. Normal. He peeled back first one eyelid and then the other. The pupils expanded and contracted, functioning exactly as he expected healthy eyes to do. Both irises were completely normal—well, as normal as blue eyes could be. But her eyes had been as golden as Dayamar's. He had not imagined it. And Dayamar was a _Sehan_ , a Seer. Hope was—

Gods. He didn't know who or _what_ she was.

Deeply unsettled, Blayne observed her until he finally convinced himself she merely slept.

Hope shivered, and the tiny bumps stippling her bare skin were such a normal human reaction to the chill that Blayne snorted and silently berated himself for his previous fears. He scooped her up and carried her to the pallet, where he carefully arranged her on her side. She murmured something incomprehensible and then her breathing deepened.

As he tucked a blanket about her, the glint from her finger-bands caught his attention. Blayne's people did not wear decorative bands such as these. He doubted even the most skilled craftsman had the skill to replicate such fine work. He marveled at the way the firelight reflected in the facets of the large silvery-white gem adorning one of the bands on her index finger. She also wore a thumb-band inset with a deep crimson gem that reminded him of the _kuruvinda_ pendant that had belonged to his mother.

He examined her clothing more closely. Short pants, a light shirt, and the unusually designed leather footwear he'd removed from her feet.

Impractical. She couldn't have traveled far in such flimsy clothing. It was as though she'd been snatched from another world and deliberately deposited in his path. For such a tiny thing she was a big bundle of anomalies.

He rummaged through the spare clothing in his pack. His garments were far too large, of course, but they would at least offer her protection from the elements. He didn't make a habit of carrying spare boots, however. With luck her footwear would last the distance.

Blayne checked on his perplexing companion once more before rolling himself in a blanket. But sleep was elusive. He tossed and turned, grinding his teeth until his jaw ached. He was a healer. His abilities might seem magical to his patients but his skills lay with diagnosing and treating physical ailments. If, as he suspected, Hope was manifesting Sehani transformation symptoms, there would be little he could do to help her. Dayamar was her best chance of survival. If Hope were to have a fighting chance, Blayne had to get her to the settlement as quickly as possible.

~*~

## Chapter Two

Blayne woke to tendrils of dawn creeping across the floor of the cave. Hope didn't stir when he checked on her. The bluish smudges beneath her eyes indicated bone-deep exhaustion. She was so deeply asleep, he knew she'd not wake for some time. He didn't like to leave her unattended but the compulsion to solve the mystery surrounding her appearance was too great.

He slipped noiselessly from the cave, and backtracked to the clearing. She'd been curled up beneath a large tree, and when he'd first found her he'd cursorily examined the area. Now he checked it again. Thoroughly. There had to be some small clue he'd overlooked that would reveal the truth.

He found nothing that made any sense. Save for his own footprints, the ground was undisturbed. None of her footprints showed around the base of the trunk nor, indeed, the surrounding area. Barring the compacted soil in the slight depression where she'd lain, there was not a single trace of her passing.

There were rumored to be vast lands beyond the borders known to his people. Perhaps Hope had accompanied travelers from some distant land who'd either died, or abandoned her. He discounted the thought as soon as it formed. Settlement trackers would have found evidence of strangers and reported them to the elders. And then there was the wolf that had led him to Hope to consider—a phantom wolf that had left no tracks. A figment of his imagination? Or a messenger from the gods.

Blayne felt the gods' hands in this mystery. And if the See-View place Hope had spoken of was part of another world, it would explain her clothing. Still, her speech might be overly formal and painfully polite, but it was recognizably Dayamaru. The sooner he could hand his disturbing companion over to Sehan Dayamar's care, the better for his peace of mind.

He jogged back to the cave, planning to organize breakfast before rousing Hope, and convincing her to accompany him to the settlement. He could be a persuasive man—especially where women were concerned. Failing that, he'd drag her kicking and screaming the entire way because, as the gods were his witness, he was not going to leave a helpless blind woman to fend for herself.

The instant he entered the cave Blayne knew he should never have left her alone. She'd awoken and struck out on her own. And she'd taken neither food, water, nor the traveling clothes he'd left out for her.

Kunnandi's snaky fangs, what was she thinking? Stubborn damn female. Even if she didn't succumb to dehydration along the way, chances were high she'd injure herself.

"Great Wisa," he prayed, "please watch over Hope and protect her from harm." At least until _he_ caught up with the foolhardy woman and gave her a piece of his mind .

Blayne packed his possessions but left the pallet, along with a selection of non-perishables that he stored in a stone-covered cache. He'd used this cave before and would do so again. Its seclusion made it a convenient bolt hole when the pressures of his position and the attentions of young women angling for his Promise became wearying. Shouldering his pack, he strode from the cave.

To an experienced tracker, the path she'd taken was strewn with evidence of her passing. Flattened grass, imprints of her footwear in softer areas of ground, bent stalks of foliage, and even strands of her long hair. She wouldn't be traveling too swiftly with that sprained ankle. The vice-like feeling in his chest eased.

A mere half hour later, Blayne caught sight of her limping along, oblivious to all but some unseen path ahead. At least she'd removed her shirt and draped it over her head and shoulders to protect herself from the sun. Now her top was reduced to two triangles of bright crimson cloth that tied around her neck and back. Surprisingly, she was heading in the right direction. If she kept on this track she'd eventually end up on the outskirts of his settlement. Eventually. If she didn't expire from dehydration first.

As he watched, Hope blotted her face with her shirt. He admired her determination. He admired _her_ , even if he did want to shake her 'til her teeth rattled for taking such a stupid—

She stumbled and lurched forward, arms outstretched to break her fall, almost disappearing from view in the long grass.

Blayne broke into a ground-eating jog.

~*~

Hope rolled onto her back, shielding her face from the sun with her shirt. When Blayne spoke, she almost whimpered with gratitude.

"Ready to be sensible now?" he asked.

She licked dry lips. "In exchange for a drink of water, I promise to do whatever you want."

"Really. I find that hard to believe."

He sounded more amused than irritated. Hopefully that meant he'd forgo the lecture she knew she so richly deserved. She struggled to sit, irritated by how difficult she found that simple task.

He slipped an arm beneath her back to assist, then held what she figured was a water-skin to her lips. "Drink," he said.

The cool liquid slid down her throat. She let him control the flow, allowed herself to slump against his chest. It meant nothing. She was exhausted and scared, not to mention thirsty and hungry—all good enough reasons to let him help her.

"Enough?"

She nodded, and her sigh segued to an indignant splutter when he upended the water-skin over her head. She tried to bat his hands away but he only stopped wetting her down once her makeshift headscarf was thoroughly soaked and water dripped from her nose. "What was that for?" she demanded.

"Call it sunstroke prevention." He tapped the tip of her nose with a gentle finger. "With that fair skin, you risk serious sunburn. Not to mention starvation, dehydration, and by the time night falls, add exposure to the list. So, I'll ask you again: Are you ready to be sensible or do I have to truss you up and drag you behind me?"

"You would resort to that?"

"Try me. Like it or not you're defenseless. I'd not forgive myself if you got attacked by some wild animal looking for an easy meal."

Her stomach cramped. "There are wild animals?"

"Wolves. Boars. Even the occasional big cat that might fancy a change of diet. Venomous snakes, too. Plenty of dangers for the unwary."

"Snakes?"

A firm palm pressed down on her shoulder, preventing her scrambling to her feet in a mad panic. "Relax," he said. "They're more scared of you than you are of them. Will you stay put for a bit? There's something I need to do."

Her heart stuttered. "You are leaving again?"

That warm, comforting hand squeezed her shoulder. "I'm not going far, I promise. In the meantime, have a snack. You missed breakfast." He tossed something into her lap before he walked off.

Hope examined the leaf-wrapped package that had been tied with a length of what felt like raffia. She picked apart the knot and spread the leaf to reveal a large cookie-shaped object. She sniffed. An edible cookie-shaped object. Chock full of dried fruit and nuts. It had been baked to within an inch of its life, and the result rivaled biscotti.

She lay back on the grass as she munched the cookie. This time, more attuned to her surroundings, she detected Blayne's stealthy approach. She didn't believe he walked softly with the intention of deliberately startling her, more that his stealth was an ingrained habit.

"Here." He plunked a hat on her head and the relief from the baking sun was instant.

Hope removed the creation to examine it, running her hands over the tightly woven flax-like leaves. Clever man. She shoved her arms into her shirt, shrugging it into place, and then donned her hat, fussing with the brim until she had angled it to best shade the sun. "It is made well. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, and she had the distinct impression he was pleased by her clumsy compliment. "More water?"

"Please."

She quickly discovered she didn't have the knack of drinking from a bag, or skin, or whatever it was. She spilled water all down herself and once more had to suffer his assistance. "I wish I knew exactly where on earth I was," she grumbled, more to herself than to Blayne while she wrung out her shirtfront.

He heaved what she presumed was an exasperated sigh. "We're in Dayamaria."

"I have never heard of Dayamaria."

"And I've never heard of—"

"Seaview."

"It's strange—"

"What is strange?" Aside from practically everything she'd encountered so far.

"That you speak Dayamaru so well. Your grammar is a bit stilted, and you speak quite formally but—"

"I'm speaking _Dayamaru_?" What rubbish. How could she be speaking a language she'd never heard of? "I do not speak this Dayamaru. I speak...." She fumbled for the word. " _English_."

He grunted and muttered something beneath his breath. "Say something in your _English_ then."

"Very well." She scratched her nose, and wondered why it was so difficult to recall the language she'd spoken her entire life.

Finally, thankfully, the familiar words eventually seeped into her brain. "My name is Hope Delamore and I live in Seaview. I'm twenty. Um, I live alone and I like it that way. I love chocolate and mocha lattés and I'm a hopeless cook. Okay, that's it. You understood all that, right?"

After an awkward silence Blayne said, "Did you ask me a question?"

"Yes."

"What did you ask, exactly?"

Hope opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap. "You did not understand a word I said, did you?"

"No."

She couldn't bring herself to believe Blayne was playing some cruel trick on her. He had no reason to pretend he didn't understand. He spoke with sincerity, and his every action so far led her to believe that he was an honorable man.

Panic prickled her skin and she rubbed her arms. "This is ridiculous. There is no such place as Dayamaria. The last I remember I was in my garden, but it got so hot and stifling I rested beneath a tree. How could I have traveled so far from my home without remembering a thing about it?"

She stared in his direction, searching her memories for answers. A dim recollection drifted tantalizingly close but when she reached for the memory, it skittered away. "Aargh! I—I cannot explain it." She hid her face in her hands.

"Neither can I," he said, sounding as troubled as she felt.

Hope's pulse hammered. Her determination to find her own way home was tempered by a growing suspicion that she would fail because she truly _had_ been transported to some vast wilderness and left to fend for herself.

"How do you think you got here?" he asked.

"I do not know. I remember a voice calling me. Then I know no more."

"How can you speak my language?"

"I do not know that, either. It is like—" She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to voice the alien concept. "It is like all your words crowd my mind, waiting for me to find them when I need them." She knuckled her eyes. "It makes my head ache."

"I'm not surprised."

She set her jaw and scowled at nothing in particular. It seemed every time she rebelled against her situation, the headache returned with a vengeance. If she didn't know better she might conclude some bizarre, otherworldly force was guiding her down a predestined path. _Keep worrying about this and your head will hurt. Be a good girl and follow the big strong man, and I'll make the headache disappear._

A delusion?

Perhaps. But no more delusional than drifting off to sleep in one world and waking up in another.

"What is next?" she asked.

"Checking the strapping on your ankle."

"And then?"

"I plan on returning to my settlement. It would be best if you came with me."

"Why?"

"When I say 'Dayamar', what does that mean to you?"

She opened her mouth to tell him she didn't appreciate his clumsy attempt to change the subject, but the word he'd emphasized snagged in her mind, refusing to be dismissed. "Dayamar. It is a name, I think. I feel like it is familiar but I do not know why." She glared in his general direction. "What is the significance of this name?"

"Hope, I need you to come with me. Please."

"But I do not want to go to your settlement. I want to go home!"

"And I wish I could help you, but I don't know where your home is. I know someone who might be able to help, though."

She sensed that he was holding his breath, willing her to cooperate. Defeated, she flopped back on the ground and closed her eyes, trying to shut out her troubles. "I cannot recall—how long did you say it would take to reach this settlement of yours?"

"About a week's travel at my usual pace."

"I guess we must walk?"

"Of course. How else would we get there?"

She tossed him a weak smile. "How else indeed."

A week of walking? Where were cars, or even horses, when you needed them? "Could you not return me to the place you found me and leave me there? Maybe whatever brought me here will occur again and return me to my home."

Wait for it—

The inevitable headache bloomed. She scrunched her eyes shut, willing the pain to subside.

"There was a wolf sniffing around you," Blayne said. "How long do you think you would you survive on your own while you waited to be returned to your home?"

She shivered. "You could wait with me."

Silence. And then, "My people need me. I've already been gone too long."

The headache worsened and this time her stomach rebelled, too. Blayne held the hair back from her face while she vomited up her fears. And when she'd emptied her stomach, he cradled her in his arms while she cried for everything she'd lost.

Go with him. He will keep you safe. Trust him. He will help you. Trust him.

The inner voices nagged her. The more she resisted, the worse her head ached and throbbed, until the pain was so overwhelming she wanted to scream. And as if that wasn't punishment enough, the truth of her situation smacked her like a punch from an unseen assailant. She was stuck here in this wild, primitive place. Without Blayne, she would be at the mercy of animals, the weather, and her own ignorance. She had to go with him. She had no choice.

She gave in. She'd go wherever Blayne cared to take her. Anything was better than suffering like this. Or wandering around alone, at the mercy of whatever creature decided she'd make a tasty snack.

All right, all right. I get it already! I'm going with him, okay? That's what you want me to do, right? Happy now?

Hope's headache vanished and she resisted the urge to make a rude gesture to the cosmos. Instead, she rinsed the sour taste from her mouth and allowed Blayne to tug her to her feet.

Here— _now_ —was real. She had to put aside her yearning for the only home she'd known, treat it like a distant memory... and face the very real possibility she would live out the rest of her life in this place.

Clasping Blayne's hand, Hope took a huge step into the unknown.

~*~

## Chapter Three

Hope slumped, elbows propped on knees and head hanging. She ached in places she didn't know could ache yet, unlike Blayne, she'd only been carrying the clothes on her back rather than what must be a massive pack considering all the gear he had produced. It had taken a mammoth effort to do little more than remain awake to eat the meal he prepared for her.

She crawled inside the small tent he'd pitched. A sniff of her armpits compelled her to shuck shirt and shorts along with her sandals, before crawling atop the sleeping roll Blayne had laid out. She snuggled beneath a blanket and sleep immediately pounced.

Sometime during the night the covers slipped from her shoulders. A cold draught of air skimmed her neck. She shivered and a muscled arm encircled her and pulled her in close, settling her against a warm bare chest. She pulled away, murmuring a sleepy protest, but the arm around her tightened. Before she could awaken fully, she inhaled a herbal fragrance.

Blayne. He was warm and he was safe—the sole familiar thing in this frightening new world. She relaxed back into sleep.

When Hope woke, the only evidence Blayne had shared the tent was the faint herbal odor that always accompanied him emanating from the blankets. She caught a whiff of her sweaty body. Whew. What she wouldn't give for a bath and deodorant. Not to mention the sheer bliss of a change of underwear. And speaking of clothes, where the heck were hers?

Nowhere to be found, apparently.

Thankfully, she still wore the bikini she'd had on beneath her clothes when she "arrived". It would have to do.

Blayne hailed her the instant she ventured from the tent in search of water. "It's a beautiful morning," he said. "Come, I'll take you to the pool to bathe."

He took her hand . "Careful now. There are rocks here and the ground is uneven."

Hope encountered a great deal of bare damp skin when he wrapped an arm about her waist, and her stomach flip-flopped. She inhaled his clean fresh scent and couldn't prevent the rueful sigh that escaped her lips. "Uh, Blayne? I smell very bad. Do you have soap?"

"Here." He handed her a small cake of something and a damp cloth. "Bathe while I see to breakfast. And you can borrow some of my clothes—they're far more suitable for traveling than yours."

He paused. And she heard him suck in a deep breath.

She imagined his gaze raking her... and the bikini she wore suddenly seemed inadequate, provocative. Her face flushed with warmth. Damn! This would not do. She punched him in the arm.

"What was that for?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

She moistened her lips with her tongue. "You know how."

"Sorry." He sounded anything but. "Will you be okay here on your own?" he asked.

She nodded, ducking her head to hide her still-warm face. Bathing while Blayne stood by was an intimacy she wasn't prepared to face. So when she heard his footfalls fading into the distance, she told herself she was relieved. She told herself she was grateful to be left alone. Just for a little while, at least.

Hope dipped a toe into the cool water and ventured into the pool. The cake of soap lathered surprisingly well. She washed, and then worked soap into her knotted hair. It took three attempts to rinse out the suds, but squeaky-clean hair was worth the effort.

She waded back to shore, sluicing water from her body with her palms. Even at this early hour, it was warm enough to sunbathe. A large, smooth-surfaced rock proved a perfect place to sit and wring out her hair, and hopefully would help dry off her bikini.

The _hissss_ sounded directly by her feet.

She froze, images of being bitten and enduring a slow, painful death flickering through her mind. She smothered her fear and extended all her senses in the direction the hiss had come from.

Time stood still. In her mind's eye, she saw a four-foot long black reptile with red bands. It lay coiled about itself and its tongue flickered, tasting the air. Tasting her.

It was magnificent, a creature encapsulating both beauty and menace, and Hope lost herself in the intensity of its cold gold reptilian eyes. Her own eyes began to tingle but she ignored the irritating sensation. Her heartbeat and breathing slowed. In a peculiar fashion she could not entirely comprehend, she and the snake communed.

~*~

Blayne sauntered up the path toward the pool. He spotted Hope perched on a rock, clad only in those brief red garments. An appreciative grin split his face. She was beautiful. And such a fragile little thing, so unlike the robust, tanned women of his settlement. Her hair was the rich russet of a _cervida_ doe—a stark contrast to skin so pale he'd originally thought her a spirit. And those sky-blue eyes....

Her unnatural stillness finally registered. Blayne's gaze darted to the highly venomous reptile coiled at her feet. Kunnandi's teeth. Please gods, she hadn't been bitten.

He crept forward. Closer now, he could see that her eyes were wide open, pupils hugely dilated as she gazed fixedly at the snake.

Hope's lips moved. The snake hissed a response. Spirit-fingers played icy tunes up and down Blayne's spine.

"Hope. Don't move. Don't make a sound." He scanned the area for a weapon and his gaze lit upon a broken leafy branch.

Slowly, taking the utmost care to keep his movements smooth, Blayne reached for it. And once he got a grip on the makeshift weapon he inched sideways, measuring the distance to the snake, readying himself to spring.

Just a little closer....

He lunged, thrusting out the branch to sweep the reptile from the rock.

Continuing his forward momentum, Blayne grabbed Hope by the waist, snatching her from harm's way and tossing her on the ground. He pivoted to deal with the irate reptile, defending with the branch while he bent to grope for another weapon.

His hand closed upon a good-sized rock. Perfect.

He advanced on the snake, intending to pin it down and bash it to death with his makeshift weapon.

"Do not hurt it, please."

Blayne halted. She'd spoken calmly. A glance over his shoulder showed that she'd risen to her knees, lips curved in a dreamy smile—the same sort of smile women got when they looked at newborns or cute baby animals.

"Did it bite you?" Worry made him brusque.

"No. It did not hurt me."

Thank the gods. Blayne turned back to the snake, intending to pulverize it with the rock still gripped tightly in his hand. Too late: The snake had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to slither off and lose itself in the undergrowth.

He dropped the rock and tossed the branch aside. Three steps and he could grab Hope's arms to haul her upright. Her eyes were once more drenched with that unearthly molten-gold hue. And as he watched, the color drained away, returning her eyes to their natural blue. She whimpered once, a heart-breaking sound like a wolf-pup crying for its mother, and then she collapsed in his arms.

He laid her on the ground and checked her from head to toe for puncture wounds, unwilling to accept her at her word.

She'd spoken truly. She hadn't been bitten. Her breathing, pulse rate and skin tone were normal.

He checked her pupils again and finally allowed the terrible tension to seep from his muscles.

Hold on.... His gaze was drawn to a pale slash on the right side of her abdomen, near her hipbone. He ran gently probing fingers over the scar. It appeared to be a precise, intentional cut—yet another mystery he'd like to solve.

Blayne sat back on his heels to gather his thoughts. He'd commenced his healer training as a raw youngling—merely ten years of age. And he'd been gifted with such natural ability, his mentor had seen fit to shorten his apprenticeship. He'd honed his skills, risen quickly through the ranks and was well respected by his peers. Despite his youth, no elder had voted against his elevation to Panakeya, First among healers. Since then he'd witnessed many miraculous recoveries that couldn't be explained by a healer's skill alone, and he believed wholeheartedly in his gods and the magic that Sehani like Dayamar wielded.

Sehani transformation only occurred in those with Sehani ancestors. There had been but one Sehan born since Dayamar, and although she'd survived the initial transformation, she'd not survived the aftermath. Hope was well past puberty, the age when Sehani transformation generally occurred. And she was not Dayamari—couldn't possibly have Sehani ancestors. She was an anomaly.

Anomaly or not, Blayne would give his life and his soul to keep a potential Sehan alive. But the middle of nowhere was hardly the place to even attempt to nurse one through a potentially life-threatening change. He had to get her to Dayamar.

He scooped her into his arms and hastened back to the campsite.

The instant he laid her on the ground, Hope stirred. She struggled to rise and he helped her sit while observing her closely. When she scrubbed her eyes with the back of one hand he gently grasped her wrist. "Don't rub your eyes. You'll make them sore."

"What happened?"

Pointless to worry her if he was mistaken. And he dearly hoped he was mistaken. He kept his tone deliberately light. "You fainted. Probably lack of food after all the walking yesterday. It's not uncommon when you're unaccustomed to such intense exercise. Can you stand?"

She nodded and when he assisted her to her feet, smiled tentatively up at him. "Do you have those clothes you mentioned?"

He snatched up the spare pair of trousers he'd laid out. And steadied her as she hopped about on one foot, trying to inch a trouser leg up over her foot. Given her diminutive stature and his six-foot-plus height, his trousers were far too long.

"You need a belt." Blayne rummaged around in his pack for a length of cord. He folded over the waistband of her trousers, tied the cord around her waist, and did his best to ignore the hitch in her breathing—and his own reaction—whenever his hands brushed her bare midriff. Finally, he rolled up the bottoms of her trousers to form large cuffs about her ankles.

"Much better," he pronounced for her benefit. "This clothing will help protect you from vegetation, sunburn and insect bites." Pity about her lack of boots but it couldn't be helped. He draped the shirt over her shoulders and she shoved her arms into the sleeves, fumbling with the toggles and loops.

While he organized food, Hope sat cross-legged, finger-combing her hair. And, noting her dazed expression, Blayne wished he dared stay camped here another night.

He was stirring porridge when movement caught his eye and he glimpsed the flash of a blade. "Gods, no!"

~*~

Blayne's lunge toppled Hope to her back and he followed her down, his thighs clamping around her hips, fingers digging into her wrist.

The knife fell from her numbed fingers. "What is wrong?" she yelled at him, the panicked thumping of her heart roaring in her ears.

"What do you think you're doing, woman?"

Good grief. What was his problem? "I am cutting my hair, of course. It is long and too hot during the day. Full of tangles, like the nest of a bird."

"Tangles? _Tangles?_ "

"Yes!"

He muttered an imprecation. "Why didn't you simply ask for a comb?"

"It is my hair. I can cut it or not!" She glowered at him, wishing she could see the expression on his face. It might provide a clue to what was going through his mind. "Blayne? Are you all right?"

He barked a sharp laugh. "Gods save me."

"I am glad to provide you with amusement."

"There's nothing amusing about what I thought you were going to do," he muttered.

He couldn't have believed she was going to do something stupid like... like... slit her own throat. Could he?

Then again, given her distress and her foolishness in striking out alone, it wasn't surprising he might believe she was ready to end it all with the slash of a knife.

Shame heated her cheeks. What must he think of her? "Ah, Blayne? You are quite heavy. Please—?"

"What? Oh. Sorry." He rolled off and she scrambled to sit up.

She finally plucked up the courage to broach the subject. "You thought I was going to kill myself."

"Yes."

"I would not do such a thing. I have lived through far worse than this." She waved a hand, indicating her surroundings.

"I'm sorry. I saw the knife and—"

"Jumped to the wrong conclusion." She blew out a sigh. "It is understandable. I have made it abundantly clear I am not thrilled to be here."

"You can say that again." His snort diffused the tension that'd sprung up between them.

"May I please have the knife back?"

"I don't think so," he said. "I'll plait your hair to keep it out of your way."

"But I want to cut it." She rubbed her wrist, unable to fathom why he would go to such trouble when it was far easier to simply lop off her hair. She was beyond caring what she looked like.

"That would be a crying shame." He lifted a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his fingertips.

Hope sat perfectly still, hyper-aware of the intimacy of the moment, barely breathing until he dropped his hand.

"Give me a moment," he said, and she heard him rifling around in his pack. And then his arm encircled her waist and before she could do more than squeak, he had settled her in the vee of his spread thighs. He proceeded to comb out her hair, while she bore his ministrations with barely concealed impatience. Men. She would never understand them.

He plaited her hair into one fat braid and secured it with a piece of leather thong "How's that?" he asked.

"Feels good. Cooler. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Anything else you need help with?"

"No, thank you." She ventured a sunny smile—a fake smile, because her self-confidence had taken a massive swan-dive. She was useless. A burden. Her fierce pride at becoming self-sufficient after the accident that had killed her parents and brothers, and left her permanently blind, meant nothing in Blayne's world. She was now wholly dependent upon him. She needed assistance to perform even the simplest task. Many would be completely beyond her—sourcing food, cooking, erecting the tent, for instance. She was woefully ill-equipped to survive on her own, reduced to a helpless female reliant upon a man for food and shelter... for her life.

Still more disturbing, even as she silently railed against this twist of fate, a tiny part of her thrilled because _Blayne_ was the man she was forced to rely on. That part liked that he took such good care of her. That part liked _him_ very much indeed.

~*~

Blayne was already up and about—probably organizing breakfast, as was his habit. Hope lay abed for a while, gathering her thoughts.

They'd been traveling for two weeks, their progress slower than he had hoped because of her sore ankle and her blindness. She'd become accustomed to him sleeping beside her. If she woke disoriented, or shaken by a nightmare, she only had to listen to his breathing and she would drift to sleep again, comforted by his presence.

Now they were around two days easy walk from Blayne's home, and Hope both craved and feared what she would find at the settlement. The allure of meeting someone who might be able to explain what had happened to her, kept her plodding ever onward. But after so long without hearing another voice save Blayne's, the thought of being forced to interact with strangers was frightening.

Blayne had become a friend, a mentor. He patiently cared for her needs without making her feel like a burden. He'd even gone to great lengths to show her how to light a fire, and cook a basic meal. She was content—or at least, as content as she could be under these strange circumstances. And she wanted everything to stay the same.... Except that wasn't going to be possible.

Soon, Blayne would go back to his life.

Soon, Hope would be forced to throw herself on the mercy of others until she could learn to fend for herself again.

And, as if summoned by her innermost fears, an unfamiliar male voice yelled, "Hola, Blayne! Surely you're not still asleep, you lazy son of a she-wolf!"

~*~

## Chapter Four

Hope's stomach flip-flopped and her pulse leaped about like a mad rabbit. _Don't come in the tent. Don't come in the tent. Don't—_

The stranger yanked open the tent flap.

She scrambled to sit, clutching the blanket to her chest.

"Oh ho! Now I know why Blayne's been taking so long." His deep voice boomed with laughter. "Where did he find _you_ , little chick? And where is the sly wolf, anyway?"

He grabbed her arm and towed her from the tent without a by-your-leave. "Ah, there he is. I bet he'll be surprised to see me. Let's go welcome him."

Outside, Hope stood rooted to the spot, too shaken to speak. Warmth from his breath stroked her face and she flinched, realizing he must be peering at her very closely indeed.

"Gods. I'm sorry, little chick. I didn't realize...." Chagrin softened his voice. "My name is Cayl. Dayamar sent me to find Blayne—he was expected back a week ago."

Before Hope could untie her tongue, she heard Blayne hailing them with a "Hola, Cayl!"

Blayne jogged up and clapped his friend on the back. "Shikari's hairy paws, what are you doing here?" Noting the tension in the air he turned his gaze on Hope. She'd wrapped both arms about her middle. Her shoulders were hunched. Anxiety and tension etched her forehead.

Wisa's white wings. She must have been terrified.

"I was off checking the snares I set last night," he told her. "I'm sorry Cayl scared you, Hope. Big oaf has a habit of forgetting his manners."

To Blayne's relief, Hope managed a smile. "I have much pleasure in meeting you, Cayl," she said.

"And I have much pleasure in meeting you too, Hope. Much, _much_ pleasure." Cayl looked her up and down, his raised eyebrows and the smile playing about his lips indicating he liked the view.

Blayne stiffened. The shirt Hope wore was suddenly more provocative than mere nakedness. He choked back a growl as Cayl's far-too-appreciative gaze lingered on her legs. Unfamiliar jealousy rolled through him and he frowned at his friend. But although Cayl acknowledged Blayne's displeasure with a quirked eyebrow, his smile grew wider.

Blayne elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. "What's so funny?"

"Just imagining the look on a certain woman's face when you arrive with this little chick on your arm." Cayl's stomach chose that moment to rumble loud and long. "I'm starving. Where's breakfast?"

Blayne's ire ebbed. Cayl never dallied with other women. He was head over heels in love with his life-partner Maya. Blayne had nothing to worry about. He waved a hand at the pot of porridge hanging over the fireplace. "What do you think this is, you fool? Hunger must be affecting your brain."

"Hunger _always_ affects my brain."

While Cayl helped himself to breakfast, Blayne served Hope. He caught Cayl watching them, doubtless observing the easy familiarity he and Hope shared. What it would be like to feel so strongly about a woman, he would move mountains to Join with her, like Cayl had with Maya? Blayne glanced at Hope... and wondered if she might prove to be his "Maya".

Cayl had stuffed himself with food before he broached the topic of Blayne's prolonged absence. "Was it Hope who delayed you? I'm sure the old man will forgive you that. He's always appreciative of a beautiful woman."

Blayne wanted to keep the conversation general, vague—at least until he could explain about Hope out of her earshot. "I'm sure Dayamar will be interested to meet Hope," he said.

"I just bet he will," Cayl said.

"Who is this Dayamar person?" Hope demanded.

Cayl's brows rose to his hairline.

Blayne cursed beneath his breath. So much for keeping his concerns from her. "Dayamar is our spiritual leader. He's very wise. He knows many things."

Cayl sucked in a deep breath, but before he could launch a question, Blayne placed a finger on his lips and jerked his chin toward Hope. Cayl closed his mouth and nodded, but Blayne noted his gaze kept flicking to Hope.

"This Dayamar worries about Blayne," Hope said. "Why?"

Cayl darted Blayne a quick glance and then blurted, "Because Blayne's our Panakeya."

Hope's brows drew together in a perplexed frown. "Blayne mentioned this _panakeya_ word when he first introduced himself. I do not understand it."

Cayl's jaw sagged, and Blayne gave up trying to play down Hope's obvious ignorance. " _Panakeya_ is the title given to the leader of the healers—the First amongst healers," he explained.

"Oh." She nodded. "That does explain much."

He waved a hand to catch Cayl's attention. _Later!_ he mouthed. And thankfully, despite Cayl's obvious curiosity, Cayl nodded, accepting the explanations would have to wait.

As they broke camp, a sense of urgency shrouded Blayne. His snares had come up empty. They'd have to pool whatever food Cayl had brought with their own dwindling supplies. He hoped Cayl wouldn't complain about eating dried meat instead of fresh.

Pity shone on Cayl's face as he took Hope's arm to assist her over the unfamiliar terrain. Blayne hid a sly smile. Cayl would soon learn Hope didn't appreciate pity.

"Gods save me!" his friend mourned after a particularly pithy exchange. "Beauty _and_ brains. The young bucks will swarm about you like bees to nectar."

Hope blushed and the smile hovering about her lips suggested she was pleased by the compliment. Blayne scowled. And seriously considered sprinkling Cayl's next meal with some foul-tasting herb.

They pushed on until they found a suitable place to spend the night. With an audible sigh, Hope slumped on the ground, laying her head on her bent knees. She looked so lost it wrenched Blayne's heart. He hunkered down beside her, and the instant she identified him, her face lit up.

Blayne intercepted Cayl's quizzical gaze. Please gods, Cayl would keep his conclusions to himself. And thankfully, Cayl only cleared his throat before asking, "What delicious repast are we to partake of tonight, o most magnificent of cooks? Or perhaps Hope is going to cook?"

"Not me," she said. "I do not know how to cook a proper meal over an open fire."

Cayl rolled beseeching eyes at Blayne. "It's up to you, my friend. We both know what my cooking skills are like." He chose to ignore Blayne's mock-despairing shake of the head.

Blayne threw together a stew of dried meat, some tubers and a few wild herbs, which Cayl seemed to appreciate. Then again, Cayl appreciated any meal he didn't have to cook himself. Hope had curled up by the fire. The second yawn she tried to smother only emphasized her exhaustion. She was fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Poor little chick. Traveling really takes it out of you, doesn't it?" Cayl waggled his eyebrows at Blayne in a "hurry up and do something about the poor girl" way.

Blayne didn't need to be told twice. He scooped her up and carried her to the tent.

His reappearance a few moments later had Cayl grinning and slapping his thigh. "Sonuva she-wolf. How long has that been going on?"

"Nothing's 'going on'," Blayne said. Was it too much to expect his best friend wouldn't automatically assume he'd taken advantage of a vulnerable girl? At least Cayl had lowered his voice so Hope wouldn't have overheard the innuendo.

"Pull the other one," Cayl said. "This is _me_ you're talking to. For some unfathomable reason women find you irresistible. And you and I both know you can't resist a pretty face."

"We've shared a tent. That's all."

"Are you ill?" Cayl leaned over to feel Blayne's forehead with the back of his hand.

Blayne smacked his hand away. "Don't be an idiot. Hope is...." He groped for the right words.

"Gods. You've fallen for her." Cayl guffawed loudly. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Rub my nose in it, why don't you?"

"Had to happen sometime. How did you meet her, anyway?" Cayl's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Confess or I'll make you sorry you were born."

"You can try." Blayne threw up a fist to fend off his friend's mock lunge. "All right, all right. I stayed a couple of days in that cave I told you about—there's a rare plant that grows in the area."

Cayl nodded. "Figured as much. That's where I was headed before I spotted your camp."

"Instead of the plant, I found a large wolf. And I'm talking really large—the biggest I've ever encountered. It had golden eyes."

Blayne shifted uneasily, recalling all too well how the hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end, and his skin had prickled, as the massive wolf had padded from the shadows to stand in the clearing. In the filtered sunlight, with its silvery pelt and eerily glowing eyes, it appeared almost spectral... until it had stared directly at him, its feral gaze burning into his for one long, heart-stopping moment. When the beast had loped off through the trees, the compulsion to follow had been too great for Blayne to resist. And whenever he'd fallen behind the wolf had paused, as though waiting for him to catch up.

"You're thinking the wolf was Shikari in beast-form," Cayl said.

"Yes. Gods, I don't know. Maybe. I tracked it and—"

"You tracked it," Cayl drawled. "And of course it didn't occur to you to be concerned for your safety. It didn't cross your mind that if the beast _wasn't_ Shikari, it could turn on you."

Blayne ignored the sarcasm. "And it led me straight to Hope."

"She wasn't scared at all? Of the big bad wolf? I'd have been screaming my lungs out."

"She was unconscious. I thought she was carrion at first, something the beast had dragged there to feed on. I was shocked to discover a human being. I—"

"Let me guess. You shooed big bad wolfie away and checked out its potential meal. Good one."

"After Lyam's death I could hardly _not_ investigate." Blayne shrugged, trying to hide how shaken he still was by the encounter. "And I didn't have to drive it off. It vanished. One moment it was right there in front of me, the next, gone. Thought I was going mad."

"Well, since you said it first...."

Cayl's grin struck Blayne as forced. He, too, was unsettled by the tale. "Have I told you lately what a supportive friend you are?" Blayne said, trying inject some levity.

"Not nearly often enough." Cayl's grin this time was genuine. "You're obviously not mad, by the way. Carry on."

"Thanks." Blayne blew out a sharp breath, wondering how Cayl would react when he told him the rest. He'd probably revise his opinion of Blayne's sanity. "There were wolf-prints leading up to and completely encircling her body," he said, "but none leading away. Not a single one."

"So unless this wolf managed to tippie-toe past you, stepping in its own tracks, it was a spirit-wolf."

"Yes. I couldn't find any trace of Hope's tracks either. She seemed to have appeared from nowhere."

"You're too experienced a tracker to miss them. That wolf was Shikari. _He_ put Hope in your path. He wanted you to find her."

Blayne rolled the tension from his shoulders. Cayl's easy acceptance was a huge relief. "I could hardly leave her there, so I picked her up and started walking."

Cayl waited. Expectantly. "Gods above, Blayne, it's like trying to squeeze blood from a stone getting a story out of you." He made a rolling motion with his hand. "And what happened then?"

"When she came to, she took off—scared of me, I guess."

"You can be very scary," Cayl agreed.

Blayne didn't bite. They had been friends since boyhood. He was used to Cayl's humor. "But she didn't get far—she collapsed like she'd been whacked over the head by some invisible force. It was near dark, so I carried her back to the cave."

"Where's she from?"

Blayne pinched the bridge of his nose. "No idea. She insists she comes from some place called See-View, and she speaks a bizarre language I've never heard before. She can't remember how she got here, or how she knows our language. It's a mystery."

"I reckon." Cayl shook his head and snorted. "Still, it was bound to happen sooner or later."

Blayne frowned, not following the abrupt change of subject. "What was bound to happen?"

"The gods snatching a woman from another world and plunking her down here to tempt you. I mean, what else are they to do when you refuse to Join with a Dayamari woman?"

"Right. As if the gods care whether I find a life-partner. They have more important things to concern themselves with." Blayne paused to chew over Cayl's reactions to his tale. "It doesn't concern you at all she might be from another world, does it?"

Cayl shrugged, holding both hands out, palms up. "Nope. The gods move in mysterious ways. Always have. Always will."

Blayne tended to agree, though he'd be happier if they left him out of it. "That's not all," he felt compelled to admit. "Her eyes have changed."

Cayl scratched his chin and leaned forward. "What do you mean 'changed'? They're blue—surely that's unusual enough. If you're about to tell me they used to be another color, _that_ I will find hard to believe."

"They've temporarily turned gold. Twice."

Cayl paled beneath his tan. "You're joking."

"Wish I was." Blayne scrubbed his fingertips over his face, and pressed deeply into his temples to banish the tension ache. "Scared me witless."

"A Sehan? A _blind_ Sehan?" Cayl exhaled in a loud puff. "A Sehan that Shikari might have showed a personal interest in? Man, Dayamar will surely have plans for _her_."

"Yes."

Cayl clapped him on the shoulder. "Better get on with it then. No time to waste."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sex. Heck, the way you're mooning over her, call it 'making love'. Do I have to spell it out to you? You have tonight and tomorrow before she's taken away from you. Once Dayamar gets his hands on her, that's it. He won't leave her to choose her own path and risk losing another apprentice—even a blind one."

Blayne scowled but had to concede that Cayl had a valid point. If he did nothing, he would always wonder what could have been, but.... Hope had been through enough already. Blayne didn't want to add to her stress by putting pressure on her to take their relationship—if it could be called that—to the next level.

Cayl climbed to feet and arched his back, stretching out the kinks. "Better get some rest. We've a full day of hard travel ahead if we're to make it home before nightfall." He headed for his tent, glancing back over his shoulder when Blayne followed him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Hope needs a tent to herself. I'll share yours."

"Idiot. I should make you sleep outside in the cold." But he moved his sleeping roll and made a show of tossing Blayne a blanket.

Cayl was soon snoring peacefully but Blayne lay awake for many hours, his mind whirling.

Hope's cries jerked him to wakefulness. He shouldered Cayl aside as they both tried to push through the tent flap at the same time.

Cayl yelped. "Watch it. That was my nose."

Blayne blinked until his vision adjusted to the darkness. He glanced around but when he detected no threats, strode to his tent and peered inside.

Empty. His gut fisted. "She's not here," he told Cayl.

Cayl nudged him and pointed to a huddled shape by a scraggly bush.

In the gloom Blayne could make out Hope hugging her knees, head bowed as she rocked back and forth. He hurried over and knelt beside her. "Hope, what's wrong? Did you have another nightmare?"

She raised a tear-streaked, desolate face that wrung his heart dry. "You were not there," she whispered. "I thought you had left me."

"Ssshh. It's okay. I figured you'd prefer a tent to yourself so I shared Cayl's."

Cayl tossed Blayne a disgusted look that plainly said, _Told you so, you big idiot_. "I need some sleep," he declared. "Good night." He made a huge fuss about pulling the tent flap closed behind him.

Blayne gathered Hope close. "Ssshh. I'm here now. I won't leave you alone again. I promise."

When the tears ceased, he helped her back to the tent. "Will you be okay to sleep now?"

"You will stay with me?" She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands.

Gods help him. "Yes." He drew her down to the sleeping-roll and settled her against his chest. She sighed and closed her eyes but it took a long time for her to stop shivering and relax back into sleep.

~*~

The squawking of an agitated bird woke her. She lay on her side. Blayne was curled behind her. He'd flung one muscled leg over her thighs, pinning her to the bedroll and... her shirt had ridden halfway up her waist during the night.

Hope attempted to slide from his embrace. He stirred and she stilled. And then there was only his scent, his warmth, the press of his body against hers.

Her mind filled with thoughts of him doing other things—intimate things—and those thoughts coaxed responses from her body. Her pulse raced. Her breath came in tiny gasps. Butterflies cavorted in the pit of her stomach. She knew she should shove him aside and escape. But oh, how she wanted to get closer still.

Blayne yawned and stretched. One hand brushed the bare skin of Hope's thigh, stroked and caressed. "Morning," he murmured.

Abruptly the stroking paused. He stiffened, and then shifted, freeing her and tugging down her shirt until she was decently covered.

Before Blayne could rise, throw on some clothes and leave the tent—leave _her_ —Hope fumbled to grasp his arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Not a thing." She tugged his arm until he lay back on the bedroll. And, with a sure movement, she straddled his hips, hoping that he wouldn't think her forward, hoping he wanted her, too.

With feather-light fingertips she learned his body, thrilling with each hitch of his breath beneath her touch. She traced his well-defined abs—a six-pack and then some—his pectorals, shoulders, biceps. She speared gentle fingers through his hair, releasing it from the leather thong he used as a tie. And, as she smoothed strands of his hair back from his forehead, her fingertips lingered. She'd wanted to do this but never dared. Until now. Her questing fingers learned his features, delicately tracing his eyebrows, eyelids, nose and stubbled cheeks, only to linger on his lips.

He was a strong, powerful man—one who wouldn't hesitate to do whatever he deemed necessary. But he could be gentle and compassionate, too, as she well knew. That fleeting earlier vision of him formed again in her mind. He was handsome. Not that his looks mattered to her when she could no longer base her opinions on appearances. The person inside the masculine shell was far more important to her. "Blayne," she whispered, wanting him so badly she ached.

He cupped her nape with a big hand. His heat soaked into her skin and the toughened calluses on his palms chafed the sensitive skin of her neck. Phantom fingers tickled her spine. It was the first time he'd touched her in a sexual way, because he wanted to, not because he'd been forced to guide her or assist her with some task. It thrilled her to her core.

Gentle but insistent pressure on her nape urged her downward, toward him. Anticipation built. Time stretched. And then she was sprawled across his chest and his lips were on hers—warm and firm. They tasted, nibbling and teasing and then demanding more. Her lips parted and Blayne's tongue stroked hers. Hope's mind whirled with the heady sensuality of his kiss.

"Are you sure about this, Hope?" he murmured against the corner her mouth.

Her lips curved upward. "Yes, I am. Are you?" She held her breath, waiting for his response, tense with hope and a raw, powerful need.

He wrapped an arm around her to keep her flush against him, hooked his leg about hers, and twisted them so she landed beneath him. He settled between her thighs, hard male flesh pressing intimately against hers. Oh yes. He was sure.

After they'd made love, Hope lay draped atop Blayne, her hair fanning his chest as he idly stroked her back. And for the first time since she'd been plucked from her world, she felt no desire to rebel against fate, God, or whatever supernatural forces had snatched her from her home. She only wished she could stay here with him, like this, forever.

The wish shattered when Cayl yelled, "What's for breakfast?" And when they didn't immediately emerge, followed up with a pithy reminder that Dayamar would be getting impatient.

After breakfast the two men broke camp. Despite knowing she should eat to keep up her strength, Hope had barely managed more than a couple of bites. Her stomach was still clenched into a tight knot at the prospect of meeting this all-powerful man who inspired such awe in Blayne and Cayl. What would this Dayamar want with her? Could he truly help her return home, as Blayne had suggested? And, more importantly, did she wish to go?

Back home there was no one to miss her save Maggie, her mother's long-term friend, who'd helped so much after the accident, and insisted on acting as a surrogate housekeeper until Hope found her feet. Maggie had become a dear friend. She would be worried sick about Hope's sudden disappearance. And mortified to discover Hope had named her sole beneficiary in her will if she died without a partner or children.

Hope deeply regretted not having the chance to say goodbye, and assure Maggie that all was well. But she had to put her old life behind her. Here, there was Blayne and a new beginning. Though it both worried and thrilled her in equal measure to realize she'd become so attached to him in such a short time.

Blayne took her hand and they trailed after Cayl.

By noon, Hope began to feel light-headed. The darkness that was her world came to life, boiling and surging in sickening waves. Her skin prickled, so ultra-sensitized that even her light shirt chafed her skin. A pounding ache built behind her eyes. Unwilling to hold the men back, she remained mute, gritting her teeth and plodding onward, one foot in front of the other.

As dusk fell, she'd reached the limit of her endurance. "Cayl. I know you are eager to reach your settlement but I cannot continue at this pace. I am sorry."

Cayl patted her arm. "We can take it easy now. We'll be home in a couple more hours anyway."

"Why don't you go on ahead and advise Dayamar," Blayne said.

"Good idea. I'll head him off before he comes looking for you personally." Cayl strode off and Hope concentrated on staying upright and hiding her discomfort from Blayne.

~*~

Blayne spotted bobbing flames in the distance. A welcoming committee. Cayl's doing, no doubt. There went any chance of sneaking Hope in unnoticed to spare her the inevitable song and dance her arrival would cause. He touched her arm to let her know he was about to speak. "Cayl's sent a few people to guide us in. I can see their torches."

She halted, slumping. "That is good news."

As he slung an arm around her waist to urge her forward again, a shudder coursed through her slight body... followed by a muted whimper. He searched her face. She was deathly pale, her features drawn and her blue eyes clouded with pain. "Tell me what's wrong," he said. "Now."

"I do not feel good. Dizzy. My head and eyes pain me. My chest, too."

Gods. He'd been dreading this. If only he'd pushed her to travel faster. He shucked his pack, swung her into his arms, and sprinted toward the lights.

One light detached itself from the group ahead and bobbed closer. A familiar face materialized from the darkness. "Cayl. Thank the gods. Hope's ill."

"Is it—?"

"Yes. Here's what I need you to do." Blayne fired off a list of instructions. "Go. Hurry!"

Cayl sprinted off as the others caught up and gathered around. Concerned faces peered at his burden. "What's wrong? Is she ill?"

"Someone find my pack. I left it back aways. Bring it to the Healing Hall. You—" Blayne jerked his chin at a strapping young man whose name escaped him "—help me with her." Together they propped Hope into a semi-reclining position, and made a seat with their linked hands so they could carry her between them as they ran.

Cayl met them at the entrance of the hall with the box of herbs and preparations Blayne had requested cradled in his arms. Good man. Blayne barked orders at Johan, the healer on duty, while Cayl retreated to an unoccupied sleeping platform.

Fear bit at Blayne when he noted that Hope couldn't catch her breath. Her chest heaved as she tried to suck in air. Her eyes burned feverishly bright and her skin felt hot to the touch. Her pulse raced, and then skipped beats altogether.

They stripped her, and Johan sponged her with tepid water to try and get her temperature down, but aside from forcing more herbal concoctions down her throat there was little more they could do for her. They needed Dayamar. What was taking the old Sehan so long?

Blayne smoothed the tangled locks that had escaped her braid from Hope's face. "Hope, it's me, Blayne. It'll be all right. We can help you." He fought to remain calm, to distance himself from his patient and assume the authoritative mantle of Panakeya. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"My eyes hurt. Head... stomach... very sore." She squeezed her eyelids shut, clenching her jaw as another spasm wracked her body. When she opened her eyes again she stared past him, at the doorway. "Who is that man?" she whispered.

Blayne glanced over his shoulder to see Dayamar standing there, watching. Apprehension slithered down his spine. He turned back to Hope. "You can see him?"

Dayamar brushed past him. "Do you know me, Hope?" The old Sehan spoke quietly but his words, like his presence, filled the room.

"You. I do know you... know your voice... from my dreams... see you in my mind... gold eyes... strange mark on your forehead... like another eye."

"Have you given her any medicine?" Dayamar asked.

" _Euphrasia_ —eyebright—with _anthemisia_ and _lavendula_ to relax her airways. When she had difficulty breathing before it helped. I was about to administer more of the same mixture."

"Don't give her anything more," Dayamar said.

Blayne's healer instincts shrieked denial. Dayamar's authority was absolute but.... This was Hope. He couldn't stand by and watch her struggle for each breath. Dayamar could not demand this of him. "She can scarcely breathe. I have to do something."

"Wait and observe." The old Sehan held his gaze. And then, just as Blayne was about to do something foolhardy, something that might see him stripped of his authority as Panakeya, Dayamar threw him a bone. "There are changes that must take place, changes that will affect Hope's physiology and innermost being. We must not interfere. She's now in the hands of the gods. This is how it must be."

All the fight drained from Blayne. "Have you _Seen_ that she will survive?"

Dayamar gave a curt nod. "Yes."

Relief coursed through him. Thank the gods.

Dayamar motioned to Healer Johan. "Help Blayne sit her up."

With Johan's help, Blayne maneuvered Hope upright. She shook violently, forcing them to tightly grasp her arms.

Dayamar bent to peer into her eyes. "It begins. Watch closely, Blayne."

Hope's pupils paled to milky white until she resembled a spirit-woman from some ancient myth. Johan swallowed an imprecation. Blayne fought the desire to close his eyes and shut out the sight.

Color leached back, and he dared hope he'd been mistaken, that what he'd seen was some bizarre affliction he'd never before encountered. But though her irises remained black, Hope's pupils swum with liquid gold.

The rich golden hue swirled, intensifying—

Abruptly it set. And Hope's eyes shimmered. Unearthly gold—permanently gold.

If she survived the transformation, Dayamar would have a new Sehani apprentice.

~*~

## 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.

## 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.

~*~

## Chapter Seven

Hope bade a hasty farewell to Varaya. Her pulse thumped a doom-laden tattoo and the bleak darkness of her world closed in on her. She pushed it back, forced herself to take deep, even breaths... and realized with a jolt that while she'd been wrestling with her fears, the young man she was supposed to follow had run on ahead.

She could no longer sense him. Perhaps he didn't know he was supposed to wait for her. Or hadn't been told of her blindness. She should turn back, ask Varaya to take her to Maya's, but....

No. She firmed her lips and threw back her shoulders. She could do this. How hard could it be to find her own way? She'd managed perfectly well back home.

It was harder than she could have imagined. Very soon she'd lost all sense of direction. Worse, now there didn't seem to be any people about to assist with directions. Hope loosed a few choice words beneath her breath. Oh well. It wasn't the end of the world. When she didn't arrive shortly after the messenger, Blayne would surely come looking for her. She trudged along the meandering, dusty path, vowing not to be so pig-headed in future.

She was debating trying to retrace her steps when voices drifted to her ears. Relief coursed through her. "Hello? I am lost. Can you help me?"

Silence.

Nice. They could at least—

She smacked into a solid object. A man. His rough hands clutched her when she staggered.

"Hey, watch it, girlie. Ya blind or something?"

"Yes, I am." She arched back, struggling to free herself from his grasp. "Please, I want to find Blayne—"

"She _wants_ Blayne."

Footsteps, heavy and measured. "Her and every other woman," came another disgruntled voice.

Her captor sniggered. The ripe smell of the liquor on his breath made her gag, and the first stirrings of fear swirled in the pit of her stomach.

"Who've you got there?" the second man asked.

"No clue. Hey girlie, how's about a kiss for ole Willem?"

"Let me go. Blayne has sent for me. I need to go to him." She kicked him, frantically twisting to escape his grasping fingers.

"Leave her alone, Willem. See her eyes? She's the new apprentice people are talking about. Dayamar'll have your guts for rope."

"Ya take me for a fool, Dorian? She's blind. No way she's the one."

He yanked her close and Hope turned her face so his searching mouth connected with her ear. She kneed him but he pincered her knee between his thighs before she could do any real damage. Her continued struggles pulled her off-balance and she and her attacker fell, legs tangled, in a sprawling heap on the ground.

Hope landed hard, whacking her head on the firmly packed ground. Stars cavorted through her headspace. She moaned. The man—Willem—laughed. "See Dorian? She's not really interested in Blayne. She prefers a real man like me. Doncha, girlie?"

She was only dimly aware of the other man—Dorian—begging Willem to release her. Her conscious mind had fled, leaving behind a hollow void that demanded to be filled. A tremendous roar reverberated through her body, and the energy that surged in its wake was scalding hot. Her skin felt like an overripe grape, ready to split, and then power surged from her, leaving her limp and gasping.

Willem's oppressive weight vanished. His shriek ululated through the too-still air, stippling Hope's skin with goose-bumps. She clapped her hands over her ears. But when his scream abruptly ceased and silence reigned, that was somehow worse.

She pushed up from the ground, scrubbing her face with her hands to banish the wooziness from her mind and the strange lethargy from her body. God. She felt like she'd run a marathon. Her attention flicked to the pounding of running footsteps, coming closer.

Friend or foe? Her sluggish heartbeat ratcheted up another notch.

"Shikari's hairy paws, what's going on?" the newcomer demanded. "Did he try to force himself on you?" He clasped his hands beneath Hope's elbows to haul her upright and then he brushed down her clothes. "Dorian, you piece of crap, answer me. What did Willem do to her?"

Friend, then. Just as well. She was too drained to defend herself again.

"He was only trying to kiss her," Dorian whined. "You know what he's like. But she fell over, a-and— Gods!" His voice broke, squeaking with fear. "Her eyes are glowing."

"Yes, I can see that." The newcomer sounded more amused than worried. "Willem bit off more than he could chew this time. This little lady is Dayamar's new apprentice."

"I don't care who she is. Make her stop!"

"Are you doing that to him, Sehan?" the newcomer asked her.

"I... I do not know what is being done to him. Maybe?"

"Of course. My apologies." He paused as if choosing his words. "Here's what I'm seeing. Willem is unable to move or speak. He's spread-eagled on the ground, looking terrified out of his tiny mind. And I believe you're responsible for his current, uh, _predicament_ , Sehan. Do you think you might see fit to release him?"

Sure. If only she knew how. God, what was she doing to him? _How_ was she doing it? The panic grew, threatening to swamp her.

"Sehan?"

"I am trying," she told him. And then, a corner of her mind disengaged from... from... something, and there was a twanging sound, as though a line had been pulled taut. Willem groaned once and then fell silent.

"Is he hurt?" Please God she hadn't killed the man.

The newcomer left her, presumably to check on Willem. "Unconscious," he reported. "Pulse seems strong and steady, though. Dorian, drag this heap of shit to the Healing Hall. And don't discuss this with anyone or Sehan Dayamar will have your hide—after I'm done with you, that is."

He approached and touched her arm. "I'll take you to Dayamar. He needs to hear what happened." His voice lowered to a mutter. "And when he does, I wouldn't want to be in Willem's boots."

"May I ask your name?"

"Of course. I'm Gerayne. Dayamar is my great-great-granduncle. I'm truly sorry we met in such circumstances."

Hope fumbled with her torn shirt and was irritated to find her hands shaking.

"Allow me." He deftly tied her shirtfronts together. "Hmm. Bad scrape you've got there. Your cheek is bleeding." He dabbed at it with something—his sleeve, at a guess. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"My head." She indicated the place with her fingers, and winced when he probed the lump that was forming.

"Ouch. I'm not much of a healer so best get Blayne to look at that. Where is Blayne anyway? Why were you wandering alone down this way?"

"Maya's father died. Blayne sent a man to fetch me but I got lost." She knew her voice sounded thin and shaky but she refused to give in to tears. One over-amorous drunk with foul breath was _not_ going to make her cry in front of a stranger.

Gerayne inhaled sharply. "That's sad news indeed. Maya's now his only living relative so his body will have been taken to her home. That's where Blayne will likely be. I'll take you there."

"Thank you."

He hooked his arm through hers, and as he led her up the path, she wondered at his easy acceptance of her. "Why are you not scared of me like the other man?"

"With Dayamar as a relative, I've become inured to the unusual and unexpected. Though I can't say I recall him doing anything _that_ interesting when he got annoyed. He prefers to flay people alive with his tongue."

He was silent for a long moment, and she sensed he was observing her expression. Wait for it—

"You haven't the slightest idea how you pinned Willem like that, have you?"

"None."

"Dayamar's going to have his hands full with you." Gerayne chuckled, and a little of Hope's inner tension eased.

"You will need to begin training very soon," he said. "Not that Willem doesn't deserve whatever you threw at him, but you might have seriously hurt him. This time you were lucky."

Gerayne was right. And there was no point railing over fate. Or telling herself that magic didn't exist and what had happened to her was impossible. She was here. Her eyes had changed color. She saw visions that came true. She had _magical_ powers. And now she must do whatever it took to insure she didn't harm others with her ignorance. End of story.

Her lower lip wobbled. Fine words, but they didn't banish the tight fear in her chest that made it hard to catch her breath, or calm the panic simmering in her belly.

~*~

Blayne spotted them from the doorway. He took in Hope's disheveled clothing and pale, bleeding cheek, and snatched her from Gerayne's side. She muffled her face in his chest. The worry churning in his gut kindled to slow-burning fury. "What happened?"

"No need to glare at me like that," Gerayne said. "Your idiot messenger left her to find her own way."

"Kunnandi's teeth. I told him to—" Blayne swallowed the angry words. "I'll deal with him later. Tell me what happened."

"Willem happened. She ran into him and he decided to have a little fun."

"Did he—?" Blayne couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"No." Gerayne shook his head emphatically. "He might be a drunk but he's never gone that far. And by the time I happened on the scene, your little Sehan had the matter well in hand."

Hope gave a full-body shudder and burrowed closer. Blayne rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back. "What did you do to him, sweetling? You can tell me."

She lifted her head from his chest. His heart fisted at the misery on her tear-stained face. "I-I do not know," she said.

"She had Willem spread-eagled on the ground, unable to move or even scream. Dorian nearly wet himself."

"Dorian was there, too?" Blayne ground his teeth. The palm smoothing Hope's back clenched into a fist and he forced himself to relax. "Go on," he told Gerayne.

"Dorian's too weak-willed to prevent Willem doing anything—you know that. I had him take Willem to a healer, and told him to keep his mouth shut. You'll want to see them both later, I presume."

"Indeed." And he would make them both regret the day they were born. "Thank you for coming to Hope's aid, Gerayne."

"Any decent man would have done the same."

Blayne hugged Hope tighter, furious with the men who'd accosted her, blaming himself for not being there to protect her. "I can't leave you alone for a moment, can I?" he said, hoping to elicit a smile.

"I am sorry. I got lost, and—"

"Hush. There's nothing to apologize for. Gerayne, would you fetch Dayamar? He left a short while ago for the Sehani Hall."

"Sure. You should check her out thoroughly, Blayne. She's got a nasty bump on the back of her head."

"Thanks, Gerayne. For everything."

The other man nodded and loped off. Blayne ushered Hope inside, shielding her from a group of people conversing in hushed tones—friends of Maya's father, who had all come to pay their respects. Fortunately they were too preoccupied to pay any great attention to newcomers.

Cayl spotted them and detached himself from the group. "You've found her." He blinked at her tear-streaked face. "Kunnandi's snaky fangs, what happened?"

"I'll fill you in when we talk privately with Dayamar. I'd like Maya to be there—is she up to it? I'm sorry, Cayl. I know it's shitful timing but this can't wait." Maya's sister had been Sehani. Any personal insights Maya could reveal about a fledgling Sehan coming into her powers could be invaluable.

Cayl searched his face. Then he gave a terse nod and beckoned them to follow.

Maya's father had been dressed in his burial clothes and laid out on a sleeping platform in the spare room. A few of his most prized possessions lay beside him, including the carved staff Hope had described in her Seeing. The reminder of what Hope would become chilled Blayne to his bones. It was the one thing he couldn't protect her from.

Maya was kneeling by the sleeping platform, head pillowed on her arms. She lifted her head and her hand flew to her mouth. "Wisa's wings! Hope, you look like you've been dragged backward through a bramble bush. What happened?"

"Her powers have begun to manifest," Blayne said. "We need to discuss this with Dayamar at once, and we—" He squeezed her shoulder. "I need your input, Maya. I'm truly sorry for the awful timing."

"Of course. I completely understand." Maya blotted her face with the heels of her hands as she stood. "Cayl, please apologize to everyone and tell them they must go. Make something up about me being too distraught to cope with any more visitors. It's not far from the truth. Tell them I appreciate their kind thoughts and we'll see them tomorrow at Father's burial."

"Don't fret, sweetling. I'll deal with it." Cayl dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and exited the room.

"How are you bearing up, Maya?" Blayne asked.

She wiped her eyes with the hem of her shirt. "I've had plenty of time to come to terms with his illness. His death wasn't unexpected. I'll be fine."

Blayne noticed Hope's gaze had fixed on the exact spot where Maya stood. Her ability to sense people and her surroundings was growing.

"I am sorry, Maya," she said. "This is all my fault." Her lower lip trembled.

"He was dying long before you arrived on the scene, Hope. So let's hear no more nonsense about it being your fault."

Maya was a strong woman but Blayne had feared her father's death would hit her hard. He suspected having Hope to fuss over helped Maya put aside her grief. Perhaps something positive might come from this mess.

"I keep a good store of herbs," Maya told him. "You'll find everything you need." She ushered them into the partitioned stores area, keeping her head down so as not to invite conversation from visitors Cayl hadn't yet seen off.

Blayne urged Hope to sit and tilted her chin for a better view of her bleeding cheek.

Maya peered over his shoulder at the injury and handed him a small pot. "It's full of dirt. Nasty. How'd it happen?"

He poured a small amount of lotion onto a soft cloth and dabbed Hope's face. She winced and drew a shaky breath. "I am sorry."

"Stop apologizing. No one thinks you're weak or silly for being upset about being assaulted."

Maya hissed out a breath that promised dire consequences. "Who?"

"His name is Willem," Hope whispered.

Maya swore beneath her breath, and Blayne heard her promise a retribution that would have made any male wince. He applauded her inventiveness. He would like nothing more than to track Willem down and thrash his worthless hide until he begged for mercy. Instead, he cleaned the scrape on Hope's cheek before applying a salve. He sifted his fingers through her hair to gently probe her skull with his fingertips. "Gerayne's right. There's a good-sized lump on the back of your head."

Maya placed a small flask within his reach. "Thanks," he said. "You'd make an excellent healer's assistant."

"I'd miss the children too much to consider changing trades."

"Our loss. How's your head feeling now, Hope?"

"Sore. It aches."

Blayne shook a few drops of the fragrant oil into a bowl of water and soaked a cloth. He wadded the cloth, held it to the lump on her head, and instructed her to breathe deeply. "The compress will help bring down the swelling. Inhaling the oil's aroma should help ease the headache, too."

"I've made you a special tea, Hope." Maya handed her a mug. "Drink this—it'll also help your headache. It's a bit bitter but very effective."

While Hope sipped the brew, Blayne examined her face. She seemed calmer and her natural color was returning. Good. "Any other injuries we should know about?" There'd better not be or heads would roll.

"No." She flipped her hair back from her face to toy absently with an earring.

His stomach performed a lazy dip and roll. "Where did you get those earrings?"

"Varaya gave them to me. To welcome me, and for friendship. It was very nice of her, do you not think?"

"Well—" Over her head, Blayne cast a pleading glance at Maya, hoping she would help him out. Just his luck for once Maya had nothing to say.

"I know you gave these to Varaya," Hope said, "but she wants me have them. She says they are for me now, because I am with you."

When he remained silent, she gnawed her lip. "Are you angry?"

He guessed Hope hadn't considered how he might feel about her wearing earrings he'd gifted to another woman until now. "Not angry," he said, "merely surprised Varaya would be so generous with someone she hardly knows."

"Varaya is lonely. She cries when no one can see. She needs a friend. And I like her." Her lips firmed to a tight line and those eerie golden eyes glared at him.

Blayne exchanged another glance with Maya, who only shrugged and said, "The earrings look wonderful on you, Hope. They suit your coloring very well. Oh, listen to that. It's so blissfully quiet. I think Cayl's seen off the last of our guests." She exited the room in a rush.

Blayne took Hope's hand and drew her close. The healer in him knew she had come to little harm, but the man needed reassurance. He needed to touch her, hold her. She shivered as he kissed a tender spot beneath her ear. It wasn't a shiver of fear. Some of his anxiety eased.

"Dayamar's here."

Maya's warning doused the flames that'd sprung up the instant Blayne kissed her neck. Hope ducked her head to hide a grimace as he ushered her into the main living area. She didn't want to have to relate what had happened all over again for Dayamar's benefit. She didn't want to be cajoled into admitting that something had irrevocably altered inside her.

Her perceptions of the world about her were sharpening. Sometimes she could sense people's emotions. Sometimes, in her mind's eye, she could see vibrant colors swirling about a shadowy representation of a person standing close by. How any of this could be possible was beyond her. Added to her visions, and now this incident with Willem....

What kind of creature was she becoming?

She pinpointed Dayamar's location before he spoke. "You needed to speak with me urgently, Blayne," he said.

"Yes, Sehan Dayamar. It's about Hope."

Another visitor knocked at the door. "Gods," Maya muttered. "Are we to have no peace? Come in!"

Varaya.

Hope waited to see if she was correct....

She was.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sehan Dayamar, but I.... I overheard something and I came to check on Hope. To f-find out whether she's all right." Varaya's words tumbled out as though she half-expected to be dismissed.

"I'm fine," Hope assured her. Hah. What a lie. There was nothing the least bit "fine" about this whole situation.

"Take a seat, Varaya," Dayamar said.

"She has nothing to do with the Seeing."

Maya sounded snippy. Hope guessed there was no love lost between the two women. Too, she sensed Varaya's weary acceptance of Maya's attitude, the belief that she deserved such treatment.

Hope couldn't let it slide. "I have had a vision of Varaya, too, Maya. Varaya was present and I described it to her."

"Sit, Varaya," Dayamar said. "You'll have valuable information to share if you've been present during one of Hope's Seeings.

Varaya took a seat next to Hope and briefly squeezed her hand. Hope felt her friend tremble, and abruptly wished she'd kept quiet and hadn't involved Varaya in this discussion. Too late now.

"Tell us what happened, Varaya," Dayamar said.

Varaya's voice wobbled as she related the incident. "I was truly scared," she finished. "But then Hope came back to herself and acted like nothing had happened."

"What did you See, Hope?" Dayamar asked.

She heaved a sigh. Pointless to try and hide anything from the old man when he could rummage about in her mind. She related her vision with as much detail as she could recall.

"She described the dress I had made for my Promising," Varaya added. "She wouldn't tell me what the man she saw looked like, though."

"Rightly so," Dayamar said. "Hope should not influence your choice, Varaya. No more questions about this man. Is that clear?"

He spoke in clipped, no-nonsense tones, and Hope got the sense of Varaya ducking her head like a chastened child. But before she could speak up on her friend's behalf Dayamar said, "It's not the first Seeing you've had since you arrived here, is it, Hope?"

She swallowed another sigh. "No, Dayamar. I saw Maya and Cayl at her father's burial." She fluttered a hand at Maya in tacit apology.

"I am given to understand that Seeing occurred after you drank sekar."

"Yes. I was thirsty and drank a lot of it. I felt dizzy. Maya hugged me when she said goodbye. That is when I had the vision."

"Interesting. I believe the liquor lowered your inhibitions and opened your mind to the _potential_ to See. And then touch triggered the Seeing."

"Hmm." Maya seemed to be mulling his words. "I'd hugged her, and she was comforting Varaya."

"Touch is the key, then," Cayl said. He'd been quiet for so long Hope had almost forgotten he was there. "Would you agree Sehan Dayamar?"

"Perhaps."

"It happened like that with my sister when she first became Sehani," Maya said, and Hope could clearly hear the underlying pain threaded through Maya's words. "The Seeings would come whenever she touched someone."

"Katya was a fragile soul," Dayamar said. "She wasn't strong enough to contain or control her gift."

Hope winced at the blunt summation.

"And _she_ is?" Maya said. "Look at her! How do you think _she's_ going to cope with becoming Sehani? Look me in right the eye Sehan Dayamar, and tell me she won't be overwhelmed by it, too."

"I _am_ strong," Hope said, keeping her tone level but determined to have her say. "I had to be to cope with losing my family and my sight in one foul swoop."

"Gods," Maya said. "I'm sorry, Hope. I didn't mean to suggest—"

"I know. And I understand. Do not worry yourself about it."

"How do you explain the incident with Willem?" Blayne said. "I would hardly describe what she did to him as _Seeing_."

"Incident?" Dayamar's tone was sharp enough to cut. "Did he harm you, Hope?"

"Not really. At the time I was frightened but the fear has passed." That much was the truth. Given the outrage she'd encountered over Willem's actions, it was obvious such behavior was neither commonplace nor condoned in Dayamari society. She'd simply been unlucky—in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The old man blew out an audible breath that smacked of relief.

"I am more resilient than you realize, Dayamar. It will take more than one drunk man pawing me to make me cower in my boots, and render me incapable of going about my business." It was a brave speech. Unfortunately she spoiled the effect by jerking and biting back a squeak when Blayne squeezed her hand.

Varaya gave a muffled giggle and even Dayamar laughed. "I'm pleased to hear it. Tell me what else happened with Willem."

Once again she related the incident. Her voice cracked as she recalled the power coursing through her.

Blayne draped his arm across her shoulders and she leaned into him, grateful for his support. "Willem is a drunkard and a coward," he said. "I intend to petition the elders for him to be severely disciplined."

His emotions played over her skin like tiny pricking needles. Barely suppressed fury was uppermost. When Blayne next encountered Willem, he would make the man's life a misery.

Memories coursed through Hope's mind. They were not her memories, they were Willem's. And although she couldn't condone his behavior, she understood what drove him... and she pitied him. "What I felt inside and what I did is what truly scares me, Blayne—not Willem's behavior," she felt compelled to say.

"The man will likely be banished after this incident," Dayamar said. "It's not the first time he has acted inappropriately toward women. Describe again what you felt, Hope."

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly desert-dry, heart pounding in her chest. It was a struggle to verbalize what she had felt so that others could understand. "I-I felt empty. There was a loud noise in my head. Something filled me up. It hurt. Then it left me and he—Willem—was gone, like someone had lifted him off me. But we were still joined together somehow." And she feared they were still joined, for she could sense him—a tickling sensation at the periphery of her mind.

"Gerayne told me Willem was on the ground, unable to move or speak. He said when I... when I _released_ Willem, he passed out."

"You're strong, young woman," Dayamar said. "Very strong."

"I do not know what I did. I did not mean to, but I hurt him somehow. Is he recovered? Does anyone know?"

"Cayl, go to the Healing Hall and check how Willem fares," Dayamar ordered. "Have a healer guard him closely until the elders send for him."

"Very well, Sehan Dayamar." Cayl surged to his feet and left the room at a run.

Blayne was a healer, used to observing a patient's body language. He knew Dayamar was shocked by what Hope had related. Perhaps even Dayamar had failed to foresee Hope's strength and innate ability. He tightened his grip on her shoulders. Until now he hadn't considered that she could be a wild talent, an unknown entity. What if Dayamar couldn't train her?

His gaze lingered on her, drinking her in. With her pale face, bleeding cheek, and a nose reddened from crying, she looked too fragile to be the receptacle of such awe-inspiring powers. Only her golden eyes marked her and set her apart. Some would say she had been "blessed" by the gods. Blayne was beginning to think it more a curse—for them both. He didn't want to lose her to Dayamar and the demands of the settlement. But he knew her training was crucial. He couldn't hold her back. Her life, and the safety of others, depended on how quickly and how well Hope learned to harness and control her powers.

"Where I come from," Hope began, "I am not a Sehan—"

"We will discuss that later," Dayamar said.

"That kit is already out of the sack, Sehan Dayamar," Maya informed him. "Blayne, Cayl and I already know what you're trying to hide." She dismissed his quelling glance with an airy wave of her hand. "And I'm sure Varaya's trustworthy. Aren't you, Varaya?"

Varaya gulped at the veiled threat and nodded.

Blayne tensed. "Maya—"

"This is _my_ home. And I'll say what I like."

"Maya!" He would have admired her guts if he hadn't been concerned for her welfare. She seemed to be daring Dayamar to exercise his status and prevent her from saying her piece. This situation was escalating into something personal that would be better handled privately—preferably after Maya had recovered from her father's death and wasn't so emotionally volatile.

She didn't heed his warning. "We already know Sehan Dayamar stole Hope from another world," she announced.

Blayne resisted the desire to bury his face in his hands and groan. What was Maya thinking, provoking Dayamar like this? It wouldn't end well.

Varaya clutched Hope's arm, her eyes round with awe. "Truly? You're from another world?"

"Truly."

"Gods, that's incredible! Tell me everything. Is your world like ours? Do you want to go back? I—"

"I would like to know exactly how you discovered this little known fact, Maya." Dayamar fixed her with his piercing golden gaze.

To her credit, Maya didn't flinch. "Hope told us of course. When I asked her how she came to Dayamaria, she straight out told me _you_ brought her here Sehan Dayamar. Why would you do that? Snatch a young woman from her home?"

Blayne suspected the only reason the old man didn't subject Maya to a tongue-lashing she'd never forget—and use his powers to deprive her of her wagging tongue until she learned to hold it—was because he knew Maya had never forgiven him for Katya's death. Maya still believed Dayamar should have been able to save her sister. And deep down, perhaps the old Sehan believed it too.

"She didn't mean to give away your secrets—it was the sekar," Maya said, belatedly realizing she might have gotten Hope into a heap of trouble.

"Please, Dayamar," Hope begged, "would it not be helpful for me to know why I have been brought here?"

Blayne darted a glance Dayamar and glimpsed the smallest of satisfied smiles playing about his lips.

Interesting.

"It seems I'm outnumbered," Dayamar said. "But if you're to truly understand the why of it, you must first understand what we are, and how we came to be."

"We?"

"You and me. Sehani. I will tell you of our history."

"More tea, anyone?" Maya asked, her too-bright tone inexpertly hiding relief.

"I'd recommend you say yes," Blayne told Hope. "Knowing Dayamar's love of history, this won't be the short version."

"You would be correct." Dayamar rubbed his hands with mock glee. "And anyone who believes they may be bored is welcome to depart."

No one moved.

Dayamar took a sip of his tea and cleared his throat. "In the beginning, our gods lived amongst us. They were three, Shikari the Hunter, Kunnandi the Trickster, and Wisa the Soothsayer. Sometimes they took the guise of humans, other times they took animal forms. But whatever their forms, they were recognizable by their glowing golden eyes.

"Shikari was our father-figure. Strong, loyal and fearless—protector of our people. He taught us to live off the land, to know the seasons, to hunt animals for their meat and hides, to build shelters and make tools. Shikari's animal guise was a great silver wolf.

"Wisa was our mother-figure. Loving, nurturing, kind—seer of both the past and future. She taught us the nature of men and women, and how to live and work together. She was wise in the lore of herbs and plants. A white owl was her favored guise.

"Kunnandi was full of cunning and laughter. He taught us that death is not to be feared, for we do not pass from this world without influencing the people around us in some way, and we live forever in the memories of our loved ones. Kunnandi chose a venomous red-banded black serpent as his animal guise.

"The land was fertile. The people were prosperous and content. They respected the land and the wildlife. They watched the seasons turn and became skilled in herb- and plant-lore. The women bore many children, and they were healthy and strong. The gods named them _Kiyusari_ , which means 'Chosen People', and watched over them. Life was good.

"And then a girl-child with golden eyes was born. The elders feared the child was possessed by an evil spirit. They took the baby from her mother and left her on a rocky outcrop, exposed to nature and the will of their gods. But the grieving mother had secretly followed them. She held her child and prayed that death would come quickly for them both.

"Kunnandi heard the baby's cries and came to the mother in his human form. He vowed the gods would raise the girl-child as their own. He bade the young woman return to her people and tell them infants born with golden eyes were blessed by the gods, and must be revered. Then Kunnandi took the baby and vanished.

"Wisa and Shikari were enchanted by the child and named her Dayama. Under their tutelage she grew wise, with a joy of life that rivaled Kunnandi's. But as Dayama neared maturity, she became troubled by strange visions. She foresaw that her beloved gods would forsake the land and no longer walk amongst their people. Filled with anguish and despair, she threw herself into a river and drowned.

"The gods blamed themselves for her senseless death. And then they turned on each other. They fought, and their conflict created an upheaval in the fabric of the land. The earth shook. Unseasonable rains lashed the land, flooding the rivers. Great thunderstorms rushed across the darkened skies. Lightning strikes sparked brushfires that devastated the land. The wildlife fled and the Kiyusari were forced to cower in caves.

"The people importuned their gods. 'We are hungry and afraid. Our land is being destroyed. What have we done to anger you? Please help us!' But the gods were deaf to their pleas until one brave young man ventured outside. He sat on a blackened stump—all that remained of a great forest that had once bordered his settlement—and prayed for his people's salvation.

"Finally, on the morning of the third day, the conflict ceased and the land became calm. The gods sent the young man a vision that changed him forever. From that moment on his eyes were golden, and he could see the past and the future. He told his people the gods understood their grief over their beloved Dayama had almost destroyed their people. They had vowed to give up their earthly forms, and would no longer walk amongst the Kiyusari. As all children must learn to make their own way in the world, the Kiyusari must learn to fend for themselves.

"One by one, the Kiyusari ventured from the caves. At first they despaired, wondering how they would survive. But they were resilient and remembered what they had been taught. They renamed themselves _Dayamari_ , or 'Dayama's People', in memory of the first Sehan who had chosen death rather than live without her gods. They rebuilt their shattered lives and as time passed, the people and the land again prospered. And once in a while there would be sightings of a huge silver wolf, a white owl, or a red-banded black serpent—all with glowing golden eyes. And in every generation, children with golden eyes were born—Sehans—reminding the people that their gods watched over them and their land would never again suffer."

Blayne had heard the story before but Hope's rapt expression made him consider it through new eyes.

"It reminds me of the creation myths from my world," she said. "But what has it to do with me?"

"It's more than a myth, Hope," Blayne told her, anxious for her to understand the importance of the legacy she'd inherited by default. "Dayama was the first of the Dayamari Sehani. When _she_ died, our land almost died too. Until you came, Dayamar was the last of the Sehani. No one had transformed to take Katya's place."

"I have foreseen the end of my days," Dayamar said. "Our people must have a Sehan to guide and protect them. _You_ are that Sehan, Hope."

"Why? What is so important about Sehani?"

"Sehani are our link with our gods," Dayamar explained. "For generations, the Sehani line has remained unbroken and our land has prospered. But the histories record a time, many hundreds of years ago, when the people were _uSehani_ —Seerless—for a generation."

"What happened then?" Hope leaned forward, eager to hear more of the tale.

"The land mourned. The earth spewed fire. Ash blackened the sky and hid the sun for days. Many Dayamari perished. It took the survivors generations to recover from the land's despair."

Hope jerked back as Dayamar's words slapped her. The weight of their beliefs, their expectations, pressed down on her. "You truly believe your land and your people will suffer if you die and there is no one to take your place. That is why you brought me here."

"Yes." His blunt response was shocking as a face full of cold water.

"We all do," Blayne said.

Anxiety tickled her mind—not her own. She sensed Dayamar hadn't revealed the whole truth. Very well. She would bide her time until she was alone with him, and then she would demand answers. He had promised to tell her one thing, though. Damned if she would let that slide. "How did you bring me here?"

"I fasted and meditated for many days. On the fifth day a vision came to me. I took a powerful herb to alter my state of being, and my spirit left its physical shell to cross the boundary between worlds. I traveled many worlds before I found you. And then, to my horror, I was forced to witness your struggle for survival. I feared you might die, and that all would be lost. But you survived. It took me two more years before I had strength enough to call you to the opening between our worlds and bring you here, and without the aid of our gods I would have failed. My knowledge would have been lost forever."

Hope sat open-mouthed, wondering what to say, how to react to the admission he'd found her just as her family had perished. Could it be possible _he_ was the sole reason she'd survived the car-wreck? Mere coincidence, surely.

Hope knew the Dayamari would not be so easily convinced. They held their beliefs tightly to their hearts, nurturing them. The more she professed disbelief, the more she protested, the more tightly they would cling to those beliefs. But truly, gods? Out-of-body journeys to other worlds?

"I do not believe in your gods," she blurted. She heard gasps and straightened her shoulders, meeting their shock full on. "There are many gods in my world, and many who worship them. I am not one of them. I believe you have powers, Dayamar. And I am told my eyes have changed color." She threw up a hand to forestall protests. "I cannot see for myself so I must believe what you tell me. Maybe it _is_ magic. I do not know for certain. I cannot deny that I have visions and yes, I am forced to believe I now have what you call magic, too. But as for gods? No." She shook her head. "There are no gods."

Dayamar refused to give up. "You have been chosen by our gods. Why else did your vision show you the wolf, owl and snake? You have _Seen_ our gods. They have touched your life. You have changed, adapted to our land. If you had not, eventually you would have sickened and perhaps died. You had difficulty breathing when you first arrived here, yes?"

"Yes, that is true."

"That was because our air differs from the air of your home-world. But you have already healed the damage breathing our air caused you."

"Nonsense."

"The gods have gifted you with self-healing, Hope. The scrape on your face no longer bleeds because it has healed. As has the lump on your head. Ask Blayne if you don't believe me."

She probed her face and skull with her fingertips. And felt no pain. Still doubtful, she turned to Blayne.

He examined her, running his fingertips over her cheek and scalp. "It's true, Hope. There's no sign of either injury now." She heard the awe in his voice, knew he wasn't lying.

"Perhaps your healing skills are simply very good, Blayne. Or perhaps you have magic, too."

"I don't. And this rate of healing can't be attributed to my healing skills," he said.

"If I can heal myself, then why can I not see?" There. Let him explain that away.

"But you can, Hope. You're a Sehan. You do not need eyes to _See_."

Dayamar's gentle tone was little consolation for the turmoil he'd caused. "Soon," he continued, "in your mind's eye, you will be able to see the life-energy given off by all living things. And when you fully accept what you are your blindness will be irrelevant."

Hope grit her teeth. The old man had an answer for everything. "All right, I give up. I am here and I have no way to return home. I will try to help you."

The collective sigh from the group only added to her burdens. And she had the distinct impression Dayamar knew her true feelings but the canny old man didn't press her further. Instead, he began to talk about her daily training schedule—namely spending all available daylight hours at the Sehani Hall learning how to be a "proper" Sehan.

Blayne shifted restlessly beside her. Hope sensed he was about as unimpressed as she was by this schedule. To her relief he spoke up. Citing the need to teach her basic cooking, healing and herb-lore, he insisted she be back home by late afternoon each day. Despite Dayamar pressing him to give in, he refused to back down.

The two argued back and forth, with Maya stirring the pot by tossing in her opinions. Even Varaya spoke her piece, volunteering to be Hope's guide and show her around the settlement whenever Blayne was busy with his healing duties.

Hope felt like a pie that everyone wanted a piece of—a commodity—and although she greatly appreciated Blayne's support, events were spiraling out of control. Everything was being arranged around her, leaving her feeling powerless. She hadn't felt that way since the aftermath of the accident that had blinded her. And she didn't like it one bit.

"Enough! In my world, I am alone. I do what I want, when I want. _I_ decide for me. I will try my best to learn what I must, but if I cannot—if I am incapable—then Dayamar must send me home."

She turned to Blayne, desperate to explain how she felt and why. "Please believe I want stay with you. But if I cannot learn a Sehan's ways, Dayamar must send me back and find another Sehan to take my place."

Dayamar spoke before Blayne could respond. "Fair enough. Give me six months to teach you what you must learn, Hope. If I've not succeeded by then, I will do my utmost to help you return home. Agreed?"

She sagged with relief. A reprieve. Six months was a long time. Anything could happen in six months. "Agreed."

Dayamar also hid his relief. His visions haunted him, becoming more urgent with each passing day. And this young woman who refused to believe in gods or her own abilities was the only hope for his people. She was a catalyst. She'd already profoundly affected Blayne, Varaya _and_ Willem. No matter how narrow her core beliefs, no matter how she doubted her own abilities, she was coming into her powers. Nothing could halt that process.

Hope would soon be a force to be reckoned with, the most potent Seer in Dayamari history—he'd _Seen_ this. But would it be soon enough for her to save his people?

That, he had not foreseen.

~*~

## Chapter Eight

Cayl entered the room in a rush. "What have I missed?"

Hope bit the inside of her cheek to keep from blurting a sarcastic comment that might escalate the situation. The tension she sensed centered around Maya. Did Maya expect Dayamar to take some action, perhaps reprimand her for being contentious? Was he truly that strict and unforgiving?

But Dayamar only murmured, "Nothing important," and asked after Willem.

It transpired Willem had suffered nothing more serious than an aching head and contusions. When Cayl had pressed him for the truth of the encounter, Willem readily confessed. "He pleaded for permission to make whatever restitution Hope deemed fit," Cayl told them.

"I do not care about restitution," Hope said. "I only care that he will recover." Please, God, she hadn't caused him any lasting damage.

"His injuries were minor. He's fine. Which is far more than he deserves."

"Can Dorian be relied on to keep his mouth shut?" Blayne asked. "The last thing we need is rumors that Hope's not in control of her powers."

"Dorian's never been the brightest star in the sky," Cayl said. "And right now he's a gibbering mess. I've, ah, _convinced_ him no one will believe his tale and it's in his best interests to stay quiet."

"Good."

The two men seemed to share a moment. Hope figured it must be a male thing.

"So, Hope," Cayl ventured, "shall we have the elders turf Willem out, or have you thought of something infinitely more fitting to torture him with?"

She did her best to quell him with a frown. "I need to speak with him."

"Willem and I also have things to... discuss." That slight pause combined with Blayne's darkly dangerous tone were ominous. Hope shivered. She didn't need to be a Sehan to sense retribution was uppermost in his mind.

"Blayne, I know you are angry but this is for me to solve. Willem hurt me, not you."

"You must let Hope deal with this in her own way," Dayamar said. "I'm sure her next encounter with Willem will bring surprising results."

A telling silence ensued. Another "moment" was obviously being shared. Hope pictured this one resulting in Blayne reluctantly subsiding beneath the weight of the old Sehan's considerable will.

"We should leave Maya and Cayl in peace," Dayamar finally said. "They have a lot to arrange before Janus is buried tomorrow."

"I'm not very skilled but I'd like to help you with preparations, Maya," Varaya said.

Hope guessed the offer was uncharacteristic when Maya's response came a few beats too late for politeness. "Thanks, Varaya, I'd appreciate that. Gods know, with a gathering this size the more the merrier." She bustled off somewhere with Varaya in tow.

Hope mentally crossed her fingers Blayne would react as she expected. "I want to talk with Willem. Will you take me to him, Dayamar?"

"I'll take you," Blayne said, just as she'd hoped. Willem might quail at the sight of Blayne, but she suspected he'd die of fright if Dayamar showed his face. And then she wouldn't have a chance to act upon what she'd Seen and make this right.

~*~

Willem glanced up as the healer on duty jumped to attention. "Greetings, Sehan Hope," the healer said. "I trust you're recovered?"

Willem's guts knotted. It was her, the woman he'd assaulted.

He strangled his blanket with anxious fingers. He'd heard enough talk to know not everyone believed she was truly Sehani. But by Shikari's furry wolf-hide _he_ believed. He'd felt her power grab him by the throat and toss him aside as though he were feather-light. He'd been pinned to the ground, unable to move, incapable of doing anything other than struggle to breathe. And he'd willingly embraced oblivion when she'd cut him loose from the tethers binding him to her. In the split second before he blacked out, he had prayed this would be an end—that he would not regain consciousness. But, as with all his hopes and dreams, that fervent prayer had come to nothing.

A glance at Blayne's set, angry features, and Willem believed one more thing. Very shortly his life was going to be even less worth living than usual. Even if the pretty little Sehan by some miracle _did_ find it in her heart to forgive him, the Panakeya never would.

"Hello, Johan," the little Sehan said to the healer. "Yes, I feel good. Thank you."

She sounded absentminded as she scanned the room, searching for something with those unearthly golden eyes. When they slid past him, Willem released the breath he'd been holding. Then her gaze stilled, and jerked back, fixing on him, penetrating the walls he'd built around his heart and his soul. He choked on bile and shrank back against the sleeping platform. But there was nowhere to hide.

"May I talk to Willem?" she asked.

"Of course," the healer said. And, damn the man, led her straight to where Willem lay helpless.

The concern shining in those golden eyes surprised him. He wondered what she'd been told of his injuries. They were nothing—a pounding headache, scrapes and bruises. He wouldn't even be here if Cayl hadn't threatened to tie him to the bed.

Willem watched the sway of her hips as she came closer. Through sober eyes she was more than merely pretty. She was beautiful... and so very young. Somehow that made what he'd done to her even worse. And in the gloomy room her eyes seemed to glow and her femininity became tainted by what she truly was. _Sehani_. He shuddered. Best he remember that.

"Sehan Hope, I—" He choked on shame. He was pathetic, worthless. He deserved whatever punishment she deemed fit.

"Give me your hand, Willem," she said.

It didn't occur to him to disobey. He pushed himself to a seated position, wincing at the soreness of his muscles. The hand he held out to her shook and his gaze flicked to Blayne, expecting a sneer. But the man gave him shuttered eyes and a blank face.

Willem scrunched his eyelids tightly shut, waiting for fate in the guise of a beautiful woman to deal him a final blow. Ironic. He'd always been a sucker for beauty.

Her small, soft hand clasped his and—

Nothing happened.

"Do you have something to tell me?" she murmured.

He pried open his eyelids and was surprised to find her kneeling beside his bed. "Eh?"

"What do you need to tell me?"

He choked down the lump in his throat and struggled for the right words. "Uh, I want— I want to apologize for my behavior. I was wrong to force my attentions on you." Over her head, Willem darted another glance at Blayne, and this time glimpsed the sneer he'd expected. Blayne didn't believe a word. But it didn't matter what Blayne thought. Only the little Sehan mattered.

Willem sat up straighter and dared look her right in the eye. "I'd been drinking, but that does not excuse my behavior. I promise to never bother a woman again without her permission. I will do whatever you want. I will never touch liquor again, only please, Sehan Hope—" His voice broke, compounding his shame. "Please, don't let the elders send me away."

Blayne snorted. "He's promised to change his ways many times. But get a few drinks inside him and he always forgets his promises. There's no place for in the settlement for a man like him."

The healer on duty nodded, agreeing. And Willem's heart sank to his toes. Both men were well-respected members of the settlement. They would petition for his banishment. And, gods knew, the little Sehan had every reason to support them.

"You do not know him," she announced, and it took Willem a moment to realize she referred to _him_. "I joined with his mind. I saw his past. I know him now."

He was again the sole focus of that unrelenting golden gaze. "I did not mean to hurt you," she said. "I am only scared and want you to go away. I do not know what I did, or how. I am very sorry."

_She_ was apologizing? To _him_?

Blayne's clenched fists and narrowed gaze proclaimed his outrage. "You have nothing to apologize for, Hope. Willem attacked you. He deserved what he got."

Willem recovered enough to say, "Panakeya Blayne is right, Sehan Hope. It's me who needs to apologize."

Those unearthly eyes bored into him, winnowing through his darkest secrets and making them hers. "I know about when you are a boy," she said. "I understand your pain and your fears. Your mother—she is ill, I think—not right in her head. It is not your fault she is like that."

She spoke with such compassion, Willem couldn't help but believe she understood the terrible self-loathing he harbored. Hope flared anew, warming the cold emptiness that had lain curled around his heart for so long.

"But that is in the past," she said. "Now you can choose a new path—if you have courage enough to take the first step. I know you want to change. I will forget what happened and no one will speak of it again. We will start anew." She shook the hand she still held. "Hello, I am Hope. I am pleased to meet you."

How could she know about his mother? Willem sat there, open-mouthed, overawed and more afraid than he'd ever been in his life. He scrubbed his face with his spare hand to hide the tears burning his eyes. "Hello, my name is Willem," he finally managed to whisper. "I'm pleased to meet you, Sehan Hope."

She squeezed his hand. "One thing more."

"Yes, yes of course. Anything."

"You will not drink alcohol again."

Her eyes gleamed so brightly it was like gazing into a midday sun. The dazzling golden nimbus wreathing her body expanded to encompass Willem, too. A blaze of heat seared through his bones and his internal organs. He screamed but the sound was swallowed by the light. His muscles jerked and twitched, and then stiffened. The light dissipated, and he flopped back onto the sleeping platform, gasping like a landed fish, his gaze still fixed on her serene face.

She released his hand and clumsily rose to make her way back to Blayne's side.

"What did you do to him?"

The Panakeya didn't sound as if he really wanted to know the answer. For Willem, though, it was the opposite. He hoped she would announce that the light and the heat of her power had cleansed him, burned away everything he'd become, everything he despised about himself. He hoped he'd been reborn.

"I am not sure," she admitted, much to his surprise because he'd been raised believing Sehani knew everything.

"But I do know he does not need to drink now. The desire is gone." She turned back to Willem with a narrowed gaze that made him flinch. It blanked momentarily, as if she looked inward. A blink and she was back in the here and now, nibbling her lower lip and staring at him in that disconcerting way she had.

"D-do you have a question for me, Sehan?" Gods save him. What else did she have in store for him?

"Please, what do you look like?"

"Huh? I mean, I beg your pardon?"

"What do you look like? You know, hair, eyes and such. How tall—things like that."

"I have blond hair and brown eyes. Uh, I'm a little over six feet."

"Are you handsome?"

Willem shrugged helplessly, his face heating at her ingenuous question. "Uh, I've never really thought about it."

"Johan, tell me, please. Is he a good-looking man?"

The healer grimaced and rolled his eyes in a "Why me?" gesture. "I guess," he muttered.

"Why do you ask?" Blayne's scowl was so fierce Willem might have found the situation amusing if he hadn't been so damned intimidated.

"In a minute." She was still frowning at him like... like... like a healer viewing an interesting specimen. "Willem, what is wrong with your hand? The skin felt strange."

"What you felt is scarring from a burn I received as a child," he said. The muscles of his hand convulsed and he fisted it tightly, vividly recalling his mother's derision when he'd burned himself. She'd been too drunk to attend to him properly, and the scarring had been much worse without the proper treatment. Even now, years later, the skin of his wrist and palm was seamed and puckered. Even now, in his dreams he heard her jeers.

"Aha! I am right." She beamed at him and hugged her middle.

"About what?" Blayne asked.

She tilted her chin at the Panakeya and fingered her earrings. "Do you remember the Seeing I had?"

Blayne's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious," he muttered.

"It is true." Her voice brimmed with suppressed mirth. "But we will say no more of it. Willem must discover her for himself."

"You had a Seeing about me?" Wonders would never cease. "What did you See?"

"I see good things for you, Willem. You will be happy. That is all I say." She punctuated her declaration with a yawn. "I apologize for my rudeness. It has been a long day for me." She reached a hand toward Blayne. "Can we go home? And eat too, maybe?"

"Of course." The Panakeya's expression softened as he tucked her beneath his arm. "Let's get you home before you fall asleep and I have to carry you the entire way." He escorted her out, leaving behind a very curious healer and one bemused man whose life had just turned upside down.

The little Sehan's actions astonished Willem. He'd expected retribution, only to be gifted with redemption and the hope his most heartfelt wish would come true. He came back to reality with a jolt when he caught the healer eyeing him in a disturbingly speculative manner.

Johan gave him a wolfish grin that didn't ease Willem's mind one bit. "You've been given another chance, Willem. Don't muck it up or you'll upset her. And that would be bad."

"Agreed." Willem flung back the bedcovers. "Can I go?" Like, before the healer got any bright ideas about experimenting on him. Johan had a reputation for such things.

"Are you sure you haven't been affected by that... that... gold-light thingy she did to you?"

"I feel wonderful." No lie.

The healer's face fell and he gestured Willem from the bed. And Willem made the mistake of saying, "Gods I'm thirsty, though. I could drink a river."

"Dehydration. Excellent!" Johan planted a hand on his chest and shoved him back on the mattress.

Willem watched healer bustling about until, finally, he produced a cup of liquid. "Drink this," he commanded.

Willem thought seriously about refusing.

"You can go just as soon as you drink this," Johan said in a wheedling tone.

Willem eyed the contents of the cup and sniffed.

"Go on. It won't hurt you." Johan nudged the cup closer to his lips. "Be a man."

He shrugged. The healer was hardly going to poison him and risk Sehan Hope's wrath after everything she'd done. Where was the harm? He took a long draught and then pushed the mug away. "Gahhh! That's disgusting. What was— Argh. Gods!" He clutched his stomach, retched, and vomited up the liquid.

Afterward he wiped his mouth. "What _was_ that stuff?"

The healer stared mournfully at his vomit-splattered boots. "Serve me right for doubting her," he said. "And to add insult to injury I've wasted a rather fine ale."

~*~

## Chapter Nine

Good Lord she was starving. If Hope had known it was customary to fast until the evening meal on the day of a burial, she'd have eaten twice as much dinner the previous night. Her stomach rumbled. She sternly told it to hush and refocused on Dayamar.

Her comprehension of the intricacies of the Dayamaru language seemed to have expanded during his lecture—doubtless due to some magical tinkering on his part. She'd have been impressed by yet another demonstration of his supernatural abilities if she hadn't been so disturbed by the incredible things he was telling her.

Now he launched into finer details of how he'd brought her to Dayamaria. "There are two planes of existence, corporeal and incorporeal. The corporeal plane is the world that our bodies inhabit—this world, here and now. However, there is another plane of existence—an _in_ corporeal, or spiritual plane, where the souls of each living being exist as pure energy."

A significant pause, that Hope suspected was to check her level of concentration, before he continued. "A very few souls shine with a pure white light because they have realized their full potential along the path of life. Others, having much yet to learn, are entwined with a myriad colored threads, each one representing a path taken during the course of their life thus far. Colors and brightness are indicators as to the spiritual growth, or the _potential_ for growth, of each soul."

Puhlease. Planes of existence and spirit worlds and soul-lights? Pure fantasy. How could it be anything else?

But... what about her own "gifts"? Hope could no longer deny they were real.

No. It was too much. Magic was one thing, but this was a whole new level of suspending belief.

"Your light was a beautiful rich gold," Dayamar said. "Your potential was awe-inspiring. I had never before seen the like. It's how I knew you would be the one to heal our world."

"I do not want to burst your bubble, Dayamar, but have you considered that perhaps you were—" how to put it delicately? "—so fatigued from all this between-worlds traveling, you were mistaken?"

"I'm not mistaken. The gods would not be so cruel."

"Where I come from, the gods people believe in so fervently are often cruel." Only a cruel god would have left Hope virtually unscathed amidst the wreckage of the car while her parents and her brothers had been crushed and broken.

He continued on, undeterred by her outburst. "There are many different worlds. Each is surrounded by an energy veil, which serves to prevent the untutored from accidentally passing between worlds. Once one learns to travel the incorporeal plane, journeys are usually made in spirit-form. It's rare that a physical body is transported. That is a very arduous undertaking, requiring great strength. I feared if I tore the veil to journey to your world, the rent would heal behind me, and I would lack the strength to open it again while carrying you with me. So I begged assistance from our gods. They helped me spin a gate to insure the veil remained open."

Those gods again. Hope suppressed a sigh. She'd write him off as a religious fanatic if he wasn't so... so... convincing.

"I entered your world in spirit form, seeking your soul-light," Dayamar said. "And when I found you, my life-energy merged with yours. Your physical body became pure energy, too, allowing us to travel through the veil and reenter this world. At the end of the journey, my energy surrendered yours and rejoined its physical vessel. And your physical body was recreated, here, in this world. Do you understand what I'm saying, Hope?"

"I understand the concept."

"It's no _concept_. It's fact."

"What you tell me is impossible," she blurted.

He laughed, but it sounded affectionate rather than derisive. "Anything is possible, Hope. How else do you explain how you came here?"

She gnawed her lip and finally shook her head. "I cannot."

The calming breath she snatched had no effect whatsoever. She was still strung tight as a... a... bowstring. Hah. Might as well get used to thinking in Dayamaru as well as speaking it. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked.

"My gods have shown me a vision of the future, Hope. On the spiritual plane, our world has been infected by a creeping darkness. I believe it is a manifestation of something happening here, on the earthly plane. And I sense that it is wholly evil."

His distress swirled about her, nipping at her senses. "If this darkness engulfs our spirit world," he continued, "our souls will exist in emptiness. Eventually our physical bodies will wither and die, unable to be nourished by our souls. It will be a terrible death, with no hope of passing on to the afterlife."

She shuddered. Sounded like a midnight campsite horror story. "What else do you know about this darkness?"

"Something about it interferes with my ability to travel the incorporeal world," he said. "The last time I dared the trip I sensed hunger and craving, as though it wished to consume me. It took all my strength not to succumb to its hunger. I fear I cannot safely send you back to your world, Hope. Not while this darkness continues to grow and spread."

She might not wholly believe his claims of gods and spirit worlds but she couldn't deny this world had magic. And that Dayamar could command it. He'd been instrumental in bringing her to this world, but now he was admitting he couldn't send her back?

Chills skittered up and down Hope's spine—bone-deep chills that leached the warmth from her veins. On the surface, she might appear to accept what was happening to her. But that acceptance was underpinned with the knowledge that if she chose, she could return to Earth and resume her old life. To have that choice taken away, to be forced to make a life here because she could never return.... That was difficult to accept. And a nasty little inner voice wondered if perhaps the "creeping darkness" was merely a convenient excuse for Dayamar to keep her here. She would have to tread carefully.

"How can I help?" she asked. Because, occasional supernatural powers and visions aside, how could a blind girl from another world possibly save these people from who knew what? She was barely capable of looking after herself in this world.

"I do not know," came his wholly unexpected reply. "The gods do not deem it necessary to tell me _how_ you will save us, only that you will."

_Gods._ She was heartily sick of hearing about these capricious, all-powerful beings. "Why do your gods not simply destroy this evil darkness?"

"Their strength and power are drawn from our implicit belief in their existence and their abilities. Meaning, their influence is limited to this physical world and its people. Try as they might, they have not been able to vanquish this infection. They speculate it stems from something that does not believe in them, thus they have no sway over it."

Dayamar sounded so weary she felt a pinch of guilt over adding to his burden.

"All I can do is train you to the best of my abilities," he said. "All I can do is teach you what I know of Sehani powers so that when the time comes, you will be ready."

"When will that be?"

"You will know when."

Could he be any more vague?

"I think this is enough for now. Maya's father will soon be interred and I must prepare for the ceremony. We will talk more tomorrow."

Hope had one more question. "Dayamar, who else knows of this darkness in your spirit world?"

"Not a soul." He spoke so quietly she strained to catch his words. He cleared his throat, and the command came out strong and implacable. "You must tell no one—not even Blayne. Come, it's past time I returned you to him."

Escorting her proved unnecessary for Varaya was hovering outside the door. "Have you finished with Hope, Sehan Dayamar? I've told Blayne I'd like to help her get ready for the ceremony."

"It's heartening to see your spirits so improved, Varaya. I believe Hope has been an excellent influence on you."

Dayamar seemed to expect a response so Hope nudged her friend with an elbow.

"Uh, yes, Sehan Dayamar. She has." Varaya waited for the old Sehan to close the door behind them before hooking her arm about Hope's and dragging her off. "Gods, he always turns me into a tongue-tied child. Let's head to Blayne's and check if you have something suitable to wear."

Despite her preoccupation with Dayamar's unsettling disclosures, Hope's interest was piqued. "What do I wear for a burial? My custom is to wear black. What do Dayamari wear?"

"Brown. It symbolizes the earth, the final resting place of everyone who passes on. We all dress our best as a mark of respect."

"What else?" God forbid she did something inappropriate that might embarrass Maya. She'd upset the poor woman quite enough already with her Seeing.

"Anyone who knew Janus, or had anything to do with him, will be present. I'm going because he was kind to me when I was a girl, and I've always remembered that kindness. Six men, usually close friends and relatives, will bear Janus to the burial ground. Blayne has known Janus a long time—that's why he's been chosen as a bearer. Janus's life-partner and other daughter have already passed on, so as his sole living blood-relative, Maya will lead the procession. What else? Oh yes, people will sing to his soul before it makes its final journey. Then the bearers will lower him into the grave and Maya will place some item that her father valued alongside his body. Sehan Dayamar will perform the final rites, and people will line up to place a handful of soil into the grave. This evening we'll hold a feast of remembrance in Janus's honor."

"It sounds beautiful." Hope beckoned Varaya to follow her to the main sleeping room. She waved a hand at the shelf of neatly folded clothes. "Is there anything brown?"

Varaya rustled through Hope's belongings. "Aha! Trust Shay to have thought ahead and provided you with the right outfit. Here, put this on."

Hope stripped and donned the garment. "It is right?"

"Yes, but—"

"But what?"

"You can't wear those worn things on your feet."

She lifted one sandaled foot for Varaya to inspect. "Are they truly so unsuitable?"

Varaya clucked her tongue. "For starters, there's a hole in the sole. We'll cajole some new footwear out of Mikel. He owes me." She tugged Hope from the room. "Let's get this sorted and then I'll help you with your hair."

Hope wrinkled her nose. The right clothes, shoes, hair.... Preparing for this ceremony was worse than primping for a date.

~*~

Varaya rapped on the door of Mikel's home and entered without waiting for a response. "Mikel? Are you there?"

A man's voice boomed from another room. "Varaya! I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from me. Come in, my lovely, and let me show you what you've been missing."

Hope clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Varaya groaned. "I've brought you a customer, you big fool." She dragged Hope inside.

From Mikel's sharply indrawn breath, Hope knew he was reacting to her golden eyes. She inwardly cringed. Was this to be the reaction of each new person she encountered? If so, she hated it.

"Mikel, this is Hope, Dayamar's new apprentice."

"I am happy to meet you, Mikel." Hope smiled and extended her hand.

"Uh, I'm happy to meet you, too, Hope." He grasped her hand. And then, to her surprise, he laughed. "Let me guess. New footwear is needed in a big hurry. Those sandals sure have seen better days."

Her face heated. She had no goods or skill to barter. How would she pay him? "I do not have anything to give you in return, Mikel."

"Don't worry about that. The rest of 'em will be spitting threads they didn't get to you first. Envious expressions would be compensation enough, of course, but if you'd give me these old sandals so I could examine the design I'd be a very happy man."

"Of course."

"Sit, and I'll check my stock for your size."

"You are not even going to measure my feet?"

Mikel grunted as he exited. "Haven't you told her how talented I am, Varaya?" he called from the next room. "Shame on you! Aha. I made this pair of boots for a youngling with a huge crush on a girl. But by the time I'd finished them, she'd taken up with someone else and he didn't want them anymore. He's lucky I'm such an understanding man or I'd have made him pay for them regardless."

He returned with what he described as a pair of calf-length boots. "These are dyed a deep brown. I think they'll be just right for you."

Hope slipped on the soft boots and took a few hesitant steps. "Very comfortable," she said, impressed he'd accurately guessed her size.

He insisted on presenting her with another pair of boots and a new pair of sandals, which he promised to deliver to Blayne's house. As Shay had done, he brushed aside her protestations. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Hope. And you and I must catch up again soon, Varaya."

"Thank you Mikel." Hope reached out to embrace him and he awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"Don't get any ideas, Mikel," Varaya advised in a dry tone. "Or Blayne won't be at all happy. Come on, Hope. We have to get ready for the ceremony."

~*~

Given the buzz of voices, Hope figured a large number of people were already milling about waiting for the ceremony to start. Varaya managed to find a comfortable spot on the grassy rise overlooking the burial ground, and spread a small mat on the grass. "We'll sit on this so we don't soil our clothes."

"We sit for the ceremony?"

"Unless we're called on to sing."

Huge fluttering butterflies loop-de-looped in Hope's stomach. This was her first formal ceremony, her first time exposed to the greater settlement populace. She briefly pondered what could be meant by "called upon to sing" but was distracted by a presence she recognized.

Varaya nudged her. "A man's waving at you, Hope. I wonder who he is. Oooh, he's coming over. My... he's gorgeous."

Hope hid a smile as she waved back. "Willem," she called. "Come and sit with us." And in her mind's eye she could picture Varaya smoothing her hair.

"Is that the same Willem who—?" Varaya bit off her question as he approached.

"Hello, Sehan Hope. How'd you know it was me?"

"I just know, Willem." This seemingly magical ability was puzzling. Perhaps it had something to do with the way her mind had linked with his during their last encounter.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did," he said. "I never thought I'd want to thank anyone for making liquor taste bad but—"

"In your heart you wished to stop drinking. I merely reinforced that wish." Not that she had a clue how, or whether she would ever be able to replicate the process. She heard Varaya wriggling restlessly beside her and realized it'd been impolite not to have made introductions. "Willem, this is my friend Varaya."

"Hello, Varaya. I'm pleased to meet you."

He didn't sound pleased at all, prompting Hope to wonder what gossip he might have heard. Nothing good, given his frosty tone.

"Hope, please tell that man he is not welcome."

She guessed Varaya was only being protective but her rudeness was embarrassing all the same. Not the best start to an encounter that was supposed to end in a love-match. "You should not judge so harshly, Varaya," Hope said. "Willem has overcome a difficult past. He has a good future. This I have Seen."

"Thanks." Willem squeezed her hand. "But I can speak for myself. I've done things I'm ashamed of and it'd be easy for me to blame my upbringing, but that is no excuse. Thanks to Sehan Hope I've changed. She's given me a second chance, despite what I did to her. I'm working hard to prove myself and I hope that regardless of my _reputation_ —" his heavy emphasis on the word obviously hit home for Varaya choked on a gasp "—people will eventually overcome their prejudices."

"I apologize if I offended you," Varaya said—rather grudgingly, Hope thought. "If Hope has forgiven you, then it's not my place to judge you."

As Dayamar had taught her, Hope extended all her senses into the silence. She immediately sensed the physical attraction swirling between them. Despite her prejudices, Varaya was drawn to Willem. She was fighting it but she found him handsome—and vulnerable too, in a way she found compelling. Through her link with Willem, Hope understood he found Varaya attractive but was wary of her reputation. Even so, he was imagining in exquisite detail how it would be to kiss her and—

Hope cut the link and pressed her palms to her flushed face. Thankfully, a change in the tone and volume of the conversations going on around her provided a welcome distraction. "What is happening?"

"You might may as well sit with us," Varaya said to Willem. "You'll never find a decent seat now." She brushed off his thanks and began a muted commentary of what was taking place for Hope's benefit. "Dayamar and Maya are walking at the head of the procession. Now I can see the bearers. Cayl, Blayne, Sanda, Markis, Kevyn and— Willem, who's that older man?"

"Jarren, I think."

"Thanks. The six of them are carrying the body on a stretcher. They're coming up the rise now. Dayamar is chanting the rites—can you hear him?"

Hope nodded. She could indeed hear Dayamar's voice but found it nearly impossible to understand what he was saying. When she asked why, Varaya told her that burial rites were conducted in an archaic form of Dayamaru only used for ceremonies.

"They've reached the burial site. Now the body is being lowered to the ground. Maya will watch over it while the grave is prepared. I can't say anymore for the moment—Maya's about to sing."

A pure soprano rose in a mournful elegy. Hope closed her eyes and lost herself in Maya's song. Although she couldn't understand all the lyrics the meaning was clear, and she found herself moved to tears.

The song concluded and then two male voices rang out, harmonizing with an ease that spoke of much practice. Hope recognized Cayl and surprisingly, Blayne. Their song was simple but masterfully sung. She recalled her parents' and brothers' funerals, and her heart went out to Maya, now the sole surviving member of her family. Tears dripped down her cheeks. Varaya must have noticed, for she draped an arm around Hope's shoulder and hugged her.

In the silence following the final notes of the song, Hope was so caught up in the emotions the singing had aroused she failed to hear Maya's announcement.

Varaya shook her gently. "Hope! Maya is asking you to sing for her father's spirit. It is a great honor to be asked. You must sing!" She dragged Hope to her feet, steadied her, and then resumed her seat on the mat.

Hope swayed on her feet. Even though she couldn't see the onlookers, their gazes needled her like probing insects. Her senses swam. The expectant silence closed in.

Good God. Sing? In front of all these people? To refuse would hurt Maya, but what on earth could she sing?

A song popped into her head. She visualized the lyrics, snatched a breath, and launched into the opening line of Amazing Grace. And after the first phrase, her voice gained strength and she forgot about being self-conscious. Blindness had its uses.

As the final note of her song died, Hope couldn't hear so much as a whisper from anyone. She wrapped her arms about her middle, hoping she hadn't embarrassed Maya, or committed some shocking breach of etiquette by singing in another language. And then gasps and shocked exclamations erupted around her, and all she sensed from Varaya and Willem was shock. "What is happening?"

The surrounding air abruptly cooled and Hope was buffeted by a swirling wind. She shielded her face with an arm and stood her ground. The buffeting eased to a gentle breeze and the surrounding air warmed again, as though the sun had appeared from behind a cloud. In the stillness, she detected someone's presence. "Varaya? Willem?"

"I am Janus," it said.

~*~

## Chapter Ten

Hope jerked back her outstretched hand. Maya's _father_ , the man they were preparing to bury? "Wh-what do you want from me?

"Thank you for your song. It will ease my passing from this world to the next. Too, I thank you for what you will sacrifice for my people."

The voice sounded so sincere a little of Hope's fear receded. "I am sorry to have Seen your death. I would take it back if I could."

"My death was inevitable." The spirit's sigh swirled around Hope, goosing her skin. "The gods are calling me home."

There was a rushing in the air above her, as might be caused by great wings.

"It is time." Janus's voice was fading and Hope strained to hear his final words. "Tell Maya... be brave... love her."

"I will," she called, and felt it in every fiber of her being when his spirit departed and vanished as though it had never been.

"Hope?" Dayamar's concerned voice rang out just as Blayne swept Hope up in a crushing embrace. She could feel him shaking.

"Blayne, I am fine. You are squashing me."

"What did Janus say to you?" Dayamar asked.

"He thanked me for my song, and for easing his passing." Hope suspected she hadn't grasped the full import of the spirit's words, but that nagging feeling was eclipsed by the wonder she felt at the encounter. "Before the gods came for him, he had a message for Maya."

"We will take you to her," Dayamar said. "Quickly now. I must not delay the final part of the ceremony. It's imperative Janus's spirit has no reason to return to the corporeal world."

"Wait." She resisted as Blayne ushered her forward. "Varaya. Is she all right?"

"Willem is taking good care of her," Blayne said.

"Whatever do you mean?"

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "She was thrown backward by the wind, and landed sprawled on top of him. He grabbed her to protect her from harm. Now neither of them seem to know how to react." He huffed a low laugh. "I can't think of a better punishment for Willem than ending up with Varaya as his life-partner."

Hope bit her lips to hide her smile. "Varaya, I will meet you later at the feast," she called as Blayne led her away.

Dayamar chanted the necessary words to bring the ceremony to a close, and Blayne urged Hope forward to stand next to Maya while the mourners filed past.

"Your father gave me a message for you, Maya." She was loathe to cause Maya further distress but felt compelled to reveal his last words.

Maya squeaked. "My father?"

"He said, 'Tell Maya to be brave and I love her.'"

Maya made a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh. "Thank you. That means more to me than you could know. I'm so glad you've come to us, Hope."

"I am happy I could do this for you."

"Now do you believe?" Dayamar murmured for Hope's ears alone.

But Hope was too busy processing the encounter to respond. She had spoken to a dead man's spirit. She might be a harbinger of death, but she could also comfort a grieving friend. Perhaps being Sehani wasn't so bad after all.

~*~

Laughter and chatter drifted to Hope's ears as her small party made its way to the gathering place. She'd once attended a wake for a friend of her father's, and everyone had celebrated the man's life. It appeared the Dayamari followed a similar tradition.

The muscles of Blayne's arm, which he'd draped around her waist, tensed.

"Is something—?" Hope faltered, belatedly realizing she was speaking into a hush.

"I wish I could have organized a less formal occasion to introduce you in public," he murmured in her ear. "They expect you to say a few words. Are you okay with this, dearling?"

"I think so." She straightened her spine and confronted the silence. At least she wouldn't have to resort to imagining everyone in their underwear—she could pretend she was merely rehearsing a speech.

She cleared her throat. "I am Hope. I have come here from, uh, a _distant_ land. Dayamar tells me I am Sehani even though I am blind. Strange things happen and I am scared. But you are all kind and you help me." She tightened her grip on Blayne's hand and he gave an answering squeeze. "I will try hard to learn your ways. And I think... I think this is my home now."

She held her breath, awaiting a response. She heard mutterings, and then a woman's voice bellowed, "Has the kit got your tongues? Make the poor child welcome for gods' sakes!"

Shay. Hope silently thanked the woman.

"I have already made our new Sehan welcome," the clothing-maker said. "As you can plainly see, she is wearing one of my fine gifts. Doesn't she look splendid? On behalf of this settlement, I welcome you, Hope."

"It is not your place to officially welcome newcomers," a nasal voice protested.

Shay sniffed, somehow managing to convey disdain and dislike in that one small gesture. "If we waited for you elders to get around to welcoming her, the food would burn and everyone would go hungry tonight. And from what I hear, First Elder Varon, _you_ weren't very inclined to welcome our new Sehan when you first met her."

"Varon, may I have a word with you?" Dayamar said. "I have a pressing matter that would benefit from your advice." The First Elder blustered as Dayamar drew him away, skillfully defusing the situation Shay had provoked.

Shay laughed heartily. "Let's get this gathering underway!" Her shout was followed by a babble of excited conversation and the booming rhythms of drumbeats.

Blayne pressed a quick kiss to Hope's temple. "That was well done. You said exactly the right thing." He led her to one of the numerous cooking fires bordering a large area reserved for dancing. This particular spot had been set aside for Maya and Cayl, and he shooed off one of the volunteers overseeing the food. "I'll see to this," he told the young woman. "Go find your friends and enjoy yourself." She scurried off, calling grateful thanks over her shoulder.

"Join us, Willem," Blayne said. "Unless you have other plans?"

"If you're sure?"

"I won't bite. I had a chat with Johan earlier today. He tells me his favorite boots will never be the same. Are you still unable to tolerate any liquor?"

Willem cleared his throat. "None. I don't miss it, or feel any need to experiment, but Johan keeps plying me with vile concoctions. I don't think he entirely believes in what Sehan Hope did to me. My ribs ache from all the vomiting. But aside from that, I feel better than I have in years."

Cayl chose exactly that moment to offer Willem a drink.

"Is it sekar?" Willem asked.

"Yes. A superior batch, too."

"Then no thanks. I have no desire to ruin your boots, too."

"Is anyone going to explain all this talk of boots? Or is it a private joke?" Varaya sounded tetchy.

"Johan forced a drink down my throat immediately after my second encounter with Hope. I threw up over his best boots. I can't drink any liquor without becoming violently ill. I'm positive it's a permanent side effect, but Johan insists on experimenting. You know what he's like."

"Sure do," Cayl muttered. "I remember when he tried—without asking permission, I might add—a new mix of herbs in some vile concoction he gave me. I swear I farted for a whole—"

"I'd rather forget that unfortunate incident," Maya said firmly. "We must thank those who helped with the food preparation." She dragged him away before he could launch into another of his tales.

Hope lounged on a mat beside Varaya, while the two men oversaw the cooking. Blayne seemed surprised to discover Willem shared his love of good food. The two were soon deep in conversation about various seasonings and techniques.

Hope leaned back on her elbows and stretched out her legs, letting the music and merriment wash over her. It was wonderful to relax and just _be_ for a change. Since being summoned here, her life had been dictated by forces beyond her control. She'd bounced from one incident to another like a pebble careening down a steep hill. Until this moment, she hadn't realized how stressful it all was.

Beside her, Varaya fidgeted restlessly. "Do you want to check out the dancing?"

Hope suspected her friend was peeved about Willem ignoring her. Varaya wasn't used to being ignored by men. "I would like that," she told her friend. "Blayne? I am going with Varaya. We will return soon."

"Don't be too long. The food's nearly ready."

Varaya steered Hope toward the dancers. The closer she got, the more the complex rhythms of the drums reverberated through her body.

Varaya clapped her hands. "Roban's going to play!"

A trill from an instrument that sounded like a flute joined the drums. Hope listened, entranced, as the skilled musician wove an intricate little melody through the drumbeats. She barely noticed when Varaya was whisked away by one of the dancers.

"Would you like to dance?"

Before she could think of an excuse, Hope was drawn forward by large hands clasping her waist.

"I do not know this dance," she demurred, but her fears were overruled by her unknown partner's hearty assurance it didn't matter a bit. He drew her closer, and she placed her hands on his shoulders as he led her through the first steps of the simple dance.

When, inevitably, she stepped on his toes and hastened to apologize, he only laughed. Reassured her partner didn't expect too much, Hope relaxed and began to enjoy herself. It didn't take long before she could anticipate the steps. He responded by leading her into more complicated moves. The musician began another song, and Hope thanked her partner, but before she could retire her hands were grasped by the other man, who swept her into another set of steps. He danced with enthusiasm but little care. She suspected he didn't even realize she was blind. When he abruptly swung her out, Hope's hand slipped from his grasp. She promptly tripped over someone's foot... and fell headlong into familiar arms that tightened protectively around her.

"Kevyn." Blayne's tone carried more than a hint of censure. "Next time you dance with Sehan Hope, please take a little more care of her."

"Sorry," her dance partner said. "But no harm done, eh?"

"Thank you for the dance," she called after him as he hastened off in search of a less fragile partner.

"I thought you were with Varaya," Blayne said.

"Someone asked her to dance." Hope paused, wondering how he would react. Well, she'd never know if she didn't ask. "Dance with me?"

The frantic music segued into a haunting melody accompanied by a slow drum beat. Blayne pulled her close until her cheek rested against his chest. "I didn't know you liked to dance," he said. "There are many things we must discover about each other, hmm?"

She murmured a quiet agreement, content to be in his arms. She could have stayed there forever but inevitably the music wound down and he led her back to their cooking fire.

"About time. I'm starving." Cayl tried his best to sound like he was dying of hunger.

"You've got two hands, haven't you?" Blayne shot back.

"And risk ruining good food? No way."

"All right, all right. I'll serve. Grab some plates." Blayne ladled out the stew and Maya passed out the plates, dispensing brisk instructions for everyone to help themselves to the side dishes.

The stew on Hope's plate smelled delicious but she had no idea what it was, or where to find eating utensils. She hesitated to bother Blayne or Maya while they were busy serving the others. This was why she didn't enjoy these sorts of gatherings. People tended to either leave her to her own devices, unwilling to intrude, or hovered and treated her like a small child incapable of doing _anything_ for herself. Right now she felt like the latter.

She dipped a forefinger into the food. _Yeow_. She sucked the hot gravy from her finger. Mmm. Tasted gamey. Venison, perhaps? Just as well she was a total carnivore and liked red meat. Best leave this to cool awhile.

Blayne glanced over at Hope. Why was she not eating?

Ah. He headed over to grab some cutlery but Maya beat him to it.

"I have some eating utensils for you, Hope." Maya handed them over. "Is that all you're going to have? What about the other dishes? At the very least you should try my specialty—baked root vegetables. And there's steamed greens, too, if you'd like."

"I would very much like to try them, Maya. But—" Hope's exhalation sounded shaky. "Because I cannot see the food, I am afraid to spill it or burn myself."

Maya smacked her forehead with her palm. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even think of how awkward it must be for you. But there's no shame in asking for help, you know. I'm your friend after all."

If anyone could coax Hope out of her reluctance to ask for assistance it'd be Maya. Blayne waited for Hope's response.

"I know, Maya. But it is hard for me to ask. Back home I learned how do everything myself. Here it is... different."

Frustration throbbed in her voice. It wrenched his heart.

"I cannot even serve myself food without help. Always Blayne does things for me. He must be sick of it. He must be sick of me."

The complete opposite, but apparently he'd have to work harder to convince her.

Maya placed the plate safely aside before kneeling to take Hope's hands. "I know that's not the case. Blayne loves you. I've never seen him so taken with a woman. He'd do anything for you."

"He was given no choice. My blindness gives him no choice. He is kind, generous, because that is who he is. It does not mean he loves me."

Foolish woman. He loved her so much it scared him.

Maya glanced up then, straight into his eyes. She cast him a measuring gaze, doubtless wondering how much he'd overheard. Hope for once seemed unaware of his presence.

"You must try some of the other dishes," Maya offered brightly. "I'll take your plate and give you a small serving of each." She moved from earshot to give them some privacy. This was obviously his cue.

"Yes. Thank you." Hope blotted tears with her sleeve.

"Hope."

She jolted at the sound of his voice. And threw him a sunny smile he didn't believe for an instant."Blayne!"

He sat beside her. "Are you unhappy?"

She blinked at the blunt question. "I am fine."

"Perhaps you will answer this next question truthfully. How do you feel about me?" He tensed, waiting for her reply, knowing it would alter his life forever. What if his feelings weren't reciprocated? What if she was only staying with him from some misplaced sense of obligation?

What if she left him to return to her own world?

"I am grateful you let me live with you and that you look after me," she said, carefully skirting the subject.

"You know that's not what I mean. Do you love me, Hope?"

She lowered her gaze, hiding her expression from his view, but he was having none of it. He tilted her chin so he could gauge the truth in her eyes. "Answer me."

For one agonizing moment she remained silent. Then her lips parted ever so slightly, and the words he'd been aching to hear spilled out. "Yes. Yes, I love you."

Relief and joy cascaded through him in a heady rush. "I love you, too." He'd never said those words to any other woman. He kissed her tenderly, the merest brush of his lips against hers, holding back even though he wanted more—so much more. Because if he kissed her like he so desperately wanted to right now, he'd lose himself in her and make a spectacle of them both.

"That's so beautiful."

Blayne glanced over his shoulder to see Maya standing behind him cradling a brimming plate. She sniffed and blinked rapidly.

"Give me that before you spill it all over yourself." He stood to take the plate from her unresisting hands. "And please don't mention this to anyone. We don't need gossip complicating matters."

"I won't say a word."

Cayl tapped Maya on the shoulder. He brandished a full skin of sekar and a couple of goblets. "A word about what?" he asked.

"Cayl, how thoughtful." Maya snatched the goblets and held them out for him to fill. She handed one to Blayne and the other to Hope. "I'd like some sekar, too. Can you get me another goblet, sweetling?"

"But what—?" Cayl snapped his mouth shut as he caught Maya's eye. She frowned at him, rolling her eyes toward first Blayne and then Hope. "I'll just get another goblet, shall I?" he said, waggling his eyebrows in a meaningful fashion.

Blayne groaned. Cayl would grill Maya like a fish until she revealed what she was hiding. "For gods' sakes, you can tell Cayl. But no one else. And not now," he hastened to add when Cayl showed signs of insisting Maya confess all on the spot.

Varaya's arrival with one of the musicians provided a welcome diversion. "Any food left?"

"Heaps," Maya said. "Help yourself. And Roban?" She tapped the musician's shoulder to get his full attention. "Thank you for playing. Janus loved your music. It would have meant a lot to him."

The musician inclined his head. "My pleasure, Maya."

Varaya drew the newcomer forward to introduce him. Strange to think of Varaya and Hope as friends. Please gods, Hope wouldn't get roped into any of Varaya's dramas.

"Hope, this is Roban." Varaya clutched the man's arm as if she feared he'd bolt. "He's a very talented musician."

"Hello, Roban," Hope said. "You play beautifully."

Blayne blinked, wondering how Hope had been able to identify Roban's music considering she had no idea what instrument he played. He'd have to remember to ask her later.

"Ah, the pretty lady who sang for Janus." Roban planted a kiss on her hand. "You have a lovely voice."

Hope blushed. "I do not sing well."

"I don't agree," he said. "Would you sing that song again for me sometime? I'd like to write it down. How about tomorrow?"

Enough. Blayne none-too-gently shouldered Roban aside, using the excuse of settling a plate in Hope's lap and describing the side-dishes Maya had chosen for her.

Willem was sitting close enough that he couldn't help overhearing Hope and Blayne's little drama. Insight smacked him and he paused, a forkful of stew halfway to his mouth. Perhaps he did have a chance with Varaya—if he had the courage to try. Could he take the risk?

He glanced up in time to see the object of his obsession batting her lashes at her companion.

"My feet are killing me," Varaya all but purred to Roban.

Roban took the hint and gallantly offered to fetch her some food. She waited until was out of earshot before leaning over to nudge Hope. "Typical man. He was flirting with you right in under my nose."

Willem hid a smile. Varaya was wasting her time with the musician. He rose, plate in hand, and sauntered over to her. "You don't have to worry about Roban flirting with Hope," he said. "He's not interested in women that way. He only pays them attention to make his partner jealous."

Varaya narrowed her gaze to slits. "Rubbish. He begged to accompany me."

"Of course he did, Varaya. He's only interested in attractive women, and you _are_ very attractive. I'd wager he's had another spat with Zavier. You just happened along at the right moment."

"I don't believe you." Her slitted glaze morphed into a full-on glower... which slid into a radiant smile for Roban's benefit when the musician approached with a filled plate and cup of sekar.

"How are your feet?" Roban enquired, so solicitously Willem rolled his eyes. "I'm told I give the best foot massages around."

Willem turned his snort into a cough as Varaya's gaze swiveled in his direction.

"Willem!"

A woman's voice hailed him. He waved, and put his plate aside to wandered over to chat. "Hey, Shayna. Long time no see."

She hugged him and then pulled back to get a better look at his face. "You're looking extremely well, Willem." She abruptly realized she was in lofty company and clutched his arm, eyeing the others uncertainly.

He patted her hand. "Shayna, I'd like you to meet Cayl and Maya, Roban and Varaya."

She slanted him a sideways glance at that last implied pairing. She'd obviously heard all about Roban's unofficial male partner, too.

Varaya was doomed to disappointment. But if she chose to ignore his warning, she only had herself to blame. "Everyone, this is my cousin, Shayna."

"Pleased to meet you," Varaya ground out from between clenched teeth, and then made a point of ignoring the other woman.

Shayna's eyes sparkled with mirth. But the grin wiped from her face when Willem gestured to Hope. "Willem, isn't she the one—?"

He tugged her forward. "Yes. It's because of her I've turned my life around. Come, I want you to meet them both. Shayna, this is Panakeya Blayne."

"Nice to meet you, Shayna."

She inclined her head. "Panakeya."

"Just Blayne will do."

"And this is Hope, the one responsible for me looking 'extremely well'. We didn't get off to the best start when we first met but we're friends now." Willem gulped, suddenly unsure, his old insecurities returning tenfold. Please gods he hadn't overstepped his boundaries.

"Of course you are my friend, Willem. And perhaps if you simply _ask_ for a kiss next time, I might even say yes."

Even Blayne's lips quirked at her breezy tone. Willem sagged with relief. It seemed he'd truly been forgiven... and wouldn't be smacked between the eyes with his past every time he turned around. At least, not by these people.

Shayna stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "Please don't tell me you've got your eye on _her_." She indicated Varaya with a disdainful flick of her fingers.

"Of course not." But his gaze latched onto Varaya, who was tossing her head and giggling at some witticism Roban had made. "She's quite something, though."

"You poor, poor man. Good luck with that. From what I've heard, you'll certainly be needing it."

Roban felt Shayna recoil and then she tried to hide behind him. "What's wr—?" Oh. Hope had turned her gaze on them both. He sympathized with his cousin. Being subjected to that compelling golden gaze could be discomfiting.

"Are you hungry, Shayna?" Hope asked. "Would you like to eat?"

"Um, I haven't eaten yet but—"

As though magically summoned, Maya appeared bearing eating utensils and a brimming plateful of food. Cayl followed her with another skin of sekar and a spare goblet. Before Shayna could gather her wits about her, she was seated, a plate on her lap and a drink within easy reach. She applied herself diligently to her food, wolfing it down as if her life depended upon it.

"Slow down," Willem murmured. "Relax. They're all normal people—even Blayne once you get to know him. He can seem rather forbidding at first but—"

"It's not him I'm nervous about," Shayna hissed back at him. "It's her."

She'd not taken into account a blind person's acute hearing. "Are you nervous of me, Shayna?" Hope asked.

Shayna blushed as red as her hair.

"Why, Shayna?"

"You scare me," his cousin finally admitted. "Because of what you are."

Hope stilled. The atmosphere around her seemed to crackle. Willem rubbed his forearms, glanced down and found the hairs standing on end.

When he looked up again he noted Hope's golden eyes had darkened with hurt. And then words boiled from her mouth. "You are scared of _me_? How can that be when it is I who am scared? Always scared. Strange things happen. I cannot see. I do not know this place. I do not know you, or your ways. I do not know how I am to save—" She bit her lip. "I do not know how to do anything. I am supposed to have this... this... powerful magic, but everything I do is an accident."

Shayna bowed her head, obviously unwilling to speak in case she provoked another outburst.

Hope reached out to clumsily pat Shayna's shoulder. The shame that oozed from her made Willem's stomach knot in sympathy. He knew that feeling intimately.

"I am sorry, Shayna," she said. "I am not angry at you. I am angry at myself. Please forgive me?"

Shayna's chin jerked up, eyes huge with shock at the unexpected apology. "Of course," she said, her voice barely more than a squeak.

Willem nudged her. _She's only human,_ he mouthed, relieved when Shayna nodded, accepting the truth of his words. He covertly examined Hope's face, trying to see what Shayna saw. He didn't see a Sehan, the most powerful woman in the settlement. He saw a young woman who'd forgiven him his sins and offered him a second chance, and who seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. He wished he could comfort her as easily as he comforted Shayna.

"Maya?" Hope's voice cracked. "I am not feeling good. My head aches."

"For gods' sakes take the poor girl home, Blayne," Maya said. "And Hope? Thank you for my father's last words. I will treasure them." She hugged Hope tightly.

Roban somehow dragged himself away from worshipping at the altar of Varaya. "Going so soon? What about that song? I want you all to myself for a few hours to get it down in writing. Tomorrow?"

"Oh leave her be, Roban," Varaya said. "Hope's hardly likely to vanish on you. You'll have plenty of time to extract your precious song from her." She hugged Hope briefly. "I'll come see you tomorrow when you're feeling better. We'll have lots to talk about, I'm sure."

Shayna giggled, her disquiet momentarily forgotten as she slanted Willem wicked eyes. "She's in for a disappointing evening."

This time Willem didn't even try to hide his grin.

~*~

Back at the gathering Hope had been on the brink of blurting that Dayamar had made a huge mistake by choosing her, that she would never be able to save them all as he hoped. Only the recollection of Dayamar's fear had silenced her tongue. If he was afraid, how would the average Dayamari cope? If it got out, there would likely be a mass panic, and Dayamar would never forgive her.

"Hope?" Blayne tugged her around to face him.

She'd scream if she had to endure one more query about her state of mind or health. She needed a distraction. Entwining her hands in Blayne's hair, she urged his head down, seeking his lips. And then she kissed him very seriously indeed.

She must have taken him by surprise for he took a moment to respond. Hope pressed her advantage, molding her body to his. She would have given her life to see his face at the moment, because the only evidence that her desires were returned was his purely physical, typically male reaction to her closeness. It would have to be enough.

She reached between them, wrapped her hand around him, squeezed gently. He groaned, and shuddered beneath her touch.

She smiled. This time _she_ would take control, be in control. And she would insure Blayne enjoyed every moment.

~*~

## Chapter Eleven

Blayne rolled until they lay face to face. His breath caressed her skin. The intimacy made her smile. They hadn't even made it to the main sleeping room—their makeshift bed was a pile of cushions beside the hearth. She stroked his arm, thrilling when he shuddered beneath her touch. "I am starting to feel the cold. Shall we move to the sleeping room?"

"You better not be sleepy."

"Insatiable man."

"You have no idea." He surged to his feet, scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder.

She drummed his back with her fists. "Put me down!"

He only laughed and patted her bottom before tossing her on the sleeping platform. She wriggled beneath the covers, drawing them up to her nose.

"I have something for you." She heard him rummaging about and guessed he was searching through the carved wooden box where he kept his personal belongings.

"I'm sure I put it in here," he muttered. "Aha. Got it."

He climbed beneath the covers and she heard him drag in a long, uneven breath. Uh oh. Her heart drummed in her chest. Sounded like this was important.

"I have a gift for you. Hold out your hand."

She sat up but kept her hands tucked in close to her chest. "I do not need a gift from you. You love me. That is all I need." He'd given her enough already. He was all she needed.

"Sweet Wisa. I've finally found the woman I want to give this to, and she refuses to accept it." His tone turned serious. "Please. I want you to have it. I _need_ you to have it."

"If it is so important to you." She held out her hand and he dropped something cool and heavy into her palm. A necklace—of small smooth stones, with one much larger stone hanging from it. So frustrating not to be able to see it. "Paint me a picture of the necklace with words, please."

"It is made of _kuruvindas,_ which are precious gems of a deep red. The large stone forming the pendant is rare because of its size. It's very old and has been in my family for generations. It was my mother's. My father gave it to me before he died."

Her breath caught. "It feels beautiful. But the color...."

"Yes."

"A red necklace is given when a man Promises to a woman."

"Yes." He tapped the tip of her nose with a fingertip. "This necklace is a token of my Promise to you. Will you accept it?"

It was hard to get the words out through the tightness in her throat. "You have not known me long. Weeks."

"I'm sure. Are you?"

"Yes. Yes, I am sure. I will Promise to you." A tear dripped down her cheek. And another. And she knew in that instant she would never ask Dayamar to send her back to her home-world. She wanted to stay with Blayne—would do anything to stay. Anything. Even face Dayamar's demons.

He fastened the necklace around her neck and kissed her, stroking away the tears with his thumbs. "Don't cry." He enfolded her in his arms and drew her against his chest.

Her tears were for an ending and a new beginning. She would never return to her own world, never again visit her parents' and brothers' graves. But she would hold their memories in her heart and never let them go.

She sucked in one deep, shuddering breath and banished the tears, embracing the joy instead. "I am sorry."

"I was getting a bit soggy."

She snuggled closer... and then jerked as the realization slapped her.

The hand stoking her back stilled. "What are you thinking?"

"I do not have anything red to give you in return and— Wait. I do have something." She twisted the ring from her thumb and held it out to him. "This is what we call a 'signet ring'. The red stone is a _ruby_. It belonged to my father. My mother gave it to him when they were Joined, as you would say." She paused, beating back the memories. "It— It became mine after they died."

"I'm afraid it won't fit my thumb."

"It is meant to be worn on your ring finger." She took his left hand and tapped the appropriate finger. "This one." She waited while he slipped it on, bouncing with impatience. "Does it fit?"

"Yes."

"Do you like it?"

"I've admired it often." He took her hand, fingering her other rings. "These other _rings_ you wear—do they have special meaning, too?"

"They were my mother's. This one—" she indicated the diamond solitaire "—was given to her by my father as a token—like for a Promising. And this plain band was given for what you would call their Joining as life-partners. My parents loved each other very much."

"I'm proud to wear your father's ring. I believe he'd be happy you've given it to someone who loves his daughter as much as he loved your mother."

That comment struck a chord. She chewed her lip. Would her dad have been pleased? Or would he have been concerned she was jumping in feet first? "Blayne, you do not know much about me. And I do not know much about you."

"I know many things about you. For instance, you're unique."

"What do you mean?"

"You're the only person I know who's from another world. And a man of my importance couldn't Promise to just any woman, could he?"

She smacked him with the palm of her hand for teasing her, and then soothed the small hurt with her lips. "What else do you know?"

"I know your parents are dead." He turned her hand palm up to plant a kiss. "As are mine. My mother died giving birth to me. And my father died in a hunting accident when I was a boy."

"That must have been hard for you, losing your parents so young."

"What happened to your parents?"

"My family died in a... a...." There was no Dayamaru word for "car" or "vehicle". "They died in a bad accident, along with my two brothers. I was the only survivor. I lost my family and my sight that night."

He said nothing, merely hugged her tight and held her while the pain bit deep, as it always did. She was grateful. Explaining further would be too much to bear.

Eventually he said, "I know I wasn't the first man you've been with."

Uh oh. This could get interesting. She hoped he wasn't big on double standards or they'd be having their first argument. "No you were not."

"How many other lovers have you had?"

"Many. More than thirty."

"Really?" She felt him jerk in surprise. "But you're so young."

"I am twenty—not so young. And not really thirty men."

"Good."

She rolled her eyes. "One lover is all. We parted after I lost my sight. There have been none since the accident. I could not be close to anyone like that afterward."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "In my world I have many possessions and much wealth. But I do not want men to feel sorry for me. Nor do I want men who only covet my wealth. It is hard to tell whether they want _me_ or what I own. And it is easier, safer, to have no man."

"Why me, after all that time?"

"You were kind, gentle. You held me in the night to comfort me. You taught me, cared for me. I liked you very much. I thought perhaps you liked me, too. But I did not believe you would make the first move so I took matters into my own hands." Her face heated at the memory.

"I'm very glad you did."

She giggled at his fervent tone. "And I am glad you did not mind my forward behavior."

"No man with a pulse would have minded your forward behavior. Do you want to know how old _I_ am and how many women I've slept with?

"I do not care about your other women."

"There haven't been so many—despite what Cayl says."

"Good."

She felt his chest vibrating with silent laughter. "I began training as a healer at age ten. Now I'm twenty-four."

"So old." She squealed when he grabbed her, holding her down and tickling her so unmercifully she was left gasping. And then he kissed her, and the urgency of the lips on her skin, and the hands that skimmed her body, told her what he wanted.

She wanted it too, so much that she ached with the wanting. She stroked his hard flesh. "Not so old after all," she murmured.

~*~

Hope sat cross-legged on the mat, struggling to come to grips with the current lesson. And trying not to dwell on the porridge incident. She'd burned her hand while trying to cook breakfast over the hearth. Her swearing had brought Blayne running from the washroom, and he'd been forced to minister to her _and_ clean up the mess. She scowled. So much for surprising him with breakfast.

"Concentrate, Hope."

"I am sorry, Dayamar." She shouldn't allow herself to be distracted. Sehani training could be difficult to the point of impossibility at times. This was one of those times.

She quieted her mind and accessed the trance-like state Dayamar had taught her. Picturing a scene, she held it in her mind until she had every minute detail clearly defined. That was the easy part.

She slowly extended one hand. Then she allowed a portion of her mind to disengage and visualize a ball of pure light floating just above her palm. Sweat beaded her brow as she concentrated on transferring the scene in her mind into the light-ball. A soft _whoosh_ confirmed she had succeeded. Then slowly, so slowly it was an agony, she allowed the ball to expand and—

It burst with a loud bang that made her ears ring. "Blast!"

"Don't fret, my dear," Dayamar said, his tone meant to soothe. "I'm amazed at your progress. It took many weeks before I could access the trance-state for any length of time, yet you accomplished that in barely half an hour. Don't be so hard on yourself."

She attempted to explain her difficulty. "The trance state is easy. But I cannot see the light-ball, so I do not know when it is expanding too quickly."

"Hmm. Perhaps do not try to _see_ the light, try to sense it instead. Trust your senses, Hope. Perhaps if you didn't close your eyes, either. You're fortunate because you cannot be distracted by what your eyes physically see."

Fortunate? Hardly.

She tried again. Imagine the scene, conjure the light, transfer and enlarge....

This time the sensation was different—like she was floating above her body, watching herself perform the task. The light above her hand throbbed, and then puffed outward to form a large globe with the scene she held in her mind vividly depicted inside.

She'd done it.

A portion of her mind constricted the sphere until it disappeared with tiny _pop._ She could hear Dayamar praising her success but she remained oddly detached, emotionless.

Hope observed Dayamar shaking her arm, calling her name. Her physical body, seated before him, felt no desire to respond—not when there was a far more efficient way to communicate with her tutor: inserting her thoughts directly into his mind.

Dayamar, it is me, Hope.

She watched the silvery coil of his seer-senses leap from his body to sweep the room. Her own sensory perception expanded and she could see the colors flickering about his physical body.

His aura? That would be the most logical explanation.

_I am here_ , she told him. _Above myself and above you. I am floating free... light... so light. It is wonderful!_

_Try to rejoin your body._ His tone was calm but his colors danced about like an agitated rainbow.

I do not want to rejoin my body. I want to stay free, peaceful....

You must try.

She glanced down at her physical body, thinking it frail, cumbersome. Unbidden, thoughts of Blayne flooded her mind. The way he touched her when they made love. His kisses. His tenderness and concern. Her physical body seemed to tug at her. A rushing sensation coursing through her... and then she was diving into her body.

When the two parts merged the impact was profound—and not in a good way. She slumped forward, retching, one hand clapped over her mouth, the other clutching her stomach.

"It appears you've mastered the art of leaving your body." Dayamar's tone was matter-of-fact. "It takes much training and preparation before an acolyte is ready to attempt this. If one lacks the strength of will to return to one's physical body, the body will sicken and die."

She raised her aching head and stifled a groan. "What happens to the soul that cannot come back to its body?"

"Do you understand what I mean by a phantom?"

She shook her head, not recognizing the word.

"When you spoke to him, Janus's spirit was hovering between worlds. If he had not followed the gods and journeyed onward, he would have been cast adrift—neither part of the physical world _nor_ the spiritual. A phantom."

He spoke as a teacher lecturing to a student but she could sense something else, some strong underlying emotion he sought to suppress. Fear?

No. _Horror_. Why would discussion of phantoms disturb him so? Unless—

"This is what you fear will happen to the Dayamari."

"You're very intuitive. A phantom may eventually sever its ties to this world. But I fear the darkness contaminating our incorporeal world will consume us all and trap our spirits on this plane."

The bleak silence unsettled her, and then he said, "Hope, what made you want to rejoin your physical body? Tell me what you were thinking."

"I was thinking of Blayne."

"Ah."

She sensed his satisfaction and wondered at it. Could he be pleased by her relationship with Blayne? Perhaps he wished to encourage it for his own ends—

A frisson skated down her spine as she recalled her reaction the first time Blayne had introduced himself. She'd seen a vision of her future—a future inextricably intertwined with his. Could Dayamar have foreseen that same future? What else might he have Seen?

A knock sounded at the door. "Enter," Dayamar called.

"Is Hope finished for today, Sehan Dayamar?"

"Yes, Varaya." Dayamar assisted Hope to rise. "You have done well, my dear. It becomes apparent that tasks I find easy are more difficult for you. Conversely, you find difficult tasks simple. Perhaps your blindness has a greater effect on your innate abilities than I imagined. I will have to meditate on this some more. Shoo, now." He ushered her in Varaya's direction with a gentle push. "This old man needs to rest."

Varaya grabbed Hope's arm and towed her from the hall before dissolving in giggles. "Whatever have you been doing to poor Dayamar? I never thought I'd see the day he shooed off an apprentice."

"It is a little difficult to explain, Varaya."

"I bet. Hey, who gave you that necklace? It's gorgeous! But... do you know what the color signifies?"

"Blayne gave it to me. Last night." Hope held her breath, hoping Varaya would not be hurt by the significance the gift. When Varaya didn't comment, she offered, "It is a gift for his Promise to me. And in return, I gave him a ring."

"What's a 'ring'?"

Hope displayed her rings and explained the significance of the one she had given Blayne.

Varaya hugged her. "I'm pleased for you both."

Hope sensed Varaya's delight was genuine and allowed herself to relax. "What happened with Roban? He is a good lover?"

"Who? Roban? I wish. Willem was right after all."

"What do you mean?"

"Roban was using me to make his male lover jealous." Varaya huffed a sharp breath through her nose. "I can't believe I didn't catch on sooner. I must be losing my touch. I'd better find a life-partner soon or I'll be a laughing stock. Please will you point me in the right direction when it comes to choosing a man?"

"I cannot influence your choices."

"I know. But it was worth a try." Varaya's laugh was tinged with sadness. "So who do you want to meet first—others from my dormayre, or some more tradespeople?"

"I would really like to wash my hair. I never got around to it this morning." Hope explained the incident with the porridge and extended her hand for inspection. "And now Blayne says I should keep it out of the water for the next couple of days until it heals."

Varaya took Hope's hand, gently turning it this way and that. "Are you sure you burned it?"

"I spilled hot porridge over myself. It was very painful. The skin is not blistered?"

"No. I think you healed it."

Hope's pleasure in this unexpected accomplishment was dampened by her friend's subdued tone. "Varaya, I am still me. I would never hurt you. You are my friend—my best friend." She clutched Varaya's arm. "Please. I need you to be my friend. I need you not to fear me."

"I _am_ your friend. It's just— Sometimes I forget what you are. And that's very unusual, you know? I mean, Dayamar commands respect. Everyone knows what _he's_ capable of. Everyone knows he can take care of himself and anything that gets in his way. He is first and foremost Sehani, and we don't get too close to him. But you—"

"I know. I am weak. I need people, need friends."

"You're not weak for needing people, Hope." Varaya seemed to be struggling for the right words. "You're just... different. You're powerful—we've seen that. But not in the same way Dayamar is. We clamor to help you because we know you need us. I think that's a strength. In a way I think you're _more_ powerful because you do need us. Dayamar's never needed anyone." She squeezed Hope's hand and gave a self-conscious giggle. "That was quite, uh, a _profound_ observation for someone like me, wasn't it?"

"You should not put yourself down like that, Varaya. You are an intelligent woman." Hope mulled her friend's words... and discounted them. No way could she ever be more powerful than Dayamar. No way could she ever replace him.

After Varaya helped wash her hair, Hope dried off and pulled on her tunic.

"It's on backward," Varaya said.

"Really? I was sure I had it right this time."

"It must be very hard. Being blind."

"Sometimes."

"How did you manage at home? Where you lived before, I mean."

Hope towel-dried her hair. "Most of the time I stayed home. But I had a friend of my mother's visit often. She has known me for many years, and became a close friend. She would sometimes cook a main meal for me, too. She was always worried about me eating properly. And there was a woman who cleaned the house and a man to tend the garden because both were too large for me to handle on my own."

"Did your family ever visit?"

"My mother and brothers died. I have no other family."

"You must have been so lonely. I'm glad Dayamar brought you here. We're your family now."

Warmth pooled in Hope's heart. Varaya was a good friend.

"Your hair is a mess of tangles," Varaya said.

"I do not have a comb. I wanted to cut it but Blayne would not let me."

Varaya snorted. "The man has some sense at least. It could do with a trim, though. I'd do it myself but I can't cut a straight line to save myself." She clicked her fingers. "I know, we'll go see Treya and kill two birds with one stone. You'll like Treya. I got to know her before she was Joined. She's very sweet—not a nasty bone in her body."

It was a short stroll to Treya's dwelling. Varaya ushered Hope through an open doorway, calling out, "Treya? I've brought someone to meet you."

The woman who greeted them had such unusually slow and heavy footfalls that Hope wondered whether she was obese.

"Lovely to see you, Varaya. I'm sorry to disappoint you but I'm not taking on any clients at the moment— Oh!"

"Hello, Treya," Hope said. "I am sorry if we intrude."

"No, no, Sehan Hope. I'm using my pregnancy as an excuse to be lazy. I get tired quickly these days, and some of my customers can be rather... demanding."

Varaya huffed a laugh. "Ignore that last comment. She couldn't possibly be referring to me. Treya is the best with hair, Hope. She also does body-painting for celebrations. Treya, would you believe Blayne hasn't even given this poor girl her own comb? Men."

"I saw Blayne earlier this morning when he came to check on me," Treya said. "If I'd known, I'd have given him a piece of my mind."

Hope suspected Treya might have been choking on laughter, though whether the laughter stemmed from Varaya's claim she wasn't demanding, or Blayne's transgressions, it was impossible to tell.

"I usually plait my hair to keep it out of my way," Hope felt compelled to say in Blayne's defense. "But I have just washed it so it is a bit unmanageable."

"If it's annoying you I can cut it short." Treya fingered a lock of Hope's hair. "It'd be a pity, but it's entirely up to you."

"Blayne would never forgive me if I let you cut it all off," Varaya piped up.

"I do not think he would forgive me, either," Hope admitted. "But even though the choice is mine, I would like to keep it long."

"Good. After you wash it, you should comb conditioner through the ends to keep it manageable. Blayne's an excellent herbalist. He can make some up for you but I'll give you a supply in the meantime. And you need a good quality comb—of your own. Not one of those nasty wooden ones. I'll find one for you to keep. It can be my welcoming gift for you."

Hope ran her fingertips over the handle of the bone comb Treya presented to her. "What are these engraved circles please?"

"The repetitive circular designs represent an owl. One circle for the head, ovals for wings, two smaller circles for claws, all enclosed by a large circle for the body. The design has a lot of significance for women. The owl is the chosen of Wisa, our goddess and Mother figure, and the circles also represent the cycle of birth, life and death."

"It's a beautiful piece," Varaya added.

"Uh uh. Keep your hands off it you greedy thing. This one's for Sehan Hope."

Hope giggled. "Thank you, Treya. It is a gift I will treasure."

Treya combed the tangles from Hope's hair and trimmed it. Then she pinned front locks of hair back with a couple of ornately carved smaller combs that had long teeth. "You can have these, too," she said. "They should keep your hair out of your face when it's not plaited."

"Thank you so much, Treya."

"My pleasure, Sehan Hope. You're the easiest client I've had in a while—unlike this creature next to you."

"Humph."

"Ignore her," Treya said. "She knows I'm right. Can I get you tea and something to eat? It's no trouble."

"Hope's been with Dayamar all morning so she hasn't eaten since breakfast," Varaya said. "But let me get it, Treya. You look like you could do with a break." She bustled off into the next room.

"Sehan Hope?"

"Just Hope, please."

A pause and then Treya said, "Hope, would you do me a favor? I have an ache in my back that I can't reach. Any chance you could give it a rub?"

"Of course." Hope positioned herself until she knelt behind Treya's stool. She felt a little self-conscious as she fumbled for the pregnant woman's shoulders, but Treya didn't seem to mind her clumsiness. She eased her palms slowly down Treya's spine until, in her mind's eye, she detected a smudge of shadow. As she concentrated, the smudge morphed to a pulsing, dim green blob. She probed the spot, and knew she'd hit the mark when Treya winced and groaned.

"Yes, there."

Hope dug her thumbs into the tight knot, feeling the tight muscles relax and the knot disperse beneath the pressure of her fingers. The green shade faded.

"Thanks. That feels much better. You have a knack for finding the right spot."

"It was strange. I could see the tight area in my mind."

"Not strange at all. You _are_ Sehani. Here." Treya grabbed Hope's hands and placed them on her protruding stomach. "What do you See now?"

The baby's kick rippled Treya's belly. Without consciously thinking about what she was doing, Hope entered the trance state Dayamar had taught her. Her mind's eye pierced the layers of Treya's physical body, arrowing down until it reached her womb. She Saw the tightly curled fetus, its tiny mouth moving as it sucked a thumb, its steady heartbeat, the shadows of its organs and brain, the genitals—

It was a boy. And he was surrounded by an extraordinarily beautiful, pale blue nimbus shot with minute silver sparks that flashed and twinkled. "Ohhhh."

"What is it? What do you See, Hope?"

The trance-state disintegrated in a rush, leaving her so disoriented the words spilled from unheeded her lips. "I Saw your son, Treya."

Treya gasped. "A boy? Are you sure?"

Hope clapped a hand over her mouth. What if Treya hadn't wanted to know the sex of her baby? "I am so sorry. I did not mean to tell you the sex. I am too excited at Seeing him, I think."

"I wanted a boy. This baby is all I have left of Lyam. To have his son means so much to me." She hugged Hope tightly.

Varaya entered the room at a run. "Kunnandi's scaly skin! You're not having the baby right now, are you Treya?"

"Hope's Seen my baby, Varaya. I'm having a boy."

"You had another Seeing? Great Wisa!"

"Not a Seeing. It was different. I could see the baby inside Treya. When I put my hands on her stomach it was like a window opened inside her body and I looked in. I saw the baby sucking its thumb. I saw... I saw...." She placed a hand over her heart and mimicked heart beats.

"His heart beating?" Treya prompted.

"Yes, his heart. He will be born very soon, I think."

"That's incredible," Varaya blurted, her tone awed.

"A son!" Treya sounded as though she could barely contain her joy, so when she abruptly sobered the contrast was shocking. "I wish Lyam could be here to see him born and watch him grow."

Treya's wish was infused with such longing that Hope ducked her head to blink back tears.

Varaya retrieved the tea tray from the other room. "I think we should celebrate Treya's good news."

Treya grunted as she heaved herself off the stool to sprawl beside Hope.

Varaya handed around mugs. "A toast. To Treya's baby son."

The three women sipped their tea and scoffed biscuits until Varaya reminded Hope of the time.

"I must get back to Blayne. May we visit you again, Treya?"

"I would love that." Treya's groan of dismay was loud and heartfelt. "But before you both go, could you both please help me up off this floor?"

~*~

Blayne noticed Hope rubbing her temples as she tried to recall the names of the different herbs he'd shown her. Perhaps he should ease up on the lesson.

"Why is this so difficult?" she complained. "I have a very good memory and all the herbs have their own particular aroma. But now it is like all the herbs have been mixed up into one big mess. Can we do something else? My head aches and the smells are making my stomach feel funny."

"How about we move into the sleeping room?"

"Please."

Once she'd stretched out on the mattress he broached a subject that'd been gnawing at him. "When's your next cycle due?"

"What do you mean by 'cycle'?"

"When a woman bleeds."

She flushed pink and chewed her lip. "I have always had irregular cycles so I do not bother to keep track."

His breath caught. "So you could be pregnant and not even realize?"

She didn't appear perturbed by the thought. "This nausea is not because I am pregnant, Blayne. You need not worry. I cannot have children. I am infertile."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I had an infection when I was young."

She haltingly explained that she'd been misdiagnosed with a serious illness as a youngster. So far as Blayne could make out, she'd suffered an internal infection, and by the time it'd been correctly diagnosed and her lower abdomen cut open to clean out the contagion, it had affected her fertility—something to do with internal scarring. He was amazed she'd survived. Here in Dayamaria, such a severe infection would likely be fatal.

"Does not being able to have a baby matter?" she asked, her face pinched with anxiety. She'd obviously reconciled herself to her childlessness long ago and was more concerned by his feelings.

"Of course not, dearling." Blayne had hoped for children of his own one day, but he loved Hope and she loved him back. That was enough. It was all that mattered. He wouldn't grieve for things that couldn't be changed.

He traced her scar with a fingertip and then pressed his lips to it, bestowing a gentle kiss. "I thank the gods—and the healers of your world—for your recovery." He paused, and then gave in to his curiosity. "Tell me more about your world."

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Everything!"

Her wry laughter warmed him. "That could take awhile," she said.

"I don't mind."

For the rest of the afternoon, Hope described life in her world. Some of the concepts she tried to explain were beyond him but he got an impression of a world so full of conveniences, and devices designed to save time and labor, that he couldn't imagine how the inhabitants filled their days. In some ways it seemed an easy existence. But it was a lonely world, too. Especially for a solitary young blind woman.

When her voice started to give out he called a halt and left her to rest while he prepared a meal. Tonight sandwiches and cake would suffice.

Blayne placed a plate in her lap before settling down beside her. "Cold meat, relish and salad sandwiches, with a treat for dessert."

"Yum."

"How's your hand? Let me see."

"It is healed," she informed him between mouthfuls of her sandwich.

"I can see that." Not a trace of blistered skin, nor even residual redness from the burn. He didn't state the obvious, that it was further proof of her self-healing abilities. She seemed to have accepted this one ability at least.

"What is the treat for dessert?" she asked.

"Greedy. I haven't even finished my sandwich yet." He handed her the largest piece of cake.

She took a bite. "Did you bake this?"

"Treya did. I saw her this morning when I was doing my rounds. She makes the best cakes—but don't tell Maya I said that."

"I like Treya. She is so happy to be having a son."

He stared at her. "How do you know she's having a boy?"

She nibbled her lower lip. "It was not a Seeing like the others."

At his coaxing, she related how she'd identified the sex of Treya's unborn baby. Blayne's mind raced, imagining how much more effectively he could treat his patients if Hope could See whether anything was wrong inside them. "I should bring you with me when I visit my patients."

"Maybe." She sounded noncommittal. "I think I must talk with Dayamar first. I may need more training."

"Yes, of course." He grounded himself with a thump. All the same, he would definitely keep Hope in mind if he came across a patient he couldn't diagnose.

He noted her trying unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn. "Why don't you have an early night? You don't have to wait up for me."

She gave him a grateful smile and eased from the sleeping platform to make her way from the room. He heard her moving about in the bathing area, and a short time later, she re-entered their sleeping room shivering and stark naked save for her necklace.

"Did Treya give you those decorative combs, too?"

She nodded and handed them to him.

He examined them. "Nice workmanship. I'll put them with your other things."

When he opened the carved wooden casket he'd set aside for her use, he noticed a flattened bunch of reeds—the hat he'd made when they were traveling. "Why have you kept this old thing?"

She obviously knew what he referred to. "It was your first gift to me," she said, then yawned widely again and snuggled down beneath the covers.

He smiled at the picture she presented. And thanked his gods again for bringing her to him.

~*~

She was not strong enough to break free of the nightmare holding her in thrall. In the dream her belly was heavy with child, and she was running from a malevolent creeping darkness that hunted her. And then she could run no longer for her feet were glued to the ground.

The darkness settled over her like a smothering blanket, miring her in evil. The more she struggled, the more it overwhelmed and possessed her.

She could see them now, six pairs of gloating, inhumanly green eyes. They latched on to her and sucked the unborn life from her body. But her baby did not die. Somehow they kept the fetus alive... and used it to commit atrocities she'd never imagined.

Hope woke, her heart racing, skin clammy with sweat. She knew she'd been dreaming, but she couldn't recall any details. Only her fear remained.

As Dayamar had taught her, she swept her seer-senses in a wide arc throughout the settlement, seeking threats. All was as it should be but she still felt unsettled.

Craving reassurance, she turned to Blayne and delicately probed his mind. He remained undisturbed and deeply asleep. He was too much the hunter not to wake immediately if danger threatened, and she finally allowed herself to relax and withdraw from his mind.

Her pleasure at mastering the tricky technique couldn't dispel her unease. She inched closer to Blayne, needing the closeness only he could offer her.

He murmured beneath his breath and wrapped her in his arms. Cradled in his embrace and soothed by his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, Hope finally drifted back to sleep.

And again she dreamed....

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.

She has failed. And now it will use her to destroy the people she loves.

~*~

## Chapter Twelve

Hope rubbed her eyes and yawned again. She felt a little guilty for sleeping in, but couldn't bring herself to move until her stomach settled. When she was going to get used to Dayamari food?

She thought about asking Blayne for some tonic or herbal remedy to settle her stomach but he had real patients to worry about. She'd just flung back the blankets when he walked into the room.

"Stay there. I've brought you breakfast." He placed the tray of food in her lap and draped a spare blanket around her shoulders. "You need to rest. Dayamar's been working you too hard. Before I leave, I'll have a word about him giving you the day off."

His concern touched her deeply. "No. It is all right. I will attend as usual. When do you think you will return?"

A herd of _cervidas_ —deer-like herbivores from what she'd been able to glean—had been spotted not far from the settlement, provoking Willem to organize a hunting party. The hunters preferred to lay down a good store of meat to see the settlement comfortably through the colder months and with autumn imminent, the nearby herd was too good an opportunity to miss.

"Shouldn't be more than five days. Today, we'll travel to the last place the herd was sighted, set up a temporary camp, and finalize plans. The hunt will begin at first light." He went on to explain that the butchering would be done on site, and the meat, skins, antlers and hooves brought back for curing and storage.

He bent to kiss her forehead. "Have you've changed your mind about coming with me?"

She screwed up her nose. "I like to eat meat but I do not need to witness firsthand how animals become meat."

She heard him chuckle at her squeamishness. "Fair enough. Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"Go." She made a shooing gesture. "Dayamar has plenty for me to do. Degan and Varaya are here to help me during the day, and Treya in the evenings. My days will be so full I will not have time to miss you."

Varaya barreled into the room without a by-your-leave. "Hope, would you mind terribly if I joined the hunting party? I haven't hunted for so long I'd almost forgotten how exhilarating it can be. I packed last night—just in case you were happy to be left on your own."

Hope was sure she knew the _real_ reason Varaya was eager to go on this hunt: Willem. "I do not mind Varaya. I am certain Dayamar will be pleased to have me to himself all day instead of half. I will see you both after the hunt. Be safe." She beckoned Blayne closer so she could cradle his face in her palms and kiss him on the lips. Lingeringly.

He heaved such a heartfelt sigh that it provoked a giggle from Varaya. "Not too late for second thoughts," she teased.

"Yes, it is," Hope said. "Go!"

~*~

Hope made her way to the Sehani Hall without taking a single wrong turn. The pride she felt at finally making sense of the settlement's sprawling layout was immense. Now, only the sprawling outer perimeter, inhabited by a few hardy souls who chose to live far from the main living areas, continued to elude her. That part of the settlement had few landmarks she could use to orient herself, and was where she'd been headed when she'd first stumbled into Willem.

Since repetition was key, Hope ran through the settlement layout again to fix it firmly in her mind.

The settlement was sheltered by a cliff-face. To the east was the waterfall and large pool used for washing and bathing. The small stream running from the pool eventually formed a larger watercourse bordered by a forested area she hadn't yet explored. Not that she ever had time to go exploring.

Through trial and error, she'd discovered the easiest way to orient herself was to visualize sections of the settlement in parallel rows, moving from west to east. The first row comprised the burial grounds, the area used for outdoor festivities, communal food-storage and cooking areas, along with large gardens cultivated with vegetables, herbs, and other plantings. It made sense that both the communal cooking areas and the gardens were close to a water source. Parallel to that ran a line of buildings housing various tradespeople, the Healing Hall, another garden for medicinal herbs, the Panakeya's residence, and quarters for the other healers and their apprentices.

The third row was easy, comprising simply the dormayres, a cluster of living quarters, and a fenced area encircling the Children's Center and its large outside play area. Row number four included a bunch of empty quarters—why they were empty she hadn't yet discovered. Next, were Dayamar's quarters and the Sehani Hall, and finally, another cluster of living quarters. Row number five began with the individual elders' quarters, the vast Elders Hall—used for private meetings amongst the elders as well as public meetings and indoor celebrations—and more living quarters. Finally, adjoining the grassy rise overlooking the burial ground, were the Potters Hall, drying rooms and kilns—all conveniently sited near large clay deposits.

Hope's thoughts turned to the upcoming lesson. Dayamar was excited by her description of Treya's unborn baby, and had discussed it at length. He believed her experience might be some variance of the Sehani ability to discern an _aureya_ , which he explained as a manifestation of a person's psychic energies—an aura, in other words. Today, Dayamar intended to begin training her how to see them.

She rapped on the door and entered to find Dayamar already waiting. After greeting her, he launched straight into his lecture, and despite her misgivings about anything she deemed "supernatural", Hope found herself fascinated by his explanation of this phenomenon.

"An aureya," he told her, "is the psychic energy surrounding the human body. In reality, not only people but _all_ matter, both animate and inanimate, have an aureya of some kind. And in people, aureyas can best be described as thick colored bands of light surrounding the body. A person's aureya reflects many things. For example, their emotional state, physical health, mental activity and internal action of the organs. Thus, an adept Sehan can also detect disease."

Hope opened her mouth but Dayamar promptly answered her unspoken question. "The ability to detect disease does not go hand in hand with the ability to cure it," he said. "And even if we could cure ailments and diseases, should we? I could devote every waking moment to trying to cure the sick, but eventually I would be forced to pick and choose amongst them. Our healers understand this moral dilemma. They, too, must make difficult choices."

"I understand." It wouldn't stop her trying to help if she was asked, though. Or even if she were not.

Dayamar continued his lecture. "An aureya's colors emanate from seven main psychic centers of the body. Each centre has its own color. Base of the spine is red. Navel is orange. Sternum, yellow. Heart, green. Throat, blue. Forehead, violet. And finally, crown of the head, gold."

"Please can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"If everyone has seven centers, and each center has its own color, then are not the aureyas of each person the same?"

"Good question. The answer is no. As each person is an individual, so is their aureya. A person's nature, health, living habits, the way they think—for example, their morals, core beliefs and spiritual development—all of these have bearing upon the strength of each psychic centre.

"All of the psychic centers generate separate energy, which is reflected into the aureya and mixes together, creating a predominant color. So in simplistic terms, a person's aureya may appear to be one particular color. We call that the _base_ color. But in truth, depending upon the situation and how a person is feeling at a particular moment, their aureya may be temporarily imbued with another color, or colors, before reverting back to its original hue. Do you understand?"

"I think so. What are the base colors of aureyas, then?"

"Generally, red denotes sensuality and vitality. Orange for emotion. Yellow for power. Green for nature and love. Blue for spirituality. Violet for psychic power. Gold for highly advanced spirituality and psychic power."

She was silent for a moment, assimilating the load of information. "Then what do you think about the green shadow I saw in Treya's lower back?"

"I imagine that was the sign of a minor health problem—perhaps a strained muscle. But what interests me most is the aureya you described around the unborn child. I've never heard of a Sehan with the ability to See a fetus before, and certainly not its aureya. I don't quite know what to think of this. You're certainly causing me some headaches."

"I am very sorry, Dayamar," she said, dismayed that she might be responsible for increasing the burden he already shouldered.

"Forgive me for teasing you." He patted her hand. "It's my destiny to be challenged by you or I would not have succeeded in bringing you here."

The door burst open and someone—a man by his footfalls—ran in and skidded to an abrupt halt. "Sehan Dayamar, Healer Johan needs you immediately!"

Roban. He sounded panicked, so unlike his usual suave self that Hope couldn't help imagining the worst.

"I went to Treya's looking for Hope and she—Treya, I mean—is in labor. Healer Johan says it's not going well."

Hope's heart skipped a beat. God. Not Treya, please!

Dayamar ran from the hall.

"That old man sure can move when he needs to," she heard Roban mutter. Then he turned his attention to her. "Since you're free, how about we go through that song— Hey! Where are you going?" He managed to grab her wrist as she bolted. "Slow down. You'll hurt yourself."

"But Treya—"

He groaned. "Grab hold of my arm and we'll both run. At least then you won't fall over and bump that pretty face. I don't want to give Blayne any excuse to pound on me, okay?"

They arrived at Treya's dwelling to find a young boy had barred the entrance. "No one is to enter," he barked. "Healer Johan's orders."

Roban grabbed Hope's arms and pushed her in front of him. "Take a closer look who you're refusing entry to."

The boy squeaked. "My apologies, Sehan. Please go in."

Hope dragged Roban with her, waving aside his protests. "Hush. I need you to tell me what is happening."

She felt his arm muscles tense beneath her grip. "I-I.... It doesn't look good."

He sounded like he was going to be sick. Damn. He was going to be no help at all. She needed to see what was happening. She couldn't help if she couldn't see. Dammit. Why couldn't she see?

And then she could. She could see what _Roban_ was seeing as his gaze flicked to each strained face. Johan's mouth was a grim line as he straightened from examining the stricken woman. Dayamar's eyes were shadowed with sadness and resignation. They'd obviously lost all hope of a happy outcome to this birth. But it was Treya who'd caught Roban's attention. Her face was very pale, covered with a sheen of sweat. She barely seemed to be breathing, and didn't react at all when another contraction rippled her swollen belly.

Roban uttered a strangled noise, which drew Johan's attention. The healer's initial anger at their intrusion drained from his face, leaving him haggard and hopeless. He beckoned Roban to bring Hope closer. And as Roban prodded her to move, her consciousness abruptly split from his and she could see only darkness again. Damn and blast. Why did the elusive linkage that had allowed her to use Roban's eyes have to fail her now?

"I'm very sorry, Hope, but there's nothing more we can do. Treya's baby is not moving down the birth passage and they're both too weak. I'm afraid we're going to lose them both."

"No." She shook her head.

"There's nothing more we can do. I'm so sorry."

"No!" She flung herself past the healer, groping blindly for Treya's hand.

"Hope, no! It's too dangerous!" Panic cracked Dayamar's voice.

She sensed him probing her mind but spared him no thought. Her heightened seer-senses peeled back the layers of Treya's physical body, noting the milky-blue of Treya's aureya surging with luminous sparks. Imminent death had been heralded by this beautiful otherworldly display—perhaps in tacit apology for the ending of a life.

She pushed her wonder away, probing deeper until she reached the fetus. The baby's head was wedged up against his mother's pelvis. His aureya was pale as mist and almost invisible. And as Hope watched it spasm and shudder, she became conscious of faint thoughts. Instinctively she formed a link with the immature mind.

PAIN! _I hurt! I hurt!_

There, there, young one. It is not safe to stay here, you must be born to live.

_I stay. Safe...._ PAIN!

You must be born to stop the pain. You must be born to feel your mother's love. See? Look inside my mind, see what you can have—

WONDER!

Yes, yes! This is for you—the physical world. To know love, to touch and feel, to know your mother.

_Want it._ FEAR!

I will help you. Do not be afraid, trust me.... Trust me and be born now.

She tried to disengage from the baby's mind, but the self-centered infant psyche was too strong. It held her in thrall.

_MINE!_ it insisted.

Hope struggled. But the more she fought, the more the fetus drew on her psychic energy, draining her, weakening her.

~*~

Blayne strode alongside Cayl and Willem at the head of the hunting party. He inhaled and released the breath slowly, reveling in the wide-open spaces, the peace. Since returning to the settlement, his focus had been split between Hope and his patients. And as much as Blayne loved his trade, the strain of being constantly available to patients and fellow-healers alike was beginning to tell. Now Hope had settled in, he'd whisk her off for a few days camping—provided he could cajole Dayamar into giving her a couple of days off from her studies.

As the other two men discussed strategies for the coming hunt, Blayne's thoughts centered on his Promised. He pictured her in his mind. Her beautiful eyes softened after they'd made love. The silken caress of her hair. The heady musk of a well-pleasured woman. He closed his eyes, and for a moment imagined that if he opened them, he would see her walking toward him, hips swaying in a sensuous invitation, a smile on her face for him, and him alone.

But when he opened his eyes his vision was awash with a vivid searing gold that was almost tangible. Almost alive. Abruptly, the gold was banished by a pulsating bubble of palest blue that twinkled with a myriad bright silvery sparks. A wave of golden light surged over the bubble. Again and again, the gold wave was banished. Each time it reformed it was diminished, while the bubble became larger, brighter, more substantial.

Knowing slapped him. The diminishing gold was Hope's essence. And somehow, the intensity of Blayne's need to protect Hope helped him forge a link with her.

Fear lanced through him. _Her_ fear. She was growing weaker. Dying. Blayne sank to his knees, his heart squeezing so painfully in his chest it was an effort to breathe.

"What's up with you?" Cayl dropped to his knees beside him.

"Hope's in danger."

"I feel it, too," Willem said. "I can sense her through that weird bond we've shared since she healed me. Something's wrong—I know it. She's terribly weak."

Others sprinted up, firing worried questions. But Blayne didn't waste time explaining. He knew what he had to do. He gathered his will and sent it streaking upward, seeking the woman he loved, gifting her with his strength to help her win the battle.

Energy drained from him in a head-spinning rush as she took what he offered. He toppled onto his back. A slow blink... and Willem's face blurred into focus.

"We need to keep him warm." Fingers pressed to his wrist... a blanket tucked around him... a folded tunic placed beneath his head....

"He's breathing steadily and his pulse is still strong." Willem.

"What do you think's happening?" Cayl.

"Damned if I know." Willem again. "But Sehan Hope's in danger so I'd bet my life he's somehow managed to send a part of himself to help her."

"What do we do now?" Varaya, her voice tense and fearful.

"We wait."

Waiting was futile. Hope was running out of time. Blayne rallied what was left of his strength and gave it all to her, willingly.

~*~

_MINE!_ the fetus insisted. _Want more. Want it all._

Another presence echoed in Hope's mind. _NO!_ it thundered. _She is not yours. She is not for you. She is mine._

Another surge of strength augmented her own. Gathering her will, she broke free... and had the sense of being nourished by intense love before the presence vanished.

She was safe. The baby was safe. But Treya was so exhausted her heart had stopped beating. Hope couldn't let her friend die. She poured the last of her strength into Treya and willed her to live.

~*~

## Chapter Thirteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roban.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Roban!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

"Back to the settlement."

"I don't think—"

"I'm going. Now."

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

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

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

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

Blayne shook his head. "This hunt is too important. You've all delayed enough already. We'll be all right. If anything serious has happened we'll send word."

Willem nodded and quickly herded everyone into some semblance of order. "Safe journey," he called as he set off with a reluctant Varaya and the hunting party in tow.

Blayne watched until they were small specks in the distance.

"Come on, lazybones." Cayl grabbed his wrist and hauled him upright, steadying him as he regained his feet. "You sure you're up to this?"

No. But he had little choice. "Let's go."

By the time they reached the settlement, the sun had long since set and Blayne had pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion. At the door to Treya's quarters he had to lean on the frame to catch his breath. "Hope? Are you there?"

"Wha—? Who's there?" The sleepy male voice added, "Quiet or you'll wake the baby!"

Blayne bit back an imprecation. He'd not expected Treya to give birth for at least another four weeks.

The shadowy figure of a man approached the door. Blayne blinked. Roban? The last person he'd expected.

"Blayne." Roban rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wisa's white feathers, what happened to you? You look like you've been run over by a herd of stampeding cervidas."

"What are you doing here? Where's Hope?"

"Treya had a rough time with Hopian's birth, so I volunteered to help her with the little one. Zavier wasn't too happy but he's coming around to the idea. And we all know Treya's a sweetheart, so he just couldn't help liking her, and—"

Blayne threw up a hand to ward off further explanations. "Treya's had her baby and named him Hopian."

"That's right."

"Are she and the infant well?"

"They're fine. More than fine. Dayamar says Hopian needs a father-figure and—"

"Where's Hope?" Cayl asked, thankfully cutting Roban short before Blayne's head could explode. "We thought she was staying with Treya."

"We nearly lost Treya and the baby." Roban gave a full-body shudder and hugged his middle. "It gives me nightmares. Anyway, whatever Hope did exhausted her, so Dayamar—"

"Just get to the point," Cayl said.

"Dayamar's taken her back to your place—"

Blayne turned on his heel and headed for his quarters. He only managed a few paces before he wavered on his feet like a drunkard.

Cayl rushed up and slung an arm about his waist. "Don't keel over on me. You're too bloody heavy to carry so you'll be spending the night wherever you land."

They reached Blayne's house and stumbled inside, knocking over a couple of pots someone had left by the hearth.

The darkened room abruptly lit, courtesy of a small bright light dancing in the palm of Dayamar's hand. "I've been expecting you," he said.

"How is she?" Blayne demanded.

"Exhausted—as are you, Panakeya. Go see for yourself. And then get some rest. Sehan's orders."

Blayne disappeared into his sleeping room.

Cayl had turned to leave but Dayamar called him back. "I'll call for you in the morning, Cayl. I have some questions."

"Thought you might," Cayl said. A pause and then, "Will they both be all right?"

"Yes. Return to Maya now. Tell her I said she'll hear all about it tomorrow."

"I'll try, though I don't think she'll listen." Cayl threw the words over his shoulder as he departed. "Not even to you, Sehan Dayamar."

"We shall see."

Dayamar paused in the entrance to Blayne's sleeping room. Brightening his palm-light, he peered inside. The Panakeya had shucked his boots and crawled beneath the covers fully clothed. He'd curled behind Hope and now hugged her to his chest. He was deeply asleep but a smile curved his mouth.

Hope hadn't stirred but she radiated contentment.

Dayamar gazed at the young woman who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time. His seer-senses sharpened... and Blayne and Hope's sleeping forms were joined by another tiny presence. Dayamar's heart soared. But his Seeing did not fade. There was more.

He did not fear death. He'd lived past his first century and death was merely the commencement of a new journey—one he would not hesitate to embrace once he'd insured the safety of his people.

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

## 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 had 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 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.

~*~

## Chapter Fifteen

The Master Tracker halted so abruptly Hope had no chance to avoid him. "My apologies, Taran," she said, even though it was hardly her fault.

He grunted.

Ruefully she rubbed her sore nose. His spine was as rigid and intractable as his personality. He'd been asked to accompany Willem's hunting party but had refused to take part in anything "that drunken good-for-nothing" had a part in organizing. His attitude suggested he didn't feel charitable toward anything Hope had organized, either.

Too bad.

"Is this the place, Taran?" she asked.

"Yes."

Hope waited for him to elaborate further but he remained silent. His terse response bordered on rudeness. She skimmed his surface thoughts, certain that if she'd been able to physically see right now, Taran's true feelings would be written all over his face.

Immediately she wished she hadn't probed his mind. If she hadn't been backed by Blayne and Dayamar, two of the most influential men in the settlement, Taran would not be out here "traipsing around". He could not understand why this "fool's mission" was being taken so seriously. He thought Hope was the worst kind of fraud.

Hope sighed. Ignorance would have been slightly more comfortable than knowing exactly how little he thought of her.

"Thank you, Taran. I will have the pelts now please." She knew he was unimpressed that she continually "forgot" to use his formal trade title. Petty of her, perhaps, but once she'd realized how much it irritated him, she made a point of omitting the title he considered his due.

Taran clicked his fingers at his apprentice and the young man handed over the wolf-pelts to Hope. "You and Lukas may both go now, Taran," she told him. "Blayne will stay with me."

The tracker grunted again. His thoughts spilled out, begging Hope to read them. He was tempted to leave but damned if he'd miss out on whatever "farce" this weird young woman was about to perpetuate. He'd not come all this way for nothing. He could imagine the incredulous faces of his friends when he regaled them with details of this... this... _ceremony_. Golden eyes did not a Sehan make—no matter what others claimed.

She sighed, inwardly this time. Serve her right for reading private thoughts. Life had been far less complicated before _that_ particular talent had developed. Not to mention all the moral issues it raised.

"I'll stay," Taran said.

"Don't get in her way, Master Tracker." Blayne's voice was so flat and curt Hope suspected that he, too, had gleaned Taran's true opinion of her.

Taran must have recognized Blayne's displeasure for he made a belated effort at politeness. "If it pleases you, we'll wait over there, Panakeya." He stomped off, and Lukas's lighter footfalls followed.

"Master Tracker or not, I have little time for that man," Blayne muttered.

She responded with a tight smile. Taran's attitude was getting old.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Hope?" Blayne asked. "Perhaps you should have waited another couple of days."

"I am sure. I will start now. You should stand back, too, Blayne. I do not know what might happen."

"Call out if you need me. I won't be far away."

She listened to him making his way toward Taran and the young apprentice.

"This should be interesting." Taran had made no effort to lower his voice.

"Yes, Master Tracker. It certainly will be." Blayne's silky tones promised retribution if Taran didn't watch his mouth.

Hope's smile died as she turned her full attention to the task ahead. She moved until she stood beneath the tree where Lyam had died.

Clutching the rolled wolf-pelts to her chest, she extended her senses, feeling for some difference, some indication of negativity. Surely evidence of a man's untimely death would linger, infecting the energy of the surrounding vegetation? But she sensed only regret. Lyam had not raged against his fate. Some small consolation for Treya, perhaps.

Hope inhaled the cool, crisp night air, and allowed her mind to slowly expand outward. It was ridiculously easy to enter a trance now. Even so, she knew she still had much to learn.

The muddled mass of aureyas from the living entities surrounding her became more vibrant, more defined, until Hope could See each individual aureya vividly in her mind. Probing tendrils of her seer-sense intertwined with the myriad aureyas and wove them into a whole, and she used this living energy to shoot her will upward and outward in an umbrella-like net that swept the sky. She didn't know how she did this, or even why it happened precisely this way, only that it was needed.

And thus, Hope summoned an entity the Dayamari called a _god_ to her.

The watching men moved restlessly. Even Taran, skeptical of Hope's abilities, was gripped by the first stirrings of fear. His skin prickled. The night seemed to close in on him... and he knew in his bones something other-worldly was brewing.

In the fading light the young Sehan's golden eyes blazed. Taran heard a howl, faint at first, as if from a great distance. Then louder. And louder still.

"Sounds like a wolf," Lukas murmured.

Taran glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye and glanced skyward, squinting as cloud cover abruptly dissipated to reveal a too-bright starry sky.

"Look!" The boy's voice squeaked like a child's.

Taran couldn't blame him. A group of stars had fused together into a circular shape, and that was enough to make any man squeak.

Wolf-song rang out again, so piercingly loud that Taran clapped his hands over his ears. The twinkling circle burst... only to reform into a wolf-shape with glowing eyes. And right then, Taran began to believe that Hope truly was Sehani through and through.

The star-wolf floated downward. A blinding flash and a silver wolf stood before the young Sehan. A real wolf. The biggest Taran had ever seen. It sniffed her and then sat back on its haunches, waiting.

"Shikari's paws," Taran breathed. "Look at the size of that thing!"

The beast glanced in his direction, it's glowing golden eyes fixing on his face. When he shrank from its feral gaze, it bared its fangs in a wolfy grin.

Sehan Hope inclined her head as if in greeting. "So, it is true," Taran heard her say. "You do exist." She sounded more resigned than awed. Silence reigned, and he got the distinct impression she engaged in wordless communication with the wolf.

The beast shimmered, and in the blink of an eye a rugged, powerfully-built man towered over the young woman. His hair and beard were an unruly silvery mass. His eyes were bright gold. He was barefoot, and clad in pants and tunic of some material that shone with so many different colors all at once, it hurt Taran's eyes to stare at him for too long.

"Please, Shikari?" the young Sehan said.

"Very well," the god said. "It shall be as you wish, little Sehan."

She offered him the wolf-pelts and as Shikari took them, all-too-human anger twisted his face. "My children often act without thought for the consequences. What is to be done about them, Sehan?"

"Not a thing Shikari. It's a part of what makes us human. We're sometimes ruled by our emotions, and true, we often make mistakes. But most of the time we learn and grow wiser. It's the way of our kind."

A chill goosed the hairs on Taran's nape. Prior to this moment the young woman's speech had been stilted and overly formal—just one more thing about her that had irked him. Now, she could have been a native of this land.

"Hmm." The god deliberated a moment before placing the pelts on the ground. A brief incandescent blaze of his golden eyes and the pelts disappeared. In their place stood two wolves—a mated pair.

Shikari placed a hand on the head of each wolf. He murmured something—their names, perhaps?—and the fur of each flashed to pure white. "You are forever marked. Never again will you be harmed by humans. Live long and produce many pups, my friends. Now thank Sehan Hope for your lives and be off with you."

The wolves yipped and butted their heads against Shikari's thighs. They nosed Hope's hands before loping off.

She knit her brows. "How have you marked them, Shikari?"

"Their pelts are pure white."

"Won't that make them easy targets?"

The god chuckled. "Of course, little Sehan. And every hunter who sees them will desire their pelts. But no weapon aimed at either wolf will ever fly true. No human-made weapon will harm them."

She shook her head. "Our hunters will see them as a challenge and only try all the harder to kill them. Your poor wolves will never have a minute's peace."

She chastised a god? Taran sucked in a horrified breath.

But Shikari only threw back his head and laughed—a deep, resounding belly-laugh that coated the night with warmth and delight. "You're right, little Sehan. But as you said, humans learn by their mistakes. I'm sure word will get around that white wolves are gods-marked. And you do not know wolves as well as I. The beasts appreciate a good game. They'll tease your hunters unmercifully."

The god's gaze licked the length of her, weighing and considering. "Hmm. We were right to choose you. Fragile as the petals of a flower on the outside, but inside as resolute as stone. Are you ready for what lies ahead, little Sehan?"

"I don't know, Shikari. All I can do is my best."

"We have faith your best will be more than enough." His form flickered.

"Wait! Take me to the incorporeal world. I must learn what I can of it—the sickness. I need to know. I need to see!"

"Are you certain, little Sehan? It's an ugly sight—not one for the faint of heart."

"I must."

"Hope, no!"

Blayne lunged but Taran hooked an arm around his chest and held him back. "You can't go up against a god!" he hissed, ducking Blayne's blows as the man struggled to free himself.

The god's spectral hand clasped Hope's. His eyes—now little more than glowing golden orbs—focused on Blayne. "I will keep her safe, Panakeya." And then Shikari and Sehan Hope vanished.

"Hope!" Blayne's anguished shout shattered the silence. He shook off Taran's grip and sank to his knees, his face a mask of despair.

"Kunnandi's fickle fangs." Taran chewed the inside of his cheek. Now what was he supposed to do?

Lukas opened his mouth but the only sound he managed was another squeak. No help there.

The Panakeya had buried his face in his hands. His back was bowed, diaphragm heaving. He wore despair like a shroud. The young woman was more than just another pretty face gracing his bed. Blayne truly cared for her—poor bastard. Loving a Sehan wouldn't be an easy path.

"We'd better get him home, Lukas. Gods only know when Sehan Hope will be return." Or if.

"I'm staying." Blayne climbed to his feet. "Sehan Hope and I thank you for your help, Master Tracker."

For the first time in his life Taran felt true compassion for another's pain. He prided himself on never having required a healer his entire adult life. But Blayne was more than a dabbler in herb-lore. The man was an experienced hunter and a talented tracker—worthy of respect. As was this young woman he'd Chosen.

Taran inclined his head. "My apprentice and I will stand vigil with you, Panakeya."

Blayne gave a curt nod.

Lukas cleared his throat. "What do we do now, Master Tracker?"

"What do you think we do, youngling? We wait."

~*~

The unrelenting darkness disdained to reveal further astonishments. Taran estimated it was just gone midnight. He stretched the kinks from his spine and hid a yawn behind his hand as he pondered how this night would end, and—

A pale swaying figure materialized before his eyes. Lukas darted forward and managed to catch her as she crumpled.

Blayne snatched her from the youngling's arms and lowered her to the ground. He sat with her in his lap, rocking her back and forth.

Taran's mind roiled and seethed with everything he'd learned this night. There was a sickness in the spirit world. Shikari hoped this young blind woman would be able to cure it. She was the most important person in Dayamaria right now. And if the Panakeya needed a kick in the pants to snap him from his daze so he could insure she'd taken no lasting harm, then by Shikari's hairy paws, Taran would administer a good firm one. "Panakeya, you must see whether she's in need of healing."

No response.

"Panakeya Blayne!" His voice cracked out, whip-like.

Blayne recoiled and shook himself. To Taran's relief, he began to act as a healer should. "Hope, how do you feel? Do you need healing?"

"I'm fine."

Other than the fey expression in her eyes, Taran could see no injury—no physical injury at least. Blayne appeared to come to the same conclusion, for he stood and tugged her to her feet. When she didn't immediately crumple again, Taran breathed out some of his tightly wound tension.

Blayne had cupped his palm over the little Sehan's stomach. "The baby?" he asked.

"Our baby is safe."

"Sweet Wisa, I thank you." Blayne hugged her to him. Overtop her head his gaze searched Taran's face.

"You can rely on our discretion, Panakeya," Taran said. "Nothing that took place tonight will be repeated without your permission. Or yours, Sehan Hope. Isn't that right, Lukas?"

Lukas nodded enthusiastically.

"Past time you were home, Sehan Hope. Lukas, lead the way." Taran took up the rear, keeping an eye on the couple. Blayne supported Hope with an arm about her waist. She leaned into him. Their strides were perfectly matched.

"What happened to you?" Taran heard Blayne ask her.

"Let's just say I've undergone a profound restructuring of my core beliefs." She snorted in a wry fashion. "As they say in my home-world, it's been one _helluva_ night."

Taran didn't know what _helluva_ meant but he understood the sentiment. He was undergoing some profound inner belief restructuring himself.

~*~

## Chapter Sixteen

First Elder Varon rapped his mallet on a gong and a sonorous tone echoed throughout the Sehani Hall. "Silence! This meeting is about to begin!"

When he was ignored, he battered the gong until its sustained echoes drowned out the chatter.

Hope knew the instant Dayamar had stepped forward because everyone assembled quieted until not a whisper could be heard. Unlike Varon, Dayamar had no need to bash a gong to command attention.

"Thank you all for attending," Dayamar said. "I know you're curious about why I've chosen the Sehani Hall as the venue for this settlement meeting. But please be patient and all will be revealed. First, I will hand you over to Elder Evan."

Varaya muffled what sounded like a giggle and leaned in to whisper in Hope's ear. "Elder Evan's not paying attention. He's a bit distracted by something he can see on the ceiling."

"Elder Evan," Dayamar said.

"What? Oh!" Some shuffling sounds, and then Evan said, "Thank you Sehan Dayamar. Now.... Er, where do I start?"

This time Varaya's giggle was echoed by others. "Evan looks like he's just tumbled out of bed," she murmured. "Varon's not impressed. He's making a face like he's swallowed something nasty."

"That's not a face," Hope whispered. "That's his normal expression."

Varaya giggled again.

"Evan." Dayamar's tone contained infinite patience. "You're facing the wrong way. Turn around."

"Eh? Goodness, look at you all!"

With a considerable amount of prompting, the elder managed to stutter his way through Varon's agenda. "I think that's everything. Oh. My mistake. One last thing. I have pleasure in announcing the adoption of Treya's infant, er, Hopian. Hopian. That's a very nice name. Well done for choosing that. By... by....."

"He's digging around in his pockets," Treya whispered. "Ah. He's found a scrap of paper. Here we go."

"By Roban and Zavier," Evan said. "So Roban and... and... _Zavier_ will be Hopian's blood-fathers. Yes. Very good. The, ah, formal blood-ceremony will take place when the infant reaches one month of age as is customary. Are there any, er, objections?"

Neither Treya's mother nor mother-by-Joining risked making public spectacles of themselves by voicing an objection and Blayne, who was standing next to Hope, leaked satisfaction from every pore. His "chat" with the two women had worked a treat.

"No? Good." Elder Evan sounded hugely relieved. "Then this adoption is officially sanctioned."

Hope smiled, imagining the trio's delight. Roban and Zavier had reconciled themselves to a childless union. Now they could share in the raising of Treya's son—a privilege neither man had dreamed possible.

"Thank you, Elder Evan." Dayamar addressed the assemblage. "Now we come to the reason for choosing this venue. Hope, would you stand by me, please?"

She sensed the undercurrents swirling about her as she made her way to Dayamar's side. The attire Dayamar had presented her with, and insisted she wear tonight, would leave no doubt about his intention to formally announce her new status.

The deep vee-neck of the dress and its sleeves were ornately beaded with a subtle oval pattern, reminiscent of the "third eye" tattooed on Dayamar's forehead. A similar pattern had been etched around the tops of her boots with black dye. Dayamar had told Hope the dress was slightly more elaborate than was traditional, but hinted that was Shay's fault.

"The dress looks wonderful on you, my dear," Dayamar had said. "And the flowers in your hair are a lovely touch. You look quite exquisite." Treya, who'd dressed Hope's hair, had followed with a comment about the colors suiting her complexion.

Come to think of it, Hope didn't have a clue what color her dress and boots happened to be. Or the flowers in her hair, for that matter. She swallowed a sigh. Gods only knew what she looked like.

As she took her place at Dayamar's side, Elder Varon's outrage hit her with the force of a physical blow. She'd been warned to expect a protest but it took every ounce of willpower to ignore him and not react.

Dayamar cut off whatever protest Varon might have been about to voice. "I, Dayamar, Sehan and Spiritual Leader of the Dayamari, do this day formally elevate my apprentice, Hope, to the status of Second Sehan of the Dayamari. Let anyone who objects speak now or forever hold their peace."

"I object!" Varon yelled.

Of course he did. Hope resisted the desire to roll her eyes.

"I, First Elder Varon, object to this... this... travesty! To sanction the elevation of an apprentice Sehan, _all_ elders must be present to cast their votes."

Hope frowned. What was Varon's problem? This was a settlement meeting. All the elders _were_ present.

Dayamar merely said, "Observe."

His power zinged across her skin. He'd summoned something. Or somebody. Make that _somebodies_ , for she could sense twelve distinct forms. But when she attempted to scan them their essences eluded her. They were here but... not. It was as though she was Seeing phantoms or shimmering reflections of real people.

Whatever Dayamar had done seemed to have foiled Varon's plan, however, for he changed tactics. "But she is a stranger to us—a foundling. Who knows where her alliances lie? Can we trust her? And she has been training with you for mere weeks, Sehan Dayamar."

"You have a talent for stating the obvious, First Elder Varon."

Dayamar's response provoked the First Elder to lose what little tact he possessed. "This is insane!"

Dayamar touched Hope's shoulder and stepped back, leaving her to face Varon.

She knew she'd missed something of import, something to do with the settlement and its elders, but there was no time to chew over what had just occurred and make sense of it. Dayamar had given her his prearranged signal and she was obliged to respond.

She fixed her gaze on Varon. Although she couldn't see him in the physical sense, she viewed him psychically, noting his aureya and the colors and energies that were uniquely Varon. She grimaced. The shades and intensities of his colors were as unpleasant as the man himself.

With a casual gesture she conjured a sphere of light. Varon squawked in a most gratifying manner as she expanded the sphere until it was man-sized. A little over the top, perhaps, but this was supposed to be a spectacle and the sphere needed to be seen by as many people in the hall as possible.

"What proof of my abilities do you desire, First Elder Varon? What would you like me to See for you?"

When Varon remained mute, she shrugged. "Anyone else?"

"I-I have a request, Sehan," a voice piped up.

Hope identified Lukas, the apprentice tracker. Interesting.

"You should show them the truth about the wolves. A-a-and what happened afterward." The young man stood his ground against the murmurs of discontent, determined to have his say. "Everyone should know the truth," he said.

Perfect. The apprentice tracker had saved Blayne the trouble of broaching the subject.

"Treya?" Hope's gaze swept the room, searching for her friend's aureya. "It's your truth and your decision."

"I agree with Lukas," Treya called. "The truth of Lyam's death needs to be told."

"Thank you, Treya. Lukas, I give you your Seeing."

Hope found herself looking through another person's eyes. Lukas's, if she was not mistaken. She suppressed a grimace. It would be useful to do this consciously and not unintentionally. She'd have to practice more.

Through his eyes, Hope watched the sphere became crystal clear save for a small, dark smudge growing in its center. The spot expanded, churning with a multitude of swirling, muted colors. The colors sprang vividly to life, depicting a forest clearing. And a man could clearly be seen slumped against a tree. In the dappled light, he seemed to be merely sleeping.

The scene blurred. There was sense of rushing forward... and then an abrupt refocus and a close-up of the man. It was immediately apparent from the amount of blood and his ashen, lax features that he was dead.

She mentally nudged Lukas to seek out Treya. Her friend had turned her face away, unwilling to look upon the lifeless body of the man she'd loved. Being told about Lyam's death was one thing, but seeing it....

Hope enveloped Treya with a soothing mental balm that gave her the strength to wipe her face and to watch the rest of the Seeing.

Two wolves loped into view. Some voiced revulsion as they observed the animals sniffing the dead man's body. Others grasped the significance of the scene they were watching. And dismay turned to horror as they were forced to watch the wolves being slaughtered by the hunters.

Lukas/Hope watched the sphere fade to opacity once more. "Lyam's death was a tragic accident," she said, making sure her voice carried. "Now all know the truth, the unnecessary slaughter of wolves must cease."

She cut her mental connection with Lukas and turned her focus back to Varon. "Do you require another display, Varon?"

Since returning from her journey to the spirit world a week ago, Hope had performed the majority of the tasks Dayamar set her with ease. It was as if a window had opened up inside her, allowing her to understand her own Sehani potential for the first time. She kept her expression neutral. _Bring it on, you pompous bastard._

It didn't take long for him to gather his wits. "An interesting display. But how do we know it is the truth? All we've seen so far is that you can conjure up a scene from your imagination. A pretty feat to be sure, but it does not make you worthy to be Dayamar's successor."

He'd neatly side-stepped the issue of how Lyam had died _and_ cast a doubt on her abilities. Clever. Hope could just imagine his smug smirk.

Hmm. Perhaps a god would convince him.

She projected her encounter with Shikari into the sphere. This time, she tried to consciously form a mental connection with a random bystander, and to her delight found she could see through the man's eyes, feel his awe as the huge silver wolf shimmered into human form. Through this man she'd never met, Hope understood that Shikari transforming wolf-pelts into living wolves was considered little consequence. The Dayamari had implicit faith in the supernatural abilities of their gods. What stunned them was the casual ease with which _she_ conversed with a god.

Hope broke the connection with the man and faded out the conversation before any mention of the threat to the spirit world was made. That was her burden to bear.

"My dear child, what an imagination you have." Varon's voice dripped sarcasm.

She sensed him rallying for another scathing putdown, but he was interrupted by the gruff voice of Master Tracker Taran. "First Elder Varon, I would speak."

She heard his heavy footfalls as Taran stomped to the front of the room and took up a place beside her.

"All you have seen is true," Taran said. "I was there. I, Master Tracker Taran, vouch for the truth of this Seeing. Do you dare cast aspersions on me, too, First Elder?"

"Of course not, Master Tracker," Varon said. "All I'm saying is you were the victim of a clever hoax."

Hope felt his spite pelting her, searching for a weakness he could exploit. "You'll have to do better than this if you want me to believe," he said. "I am not so easily tricked."

She smoothed her expression to blankness. "It is no more than I expected of you, Varon. Perhaps this will convince you."

The elder's aureya flared, revealing his deep-seated anger at her deliberate omissions of his formal titles. But before he could voice another put-down Hope began the summoning. With consummate ease, she wove together the aureyas of every person present in the hall. And then she infused the ropelike weaving with her own power, casting it upward and outward, using it to summon the Dayamari gods.

Blayne knew what Hope had planned but even so his heart pounded and his mouth went dry when three golden pillars of light arrayed themselves around her. The pillars shimmered, taking on physical substance, forming into two men and a woman. The trio were barefoot and clad in blindingly bright silver cloth. Willowy graceful Wisa, her shining waist-length silver hair framing her calm face. Slight, shrewd-eyed Kunnandi, his short-cropped silver hair sticking up in untidy spikes. And Shikari, the heavily muscled giant with the luxurious silver beard.

Those present beheld their gods and dropped to their knees. Hope alone remained standing to welcome the beings that, a short time ago, Blayne knew she hadn't believed existed. "Shikari, Wisa and Kunnandi, we are honored by your visit," she said.

Wisa inclined her head. "We greet you, Second of the Sehani and hope of the Dayamari." She stepped forward to embrace Hope.

Shikari followed suit by sweeping her into a bear-hug that left her feet dangling.

"Put her down, Shikari," Kunnandi said to his sibling. "She's only a little thing and you'll squash her." He took Hope's hand and with a flourish, planted a kiss on her palm. His gaze slid to Blayne's and he quirked an eyebrow as if in challenge.

Blayne clenched his fists and did his utmost not to scowl. He had no reason to be jealous of a god... did he?

Wisa took Dayamar's hands and assisted him to his feet. "We greet you, old friend." She waved a hand at the bowed heads. "Please, everyone stand. Or sit if you prefer. We will be here for a while so you may as well be comfortable."

Kunnandi's gaze held a disturbing glint as he approached the First Elder and yanked him to his feet. Blayne shuddered. He wouldn't want to be in Varon's boots right now.

"And here is First Elder Varon," Kunnandi drawled. "Such a tedious title. I think I'll call you Varon."

When the unfortunate man managed a weak nod, Kunnandi continued. "It seems you're suffering a crisis of faith, my good fellow. It took considerable effort for us to aid Dayamar in bringing this young woman to Dayamaria. Yet here you are, casting aspersions upon our choice." He pursed his lips and tapped the side of his nose, and then clasped both hands behind his back and strode away, apparently deep in thought.

Varon visibly sagged with relief... which was short-lived, because Kunnandi promptly swiveled on his heel and advanced until he stood nose to nose with Varon. "Are you suggesting we're incompetent, and don't know what we're doing?" the god asked.

Varon's eyes bulged. His mouth worked but he couldn't get any words out.

Kunnandi considered him, eyebrows cocked. " _We_ support her elevation to Second Sehan, and _we_ personally assure you of her proficiency. Is that sufficient for you?" He waited until Varon nodded.

"Very good. And now to a vote. All in favor?" Kunnandi raised his own hand, before craning his neck to survey the elders.

The vote was unanimous but for one notable abstention. First Elder Varon was shaking so hard he could barely manage to stand upright. Raising one arm appeared beyond him.

Kunnandi wrinkled his nose. And as if pulled by an invisible string, Varon's right arm flew into the air. His hand flapped around as though it had a mind of its own.

"Kunnandi," Blayne heard Wisa murmur.

Varon's arm flopped back to his side.

"It's unanimous," Kunnandi said. "Excellent! Hope is now officially Second Sehan." He waved his hand and the shimmering forms of the second and third settlement elders vanished.

Blayne's gaze shot to Hope, who was rubbing her left temple. He wondered what his Promised would say when she realized what Kunnandi had done. And with any luck, she wouldn't have sensed the elders from the other two settlements—or if she had, she wouldn't understand their significance. Dayamar had advised keeping the existence of the Second and Third Settlements from her, citing the need to protect her from added stress. Blayne hated having secrets from the woman he loved, but he had to agree she had more than enough to cope with at present.

Varon swayed on his feet. Taran grabbed his arm to steady him. "All a bit too much, eh, First Elder?"

Varon's only response was a moan.

"Shikari," Kunnandi continued. "Didn't you have something to say to everyone? Might as well do it now, rather than sending everyone a dream. Dreams are such a trite way to communicate, don't you think?"

Shikari scowled. "Yes, I have something to say," the big god rumbled. "As you have Seen, the man you knew as Lyam was not killed by wolves. His death was an accident—a tragic one, but an accident all the same. It is time to return to the old ways. Slaughtering animals for sport will not be tolerated. And to remind you of my visit, henceforth, white wolves are protected by me."

Taran chose that moment to try and melt back into the crowd.

"Not so fast, Master Tracker," Shikari said. "I thank you for your defense of this young woman. Your support of her, and your desire to have the truth known, do you credit. And I commend your young apprentice, also. He is fortunate to have you as a mentor."

To Taran's obvious consternation, all three gods inclined their heads to him. Red-faced, he nodded tersely, allowed Hope to kiss him on the cheek, and retreated to the safe anonymity of the crowd.

At a nod from Shikari, Dayamar took the floor again. "As most of you are aware by now, Hope is not Dayamari. But she wishes to become one of us. She is our Second Sehan and as we have seen this evening, she has already proved worthy of that title. As First Sehan and Spiritual Leader, I officially sponsor her request."

This was Blayne's cue to speak. "As Panakeya of the Dayamari, I second this request."

"What proof do you have of her worthiness, Panakeya?" Dayamar asked.

"The Dayamari owe her two lives. I call on Healer Johan to verify my claim."

Johan stepped forward.

"I, Healer Johan, personally bear witness to this woman's worth. Despite all my knowledge and efforts, Treya was dying."

As a healer, Blayne took it personally if a patient under his care sickened or died. Johan was no exception. His voice shook with the emotion he strove to suppress. "Without... without the intervention of Sehan Hope, Treya would have died in childbirth and her son Hopian would never have been born. Sehan Hope holds the life-bonds of two Dayamari in her hands. She is worthy."

"We have the obligatory sponsors." Dayamar paused to cast his gaze about the hall. "I now open the floor to objections."

A murmur rippled through the crowd and everyone gazed expectantly at First Elder Varon. But Varon didn't say a thing. And nor did anyone else. Dayamar's logic was impeccable. As bizarre as it might seem for an outsider to hold such a high-status position, no one could deny Hope possessed the necessary skills to eventually replace Dayamar. And it was painfully obvious there was no one else who _could_ replace him. Considering the power she commanded, it was far better she become one of them.

Dayamar turned to Hope and took both her hands. "I, Dayamar, First Sehan and Spiritual Leader, do officially adopt this woman, Hope Delamore, as Dayamari from this day forth. Hope, will you ask your adopted family to step forward?"

"I name Dayamar as my father," she said.

The crowd reacted with startled murmurs as they watched the old Sehan comply with tradition and move to stand at Hope's right side. Over the years Dayamar had distanced himself from personal relationships. He'd lived alone for as long as anyone could remember. That he would choose to adopt a daughter at this late stage of his life spoke volumes for Hope's influence.

"I name Cayl as my brother. I name Varaya and Maya as sisters. I name Willem as my cousin." All those named stepped forward and stood to her left.

Dayamar opened his mouth to continue the adoption ceremony but Wisa's smooth rich voice interjected. "Wait. A girl must have a mother. I put myself forward as Hope's adoptive mother—if she will have me."

Hope embraced the goddess, her face wreathed with genuine delight. "Of course, Wisa. It would mean so much to me. Thank you." And Blayne saw the goddess swiping a silvery tear from her cheek as she went to stand with Dayamar.

"Now why didn't think of that?" Kunnandi whispered for Blayne's ears alone. "Just think of all the hugs I could have gotten from her if I was named her brother."

The cheeky god grinned at Blayne's grimace.

"Do all those named accept this woman from this day forth into their family?" Dayamar asked.

Cayl stepped forward. "I accept this woman as sister."

Dayamar produced a small knife and pricked first Cayl's thumb, and then Hope's. As the tiny cuts welled with droplets of blood, Dayamar blotted them both with a small square of soft white hide, taking care to ensure that the bloodstains of one blended with the other. "As these drops mingle, so you are brother and sister by blood." He handed the bloodstained square of hide to Hope.

Cayl embraced her and stepped back.

The ritual was repeated with Maya and Varaya. And then Willem stepped forward. He had declined Hope's original offer to become her blood-brother because he didn't want to complicate a possible future Joining with Varaya. A brother/sister relationship—even a ceremonial one—would be frowned upon. As Hope's cousin, however, he would still benefit from an increase in status, without any complications if he did Join with Varaya.

Hope smiled as the blood-ritual was performed. She'd confessed to Blayne that Willem had been overwhelmed by her generosity but that it was pure selfishness on her part. Willem needed the added boost to his self-worth, while Hope wanted him and Varaya to be happy. She'd called it a "win-win" situation.

Dayamar pierced his own thumb and performed the ritual on himself. As he embraced Hope, he whispered something in her ear and she smiled. Blayne was surprised to note the old Sehan's eyes shone with tears.

Lastly it was Wisa's turn. "Allow me, Dayamar," she said. The knife rose from Dayamar's hand to pierce the end of Wisa's outstretched thumb. It hung in the air for a moment before returning to Dayamar's grasp. Reverently, the old Sehan wiped the blade and sheathed the knife.

Hope squeezed her thumb and Wisa blotted the welling bead of blood with a piece of hide. She handed the hide to Hope and hugged her warmly. "Well, my dear, how does it feel to belong to a family again?"

"Wonderful." Hope stowed the six small pieces of hide in the pouch hanging from a thong at her waist. And then she beamed so widely at the crowd they reacted by clapping and cheering and stamping their boots in approval.

Blayne spied the mischievous god slanting a sly look in Hope's direction. What was he up to now?

Kunnandi snapped his fingers. "Hope, my dearest. We have a surprise for you. Panakeya Blayne, you, too. Come stand next to Hope. There's a good fellow."

Blayne realized what was about to happen and slanted the god a black scowl. Kunnandi had commandeered his carefully laid plans and, god or not, he wasn't happy about it.

Kunnandi deftly steered him to one side. "Forgive me, Panakeya. I hope you aren't harboring thoughts of braining me with a hunk of stone like the last time we met."

Gods' grief. That snake had been Kunnandi?

The god chortled. "Yes, Panakeya. It was me. Sorry to steal your thunder but I couldn't resist being present for this particular ceremony in person. I mean to say, first I get to scare the living daylights out of that stuffy old First Elder, and now I get to spring a surprise as well. My goblet runneth over! And I do have some making up for lost time to do. It's difficult to fully appreciate a beautiful human female when you're a snake." He eyed Blayne speculatively. "And Hope _is_ a very beautiful female, is she not?"

He couldn't help laughing at Kunnandi's sly humor. "Please continue, Kunnandi. Don't let me spoil your fun."

"That's the spirit." Kunnandi clapped him on the back.

Blayne took Hope's hand and squeezed it gently. "I like your new tattoo," he murmured.

"What tattoo?"

"This one." He outlined the stylized eye symbol at her temple with his forefinger. "It won't be coming off," he said when she rubbed the spot. "He's made sure of that."

"Kunnandi's teeth!"

Kunnandi ran his tongue over his teeth. His brows drew together in a disgruntled frown. "Why are you people always commenting about my teeth? Are they horribly crooked or something?"

"Kunnandi, go stand there, next to Shikari. Now." Wisa's glower cut off whatever her sibling had been about to say next. "Stop interfering and let Dayamar speak."

The god pouted but did as he was bid and stalked over to Shikari and the seated elders. "She's such a spoilsport," Blayne heard him mutter.

Hope clenched her teeth against a yawn. She hoped the "surprise" Kunnandi had mentioned would be over quickly so she could head home and put her feet up. Performing for a crowd had tired her out.

"It is our custom," Dayamar said, "when two people fall in love for a formal Promise of intent to be made. Blayne, I understand you have something you wish to say?"

"Yes. It's important to me you all know my feelings for this woman, and that she knows I have no shame in making them public."

Her head spun. He didn't need to do this. Words said in the privacy of his sleeping quarters were more than enough. "Blayne—"

"Please let me finish." When he took her hand she realized he had knelt before her. "Hope, I love you. I want to formally make a Promise of commitment to you—if you will have me."

"You don't have to do this."

"I know. We're already Promised in our hearts but I want to make our Promise formal. So...?"

"Yes! Yes, I accept your Promise." She tugged the man she loved to his feet and he swept her into a hug and kissed her soundly, heedless of those watching.

The crowd exploded with cheers of congratulations and the inevitable mildly ribald comments.

"Now we will move on to the formal Promising Ceremony," Dayamar announced.

"But... but... I'm not dressed for a Promising Ceremony. Don't I need to be wearing red?"

Crows of delighted laughter drifted up from the crowd, who were thoroughly entertained by this spectacle.

She rounded on Blayne. "Why is everyone laughing? Isn't it customary to wear red for a Promising?"

"Yes, it is. Which is why you are—a red dress _and_ boots."

Comprehension dawned. She pulled from Blayne to advance on Dayamar. "You sneaky old man!" she spluttered. "You knew this was the plan all along, didn't you?"

"Is that any way to speak to your father, young woman?" His voice took on a mournful tone. "Is it any surprise I've left it this long to claim a daughter? They are such troublesome creatures."

"How could you do this to me?" Her voice had risen to a wail but she didn't care.

"Can't a father give his daughter a fine dress for her Promising?" Dayamar said, playing to his audience. Who of course roared their approval.

"And look at that. I seem to have a rather stunning kuruvinda necklace and a piece of jewelry Blayne informs me is a _ruby_ _ring_. I do believe they might suffice as official Promising gifts."

The reason Dayamar had insisted she not wear her necklace for this ceremony abruptly became clear. Hope gave in. She was outclassed and outnumbered. She suffered him to plant a smacking kiss on her cheek. "If you—and everyone else who was in on this little surprise—are very lucky, one day I might forgive you for putting me through this."

Dayamar hugged her. "I love you, too, my dear."

~*~

## Chapter Seventeen

Kunnandi elbowed Shikari in the side. "Who would've thought the old man had it in him?"

"Or that she would have let him get away with it."

"She's a feisty one. I think Blayne's in for a hard time tonight." Kunnandi smirked. "I'm sure our Panakeya is more than equal to whatever she throws at him. And no doubt it will all be resolved to their mutual _satisfaction_."

Shikari harrumphed at the unsubtle innuendo.

Kunnandi spotted the woman known as Maya slipping through the crowd thronging about the Promised couple. Her quiet word with Wisa had resulted in the goddess looking more startled than a goddess should be after a conversation with a human.

Interesting. Even more interesting, she was now headed his way.

Kunnandi grinned as he eyed the buxom blonde. The grin wavered as he noted her determined expression. He turned to Shikari to suggest they both make themselves scarce and—

"Not so fast, Exalted Ones. You all had a hand in uprooting that poor girl from her home and 'blessing' her with a Sehan's powers, did you not?" Hands on hips, Maya stared them down until Shikari nodded and Kunnandi shifted restlessly.

"And no doubt you're _pleased_ she's Promised to Blayne, and pregnant even though she was supposed to be barren. Less chance she'll want to leave Dayamaria anytime soon, right? And I suppose you're thrilled that everything's going to plan." Her voice dripped irony.

Kunnandi opened his mouth to defend himself but Shikari's nudge made him think twice. He nodded instead.

"Because you're gods and therefore all-seeing and all-knowing blah, blah, blah, I won't bore you by telling you exactly how _I_ feel about this whole business."

Shikari cleared his throat. Kunnandi discovered an intriguing mark on the floor.

"I may not be able to save poor Hope from whatever you've got planned for her, but I can do something. You will help me turn this impromptu Promising into a proper occasion. I'm aware Blayne didn't want a fuss, but right now I don't much care what he wants. This is a celebration for Hope—of her Promising, her acceptance as Second Sehan, and having a family of her own again. I've already spoken to Wisa and she agrees with me."

"Not that she had much of a choice I bet," Kunnandi muttered.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought. So here's what you two are going to do."

After delivering her instructions Maya sashayed off, well satisfied with her arrangements. Kunnandi mopped his brow and turned to his slack-jawed sibling. "I'd hate to think what tone she'd have used with us if we weren't her gods, and she didn't have the utmost reverence for us. Who's her life-partner again?"

"The one with the red hair. His name is Cayl."

"Hmm." Kunnandi scratched his chin. "I'd love to know how he's managed paired with a woman as determined to get her own way as that one. He might have some hints about how I can get around Wisa."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

~*~

As each small group of people left the hall, they found themselves at the gathering place. Remaining invisible, Kunnandi basked in their gawps and exclamations as he lit strategically placed torches to illuminate the area. He clicked his fingers. With small explosive sounds, trestle tables appeared along one side. "So, who's got a favorite food then?" he said. "Come on people, speak up. Our guests of honor will be here soon."

"Um, hotcakes and syrup?" one brave soul called out.

"Excellent choice." He conjured platters of hotcakes dripping with syrup and arranged them on the tables. Stunned silence greeted their arrival. And then people began yelling their favorite dishes. Cheers accompanied each new dish that popped into view. Soon the tables were brimming with all manner of food and drink.

"Enough!" Shikari conjured dishes, utensils and mugs. "What else are we missing?" A snap of his fingers, and various instruments appeared in mid air, snaking their way toward the area set aside for the musicians, some chased by anxious owners.

Kunnandi snickered, vastly amused by the humans' antics. He sent Shikari a mental message and they both appeared in the flesh. "Right everyone," he said. "Let's get ready to yell 'Surprise!' On my count of three. One... two... three...."

"Surprise!" everyone yelled just as Wisa, Blayne, Hope, and her adoptive family, materialized in the center of the gathering area.

"Grieving gods, Kunnandi." Wisa's hand fluttered above her heart. "Did you have to do that? I almost died of fright."

"Stop being so dramatic. You're a goddess—you can't die." The god flung both arms outward. "Hope and Blayne, how do you like your celebration? You can thank Maya for this. It was her idea."

Blayne grabbed Maya and hugged her. "Thank you."

"I had help," Maya said, sounding flustered.

"Next time, Blayne, please do us a favor and give her more notice," Kunnandi piped up.

She blushed a wonderful shade of pink. "I wasn't that hard on you all, was I?"

"We'll get over it," Kunnandi told her. "Eventually."

"Ignore him," Wisa advised. "I certainly do."

Now he was free to do as he pleased, Kunnandi turned his attention to the First Elder, and made it his personal mission to get Varon roaring drunk. He was so successful, the First Elder joined the dancing and made an utter fool of himself. As the evening progressed, Varon became increasingly befuddled. Finally he crawled under a trestle table. His snores were most impressive.

"He'll have a massive headache tomorrow," Shikari said.

"That was the idea." Kunnandi grinned evilly, and then snapped his fingers and sent Varon back to his quarters.

~*~

"Goodnight, you two." Varaya's fingertips lingered on Willem's arm. "I think I'll head back to the dormayre." The sultry, come-hither look she threw Willem before she sauntered off caused the man to completely lose track of what he had been about to say.

Blayne took pity on him. "You should walk Varaya home. It's dark and she might be a bit, ah, scared."

"Good idea. Goodnight, then."

Willem hurried off, leaving Blayne trying to muffle his laughter until Willem was safely out of earshot. Varaya had never been afraid of the dark in her life.

He glanced around until he spotted Hope. His Promised sat cross-legged on the ground, deep in conversation with Wisa. He sauntered over to eavesdrop.

"Tell me why you healed my infertility, Wisa," Hope was saying. "Doesn't this pregnancy jeopardize what I must do?"

"My dear, you credit us with entirely too much meddling. What do you know about the differences between your Earth and Dayamaria—other than obvious technological ones?"

"I had trouble breathing when I first arrived and I remember Dayamar saying the air here is slightly different."

"That's one way of putting it. A spore is present in the air. For the majority of humans there are no side effects at all. But for some, this spore causes physical anomalies—gold eyes and a self-healing ability are common. These people are also given the ability to interact with their world differently. To see past and future possibilities, manipulate matter, discern aureyas—so-called 'magical' abilities. Hence those the Dayamari call _Sehani_. Hence you, Hope."

"I'm the way I am now because of a spore?" Hope huffed a sharp breath through her nose. "It's easier to believe _you_ are responsible, Wisa. That's what Dayamar preaches, after all. Are you saying he doesn't know about this spore?"

"Of course he knows. The spore is an ancient life-form that was present when this world was first formed. It has evolved along with humans. We have no control over exactly who it affects, or how it interacts with its human host, but most Sehani do share common ancestry. As many Sehans before him, Dayamar prefers to attribute the spore's effects to gods, rather than attempting to explain the complex biological processes involved."

Hope scrunched up her nose and Blayne's lips twitched at her expression. He wondered if Wisa found it as endearing as he did.

"But I'm from Earth," Hope said. "How can I possibly share common ancestry with Dayamari?"

"You don't. You're an anomaly, Hope. And we give heartfelt thanks to whatever entity is responsible for your existence. According to Dayamar, your Sehani potential was vast, but none of us knew what the result of bringing you into contact with the spore would be." Wisa hesitated, as though gathering her thoughts. "I believe that because the spore had to alter your physiology so drastically if you were to survive here, as part of the process it targeted anything and everything it found that required healing. Whatever it was that made you infertile, whether it was internal scarring or some other cause, was healed as a part of your adaptation to the spore."

Blayne got the distinct impression his all-seeing all-knowing goddess wasn't too happy about resorting to supposition.

"And as for your pregnancy." The goddess shrugged eloquently. "You are in all respects a healthy young woman. And I can only presume that young man lurking behind me is taking regular advantage of you. You were not taking precautions, so what else would you expect? Don't you agree, Blayne?"

He felt his face flush like a youngling caught with his fingers in the syrup flask. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just, uh, waiting for Hope."

"I'm sure you were," Wisa informed him tartly. "Does confirmation of the spore's existence surprise you, Panakeya?"

He rubbed his chin. "I gleaned small clues from the histories. Eventually I discovered all Sehani were related through the one male ancestor. Please forgive my frankness, Exalted One, but although I have faith in the my gods, as a healer I must also look elsewhere for answers. For some years now I've suspected those 'blessed by the gods' had been affected by some biological factor as well." He held back from voicing his suspicion that, because Hope had been physically altered by the spore, she might no longer be able to survive on her home-world... and that Dayamar, too, must surely have similar concerns. In the grand scheme of things, it no longer mattered. Hope's home was here, now. With him.

Wisa nodded. "You are worthy to bear the title Panakeya."

He tossed her a sharp look, wondering whether she'd mined his thoughts. But the goddess's closed expression gave him no clues. "Respectfully, I have a question."

"Go ahead, Blayne."

"If the spore could diagnose and heal Hope's infertility, why couldn't it give her back her sight?"

"All I can say to that is all will be revealed in time." Wisa rose and fussed with the skirt of her dress. "We must depart. These forms are too enticing." She directed a baleful glare at the still-carousing Kunnandi, whose hands were both occupied—one squeezing a pert young woman's bottom and the other quaffing sekar.

"Boys," she called. "Time to go. Now!"

Shikari materialized at her side. When she received no response from Kunnandi, she snapped her fingers.

The god appeared beside her, choking on his drink. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Wisa."

"Time to go. We've stayed too long already." She glared down her nose at him. "Obviously."

Kunnandi gestured and his drink disappeared. "Better?"

"Much. Now where's Dayamar gotten to?"

The old Sehan strode toward them. "It's time for you to go."

"Yes. But first, a gift for you, Hope." Wisa made a fist. When she opened her hand, a small, black, pebble-sized gem was nestled atop her palm.

"Here, my dear." The goddess handed the gem to Hope. "Keep this stone on your person at all times. It will light your way and give you hope when all about you seems dark and hopeless."

Hope tucked it away in the pouch hanging at her waist. "Must you leave?"

"Yes. But first there's a little cleaning up to do." Wisa's eyes unfocussed for a split second, and there were startled exclamations as people, tables, food and drink disappeared. The lights extinguished, and the whole area plunged into darkness.

"Goodbye, my dearest ones," Blayne heard Wisa whisper.

"Goodbye," Shikari rumbled.

"'Bye!"

Hope squeaked and rubbed her bottom. "Someone pinched me!"

"Kunnandi." Wisa's scolding voice echoed about them.

Blayne blinked and found himself by the sleeping platform in his room, with Hope in his arms. He didn't need to be told twice to take a hint. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

~*~

In the silence of her mind, Hope asked, "Who am I?"

There was no enlightening response—not that she'd truly expected one.

In simpler times, she'd been Hope Leah Delamore, a dearly loved daughter and sister. A tragic accident had stolen her family and her sight, transforming her into a lonely young woman burdened with having been named the sole beneficiary of her family's substantial estate. Next, she'd been a stranded traveler in an alien world. And now, Second Sehan of the Dayamari, and Promised of their Panakeya.

Bother. She'd allowed herself to be distracted again. So much for meditation.

Sighing, Hope gave up and began some basic yoga stretches. Due to her status, she wasn't given the opportunity to do much of anything on her own anymore. Thank the gods Dayamar understood her need for occasional solitude, and gave her use of the Sehani Hall for an hour each morning—accompanied by a decree that no one was allowed to bother her unless it was an emergency. And Hope took full advantage of that all-too-short hour, using the time to center herself before she began her daily rounds.

She made a rude sound. Supposedly her rounds were an opportunity for the average Dayamari to benefit from Sehani wisdom. Instead, so-called _spiritual_ problems were laid before her like some holy offering, accompanied by the expectation she would impart some enlightening gem of wisdom in return.

Wisdom and enlightenment? Phooey. Most people, she'd discovered, merely wanted someone to tell them what to do instead of thinking through problems on their own. She was quite sure Dayamar had passed this duty on to her because he was glad to be shod of it.

Her thoughts drifted to her waistline, which Blayne assured her did not yet show any signs of her pregnancy—a complication she had finally come to accept. Too, memories of the gut-wrenching guilt and loneliness she'd faced each day, had helped dispel yearnings for the simplicity of her old life. Here, she had a man who loved her and a baby on the way. She had family and friends. Whatever the future held, she would never willingly give up the precious treasures she'd gained.

At the loud rap on the door, her stomach rumbled. Please let it be Blayne with breakfast.

"Sorry to bother you, Hope," came Varaya's apologetic voice. "I wanted a private word. I can come back later if you're in the middle of something."

"To be honest I'm glad of the distraction."

Varaya settled herself, and by the strangled sounds she was making, might be attempting to mirror Hope's Lotus position.

"Owww! That's not as easy as you make it look."

"It's quite comfortable—once you get used to it." Hope waited while Varaya gathered her thoughts.

"It's about Willem."

No surprises there. "What's up?"

"Well... I'm... incredibly attracted to him and I don't have a clue why. I mean, he's so _different_ from the men I usually go for. He's got no family to speak of. Even his status is borrowed from being your blood-cousin. Normally I wouldn't even consider such a man."

"But?"

Varaya shifted restlessly. " _But_ he's gorgeous, he's kind, he's got a great sense of humor, he's smart and he's trying to better himself. He works so hard, Hope. He's making a name for himself in his trade, and he's never touched a drop of liquor since... you know."

Hope hid a grin. Varaya had already halfway convinced herself Willem was The One. She just needed a little extra push. "So what's the problem?"

"The night you were formally Promised, he walked me back to the dormayre and I invited him in. I made it _very_ clear I wanted him to spend the night... b-but he refused!"

If Hope was correctly interpreting those little gulping sounds, tears were close. Of course she could have examined Varaya's aureya to accurately gauge her state of mind, but Hope figured that right now Varaya needed a friend more than a Sehan.

"He... he... didn't want me. A-And we still haven't slept together."

Varaya sounded like the end of the world was nigh. Hope's laughter bubbled to the surface.

"You're supposed to be my friend!" Varaya wailed.

"Varaya, _of course_ Willem wants you. That's plain as the nose on your face—even for a blind woman like me. But he wants more than a casual fling. And he's aware you've had many relationships so he's wary. And don't look at me like that."

"How could you know—? Never mind." Varaya huffed a shaky sigh. "Do you have to be so blunt?"

"Sorry." Hope patted her friend's hand. "He's holding off sleeping with you until he's sure how you feel about him. He doesn't want to be lumped in with your other boyfriends—surely you can see that, Varaya?"

"Really?"

"Really. So relax. Willem seems to like you just as you are—and what's not to like? So let him, ah, proceed at his own pace." Hope had been about to say "call the shots" but that phrase wouldn't translate too well to Dayamaru. She threw what she hoped was a wicked grin at Varaya. "But don't let that stop you giving him a little encouragement to speed things up. Sometimes men need to have things laid out for them—so they don't have any doubts what you want... or what they're getting."

"What's this about getting laid?" Blayne called from the doorway.

Varaya giggled.

Hope changed the subject and tried her best not to blush. "Is that breakfast I can smell? Bring it here, please. I'm starving."

"I remember a certain young woman leaving me in no doubt what _she_ wanted not long after we met."

Hope lost her battle with the blush. Worse, though, was Varaya's gasp, followed by a shocked, "Don't tell me _you_ made the first move, Hope?"

"I didn't stand a chance," Blayne said.

Hope spluttered with mock-indignation. "You didn't need much encouragement. Especially after we'd been sleeping together for ages before we... you know."

"Wisa's white wings," Varaya said. "You must have been in love."

"I was," Blayne said. "It was the hardest thing I'd ever done to share my blankets with her and not take it any further. But up until that moment, I didn't know for sure how she felt about me."

"See, Varaya?" Hope grinned. "That's just what I was talking about with Willem."

"Varaya," Blayne said. "Please take my advice on this. If you like Willem, just come right out and tell him. Don't play games."

"Thanks. That's good advice. I think I'll _encourage_ Willem a little while longer, though. Just for fun."

Hope smothered a laugh as she investigated breakfast.

"Poor Willem." Blayne handed Hope a spoon. "He won't know what's hit him. Join us for breakfast, Varaya. At least it'll mean the poor bastard has a few more minutes peace."

"I've already eaten but I'll stay and chat for a bit. Then I... um... have some things I must do."

Breakfast was demolished amidst suggestions how best to torture Willem.

"You do this every morning?" Varaya asked. "Make breakfast and bring it here, I mean."

"Yes," Blayne said. "It's a way for Hope to have a little time to herself, and for us to have a leisurely meal together in the morning. Otherwise we're constantly interrupted by either Degan, or one of the other healers, or some patient who can't wait for me to start my rounds."

Hope made a moue."You have no idea how easy it is to lose your appetite when someone barges in and starts discussing their symptoms while you're trying to eat."

Varaya's peal of laughter echoed around the hall. "I can imagine."

Hope took a sip of tea. "And meditating is impossible when Degan's around. He's a sweetheart, but he does speak aloud everything that pops into his head. I get a running commentary of everything he's doing or thinking." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "It's difficult being surrounded by people every single minute of the day. And I have a hard time dealing with the formality of being Second Sehan. I feel like I'm on display."

"What you do is very different from Dayamar's way," Varaya said. "We always had to meet with him in the Sehani Hall. It was much more formal."

"I prefer a more relaxed atmosphere." Hope had taken to wandering through the settlement. That way, anyone wanting spiritual guidance had to want it desperately enough to seek her out. As a technique for winnowing out the more frivolous requests it worked pretty well.

"I find most people are more open and relaxed if they're doing something familiar—such as walking," she said. "Plus I get some fresh air and exercise. Mind you, it doesn't always work as well as I'd like." She related how one determined man had resisted all efforts to politely send him on his way. He'd dogged her footsteps the entire afternoon, all the while loudly complaining about having to air his important problems outside where anyone could hear.

"How did you get rid of him?" Varaya asked.

"I told him Dayamar was obviously the only one who could assist with such serious issues, and offered to fetch him. Amazing how quickly the problems disappeared."

"You lied?" Blayne's tone was mock-shocked.

She stuck out her tongue.

"Why do you think Dayamar insisted on so much formality?" Varaya asked.

"Dayamar never needed to distinguish between genuine need and trifling requests," Hope said. "No one would dare waste _his_ time with something insignificant."

Varaya choked on her mouthful of tea. "I sure wouldn't." She must have thought that sounded a little harsh for she said, "I know I have a blood relationship with Dayamar through you, Hope, but he still unnerves me."

"He thinks the world of you, Varaya."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Otherwise he would never have approved you becoming my blood-sister."

"And if Dayamar didn't agree with you befriending Hope," Blayne added, "I have no doubt you'd have been firmly encouraged to stay away from her."

"Oh! I'm glad I measured up then."

"Me, too," Hope said.

Another rap on the door, and then a male voice called, "Sehan Hope?"

Hope hid her grin. "Could you give me a moment, Willem? I'm just finishing up breakfast."

"I was, um, looking for Varaya."

"What could you possibly want _me_ for?" Varaya couched her question in such blatantly flirtatious tones that Blayne groaned.

"Shay sent me to find you," Willem said, either oblivious or choosing not to react. "Something about some dress you ordered. You know what Shay's like—impossible to refuse. I'd only called in to see if she wanted more cured hides and next thing I know, I'm her errand boy."

"Oooh. I've been waiting for Shay to finish that dress. It's for a very special occasion. Perhaps you could come to the dormayre so I can show you how it looks? I'd value your opinion."

Hope struggled to keep a straight face when Willem blurted, "You would? Uh, thanks. But do you think—? I mean, it's not that I don't want to see— Um, it's just that—"

Before Willem could gather his wits, Varaya had dragged him out the door.

Blayne snorted. "What's the bet they're Joined by year's end?"

"I don't see any point betting on a sure thing."

~*~

The morning progressed into one of those rare days when Hope had the whole afternoon to herself. Dayamar was mediating some disagreement between the elders and the dormayre overseers. Blayne was busy with a patient. And Varaya was off torturing Willem.

It was a beautiful sunny day and Hope had decided to take full advantage by exploring the intriguing area beyond the washing pool stream. She'd coaxed Degan into accompanying her on the pretext that a particularly tasty variety of mushroom grew in the region. It wasn't quite as good as exploring on her own but it was the next best thing: blissfully quiet, with only the gurgle of water and birdsong and Degan's off-key humming to contend with.

Degan was unaware that Hope hadn't told anyone else of her intentions, and Hope knew Blayne would be unimpressed if he found out she'd gone exploring with only Degan for company. She told herself she didn't care. This constant concern for her safety was stifling. She was a Sehan, after all. What possible harm could she come to?

To salve her conscience, she helped Degan picked a large bag of mushrooms to take back with them, and in the process, they wandered quite a distance from the settlement. Best head back as soon—before anyone noticed she was missing.

Hope had just called out to let Degan know they should head home when the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rose to attention. Someone was watching her.

Somewhere to her left, Hope could hear Degan humming to himself. She stood and casually brushed down her clothing, fine-tuning her senses.

And then Degan loosed a high-pitched shriek. Hope rushed toward the sound, heart in her mouth. She would never forgive herself if she'd put him at risk.

A gruff male voice yelled, "Grab him!" and Degan's fear infected the air.

Hope released the anger surging inside her—a tangible force that smacked into Degan's attackers.

"Run, Degan! Run! Get Blayne!" She sent the young man a boost of energy that helped his feet fly over the uneven ground. And then she swept the area with her seer-senses, identifying the men she'd struck down.

Damn. She'd missed a couple. Where—?

She heard a choked off gasp. Ah. There was one of them.

Hope could taste his fear, See it, too, in the crimson-drenched black swirls infecting his aureya. She separated his energy signature from his surroundings, and gauged distances so she could pinpoint his position and render him powerless. But the instant she locked on to his energy, she paused. He didn't want to harm her—none of them did.

What were their intentions? Why—?

A blinding pain caught her by surprise and the world blanked.

~*~

Degan collapsed in a heap at the feet of the first group of people he encountered. They tried in vain to get some sense out of him, but Degan was borderline hysterical and could do little more than gasp Hope's name. Finally, someone thought to call for Blayne.

It was late afternoon by the time Blayne calmed Degan enough to coax the full story of Hope's abduction from him. He clamped down on his blind need to hare off in search of her, and immediately sent word to Dayamar. With luck, the old Sehan would be able to sense Hope's whereabouts, meaning he could point Blayne in the right direction and save him some precious time.

To his horror, Dayamar claimed she'd been injured... and then he forbade Blayne to go after her on his own.

Blayne understood Dayamar's caution. He didn't have to like it, though. And despite his efforts, night had closed in with a vengeance by the time a search party had been organized and made ready to depart.

Cayl was the only one with the guts to state the obvious. "We won't get far blundering about in the dark," he said. "And if we use torches to track them—"

He didn't need to continue. Blayne—and everyone else in the search party—were all too aware that the torch-flames would be seen for miles, sending a glaringly obvious signal to Hope's abductors that a party from the settlement was in hot pursuit.

"We can't risk endangering her," Cayl said. "Best wait until first light tomorrow. I'm sorry, Blayne."

"I know." And as he paced the floor of his home, Blayne vowed that when he caught up with the men who'd hurt the woman he loved, he would make them wish they'd never been born.

~*~

## Chapter Eighteen

The rough material of the blindfold smelled musty. Her feet and hands were bound with cord—not tight enough to be painful or affect her circulation, but enough to restrict movement. She was slung over a man's shoulder and he was moving at a rapid pace. She groaned and choked on bile.

"She's awake. Put her down, but watch her."

Hands lifted her from his shoulder. Hope sank to her knees and vomited. Her stomach performed a sickening somersault and her skull throbbed. Clutching her midriff, she toppled onto her side and curled into a ball, in no condition to protest her treatment.

"What's wrong with her?"

"You hit her too hard."

"Didn't have much choice. She was about to—"

She retched again. Thankfully, this time someone supported her and held back her hair while she emptied her stomach.

"Ask her yourself what's wrong," she heard another voice say.

And then, "Sehan? Are you ill?"

"It's the way you were carrying me, I think." Her words were the barest croak through a dry, scratchy throat. And she was pleasantly surprised when a water-bag was thrust beneath her nose, and one of the men helped her to drink from it.

"Shikari's hairy paws, it's a fine mess we're in." He sounded savage.

"I'm blind, so if you let me go now, I won't be able to identify you."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true." Of course she'd be able to identify them from the unique pattern of each man's aureya but they couldn't know that. She hoped.

"Take off her blindfold. But be ready in case she tries anything."

Cautious hands untied the cloth around her eyes.

She sensed movement. A pause and then, "She's telling the truth. She didn't even blink."

"Untie her feet and let's get moving."

"Aren't you going to let me go?"

"Sorry, Sehan. We need you too much."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

Huh. Doubtless the irony of that statement was lost on him.

The hands that dragged her upright were forced to steady her: It was no easy task to find her balance with her hands tied behind her back. One man either side of her, each grasping an elbow, they urged her forward. Her head swum. The nausea was so intense she had no choice but to stumble along and pray for an opportunity to escape once she recovered.

Escape proved wishful thinking, for by the time they halted a couple of hours later, Hope was in no fit state to walk any further. Another bout of vomiting was compounded by the thumping headache and weird spots dancing before her eyes. She lay on the ground, miserably concluding she was concussed... and in deep trouble.

One of her captors came to the same conclusion. "She's got a concussion. Vomiting, nausea—and look, she can't even focus her eyes properly."

"She'll have to make do until we reach the settlement."

"How? She can barely walk for Wisa's sake!"

"Make a stretcher. We'll carry her the rest of the way."

They were taking her to a _settlement_? Why hadn't she been told there was another settlement nearby?

Before she could reason it through her self-healing ability lurched to life, sinking her deep into a coma-like sleep.

~*~

Hope fought back to full consciousness. She lay on a stretcher made of what she guessed was clothing bound to two sturdy branches. Her hands were still tied—in front of her this time—but her ankles were free. Her headache and nausea had vanished. Thank the gods for small mercies.

She did a quick sweep of her captors' aureyas. Hues indicating worry, fear, anxiety and concern—not for themselves so much, but for others close to them—wove through their usual colors. The primary emotion she could detect was hope—that _she_ could somehow help them. They hadn't meant to cause her harm. The blow to her head had been the unfortunate result of their desperation.

She came to a decision. "No need to carry me. I can walk on my own."

The stretcher bearers skidded to a halt and Hope scrambled to her feet.

"Watch her." That cautionary voice again—the one who seemed to be in charge.

"Oh, for gods' sakes. Yes, I'm recovered, and could probably do you some damage before I make a run for it. But I'm not going to—try and escape, I mean. So relax."

Profound silence while her captors digested this information. Finally, the one she thought of as their leader asked, "Why?"

"Because I See there's an important reason behind your attempt to abduct me. You need my help and I'll do what I can. But I have a couple of conditions."

"And they are?"

Hope stretched the kinks from her spine and brushed hair from her eyes—difficult with bound wrists. She puffed a few sharp breaths to shift the remaining strands of hair from her face. She must have appeared comical because she sensed the men relaxing. Good. Striving for a reasonable tone, she made her demands. "First you can untie my hands. Then you can do me the courtesy of introducing yourselves. And finally, you can tell me why you need my help."

"We haven't got time for this," someone protested. "Tie her up and gag her."

"You can certainly try." Power filled her. She knew her eyes were glowing when she heard the shuffling of booted feet as the men backed away.

She directed a thread of power to the leather thong around her wrists. It disintegrated. She rubbed her wrists. "Now I'm well again I won't be held against my will. You can try to bind me but we might end up killing each other in the process—and then I won't be much help to anyone, will I? I'm going to start walking." She took a few tentative steps. "Is this the way you want me to head? And perhaps when you're ready, one of you might care to explain what's going on."

She increased her pace, stumbling a little over the unfamiliar terrain. She heard her "captors" muttering amongst themselves before they decided to make the best of a bad situation. One of the men jogged up beside her. "Sehan. I'm Daryon, co-leader of the Usehani."

_Usehani_ meant "Seerless Ones". Interesting.

"And I'm Hope. It would be easier for me if you would take my arm and lead the way, Daryon. It's nigh on impossible to keep to a decent pace when I can't see the terrain."

He grasped her arm beneath the elbow, and when he matched his strides to hers, Hope allowed herself to relax minutely. At least now she wouldn't fall on her face—hard to act the badass when you were smeared with dirt. "Thanks. Now tell me what's wrong, and why you didn't simply ask for help. Surely kidnapping me was a bit drastic?"

"Under the circumstances, no," he said. "A number of people in our settlement are very sick and we need your help as soon as possible."

"Surely a healer would be more appropriate? Blayne, our Panakeya, would have come."

"They don't suffer from a physical ailment."

"Then why not ask Dayamar to help you?" She sensed Daryon's surprise at the question and wondered at it.

"You don't know," he said.

"Don't know what?"

When he didn't reply she lost patience. "I'm not Dayamari, you know, only adopted by them. I come from... well, a long way from here. I didn't even know there _was_ another settlement until you mentioned yours. I've never heard of the Usehani."

"How long have you lived at the First Settlement?"

The _First Settlement_? Quaint name for it. "Not long. Dayamar brought me to the settlement to be his successor and I transformed a couple of weeks after I arrived. I've only recently been elevated to Second Sehan."

His colors roiled. "Wait a minute," he said. "Surely you mean _Third_ Sehan."

"So far as I know, Dayamar and I are the only living Sehani. There was another young woman—the sister of a friend of mine. But she died."

Silence. And then, "How?" The word sounded like it'd been torn from his throat.

"I'm told she didn't want to be a Sehan and couldn't cope with the Seeings. Her gifts destroyed her. Her name was—"

"Katya."

"You knew her."

"She and I hoped to be Joined. We were denied permission. That's why I left."

Daryon's voice sounded flat and empty. Hope probed his public mind and found he'd buried his feelings about Katya too deep for her to extract.

"I believe my teachers have been neglectful, Daryon. I need all the background you can give me about your settlement." Sensing his hesitation she said, "Please. This is important."

"Very well."

To her astonishment and chagrin she learned that, aside from the Usehani settlement, there were _two_ more Dayamari settlements. The one Blayne had been brought her to was the founding settlement, largest of the three. It was officially known as the Primary Settlement, although most people referred to it as the First Settlement. All three settlements were autonomous, with their own elders, healers, tradespeople and dormayres. However Blayne was the primary healer for all settlements—hence his title of Panakeya—and Varon was the elected head of all elders.

Hope hid her shock as best she could, inwardly berating herself for being so terribly naïve as many little snippets of information fell into place. The empty dwellings she'd wondered about must be guest quarters to house other settlement elders and visitors. The incident at her Promising now made sense, too. Dayamar must have summoned simulacrums of the other settlement elders to ratify her elevation to Second Sehan and quell Varon's objections.

How could she have not known this? Doubtless keeping her ignorant was all part of Dayamar's grand plan. But...why?

She forced herself to focus on Daryon as he continued his explanation.

"Ten years ago, Varon decreed every new Joining had to be sanctioned by the elders—himself, in other words. We were told it was merely a formality to help maintain the accuracy of the main records held at the Primary Settlement. I didn't think much of it until Katya and I fell in love and were refused permission to Join. When I demanded to know why, I was told a search of the records had uncovered evidence that I was too closely related to Katya and it would be 'inadvisable' for us to marry."

"If you were close cousins, that might—"

"We weren't cousins." His voice was tight and clipped, as though he didn't dare lose control and let his feelings surface—not even for a second. "I wasn't convinced I was being told the truth. Turned out I wasn't the only one with doubts. A few of us got a look at the records and discovered Varon was encouraging pairings within a particular group—those who were descendents of the first Sehan. I'd been refused permission to Join with Katya because she had Sehani ancestry but I didn't."

Selective breeding? "That's just... wrong."

"Indeed. It was a badly kept secret how much it galled Varon for Dayamar to hold sole authority, while he had to cosset votes from the other elders to maintain his status as First. Apparently he was not prepared to wait until Dayamar passed on to make his move."

Daryon scuffed his boot along the ground, sending small stones scattering and bouncing. "Dayamar showed no signs of letting age slow him down—still doesn't, from what I hear. And Sehani are notoriously long-lived. Varon's aim was to increase the likelihood of newborns with Sehani potential. We suspected he would try to usurp Dayamar's authority as soon as another Sehan was discovered."

"That sounds like the Varon I've come to know and dislike," she said.

A loud snort confirmed Daryon's agreement with that sentiment. "He's a sneaky bastard—always out for himself."

"What did you do?"

"We confronted him at the next annual combined settlement meeting. Many sided with us against Varon. Unfortunately Dayamar backed him."

"Dayamar did _what_?"

"His reasons were valid. He was the only Sehan and an aged one at that. It was imperative a new Sehan be trained before all his knowledge died with him. Unlike Varon, he at least had the welfare of his people at heart. So the majority voted to allow Varon his way, with the proviso it was only until the transformation of another Sehan occurred."

Waves of despair and repressed fury raged through his aureya. Hope squeezed his arm. "Varon will get his comeuppance, I promise you that. My arrival here has caused him no end of headaches. And I'm not about to change my ways and go easy on him now."

"Glad to hear it."

"Tell me the rest."

Daryon took up the thread of his story again. "Even though we understood Dayamar's reasons, a group of us couldn't stomach Varon being in charge. We opted to leave and start a settlement of our own. I knew Varon would pressurize Katya to Join with someone soon, and I pleaded with her to come with us. But she refused. She was young, scared to leave her family and everything she knew."

"I'm so sorry."

He brushed her sympathy aside. "I'm told six months after we left, the Sehani transformation finally took her. She was unconscious for a week with a dangerously high fever. Katya was older than is usual for those undergoing Sehani transformation. Maybe that's why it was so hard on her. I'd hoped to convince her to Join with me once we were settled, but once she transformed I knew I'd lost her. Dayamar would never let her go."

He exhaled, long and loud, and Hope's heart went out to him.

"Varon's pet project was abolished once Katya transformed of course, but by that time we'd already successfully settled in a valley about two weeks journey from the Primary Settlement. None of us felt inclined to reintegrate. And at Varon's insistence, most Dayamari pretended we didn't exist."

Thus a new settlement had been born.

Over the years, Daryon told her, Usehani numbers had swelled to around one hundred and fifty people, as others drifted away from the Dayamari settlements to join them. And often, youngsters specializing in already well-serviced trades were quietly encouraged to resettle with the Usehani.

"We only took you because we thought you were Third Sehan," Daryon said.

"How did you know about me?"

"We periodically send scouts to observe the goings on at the First Settlement," he admitted. "Just out of curiosity, not malice, you understand. Their scouts watch us, too, I'm sure. Anyway, one of our scouts attended a burial—it was easy for him to blend with the crowd. And he spotted you doing... whatever it was you were doing."

"Taking a message from the recently departed to give to his daughter—who happened to be Katya's sister."

"Ah. That is sad news about Janus." He was silent for a long moment before he resumed speaking. "When the scout didn't spot Katya we figured she'd been sent to one of the other settlements. We had no idea she'd died."

Hope filed the information away. It all made sad, perfect sense... except for one thing that gnawed her. "Why didn't you ask Dayamar for help? He wouldn't have refused you. I know he wouldn't."

"We couldn't take the chance Varon would interfere and Dayamar would side with him again."

"I understand. But Dayamar isn't a petty tyrant like Varon. He might be a sneaky, manipulative old man at times, but his heart is in the right place. I wouldn't have asked him to adopt me if I didn't believe that."

Daryon stumbled and she steadied him as best she could. "You asked _Dayamar_ to be your blood-relative?"

"Yes. My father."

"Did he accept?"

"Yes. I'm a constant worry to him, and his habit of keeping things from me drives me to distraction, but we do care about each other. And I'll always be grateful for him allowing me to live with Blayne when—"

"You lived with Blayne?" Daryon's voice sounded strangled.

" _Live_. We're Promised."

"You're _Promised_ to Panakeya Blayne?"

He was starting to sound like the Dayamari equivalent of a broken record. She huffed out an exasperated breath. "Yes."

"Anything else I should know?"

"Um.... Wisa's my mother," she mumbled. Better to get it all out in the open now.

Daryon halted, dragging her around to face him. "You're kidding."

"No. But don't worry. She won't interfere, and I'll insure Dayamar doesn't either. Blayne might take a bit more convincing but he'll come around when he understands the seriousness of this illness your people are suffering from."

"I hope so."

"I'd better talk to him right away though—before he gets too frantic."

"If I know Blayne he'll be more than frantic. He'll be murderous. I sure would be in his boots."

Something in his tone gave her pause. "Daryon, how long was I unconscious?"

"Two days."

She blinked. Crap. He was right. Blayne would definitely be contemplating murder. "I'd better contact them right now—before things get any worse than they already are. Can we stop for a bit? I need to eat, too."

"We can't stop. We need to keep moving."

"That serious?"

"Yes," he said, so bleakly she had to believe him.

"All right. I can do this on the run. Just make sure I don't fall on my face."

As they walked, Hope drew on the energy of all living beings in her immediate vicinity. She wove a thin, tensile strand of thought and flung it toward the First Settlement. Her eyelids fluttered, and she felt Daryon taking a firmer grip on her arm.

Her thought-strand found a beloved, familiar mind and latched onto it. _Blayne can you hear me?_

Hope! Are you all right? Where are you?

I'm fine. I'm with Daryon and his people. They need my help, so I'm going to their settlement.

When I catch that bastard I'm going to—

Calm down. They need me.

I'm coming for you.

I'd expect nothing else.

Tell Daryon to look after you. Or else.

I can look after myself.

I know. I'll see you soon. Be safe. I love you.

I love you, too, Blayne.

His presence faded from her mind and she took a moment to recover from the hollow emptiness he left behind.

Daryon must have read something in her expression for he asked, "What's the bad news?"

"Blayne's coming after us. I get the impression he's not too far behind. He's not happy. If he catches us, he won't go easy on you."

"Shit. We can't afford delays."

"Don't worry, I have an idea. But first, I need something to eat or I'm going to be sick again."

He took her at her word and rummaged around in something—a pack or a pocket—and handed her a bar.

Hope took a bite. It tasted like an earth-style muesli bar. "Thanks."

After she'd demolished the substantial bar, Daryon shared a drink with her. "I wish we had time for tea," she said. "It helps settle my stomach."

He halted in his tracks and released her arm. This time, his men gathered around them.

"What's the matter now, Daryon?" she asked.

"You, Hope. You're the matter. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Stop. Don't say another word." He addressed his men. "You heard everything we talked about, right?" A pause, probably for them to all nod in agreement. "We have to let her go."

"We need her—you know that," one of the men said.

"Rikard's right," Hope interjected.

"How do you know my name?" the man asked.

She waved off his question. "I haven't got time to explain. You can all wait for Blayne to catch up if you want, but me? I'm calling in a favor from Shikari. He owes me one."

~*~

They were mounted on the backs of what Hope assumed passed for horses in Dayamaria. The equine-like creatures were unusually docile and she'd given her mount its head. It sure beat walking.

"Can you please ask the humans to stop thinking so hard?" a voice rumbled near her left ear. "They're making this difficult."

"I've tried," she informed Shikari. "But they're twitchy. How about I shut down their minds for a while, and you make sure they keep their seats."

"Sounds like a plan."

She concentrated on each individual for a moment. _Relax now. You're safe. You're tired and you need rest. Sleep now, all will be well. Trust me, sleep now. Sleep..._

"Finally." Shikari heaved a gusty sigh. "Now I can get on with— Daryon's still awake."

Hope twisted to confront the man seated behind her—supposedly to prevent her falling off and hurting herself. In reality, all he was doing was holding on for dear life. "Do you want to sleep too, Daryon? You'll be perfectly safe, I promise."

"N-no. I'm fine."

He wasn't. Even if Hope hadn't been able to scent his terror, the rigidity of his torso pressed against her back gave him away.

"I'll stay awake in case you need me," he said. "Blayne said to keep you safe."

"That's very brave of you."

_Or very stupid_ , Shikari muttered inside her mind.

Be nice.

"Um, Hope? Why use the animals? I mean, why didn't he—"

"Blur time while you walk? Because you humans are too intelligent," Shikari said. "You'd be aware of what was happening with every step you took, and your unconscious minds would struggle with it. I'm not saying animals aren't intelligent but they don't have the same sense of time passing that humans do. They're much easier to work with and I'm being lazy. Is that a good enough explanation?"

"Uh, yes. Thank you." Daryon's voice squeaked a little.

"You're welcome."

Hope bent forward to pat her mount's neck—not so easy when Daryon was plastered against her back. "Relax," she murmured. "You might even want to capture some of these beasts and domesticate them. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"No, it wouldn't," Shikari said.

"Why not? Surely these creatures would prove quite useful to the Dayamari."

"Like yourself, these beasts are not from around these parts."

"Oh." She prudently changed the subject. "How are our white wolves doing?"

"Very well."

Daryon plucked up the courage to interrupt. "We've sighted a pair of white wolves around our hunting areas. Is there something special about them?"

To pass the time and distract him, Hope told Daryon the story of Shikari's pets.

"Ah. That explains the tall tales some of our hunters have been telling. I'll issue a hunting ban on white wolves."

"Don't," Shikari said. "You'll ruin their fun."

"Ruin their...? Fine. I won't say anything."

"Time to wake everyone up now, Hope," the god said. "It's only a brief walk from here and I need to send these creatures back where they belong."

Hope woke his men and they clambered from their mounts. Daryon noted it took some moments for them to all stand unaided. Uh oh. This didn't bode well.

He slid from his mount... and clenched his jaw until the ground stopped moving. Then he helped Hope from the animal's back. She, he noticed, didn't have any trouble at all with her balance.

"Thanks, Shikari," she told the invisible god. "Give my love to Wisa and Kunnandi."

"I will. Hee-yah! Home you go, my beauties!" The animals galloped off and after a few strides they simply vanished.

Daryon coughed and self-consciously addressed his question to the empty air. "Shikari?"

"Yes, Daryon?"

"Would you help our people? Then we could send Hope home and everyone would be happy."

"I'm truly sorry, Daryon." The god's voice was gruff and heavy with regret. "There are serious strictures imposed on us by forces beyond your ken. We're assisting you as much as we're able, but what's happened to your people is symptomatic of the problem Hope was brought here to solve. It was fated you would choose her to help you—why else do you think it was so easy to abduct her? Have faith. And most importantly, keep her safe until Blayne arrives."

"I'll protect her with my life."

"I sincerely hope that won't be necessary. Be strong, Leader Daryon. Your people will need you. Farewell, little Sehan." And then Shikari, too, was gone.

Daryon's men strode toward the settlement. "Bet they won't be expecting to see us back so soon," Rikard said. "And bet they won't believe how we got here, either."

Daryon joined in the wry laughter, his spirit lighter now he was home with help in tow.

"It's too quiet." Hope gnawed her lower lip. "I can't hear anything at all."

The chatter ceased. Daryon's men eyed each other warily.

"You're right." Daryon tightened his grip on her arm. "Rikard, take Martyn and go find out what's up. Something's not right, I feel it in my bones, so be cautious. We'll wait here for you."

Hope sank to the ground and sat cross-legged. Her eyes unfocussed and her breathing rate slowed.

Daryon stopped his pacing. "What are you doing?"

"Shh! I'm following Rikard. As soon as he finds anything of interest I'll let you know."

"Pity you can't show us what you're seeing," one of the men muttered.

"Good idea." She promptly conjured a huge bubble-like thing. "Take a look," she invited.

Daryon and his men crowded around. Inside the bubble they could see Rikard and Martyn peering through the door into the first dwelling. Empty. The door of the next dwelling was ajar.... Empty, too. They checked another dozen buildings and found not a soul. Daryon witnessed their growing panic as they split up, racing from building to building.

When they met up again, Martyn said, "Let's check the Healing Hall."

They sprinted off. Daryon found himself holding his breath. He released it in a sigh that was almost a moan when the two men discovered the hall was deserted.

"I think we should report back," Rikard was saying.

"They have to be somewhere," Martyn said. "Keep looking."

Rikard cocked his head as though listening to something. "Hope says we should try the meeting hall. Let's go."

They raced off again, and Daryon darted a glance at Hope. Her brow was furrowed with concentration.

"What's that smell?" Martyn's comment reclaimed Daryon's full attention. "Something's burning. Smells like scorched—" He choked, and clapped a hand over his nose.

"Flesh," Hope whispered. "They think it smells like burning flesh."

Daryon's heart skipped a beat. Gods....

The two men rounded the corner of a building and halted. Thick, oily-black smoke streamed in ribbons from a gap beneath the door of the hall. A small group of people stood to one side.

"Kunnandi's teeth!" Martyn backed away. "What's going on?"

Rikard grabbed the nearest person and shook her, demanding answers. She hung limply in his hands, her head lolling. Her companions huddled together, gazes intent on the building.

Martyn edged closer, peering at the woman. Silent tears streaked shiny tracks down her dirty face—a face so twisted with anguish it was barely recognizable as Nerraya, the co-leader of their settlement.

"Rikard, it's Nerraya. I think she's in shock."

Nerraya spoke in a voice that was dull and lifeless. "They're dead. Too many to bury. We had no choice. There are too many."

Martyn retched. Rikard released Nerraya and pulled the neckline of his tunic over his nose and mouth.

Hope's thready moan snapped Daryon from his horror. He tore his gaze from the bubble and squatted next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I-I need to examine one of the bodies before...." She shut her eyes but he'd already seen they were swimming with tears. "Before they burn," she said. "I might be able to discover something that could help us. Go. I'll be all right here."

"Don't do anything dangerous," he said.

"I can't promise that. I have no idea what I'll find."

She retreated inward, leaving Daryon to curse and resume the mantle of a leader, when all he wanted to do was howl and rail against the cruel fate that had stolen so many lives. "Go," he told his grim-faced men. "I promised to keep her safe so I'll stay with her. When she's finished doing... whatever she's doing, I'll take her to my house. Look for me there."

His men sprinted off, and, coward that he was, Daryon couldn't help but feel grateful for the excuse to delay confronting the horrors that awaited him.

Hope's eyes began to glow, burning brighter than the lamps Daryon used to light his house in the evenings. He dropped into a squat before her unnaturally still form and waited, concentrating on the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

A part of Hope had journeyed to another plane, separate from the physical world she inhabited. She hovered outside her body, fully aware of it, but for the moment free of its constraints. She scanned the settlement, and could easily detect the aureyas of the men racing toward the settlement.

She flew onward, seeking, until she located Rikard and Martyn's now-familiar aureyas. Their primary colors were dulled, tainted with bleak black bands. The other survivors were worse, their spirits maimed by what they had experienced. She bolstered their aureyas with as much healing energy as she dared.

It took all her courage to enter the blazing building. And, as she wended her way through the ranks of corpses, it was infinitely worse than she'd feared.

The clothing of a nearby female corpse began to smolder. Hope knew the woman's body was a soulless husk, still, she could not bear to watch her burn. She continued her search.

Around half the bodies were already alight. She fled to the corner farthest from the flames. Something tugged at her and before she could analyze it, she was there, floating over a male corpse.

She entered his body. Now she was a minute traveler, investigating every part of the corpse, searching for clues and— Stark horror crashed down on her. What would happen if she delayed too long and this body began to burn with her essence trapped inside it? She smothered her fears and continued her search.

She sensed nothing. And she was gathering her courage to leave and explore another corpse when she saw it. Somehow, this man had managed to protect a tiny spark of his consciousness in the hope someone—a Sehan—might come looking for it. Delicately she fed energy into the spark and coaxed it to reveal its secrets.

His name, she discovered, was Geramar.

I'm Hope. I'm Sehani—here to help your people. Can you hear me, Geramar?

Thank the gods! Listen to me. I haven't much time. They will come for this part of me soon.

Who? Who will come? Who has done this?

The six old ones. They are ancient and greedy for life-forces. They've lain dormant for centuries, awaiting their chance.

What are they? Are they human?

They were human once. They were young and curious, hungry for power. They dabbled in dark arts until their thirst for power consumed them. And now they consume us.

Where can I find them?

An underground cavern in a valley of lights. It imprisons them but not for much longer.

Where? You must tell me!

No time. They come! You must go now before they take you, too. GO!

Blackness laced with malicious glee. Glowing green eyes. A six-fold presence.

The vivid image of a barren, sand-blasted valley seared Hope's mind. It was replaced by another image—a brilliantly-lit cave housing six shrouded bodies. And then she was thrust back into her body, her ears still throbbing with the echoes of Geramar's scream as they sucked the remaining spark of life-force from his body. And devoured it.

She slumped forward, shaking, weak with relief that she, too, had not been taken.

"Sehan Hope! By the gods, woman, what happened?"

Daryon. He tilted her chin to offer her water and she choked some down. She closed her eyes and again that terrifying darkness threatened. And as she screamed, Daryon swept her into his arms and bore her away.

~*~

## Chapter Nineteen

Daryon burst into his sleeping room with the young Sehan in his arms and Healer Naytan halted mid-pace. Good. He'd been about to send Rikard out to find him. "Put her here," Naytan instructed.

Daryon laid the girl on the mattress and strode back into the main room to consult with Rikard. Naytan didn't envy Rikard a bit the news he was about to impart. Daryon would be gutted.

With a heavy sigh, Naytan turned his focus to the girl his leader had stolen from beneath Dayamar's nose. Thank the gods she was here. Now he wouldn't have to fight this nightmare alone.

She'd curled into a tight ball and lay shivering, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. Naytan tucked a blanket around her and took her pulse. Her heart was racing, skin clammy. Shock, at a guess. He'd never treated a Sehan before. Best wait for Daryon to fill him in before acting.

"What happened to her?" he snapped the instant Daryon re-entered the sleeping room.

In a low voice, Daryon related what he'd witnessed.

"Shock, then. I'll get some sweet tea down her."

Daryon, however, opted not to wait for her to recover. "Hope, it's me, Daryon. Tell me what you Saw." When she didn't respond, he grabbed her shoulder and shook her. Hard.

"For gods' sakes!" Naytan knew Daryon was desperate for answers but still found himself appalled by his friend's rough treatment of the girl.

Daryon curled his lip and snarled. "If she can't tell us what she discovered, bringing her here was a waste of time." He shook her again, and her slight body flopped back and forth on the bed.

"Enough." Naytan grabbed Daryon's arm.

"He's right," the girl whispered. Daryon released her and she wiped her face with shaking hands.

Naytan's guts twisted at the haunted expression in her golden eyes. He knew how she felt. Horrified. Helpless. Powerless. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Not physically." She cleared her throat. "I examined one of the bodies. He was an older man. His name was Geramar. Something about him... called to me."

_Geramar?_ Gods. It made perfect sense. The man had been fascinated by all things Sehani. Naytan relaxed his hands and shook out the cramped muscles. He hadn't even noticed he'd been clenching his fists.

"And?" Daryon prompted, impatient with her hesitancy.

"At first I..." Her voice cracked. "At first I couldn't...."

Naytan gripped her wrists to ground her and pull her back from the past. "You're safe." He exchanged a somber glance with Daryon. A lie. None of them were safe. "When you're ready, please tell us what you found."

"I'm sorry." She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "This man had managed to conceal a fragment of his life-force in the hope that someone like me would discover it. He told me there were six of them—very old beings. Ancient." Her voice steadied, becoming more dispassionate as she related what she'd learned.

Daryon grunted. "An underground cavern in a 'valley of lights'. Not much to go on."

"What will happen if these creatures escape?" Naytan asked.

Her golden gaze told him everything he didn't want to know. "We're doomed?" he said, praying he was wrong.

She gave a terse nod. "As soon as Geramar spoke to me they were aware of him. He knew they would come for him but he risked his soul to give me the information I needed. And somehow, he shoved me back into my body before they could take me, too. But I saw enough to haunt me for the rest of my days. They tore that remaining fragment of his soul from his body and—"

She shuddered. And when she could bring herself to speak again her voice was the merest whisper and Naytan had to strain to hear her words.

"They fed on his soul. He's damned. And it's my fault."

Naytan caged his horror. He couldn't help the dead but he _could_ help her. "None of this is your fault."

Her eyes glistened with furious tears. "There would still be a part of him left if I hadn't alerted those... things by drawing him out. There might have been something I could have done to bring him back."

He shook his head and even managed a wry laugh. "No. Unless you've suddenly morphed from Sehan to god, and can bring men back from the dead, there was nothing you could have done. I checked each body myself before—"

Before I ordered them to be burned.

He sucked in a jagged, painful breath. "I checked each body personally. They were dead. There was nothing you could have done for them."

She straightened her spine, mouth set in a determined line. "We need Dayamar's help. We need to search the histories for references to this 'Valley of Lights'. We have to find it."

"Why?" Daryon, ever the pragmatist, wanted to know.

"Whatever's in that valley is causing this sickness. It's evil. And I was brought to this world to defeat it."

Naytan's ears pricked up at her turn of phrase. "Brought to this _world_?"

She bit her lip and lowered her gaze. "Can you forget you heard me say that?"

"No," Daryon said, coldly blunt. "Not if the survival of the few who remain here depends on you."

"I'm almost too afraid to ask. How many of your people are—"

"Dead?" Naytan supplied bluntly.

She winced. "Yes."

He scrubbed a hand through his short-cropped hair. "There are around fifty of us left."

Daryon turned away, shoulders hunched to hide his expression.

The girl wrapped both arms around her middle. "I'm so sorry, Daryon. I wish I'd gotten us here sooner."

"You got us here faster than I could have."

Daryon's gruff comment piqued Naytan's insatiable curiosity. He scanned the girl's face and mentally kicked himself. Despite her youth she was a Sehan—capable of things he couldn't possibly conceive. He shouldn't be thinking of her as a mere girl.

"You were telling us how you were brought to this world," he said.

"Actually, I was doing no such thing."

"We'd both appreciate the distraction. You'd be doing us a favor."

"You're worse than Dayamar at getting your way," she muttered.

His lips twitched at her tone. Dayamar might get his way but Naytan would bet she made the old Sehan work hard for it. "You can tell us all about it while you eat this snack I prepared for you, and drink this tea. You look like you're about ready to fall over."

"Good idea," Daryon said. "You'll do us no good if you fall ill."

"But—"

"No buts. Do it for your baby's sake."

Naytan shot Daryon a sharp glance before switching his focus to her pale, drawn features. When she took the platter of meat and fruit from him her hand shook. Not a good sign. She was about ready to drop. Only sheer stubbornness was keeping her going. While she ate, he rummaged in his ever-present pouch of herbs and added a little something extra to the tea he planned to give her.

She levered herself up further on the cushions. Encouraged by Daryon, between bites of her meal she related the story of how she'd been brought to Dayamaria.

When she paused, Naytan silently handed her the mug of tea he'd prepared.

"That explains a lot," Daryon said, taking the revelations in his stride. "But how come you speak our language like a native?"

She yawned and her eyelids fluttered. "Wisa told me the gods sped up my process of learning the language."

"Wisa told you?" Naytan prompted gently.

"Yes... my mother... blood-mother..." She closed her eyes, and didn't open them again.

Naytan watched her relax into sleep. "She's out to it."

"Better hope she doesn't find out you drugged her," Daryon said. "She scares me shitless when she's angry."

"Too bad if she does. She needs rest or she'll harm herself and her baby. And I didn't want her contacting Dayamar tonight, either. Call me over-cautious but after what she told us about those things, I figure any display of Sehani power is better left until daylight."

"Agreed. Go get some rest, Naytan. You're exhausted. I'll watch her tonight."

"Do you think that's wise? Being here alone with her, I mean? Blayne—"

Daryon snorted. "I don't give a crap what Blayne might think. But if you want to stay and play chaperone, be my guest."

Naytan subjected him to the healer's eye. Daryon was an energetic man who preferred movement to stillness, and drove his co-leader Nerraya to distraction at meetings by tapping his foot or drumming his fingers on the nearest surface. But now? The stiffness of his stance, his clenched fists, the tightness around his eyes. Daryon was too calm, too controlled. Naytan feared he might implode. And he couldn't afford to let that happen. Nerraya was a mess. The Usehani needed Daryon to be functional.

"I have a bunch of people who'll need herbal assistance if they're to sleep tonight. As will I." A wry sigh eked from Naytan's lips. There wasn't an herb in the world strong enough to give him any peace tonight. "I'll send Kaylia to watch with you. The presence of a trainee healer should serve to keep Blayne out of your hair if it gets back to him that his Promised stayed in your room."

"And the fact I'm highly attracted to Kaylia has nothing to do with your choice of chaperone."

"Of course not."

"You're a real piece of work, Naytan."

"Don't knock it, Daryon. It could be the last chance you have to get friendly with a pretty girl. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?" He checked Hope's pulse and temperature again. Satisfied, he was about to depart when another thought hit him. Abruptly he turned back. "Do you fully understand the implications of Dayamar bringing her to Dayamaria?"

"Obviously he brought her here to help combat this evil. What's your point?"

"Dayamar has Seen this was going to happen." Naytan paled at the thought of living with such nightmarish foreknowledge. "Gods. How does he sleep at night?"

Daryon's lips compressed to a white, bloodless line. "Perhaps he doesn't. I don't much care. But I'd like to know why we weren't warned. In fact, I think I'll have to insist on an explanation."

"Would knowing have made any difference?" Naytan asked. "We couldn't do a thing to save them. She—" he flung a hand toward the sleeping woman "—wouldn't have been able to help them, either. If she'd tried, she would have died, too. Me? I don't think I could have lived with knowing what was to come. I prefer the bliss of ignorance. I'll see you tomorrow."

Daryon glanced at Hope, wondering at the tale she'd spun them. Given what he'd already experienced since meeting her it didn't seem at all implausible.

She sighed in her sleep. Daryon pulled off her boots and covered her again before settling on the floor with his back against the wall to wait for Kaylia.

He was exhausted but the last thing he wanted was sleep. The images of his people burning were etched into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes the horror increased tenfold. Perhaps, if Kaylia were willing, Daryon could ignore his waking nightmares for a time and ease his despair in a woman's arms.

~*~

There was something important she needed to do. Food. She needed food. And water. She stumbled from the sleeping room and smacked into someone. Daryon. He grasped her shoulders to steady her.

"Morning, Sehan. How'd you sleep?"

He sounded weary. She cast a seer's eye over him. He'd locked his emotions up tight but he was stable and functioning. He was a strong man.

"As well as could be expected." Hope cast out her seer-senses to help her get her bearings in the unfamiliar dwelling. "I need to speak to Naytan."

"He's left breakfast for you. And instructions you're not to step foot outside this house until you eat."

She dragged in a long slow breath, held it, and let it out in a sharp puff. "Fine."

The instant she'd settled on a cushion Daryon handed her a cup of tea. This solicitous behavior went beyond hospitality. It was borderline pushy. "I'd prefer water first, please."

"Naytan insists this tea would be better for you."

"Well if Naytan insists," she mimicked. When he didn't rise to her jibe, she took a sip of the hot liquid. "Hmmm. Not bad. What's in it?"

"A bit of this and that."

Apparently Naytan was a skilled herbalist, for by the time she'd finished the tea and eaten a bowlful of porridge, both headache and nausea had receded... and her sluggish mind finally pieced it all together. The healer had slipped something into her drink to make her sleep before she'd had a chance to contact Dayamar.

She slammed the cup on the floor, and was on the brink of demanding Daryon fetch Naytan when the object of her ire made a timely appearance.

"Good morning, Sehan Hope," he said.

She lurched to her feet. "You drugged my tea last night. How could you? People are dying and we need all the help we can get to stop this."

"I did. For a variety of reasons. And we're well aware of that."

The healer's calm, reasonable tones didn't soothe her one iota. She ground her teeth and strove for calm.

"You were in no state to contact him last night," Naytan said.

Enough of calm. Who needed calm? "I'm Sehani, and you had no right to—"

"I don't care what you are. I'm the healer, and while you're here, your health is my responsibility. You're no use to any of us if you become ill or suffer a miscarriage."

Hope felt the flush crawling up her neck to her face. She was acting like a spoiled princess. "You're right. Please forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive. I'm simply doing my job.

She still needed to assert herself, otherwise these alpha males would treat her like some patient in need of coddling, and ride roughshod over her. "And with your permission," she said, "I'd like to do mine."

She sensed Naytan examining her face as if probing for any sign of weakness. If she showed any, she had no doubt she'd be confined to bed-rest. Finally, he said, "Of course. I have other patients to see, so if you will excuse me."

Thank gods for small mercies. Last thing she needed was having to check everything that passed her lips for sleeping draughts. Hope waited until the healer had departed before confronting Daryon. "I need to contact Dayamar and update him on what we've discovered. And this time, I will tolerate no interference from anyone. Is that clear, Leader Daryon?"

"Yes, Sehan Hope."

He'd responded formally to her clipped tones. Good. She'd gotten her point across.

"How long do you need?" he asked.

"A few minutes. Please see that no one disturbs me. May I use the sleeping room from last night?"

"I'll stand guard."

"Thank you."

The little Sehan had a temper on her. Daryon would have bet his right arm she didn't appreciate Blayne—or Dayamar, for that matter—trying to curb her activities.

The instant she pulled the drape closed behind her, he began to pace the floor. He'd never been particularly good at waiting. He was a man of action. That was not to say he acted rashly, but once he'd made up his mind he didn't hesitate. Hence his grand plan to kidnap Hope and bring her here.

Daryon's mood darkened as he recalled how badly she'd been hurt in the scuffle leading to her capture. But he couldn't blame Brin for overreacting. She'd been terrifying and they'd all been more scared of her than any of them cared to admit.

Right. That was about his limit for waiting.

Daryon pushed aside the drape and halted. Hope sat cross-legged on the mattress, her hands resting palm-upward on her knees. It was her unnatural stillness that alarmed him. If not for her eerily glowing golden eyes, she could have been mistaken for an exquisitely lifelike sculpture.

His gaze dropped to her chest. There. A breath. And another.

Thank the gods. Daryon released the breath he'd been holding. He was about to back out of the room when his attention was captured by the glistening sphere bobbing above Hope's left hand. It was about the size of someone's head. And there was an image inside it.

Curious, Daryon edged closer and saw a face. The instant he recognized Dayamar he knew he was in trouble. And then golden Sehani eyes, one pair physically present and one pair magically conjured, fixed unblinkingly on him.

"I greet you, Leader Daryon." The voice that issued from Hope's mouth was not hers. And it was so cold with displeasure the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

"Uh, likewise, Sehan Dayamar."

"You're fortunate Hope has presented a strong case on your behalf, Daryon," Dayamar/Hope said. "Right now I'm feeling less than charitable toward those who harmed my daughter."

The implied threat was all the more menacing issuing from Hope's mouth. Daryon suppressed a shudder by clenching his fists at his side.

"But I find myself even more concerned you felt unable to ask me for assistance," Dayamar/Hope said. "Are our peoples now so estranged? Or is it you believed me capable of that degree of pettiness? I would never refuse to help your people, Daryon. I hoped you knew that."

The old Sehan's voice was tinged with such sadness and regret that Daryon couldn't help but respond. "My actions were a reflection on Varon, not you, Sehan Dayamar. I was desperate."

"Speaking of our redoubtable First Elder, Varon is not coping well with this tragic turn of events. Daryon, I may not agree with your methods, but I understand the reasoning behind them. I've had reports from the other settlements. At least a hundred from each have been struck down, and we have been unable to help the victims. Whatever is causing this is becoming stronger."

A vice squeezed Daryon's chest and he fisted his hand against his breastbone. This wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Strangely, no one from the First Settlement has been affected," Dayamar said. "Yet. Varon believes this is due to my influence. He is adamant I should not leave the settlement but I see no other choice. The Usehani were first to be affected by this scourge, so we will come to you to see what clues we might uncover. Tell Nerraya to expect us late this afternoon."

"Thank you, Sehan Dayamar." Daryon's gut-wrenching dismay at hearing of the other victims was tempered by desperate hope that with Dayamar's presence, the rest of his own people might yet be saved.

"Have you two finished yet?" Hope's voice interjected.

"Yes, my dear. I'll see you tomorrow."

Daryon watched, mesmerized, as Dayamar's features faded and the sphere became opaque.

Hope blinked rapidly and shook herself like a wet wolf. "Oh, that's better. Being shunted off to the side like that is ghastly. It feels like I've been possessed—not that I've ever been possessed but I imagine this is what it would feel like." She uncurled her legs and shuffled off the sleeping platform.

Daryon eyed the sphere bobbing in mid-air behind her. It seemed rather... agitated. "Um, Hope? Haven't you forgotten something?"

"What?"

"That sphere you conjured up seems to be trying to... uh... get your attention."

Her eyes widened. "Oops." She cupped both hands and, like a fish to water, the sphere was drawn to them. A tiny frown creased her brow.

Daryon watched the sphere shrink until with a tiny _pop!_ it vanished.

"Is it gone?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry I intruded. It was unforgivable."

"No real harm done, Daryon." She grinned wickedly at him. "And I won't erase your memory of it either."

"You can do that?" he asked, stunned to his marrow.

"Yes—although it takes some skill, I'm told. I've never tried it before and I'd hate to mess up and accidentally wipe a whole month of your memories."

Daryon forced a smile at this sad attempt at levity. Gods. If only it could truly be that simple for his people to forget the horrors they'd witnessed.

~*~

## Chapter Twenty

Not even the brisk wind could dispel the lingering reek. It permeated buildings, clothing, and even hair, allowing no one respite from their painful memories. Even birds and crickets had deserted the area. Hope, too, longed to escape the stench and the oppressive quiet, but the Usehani needed her.

Because she was a stranger to them, she'd not felt comfortable confronting the grieving survivors with offers of help. She'd resorted to casting out her mind and "fishing" for those who would most benefit from a psychic healing boost. A swift dart of energy, and she was gone before her unsuspecting patient could notice anything untoward.

Unfortunately, it was an inefficient method of providing assistance. Sighing, she bent her mind to the task of helping another despair-ridden mind to heal—this time, face-to-face.

"Naytan." Her voice echoed unnaturally loudly in the deathly quiet. "I know this is a lot to ask of you, but before we go to this meeting Nerraya has called would you tell me exactly what happened while Daryon was away? I'd like to hear your version, please, uncolored by the opinions of others." And it might ease his burden to talk to someone.

The healer snorted. "Nice try. But talking about it isn't going to help."

Hope snagged his forearm with her hand and tugged him to a halt. "I've lost people I loved, too. Sometimes I fear the guilt will crush me."

He didn't respond so she took it as permission to continue. "My whole family died in an accident."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Hope. But how does that make you—?"

"I survived."

He remained silent for a long moment, and then he exhaled a weary breath. "The first cases were a month ago. Six people, all within hours of each other. The next week, another six cases. I tried every cure I could think of but nothing worked. Their bodies were in perfect working order, but they seemed... _emptied_ of their personalities. And each victim's face was frozen in an expression of terrible pain. Some of my trainees could hardly bear to tend them. It was awful.

"After a few days, the first lot of victims stopped breathing. We thought it might have been some form of poisoning and took every step we could think of. But then the others died in the same way. Things began to escalate from there, with new sets of victims every few days—always in groups of six. That's when Daryon took off to fetch you."

Fear clawed Hope's heart. She swallowed once, twice, struggling to keep a neutral face. If she let the fear have its way she would be too paralyzed to act. "What else?"

"Geramar had some theories."

"Geramar." She closed her eyes, reliving the man's immense sacrifice to give her the information she needed.

"It was hoped he would become a Sehan but it was not to be," Naytan said quietly. "You might have met his son? Gerayne?"

Ah. The man who'd assisted her after her encounter with Willem. "Yes."

"Geramar was an historian with a passion for anything to do with Sehani. He kept his eyes and ears open—especially around Dayamar—and he'd gleaned information not known by the general populace. He was an asset to our settlement. Before he was... struck down, he told me about an ancient healing journal documenting a group of people afflicted with similar symptoms. I was going to make it public at the meeting tonight."

"Tell me now. It could be important."

"Geramar told me when the Panakeya of that era couldn't find an underlying physical cause of the sickness, he enlisted the aid of their Sehan. The Sehan couldn't detect any trace of their souls on this plane of existence. However, when he searched the spiritual dimension, he couldn't find a trace of them there, either. Their souls hadn't passed onward, as should happen when people die. Eventually he found them in some sort of limbo. It was as though something had cut each soul off from its physical body, and the body was no longer a priority. Geramar found a passage suggesting the state was self-inflicted."

Hope heard a rubbing sound and guessed Naytan was briskly chafing his arms. She risked probing his surface thoughts.

The healer had seen patients die with dignity and a smile, secure in their belief that death was merely a continuation of a great journey. But to be trapped in limbo, unable to pass on and find peace in the gods' embrace? That was the stuff of nightmares. And so much worse to deliberately court such a state. It was a horror he could barely bring himself to contemplate.

She understood his revulsion. "Naytan?"

He patted her hand. "I'm fine. The record told of six victims only. But in light of the way our people succumbed—in groups of six at a time—Geramar thought the passage might be significant."

"Did the record tell what happened to those six people?"

"That's the bizarre thing. Although he searched for many years, Geramar told me he couldn't find records of their burials. There's a brief entry from their Sehan sometime later indicating he refused to give up hope of finding a cure, and in the meantime, he'd isolated them somewhere and was caring for their bodily needs. The final mention of them is three months after that—an entry by their Panakeya noting no significant change in their circumstances. After that, nothing. Gods only know what happened to them."

An idea pricked Hope's mind but before she ran it past Naytan she needed to verify a few things. And talk to Dayamar. She dug her fingertips into her temples.

"Do you have a headache, Hope?"

"No. It's been a tough couple of days."

"I'm sorry Daryon's men were so rough."

"It wasn't entirely their fault," she felt compelled to admit. "I'm not completely accustomed to my powers yet. Sometimes things just happen and I don't know why or how. It's very frustrating. I mean, I got angry because Daryon's men were scaring the young man I was with, and next thing I'd flattened them. It was like my emotion turned into a physical weapon."

He harrumphed beneath his breath. "It can happen that way with those who come to their powers late," he said. "If Sehani abilities manifest early they're easier to control. Young people are still unconsciously absorbing new things so it's often simply a matter of re-channeling certain instinctual behaviors. The older one is, the more set in one's ways, and the harder to accept and control the power before reacting."

She fist-punched the air. "Yes!"

"What's got you all fired up?" he asked.

"That's the best explanation yet for everything that's happened to me since becoming a Sehan."

"It's merely conjecture, of course. I don't pretend to be an expert. Come on. We're going to be late if we don't get a move on." He tucked her arm in his and walked her to the healing hall.

As they approached, Hope heard several voices—Daryon's among them—raised in heated disagreement. The argument broke off the instant she and Naytan entered the room.

She scanned each person and quickly identified Daryon, Rikard, Martyn, and the other men involved with her abduction. There were a dozen others also present. Delicately, Hope dipped into each person's public mind to glean a few details. The predominant emotion she detected was hope. From one woman, however, she sensed only pain and a barely suppressed hatred. The others automatically deferred to her. This must be Nerraya, the settlement's co-leader.

Hope advanced upon the woman with her hand outstretched. "I greet you, Leader Nerraya. I'm Hope, Second Sehan of the Dayamari."

Nerraya clasped her hand and released it quickly. "Welcome, Sehan. Since you claim to be blind, allow me to introduce you to the tradespeople. This is—"

"Thank you, Leader Nerraya, but introductions will not be necessary." Time to assert herself.

Hope addressed the person standing next to Nerraya and pulled his name from his mind. "I greet you, Mayson." The man stammered a response and she moved on to the next person, continuing until she had greeted each by name.

"Naytan has schooled you well on tonight's attendees."

Nerraya's tone reeked of sarcasm. Hope decided not to let that slur pass. She shrugged. "I'm sure Naytan would have done just that if he hadn't had more pressing matters to discuss."

Nerraya stalked off with an audible huff.

Daryon nudged her. "Don't take it personally, Hope. Nerraya dislikes Sehani in general."

"Why?"

"It's a long story."

"Shorten it. I need to understand the reasons behind her hostility."

"Nerraya was once a settlement elder. She set her sights on Dayamar, but Dayamar rebuffed her advances. He's always stayed aloof from personal relationships. Nerraya took it badly. She publicly announced that Sehani would never be effective spiritual leaders if they didn't take life-partners, and continued to hold themselves separate from the very people they were tasked with advising. Dayamar never rebuked her, but the other elders were so embarrassed they voted her out. Eventually she left and came to us. She's a fair leader, despite her prejudices."

"She should wholeheartedly approve of me then."

"I don't follow."

Hope extracted her kuruvinda necklace from beneath her tunic. "Even though I'm Sehani, I'm Promised to Blayne."

Daryon's sigh ruffled her hair. "If only it were that easy. Nerraya holds her prejudices close. I can't see her changing her opinion after all this time."

"Did Blayne give you that?" Naytan asked.

"Yes."

"It's beautiful. Blayne never does anything by halves."

"Uh oh," Daryon said. "Nerraya's managed to upset someone else. I'd better go talk to her." He rushed off to perform damage control.

"Do you know Blayne well, Naytan?" Hope asked.

"Yes."

She wondered why the healer sounded so terse and closed, but was distracted by a loud argument that begged to be noticed.

"Unacceptable!" a woman screeched. "She's blind. What possible use is she to us?"

Naytan audibly gulped. "Hope," he said, "it might be best if you—"

Too late. Nerraya had already descended like an avenging angel. "Girl, if you're so damn powerful, why are you standing here yapping? What are you doing to save the rest of our people?"

Daryon dogged his co-leader's heels. " _We_ brought her here, Nerraya," he said. "The very least we can do is give her every assistance. Otherwise, why did we bother to snatch her in the first place?"

"I agree." Naytan's voice was hoarse with barely suppressed rage. "We couldn't do anything to save those other poor souls. So what do you expect us to do, Nerraya? Send her home? Stand by and do nothing while the rest of our people are struck down? Let her try to help us, for gods' sakes!"

"How?" Nerraya ranted. "Look at her! She's useless."

Hope channeled the anger churning her stomach and released it. "Enough!" Her roar boiled from her throat, took on a life of its own and smashed a couple of large pottery containers sitting in a corner to smithereens.

Complete and utter silence greeted her.

Unwilling to publicly admit she couldn't fully control her Sehani abilities, Hope decided to brazen it out. "Now I've got your attention.... I understand how you feel. Truly. I'm strong in Sehani power but this is way out of my league. And that's why I've asked Dayamar to assist. He arrives tomorrow."

"Dayamar?" Nerraya said. "I don't think so. He—"

"Nerraya," Daryon interrupted, "believe me, bringing Dayamar here is absolutely necessary. So before he arrives, let's all calm down and discuss what we've discovered so far."

"Do what you like, Daryon. As you always do." And Hope didn't need to see to know that the co-leader had stalked from the hall.

~*~

Nerraya bit down hard on her lower lip. The small sharp pain did nothing to stem her agitation. Beside her, Daryon fidgeted and snatches of whispered conversations drifted to her ears. She wished they would all show some modicum of control. She was on the brink of snapping at everyone to be still but then it would be obvious that she was nervous. She allowed herself a tiny shift of weight to ease her aching back and contented herself with glaring at the young Sehani female.

Arrogant creature.

The girl stood with her eyes closed, serene and oblivious. "They're here," she said, and Nerraya's eyes widened as a patch of air shuddered. The patch then shimmered, and the shimmer expanded to a globule of around seven foot high and four foot wide. Shiny and translucent, it reminded Nerraya of a gigantic bubble.

The bubble bulged outward. Nerraya shrank back as it stretched tight across a shape. A human shape.

One by one, people burst through. She recognized Dayamar, Panakeya Blayne, and Taran, the Master Tracker. Three more men pushed through and then two women, one a plump blonde and the other a striking female who instantly drew male eyes. Nerraya's nostrils flared. That one looked like trouble.

The bubble shrank and then burst, dispersing in a fine rain-like haze of moisture. Nerraya stiffened her spine but before she could even formulate a greeting, Blayne shouldered past her.

She turned to see what, or who, could be more important than herself. And was stunned to witness the Panakeya sweep the young Sehan off her feet and kiss her. The relief on his face as he hugged the young woman, and the answering tears in the girl's eyes, convinced Nerraya as nothing else would have that the two were deeply in love.

A Sehan in love? Astounding.

She abruptly realized she was gaping and shut her mouth with a snap. And Nerraya was bracing herself to greet Dayamar when Blayne set the girl down... and advanced toward Nerraya with an expression on his face that promised physical violence.

Heart in her mouth, Nerraya shuffled back, cringing, but he brushed past her to confront Daryon. And the force of his blow laid Daryon out on the ground.

"Blayne, that's enough!" Dayamar barked.

Blayne extended a hand as Daryon sat up, fingering his jaw. "No hard feelings?"

Daryon clasped his hand. "I was going to let her go. She insisted otherwise."

Blayne favored him with a narrow-eyed, searching look before glancing back at the young Sehan. "She can be quite willful." He hauled Daryon to his feet. "It's good to see you again, Daryon. It's been too long. I'm only sorry it had to be in these circumstances."

The two men slapped each other on the back and then Daryon pulled away to massage his jaw.

"I might have hit you harder than I intended," Blayne said.

"You never were one to pull your punches."

Men. Nerraya snorted. They acted ridiculously at times. She would never understand them.

"Let me take a look at it," Blayne was saying. "Least I can do."

"I think you've caused enough damage, Panakeya." Naytan pushed forward, his posture screaming a challenge.

"Healer Naytan." Blayne inclined his head.

Naytan manipulated Daryon's jaw this way and that. "How's it feel now?"

Daryon jutted his jaw and experimentally contorted his face. "Much better."

Blayne clapped the healer on the shoulder. "Good to see you again, too, Naytan. It's no surprise to me you've become primary healer here. I always knew you had the potential. We were sorry to lose you."

"I was sorry to go. But I just couldn't stay after...." Naytan's voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

"Losing a patient is hard," Blayne said. "And the first is always the worst. Unfortunately it's something we all must learn to cope with. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist practicing healing again, though. It's in your blood."

Nerraya had always wondered what had prompted a skilled healer like Naytan to leave his settlement. They'd not even realized he _was_ a healer until there'd been a serious accident and no one had known what to do. Naytan hadn't been able to stand by and watch the man suffer. He'd stepped in and saved his life.

"The Usehani are lucky to have you, Naytan," Blayne said.

"Yes, we are," Daryon said. "And he's ours. Hands off."

Blayne quirked an eyebrow. "What could I possibly offer him that he doesn't already have?"

"A settlement full of people." Daryon's quiet words effectively cut short the banter.

Panic squirmed in Nerraya's belly. All her carefully rehearsed niceties laced with hidden barbs and innuendos had fled from her mind. And as she struggled to recall the phrases, Dayamar stepped in to take over the introductions.

Nerraya had to duck her head and grit her teeth to stop herself from childishly protesting him usurping her role. She examined him furtively beneath her lashes. Regardless of his advanced age, with his feline golden eyes and spare but muscular physique, he was still a handsome man. And the grace with which he moved, combined with that indefinable aura of power and mystique, had always attracted her. Gods. How she despised him still for humiliating her, for choosing his higher calling over her. For breaking her heart.

She clenched her hands to stop them from shaking. "Thank you for your introductions, Sehan Dayamar," she said, raising her voice to be heard. "I'll have someone show you to your accommodations and we'll meet in a couple of hours to discuss what is to be done."

"Your courtesy is appreciated, Leader Nerraya. But I feel we can settle this matter without wasting precious time on meetings. I'm sure you agree."

She bristled. Unfortunately she couldn't think of a response that wouldn't make it appear she was more interested in upholding her own status than the welfare of her people. With as much dignity as she could muster she said, "Thank you for coming, Sehan Dayamar. I have no doubt our people will be in good hands."

He inclined his head to her, every inch the arrogant Sehan. He hadn't changed. He never would. Dayamaria would always come first.

Nerraya's sigh was full of regret and longing. But when she found herself silently thanking the gods for Dayamar's dedication to his people—and hers—she clamped her lips shut lest she say something she would regret.

~*~

"Thank you, Naytan." Dayamar had listened attentively to his description of Geramar's findings from the old journal and asked his usual probing questions. "I'll search the boundaries of the spiritual plane for traces of the dead," he said. "The spirits of any who have not yet passed on may still linger and be of use to us."

Effortlessly, he sank into a trance. Hope smothered her worry and blanked her expression.

Naytan lowered his voice so as not to disturb Dayamar. "That was a pretty nifty way of traveling," he said to Blayne. "I'm sure Daryon would have liked that more than the one Hope used."

"Care to enlighten me? Dayamar would only say you had assistance." Blayne grasped Hope's hand and ran his thumb over her wrist.

She leaned into him. "Shikari called mounts for us. I don't know what you call them here, but they felt similar to what I know as _horses_. We sat on their backs and he played with time to get us here quickly."

"Why didn't you transport everyone like Dayamar did? Surely it would have been easier."

"I think Shikari plucked the idea from my mind and I must have been wishing for horses at the time. I doubt it would have occurred to me to use the same method as Dayamar, however, because as you are well aware, I don't know everything there is about being a Sehan. How long did it take you to learn to be a healer?" Her tone wasn't as sharp as her words suggested. She was too drained to waste her energy on petty anger.

"It wasn't a criticism," Blayne said. "I've noticed you and Dayamar use completely different methods to achieve similar results. And the methods you choose often seem purely instinctual."

Naytan fidgeted. Hope suspected he had something to say but was unwilling to interrupt.

"Dayamar once commented that the things he finds challenging, I can do easily," she said. "But the converse is also true. He believes it's a strength. I'm not entirely convinced, though."

Naytan couldn't contain himself any longer. "Perhaps it's because of your blindness, Hope. You interact with the world around you very differently to a sighted person. That would have to make a huge difference to the way you use your powers, don't you think?"

"Interesting," Blayne said.

Hope didn't want to get into a philosophical discussion about the way she used her Sehani powers. Even the thought of it made her head ache. She cast about for a change of subject. "How's Varaya getting along with Willem? Do you think they've finally—?" Heat flushed her face. "You know."

"Having her wicked way with him was the last thing on Varaya's mind," Blayne said. "She was very upset about your disappearance—as were we all. If you hadn't contacted me when you did, I was contemplating murder once I caught up with your abductors."

The flat, emotionless tone of his voice told her he'd been deadly serious. "I wasn't that badly hurt," she insisted.

The thumb that was rubbing sensuous circles on the back of her hand halted. "Don't lie to me, Hope. Dayamar could barely detect your life-essence."

"It was a bump on the head. And you know I self-heal."

"Are you willing to test exactly how serious an injury you _can_ heal, because I'm not. And your capacity for self-healing is beside the point."

She knew she'd put both herself and Degan at risk by venturing so far from the settlement. Still, it rankled that Blayne didn't trust her to take care of herself. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"You ventured out alone. You didn't tell anyone where you were going. What if you'd miscarried? You could have died out there before anyone could get to you. Anything could have happened—and it did."

"I'm not helpless. And I had Degan with me."

"A simple-minded boy?" Blayne snorted. "Some protection."

He was right—about Degan affording her little protection, at least. But she was tired of being wrapped in... in... whatever the Dayamari used instead of cotton wool. "I managed on my own for two years after my parents died, Blayne. And—"

"Calm down," Naytan pleaded. "You're making things difficult for Dayamar."

Hope lowered her voice. "Let's fight about something really important. Like, when you planned on telling me about the other two settlements. And the Usehani, too. How am I supposed to help you all if I don't even know half of you exist?"

"Dayamar asked us not to mention it to you. I guess he thought it would be too overwhelming for you on top of everything else. I don't really know."

"Well, he was right about that. I _am_ overwhelmed. How many people are we talking about, Blayne? Just how many people have I been brought here to try and save from who-knows-what?"

"At last count the three settlements numbered around seven thousand people."

Hope bowed her head, the responsibility weighing heavy on her soul. She'd been too late to save many of the Usehani. What if she couldn't save her friends, either? The sickness had already spread to two settlements.

She swallowed the lump that constricted her throat. If she dwelled on the very real chance that she could not live up to Dayamar's expectations—that all her friends would die and she'd be to blame—she would make herself ill. She changed the subject. "How is it Varaya and Maya came with you? Surely they weren't in your original search-party."

Blayne's thumb resumed stroking her skin and the distance that'd yawned between them closed. Hope knew from the colors swirling in his aureya that he was still angry, however. She disengaged her seer-sight. Sometimes it was better to take things at face value.

"The original party had Taran, Cayl, Willem and a couple of others," he said. "After you contacted me, I sent a runner back to inform Dayamar, but he must have already been tracking us psychically. When we stopped for a meal-break, he appeared out of thin air right in front of us, along with Varaya, Maya and Lukas. It's quite a useful trick, that bulging bubble thing. Though I prefer my own two legs."

"Why?" Naytan asked.

"It's like being sucked up and encased in liquid. Your first instinct is to panic and hold your breath. Although you can breathe, it takes more effort. It's extremely cold, too. And silent—like being underwater. Anyway, Dayamar sent two of the men home. And when I quizzed him, he would only hint about making sure certain people were around in case Hope needed her friends for the task ahead."

"More secrets." Hope grimaced. "Gods I'm tired of him keeping secrets from me."

"Sshh!" Naytan said.

Too late. "Are you discussing me, Hope?" Dayamar asked.

"Have you discovered anything?"

He didn't call her on the pathetic attempt at a diversion. "I found traces of those who died," he said. "They've been prevented from passing on and they inhabit a twilight world, neither of the physical plane nor the spiritual. They're traumatized and only capable of emoting their pain and anguish. I dared not tarry any longer. Something malevolent was drawn to my essence."

"The Sehan of that era hid those six people, and the hiding place must have been disguised somehow, or his people would surely have discovered it. I can't believe they would have accepted their Sehan disappearing without doing their utmost to find him." Naytan's tone leaked his inner frustration.

"You make a good point," Dayamar said. "I'm inclined to believe the Sehan expunged all memory of himself and his six charges from his people's minds. That's what I would have done. And remember, Sehani were more numerous in those days. Likely there was a trained successor ready to assume his role."

"What now?" Naytan asked.

"We call a public meeting of everyone—Dayamari _and_ Usehani—to discover whether anyone has heard of this valley, or recognizes the images that Hope saw."

"But it'll take months to organize that. We haven't got time!"

"I'll contact the elders of each settlement. At sundown tonight, I'll have them gather together everyone in and around each settlement's meeting hall. A simple linking of minds will accomplish the rest."

"Won't that take an awful lot of energy?" Hope asked. "And how will you transmit what I saw to everyone?"

"That'll be your task, Daughter. You will implant the images in everyone's mind and I'll lurk and See whether anyone recognizes them."

"Wonderful," she said tartly. "I'm sure I'll figure out how to do that in no time at all."

Blayne squeezed her hand.

"You already have the ability," Dayamar said. "Simply recreate the image in your mind and then join the mind-link. As long as you open your mind, everyone will be able to access what you See."

"Surely no one now living will have seen this place?" Naytan said. "Those six people were interred centuries ago."

"Everyone has a repository of past memories," Dayamar told him. "Memories that have been passed down through generations by their ancestors. I'm hoping the images Hope transmits will trigger some sort of recognition—even the tiniest bit. I'll identify those people and investigate further."

"Ah."

Hope guessed Naytan was carefully filing this information away in his orderly mind. One of these days she must ask him to tell her everything he'd learned about Sehani. It'd be useful to have another perspective.

"Let's join our hosts," Dayamar said. "We shouldn't keep Nerraya waiting any longer."

"Of course, Sehan Dayamar."

As Naytan preceded them from the room, Blayne held Hope back. "When Dayamar could barely sense you I wanted to kill somebody. I don't like to think about what I would have done to Daryon and his men if you had died."

"I'm sorry, truly. But I'm a grown woman and—" She struggled to explain. "I felt stifled by the way everyone looks out for me. Since coming to Dayamaria, I've fallen into your arms and my every need has been provided for. I just needed some time away. From everything. And I chose to take Degan because he isn't so careful of me."

"You can have a place of your own if you'd prefer."

Gods. The pain in his voice. "No. It's not that. Aaaargh, I'm making a mess of this." She raked a hand through her hair and tugged on the ends. "The couple of weeks we traveled together when you first found me have been the only time we've had alone. Ever. I couldn't have you to myself so I opted for the next best thing, which was time for myself. Kind of. If you ignore the fact I dragged Degan along with me. Does that make any sense?"

His silence made her want to throw herself into his arms and beg forgiveness. "Yes, it does," he said finally. "I was hoping to whisk you off somewhere—just the two of us. But there always seemed to be some crisis looming that put my plans on hold. Maybe when this is all over?"

"Sounds wonderful." Hope hugged him, relieved he understood her needs. A pity she couldn't imagine this crisis ending any time soon.

~*~

Nerraya addressed the assemblage and pushed aside the gut-wrenching sense of loss that threatened to overwhelm her. So many faces missing.

"I am your co-leader. Any decisions regarding our welfare must go through me." Gods, that she should even have to remind them, that she should even have to justify herself. But her people were so desperate, they'd thrown themselves on Dayamar's mercy. If he told them to hang upside down from tree branches and howl like wolves they'd rush to oblige him. If he told them the sun shone out of his apprentice, they'd fall at her feet. That girl didn't deserve to be worshipped. No Sehan did. They weren't gods.

Nerraya thrust back her shoulders and tilted her jaw. "I'm not convinced this cave and these things threatening our spirit world aren't figments of an overactive imagination. The girl is embarrassed to admit she doesn't know what to do, and has concocted this tale to make herself seem important. I'll not have her wasting any more of our time."

She'd drawn a breath to continue hammering home her point when she realized her audience's attention had shifted. The back of her neck prickled. She pivoted on her heel to face the newcomers.

Naytan refused to look her in the eye. Panakeya Blayne glowered. They'd heard enough to know she believed the girl was a fake. Too bad. It needed to be said.

Her defiant gaze flit to Dayamar but his smooth countenance revealed nothing. Finally, she spared a glance for the object of her belittling speech.

The girl merely sighed.

Nerraya's lip curled. She wasn't even going to defend herself? Useless, weak-minded creature. A strong man like Panakeya Blayne deserved better.

But the young Sehan did have something to say after all. "Please Nerraya, don't force me to call on your gods to convince you. They won't be impressed with you wasting their time. And I don't believe you and Kunnandi would get on. He does like to take over—as Varon discovered. I will do it if you press me, though. Because unlike your own people, I don't have to put up with your prejudices."

Heat crawled up Nerraya's face. "How dare you speak to me like that!"

The girl's other-worldly golden eyes flashed. "How dare _you_ , Nerraya. I haven't got time for this. Your people don't have time." Her gaze didn't waver from Nerraya's as she said, "Apparently I must convince this foolish woman of our danger, Dayamar. Else she'll be working against us the instant we turn our backs."

"Apparently so, Daughter."

Nerraya ripped her gaze from the girl. _Daughter?_ Since when did Dayamar have a daughter?

"Later, Nerraya." Dayamar cut short the questions that had bubbled to her lips. "I suggest you resume your seat. Hope is somewhat... _flamboyant_ when she demonstrates her abilities."

Nerraya would not to be told what to do, not even by a man who held the highest Dayamari rank. She was Usehani co-leader. Here, Dayamar was nothing. She remained standing.

"You don't have to do this, Hope."

Daryon's anxiety unsettled her and Nerraya chewed her lip. What was she missing?

"If necessary, I'll overrule Nerraya and disband our settlement," he said. "I'll move the Usehani back to the Primary Settlement. I'll do anything to help our people. Anything."

Nerraya's heart skipped a beat and settled like a lump of clay in her chest. "You wouldn't dare."

"Just watch me," he said. "I'm the founding leader of this settlement. And if I were you, Nerraya, I wouldn't put my loyalty to the test right now."

Blayne spoke into the tense silence. "You should be careful who you target, Nerraya. Hope is my Promised, and she's blood-related to all of us here save Taran and Lukas. But none of us take kindly to your insults."

A cold chill swept Nerraya's body. She darted her gaze about the room, pleading for support. But all she saw was desperation. The mass burning and her own too-public breakdown had taken their toll. They'd lost faith in her. She had to prove that she was capable of leading them or she'd lose everything she'd worked so hard to achieve.

"What are you going to believe?" she asked. "Childlike fantasies spun by a young, untried girl, desperate for attention? Or facts laid out by a proven, dedicated leader?"

"If it's proof you need, Nerraya, then proof you will have." The young Sehan raised her arms. Her eyes glowed incandescent as she created skeins of brilliant color and manipulated them with the power of her mind.

A harsh rasping, like a piece of coarse fabric being rent in two, made Nerraya's teeth throb and ache. To her astonishment, a man-sized horizontal fissure had appeared in the air. She locked her awed gasp in her throat.

The Dayamari backed up, leaving Nerraya standing by the young Sehan. Nerraya locked her knees, unwilling to concede an inch.

The girl gestured sharply, and the fissure ripped vertically, then horizontally, and finally diagonally, with each tattered remnant of... of... whatever substance it might be, folding back on itself and molding seamlessly around the fissure's perimeter until only a large circular gap remained.

Nerraya glanced about her, saw eyes and mouths rounded in wonder. She might feel the same, but damned if she would show it. She firmed her lips and fixed her attention on the conjuring again.

Now she beheld a slowly rotating globe of blue, white and deepest green, dotted with glowing multicolored sparks. She blinked. Comprehension burst in her brain. The girl had opened a window to another plane of existence.

"Do you understand what Hope is showing you?" Dayamar asked.

"The spirit world." Nerraya knew with every fiber of her being it was true.

"Yes. And Hope achieved this opening to the incorporeal world with an ease I could not hope to emulate."

It took a few moments to absorb the import of his words and— Nerraya's jaw sagged. How could Dayamar so casually admit his young apprentice had surpassed him?

"Look closer, Nerraya," Hope invited, her voice strangely flat. And compelling. So compelling, Nerraya couldn't resist. Her limbs moved her jerkily forward. She drew on every ounce of her stubborn will, gnawing her lip so hard she drew blood, but the Sehani compulsion was impossible to deny. Step by painful step, Nerraya moved inexorably forward until she stood before the window Hope had opened.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Y-yes," Nerraya managed through clenched teeth.

"Do you know what those little twinkling lights are?"

"No."

"They're the pure energy of soul-lights, each representing the soul of a living being on this world. Yours is there, Nerraya." Hope gestured and one of the tiny lights seemed to separate from the mass and expand. "Look at its beautiful colors. Behold your soul, Nerraya."

Nerraya gazed deep into the rift, drawn to the beauty of her soul's light. It magnified until she could see every individual strand entwining it. Wonder softened her tightly controlled expression.

Hope gestured again and the panorama shrank, moving farther away until the entire world was again visible.

Nerraya smiled. It was so beautiful....

And then it shrank still more, until a foul black mass shrouded the beauty. Something evil had enveloped the world. Only the thin band of pure white light encompassing the sphere prevented it from being entirely smothered.

The mass expanded and contracted, fingerlike tendrils pushing, searching for weaknesses in the protective veil of light. It was... disgusting. Terrifying. Nerraya dug her fingernails into her palms and clenched her jaw to keep from vomiting. "Is— Is it real?" she managed to ask. "Do you show me the truth?"

"Yes, Nerraya. This evil is real. Do you understand what we face now? Do you believe me?"

"Yes!" She dashed tears from her cheeks with the back of her wrist. Wisa's wings, when had she started crying? She sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands in a vain attempt to shut out the truth.

"I was brought here to fight this." Hope's gentle voice cut through her soul-deep horror. "I want to help, Nerraya. Please let me try."

She could only nod. And allow Dayamar to assist her to her feet because her legs shook so badly she couldn't rise on her own. It cut deep that none of her own people had offered. Nerraya supposed she deserved their censure but it hurt all the same.

Hope raised her hands and brought them together slowly, painfully slowly. Little by little, she knit the rent between the two worlds together. The sweat beading her brow was the only outward indication of the inner strength it took to perform this task. When the rift was but a rippling slash in the air, she brought both hands together with a resounding clap and the rift sealed and vanished.

Nerraya gathered the shreds of her self-control. "How is this... this... _infection_ of the spirit world killing our people?"

Hope stepped back, seeking refuge by Blayne's side and leaving the explanations to Dayamar. "We believe the six people mentioned in the ancient histories are still alive in some fashion," he said. "And that they are imprisoned in a cave in this 'Valley of Lights'. They have melded into a six-fold entity and we believe this entity is consuming the life-forces of our people. I don't yet understand how, or why, but I suspect the darkness threatening the spirit world is a manifestation of this entity. As it feeds and grows stronger, so the darkness spreads. It's imperative we discover the whereabouts of this valley and neutralize this being, or we will all suffer the fate of those poor souls you burned."

Nerraya swayed on her feet. Again, no one offered assistance. She stood alone, reaping the folly of her pride-fueled hatred for Dayamar and his kind. She'd almost rebuffed their offers of help. She'd almost sent them away, condemning every survivor in her settlement. She wanted to run away and hide, vomit up her guilt and fear. Pray to the gods for forgiveness.

She stayed on her feet. Her people needed her to be strong. She was their leader.

"Our best chance to locate this Valley of Lights is for me to winnow through everyone's past memories," Dayamar said. "And I mean _everyone_. No exceptions. I need you to gather your people here before last light this evening. I will contact the other settlement elders and instruct them to gather their people also." He seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

Nerraya bowed her head. "It shall be done, Sehan Dayamar."

"I will take my leave. There is much to organize."

"Of course, Sehan Dayamar."

When Daryon remained mute Nerraya almost sagged with relief. She'd half-expected him to call an immediate vote of no confidence in her. And although she deserved to be stripped of her status, it would have broken her heart.

"Do you need my help, Dayamar?" Hope asked.

"No, my dear. Rest while you have the chance."

The young Sehan turned to Nerraya. "I'm sorry," she said.

Nerraya blinked at her. "For what?" she blurted.

"For forcing you to share the burden of what I have Seen. It was unforgivable."

Nerraya swallowed and spoke the stark truth. "Frankly, Sehan Hope, I'm amazed you didn't shriek yourself hoarse and beg the gods to wipe what you've Seen from your mind. That's what I would have done. No, I'm the one who's sorry—for forcing you to relive the horror of it."

Daryon led them back to the guest quarters, a grouping of six small dwellings. Hope couldn't help feeling relieved to leave the stifling confines of the hall. At least Nerraya's startling turnabout boded well for future dealings with the Usehani leader.

She inhaled deeply through her nose. "Mmm, smell those herbs."

Earlier, Daryon had obliged her with a detailed description of the garden and the bench seating that been strategically placed around the perimeter. She appreciated his attention to detail. "Did you deliberately choose this spot because of the water here," she asked him, referring to the well that formed a centerpiece for the garden.

"Breanna, one of our original settlers, has a talent for water divination. With her advice, we designed the whole settlement around the wells."

"I would very much like to meet this woman, Daryon," Dayamar said. "Water divination is an interesting skill."

"Breanna lost her life-partner and son. Naytan is keeping her sedated."

Hope turned her face away so Daryon wouldn't see the tears stinging her eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Blayne said. "If there's anything I can do—"

"There's nothing anyone can do for her. I'll leave you to settle in and return in a couple of hours for an update." The Usehani leader strode off, the pain and misery he tried so hard to keep hidden swirling through his aureya.

"I'll leave you all to your own devices," Dayamar said.

"Are you sure you don't need me?" Hope asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. Put your feet up. Rest." And with that admonishment he retired to his quarters.

"She looks a bit peaky, Blayne," Taran said, his voice gruff. "You need to make sure she rests."

"Taran's right," Maya chimed in. "You should be putting your feet up."

"I agree," Varaya said. "Make her go have a nap."

"Will you all quit fussing? I'm not an invalid."

Apparently Blayne didn't agree. He scooped her into his arms and, ignoring her protests, retired to their quarters. Inside, he dumped her on the sleeping platform and bent her to his will by the simple expedient of giving her a foot massage. It was impossible to stay cross when you were groaning with pleasure.

"Ooh, that feels wonderful."

"Good." He set her foot aside. "Rest. I'll get you a hot drink and something to eat. Uh uh—no arguments."

She snapped her mouth shut.

"Good call." He lifted a tangled lock of hair. "You're a sight, you know."

"I didn't exactly have time to pack a bag."

"Don't remind me," he growled. "But I knew I'd find you, so I packed spare clothes." Pause. "And a comb."

Thank the gods. If she had to spend one more day in these clothes she'd scream. Oh, she knew she could have asked Naytan or Daryon for a change of clothing, but they had enough to worry about already. And with all that had happened, worrying about creature comforts seemed selfish.

"Have I told you I love you?" she said.

"Not lately."

"Well, I do." Without him she'd felt lost, like a piece of her soul was missing. She needed to be close to him now, to feel alive and loved and whole.

She fluttered her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.

"You're supposed to be resting," he said.

"I'm in bed aren't I?"

"Point taken."

The mattress dipped as he crawled toward her.

~*~

## Chapter Twenty-One

The swift onset of darkness only heightened the anxiety emanating from those assembled in the hall. Hope compartmentalized her own emotions and locked them away. She couldn't afford to be affected by them—not if she were to succeed.

She knew Dayamar believed she would cope admirably with task ahead. In his own words, she already surpassed him whenever immense mind-power was required. She felt no pride for that accomplishment, however, only relief that she could shoulder at least some of the burden he bore. Although he made light of it, his own task tonight was incredibly difficult. It would require remarkable skill to sift through the memories of each opened mind without causing lasting damage. Hope had brute force on her side, but not the fine control needed for a task such as this.

"Hush," Dayamar told the restless gathering of people. "I need to verify the other settlements are ready."

Hope lurked on the periphery of his mind, watching closely as he cast out his seer-senses and linked minds with each settlement's appointed spokesperson.

"We will begin now." Dayamar used each spokesperson as a mouthpiece to repeat his words. "I want you all to relax and think of something pleasant—your favorite dish, for example. Mine is hotcakes. Yes, hotcakes still warm from the grill. A mouthwatering stack, dripping with sweet syrup."

As he waffled on about food, his voice worked its magic and Hope sensed a noticeable release of tension from those around her. This was her cue to begin.

Earlier, while attempting to formulate a step-by-step plan to accomplish her task, she'd floundered. And finally she'd decided to do what she always did: rely on her instincts.

First she sought the aureyas of the people she knew well—Dayamar, Blayne, Varaya, and the rest of her Dayamari friends. Their minds were relaxed and open, exuding confidence she would not harm them in any way. Hope visualized her own mind as a golden thread, gossamer-thin but incredibly resilient. She threaded her mind through each individual aureya, linking them one-by-one.

That task complete, she sought more aureyas, weaving each individual Usehani mind into the intricately beautiful tapestry she had wrought. Her weaving affected the participants barely at all. As each mind was brought into the link, its owner felt a barely perceptible tugging sensation, quickly forgotten.

Finally the Usehani linkage was complete and it was time for Hope to move on.

Exhilarated by her success, she soared upward like a tiny a spider riding the breeze on a parachute of silken thread. Ah... there! She sensed the people of the First Settlement.

More confident now, she threaded them together and linked them to her weaving, creating a massive tapestry of minds before moving on to the next settlement. And the next.

Now to visualize the scene she had been shown before Geramar had shoved her to safety. At first it was blurred and lacking color or detail. And then, frame by frame, it sharpened and sprang into vivid relief. A valley. A cave. Lights. Shadows. Shrouded figures. A skeleton clad in tattered remnants of clothing....

Interesting. Hope hadn't remembered that particular detail. What other important details might she have missed? She set the scene in the forefront of her public mind and joined the linkage.

The Dayamari/Usehani mind-link besieged her. She weathered thousands of tiny pricks and prods as each mind accessed her memory before withdrawing to mull over the scene she had revealed. Some minds, unconsciously or perhaps intentionally, attempted to root about in her private thoughts. Hope threw up an impenetrable wall around her thoughts, and gently rebuked each errant mind before sending it on its way.

Just when she believed she might shriek aloud from the strain, it ceased. Her task was complete, and thank the gods for that. Right now she wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion and think of absolutely nothing.

A soothing balm bathed her bruised mind.

Blayne.

_Thank you, my love._ Hope rested a moment, luxuriating in his mental embrace, before reluctantly disengaging.

Dayamar? It's done. They're all yours.

Don't relinquish them yet, Hope. Hold them together while I search.

I understand.

She maintained the linkage but allowed a tiny portion of herself to disengage and observe, wanting to learn from Dayamar's technique. His skill at delicately winnowing through the memories of each mind surpassed anything she might have been able to accomplish on her own.

_Aha! A slight recognition of your memory there... there... and there! I have them. Let the others go now, Hope. Slowly, one by one. There will be resistance but you must persist. You know what to do._ His presence faded from her mind.

Disengaging each individual mind from the link was a painstaking process. Each mind had to be enticed, encouraged to the limit of the link before Hope could carefully sever it and send it on its way. Children were the hardest to reintegrate. Their energetic young minds clung to hers, unwilling to relinquish the novelty of being part of what was almost a hive-mind.

An eternity later, it was done. Hope sank to the floor and curled up with her eyes closed. Her head throbbed in unison with each shallow breath. Right now the relief of swallowing a simple aspirin would have been heavenly.

Blayne's voice intruded on her woeful attempt at peaceful oblivion. "What's wrong, dearling?"

She forced her heavy eyelids open. "You have no idea how exhausting that was."

He slipped an arm about her back and helped her to sit, and she sagged gratefully against him. "You don't look too good," he said.

"My head hurts. I have what my father used to call a 'mother of a headache'." A babble of voices snagged her attention but she couldn't concentrate enough to pick up what they were saying. "What's going on?"

"Nothing much. Everyone's a bit dazed. Dayamar is still at it."

"He's still mind-linked with some of them I think." A sharp pain stabbed her temples. "Ouch. Remind me not to think for a while. It hurts too much."

"All finished, I presume?"

"Seems that way, Naytan," Blayne told the healer.

"What now?"

"Tell Nerraya to send everyone home, but keep an eye on anyone who seems rooted to the spot. Best not disturb them because they might be mind-linked with Dayamar. And do you have anything handy to cope with a headache? A bad one. I don't want to leave her to get a remedy from my pack."

"I'll see to it right away." The healer hurried off.

"Do you think anyone's informed the settlements we have what we needed?" Blayne asked. "They could send everyone else home."

Hope groaned. "I should have thought of that. Is Dayamar finished yet?"

"From the way he's standing? I don't think so."

"I'd better do it. If you can hold me upright for a bit? This won't take long." She gathered her rapidly waning strength and sent her seer-senses rocketing toward the settlements. Luckily the first person she recognized was an elder from the First Settlement, whose familiar mind was easily breached.

Greetings. It's Hope, Second Sehan. We have what we need. Dayamar's identified those who can help. You can send the rest home now. Tell the healers to keep an eye on anyone who seems non-responsive but don't try to wake them. They might be mind-linked with Dayamar.

The next two messages would be more difficult as she'd not met anyone from the other two settlements, and couldn't simply zero in on a familiar mind-signature. Hope cast about and latched onto a vibrant mind and extracted the man's name from his thoughts.

Greetings, Keeton. I'm Second Sehan Hope.

His rather graphic expletive made her smile... and wonder whether it was possible for a human to _do_ that. She accepted his hurried mental apology, and then repeated the same message she'd given the First Settlement elder.

Onward she flew, seeking a mind from the Third Settlement. She'd almost reached the limit of her strength when thankfully, she caught a faint glimmer of masculine energy. She cast out a thought-thread and latched on to him.

He was strong, and fought her intrusion. In a flash that left her reeling, her position was reversed and it was his mind who latched onto hers, holding her in thrall.

Who are you? What are you doing in my mind?

_I'm Hope, Second Sehan._ She struggled to extricate herself from the stranger's powerful mind-grip.

I see. I sensed a new power abroad recently. You've overshot the Third Settlement by many, many miles, girl. You're gifted indeed to have reached this far.

Hope felt herself caught in a vice-like grip. He opened up her mind and peeled back layer after layer like an onion. Not even her most private thoughts were safe from his velvet-gloved invasion.

Girl, you've an interesting past. I'd love you to stay and chat but you've over-extended yourself. I fear you won't be able to return home on your own. Let me help you.

The massive mental boost sent her flying back along the now tenuous thought-thread she had created to her physical body. But as he tried to cut the connection she resisted. _The Third Settlement... have to tell someone...._

Don't fret, girl. I'll let them know. Back you go now. He's waiting for you.

Who are you?

Stubborn little thing, aren't you? I'm Chryss. Call me if you ever need help.

How?

Just holler.

And then he was gone.

Hope's eyelids flew open. For a split second she was disoriented, and then she realized Blayne was still holding her tightly. "I'm finished now," she whispered to him. And closed her eyes again for just a moment.

When she opened them again, her seer-senses told her it was late morning.

Blayne pressed a kiss to her brow. "Morning, sleepyhead."

Hope stretched and yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. And as she blinked and awoke fully to the familiar black-on-black, a painful longing gripped her. Was being able to see the man you loved when you awoke too much to ask?

She fought despair and anger, but it was the anguish that broke her.

"Gods' grief! Whatever's wrong?" Blayne gathered her into his arms and held her tight.

"I-I want to see!" she sobbed against his chest. "I want to see you. I want to... to... wake up in the morning and see your face. It's not fair."

"Sshh. I know, I know. But you don't need to see my face to know how much I love you. And what if you didn't like the way I looked? What would you do then, hmm? Trade me in for someone better looking? Pinch Willem out from under Varaya's nose, perhaps?"

She rewarded his attempt at humor with a watery smile and a half-hearted smack on his chest.

"That's better." He blotted her tears with the sleeve of his tunic. "What brought this on all of a sudden? You've never struck me as someone who rants against things that can't be changed."

"I don't know. Hormones? Aren't emotional outbursts standard fare for pregnant women?"

"That they are."

Her stomach rumbled.

"What do you feel like for breakfast?" he asked.

"I don't feel like eating."

"That's not what your stomach is saying. You need to eat, Hope."

"People are dying."

"I know, dear one. And we have to continue on as best we can."

"I wish...."

He stroked her hair. "What do you wish?"

"That this was over and things could go back to the way they were. I can hardly bear to be in the same room as Daryon—or any of his people. Their despair shrouds me. Trying to counter it leaves me bone-weary."

"Since becoming a healer I've learned there's only one cure for the pain of losing loved ones."

"What's that?"

"Time." Blayne chucked her beneath the chin and kissed the tip of her nose. "Get dressed and I'll whip up some food." He strode from the room.

Hope threw back the covers and realized she was clad in yesterday's tunic. She made her way through to the bathing room and stripped off. It was a pleasant surprise to find warm water in the urn. Blayne must have heated some for her, bless him. And he'd laid out a drying cloth and a change of clothes. She was lucky to have such a thoughtful partner.

She ran a hand over her stomach, and cupped the slight bulge. Her breasts were fuller now, too. Standing sideways, she stuck out her stomach, imagining she was looking into a mirror. But of course it was only pretence.

When she was mostly sure her clothes were on straight, Hope cocked her head, listening for Blayne. He was outside, talking to the others.

"There you are!" Maya called the instant Hope showed her face. "We've all been waiting for you so we could start breakfast."

"We set up an outside grill and cooked up a treat for you," Varaya piped up. "Well, Blayne and Maya have, since I'm still not much of a cook. But Maya's going to teach me."

Hope wasn't convinced by her friend's cheerful tone. She sensed Varaya's fear that she would not come through this alive, that Hope's Seeing of her and Willem together would never be fulfilled.

Poor Varaya. Poor everyone. Gods save them all. "What's all this in aid of, Maya?" she asked, wondering at the hustle and bustle she could hear around her.

"Blayne told us you were starving, and we thought you deserved something special."

"Guess what we're having," Lukas said.

"Hotcakes and syrup?"

"Correct!"

Blayne handed Hope a plate laden with what he told her was a stack of hotcakes liberally doused in sweet syrup. She tucked in, savoring each bite. As she ate, she mentally ticked off each of her companions. "Where's Taran?"

"Off on an errand," Blayne said. "Ah, here he is now. Any luck?" he asked the Master Tracker.

"Helps to know the right people."

Blayne slapped something into a pan. It sizzled and a familiar aroma made Hope's mouth water.

"Oh, my goodness! Is that—?"

"Bacon," Taran said. "Found it curing in the smokehouse."

Maya patted Hope's arm. "Are you ready for the next course?"

Her stomach rumbled again and Maya laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."

Cayl muffled a belch. "Thanks, Hope."

"What are you thanking me for? I didn't do any of the cooking."

"It was your rumbling stomach that resulted in this feast. So any time it's hungry again don't hesitate to let it speak up."

Her spirits lifted. Sharing a meal like this, with her friends—it all felt so normal. She'd just crammed another forkful of bacon into her mouth when she sensed Naytan approaching.

"Dayamar, Hope! We've discovered something important about the Valley of Lights."

The food turned to ashes in her mouth.

~*~

"Where's Dayamar?" Daryon asked the instant Hope and her companions were ushered inside.

"He'll be along shortly," Naytan told his leader. "He's gone to fetch someone."

"Did he tell you who?" Daryon asked.

Hope didn't need to be Sehani to sense Daryon's impatience. The muted sound she heard was probably him tapping his fingers on his biceps or knee. And then Dayamar entered the hall.

Hope heard indrawn breaths. Anger and dismay swirled around her. The tension skyrocketed. With so much at stake, now was not the time to worry about observing the niceties: She borrowed Naytan's eyes. She'd practiced this over and over again with Blayne and her close friends, and the invasion was seamless with Naytan none the wiser.

Through the healer's eyes, Hope watched Dayamar lead a pale, drooping figure by the hand. The woman's features were obscured by her lank unwashed hair.

"What possessed you, Sehan Dayamar? She's in no state to be here! Last night was hard enough on her." Naytan strode toward the woman, hand outstretched. "Come with me, Breanna. I'll take you home."

Dayamar drew the woman forward. "Breanna assures me she is well enough to attend."

Naytan halted, peering into the woman's face. "Are you sure?" he asked her, his voice gentle. "You don't have to do this."

The woman raised her head. Her eyes burned with fanatical zeal. They were the only part of her that seemed alive. "Yes, Naytan, I do. Sehan Dayamar assures me I can be of help. So I _will_ help."

Hope recalled Daryon saying this woman was skilled in water-divination. Mere months ago Hope would have dismissed Breanna as a bit of a flake. Now she kept an open mind. In Dayamaria, land of seers and gods, anything was possible.

Before withdrawing from Naytan's mind, Hope eased his guilt over not being able to save Breanna's family. It was the least she could do.

"How can I help you, Sehan Dayamar?" Breanna asked. "I can't imagine the Dayamari requiring new wells."

"They don't. During last evening's meeting I accessed memories from a number of people who'd heard talk of a place that fits the description of a 'Valley of Lights.' Does that mean anything to you, Breanna?"

"I'm sorry, but no."

Undeterred, Dayamar continued. "One of Naytan's group of helpers knows of a place that fits the description. You may know it too, Breanna. And you have earth-sense as well as an affinity for water, is that not so?"

"Yes. There's little point digging for water if it's hidden deep beneath layers of impenetrable rock."

"Exactly. Your skills may help us locate an underground cave in this valley."

"I can't promise anything but I will try my best."

"What do we do once we find the cave?" Nerraya asked.

"First we narrow down the location of the Valley of Lights. Then we will decide what must be done. Naytan, will you tell us what you've discovered?"

"My trainee healer Kaylia remembers her grandfather telling of seeing strange lights at night in a barren valley a few weeks travel north of here. The whole area is dotted with caves."

"The area was never settled because people were superstitious and preferred to avoid it," Kaylia piped up.

"When I was a child," Breanna said, "my father told me _his_ grandfather told of a strange valley with eerie lights that danced about the place at night. We were told it was a dangerous place and never to go exploring there."

"Taran," Dayamar prompted. "I believe you have something to add."

"I might have been there." The Master Tracker's careful statement drew everyone's full attention. "A decade ago I found some strange tracks that drew me to such a place. It was near dusk so I remember deciding it would be foolish to explore further. And then I—" He expelled a sharp breath. "I lost track of time. I don't know how else to explain it. Next thing I knew, I was halfway down the path leading into the valley with both hands outstretched toward the lights."

"Go on," Dayamar said, and although his tone was carefully neutral, Hope sensed his eagerness.

"Looking back on it, I feel like I was encouraged to explore despite my better judgment," the Master Tracker said. "Eventually the trail disappeared into one of the many underground caves. By this time, it was completely dark, and you'd have to be an idiot to go exploring underground caves at night without a decent light-source. I'm no idiot, but it took all my will to walk away. The place wanted me. And if I'd been less stubborn, it would have had me. Never been back since."

"In the past few years a small number of people from the settlement have gone missing," Daryon said. "We sent out search parties but found no trace of them. Sehan Dayamar, do you think—?"

"I do."

"We've found it!" Naytan crowed.

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet, Healer," Taran said. "There are many caves in that region. It's rumored some lead to tunnels that run for miles underground. Could take months to locate the exact one we're looking for."

"Will you help us, Breanna?" Dayamar asked.

"What have I got to lose?"

Hope shivered at the fatalistic undertone in the woman's words. Breanna no longer cared whether she lived or died.

Chilled to the depths of her soul, Hope rubbed her arms. She was hurtling headlong into the destiny Dayamar had foreseen... and she feared she wasn't ready to meet it.

~*~

## Chapter Twenty-Two

Taran halted the group. "We'll stop here for a bit."

Hope flopped to the ground and stretched out her legs, wiggling her toes to ease her aching feet. They'd been traveling for four solid days. Only a healthy dose of sheer stubbornness had helped her make it through each day. And she was too bone-weary to muster a protest when the men in the group took turns carrying her pack, but didn't offer the same courtesy to Maya or Varaya. Frankly, she was grateful for the special treatment.

Aside from herself and Dayamar, the Dayamari contingent consisted of Blayne, Cayl and Maya, Willem and Varaya, Taran and Lukas, his apprentice. The Usehani were represented by Daryon, Naytan and Breanna. Dayamar had "bubbled" them all as near to the Valley of Lights as he dared, and insisted they travel the remainder of the journey on foot. No one argued. Hope guessed Dayamar wanted to minimize the chances the Big Bad lurking in the cave would sense them approaching. And in a rare private moment, he admitted large outputs of psychic power disturbed the atmosphere, and were easy to track if one was adept.

Despite his assertion they were only attempting to confirm the location of the valley, Hope knew in her bones they were heading toward a confrontation.

Taran urged them all onward again. "At our present rate we'll reach the entrance to the valley by nightfall," he said.

Hope struggled to her feet. Please gods, keep us all safe....

~*~

Taran led them through a stand of trees and let everyone stop to catch their breaths. Blayne draped an arm about Hope's shoulders as he described the hills ringing the valley. The tension in his body put her even more on edge. She wasn't the only one feeling the strain. Even the normally irrepressible Cayl was unnaturally quiet and subdued.

With each passing mile, Hope's footsteps dragged and grew heavier, until it seemed like there were leaden weights attached to her legs. Finally, as dusk fell, Taran called a halt. "Best we make camp here. We shouldn't attempt the descent in poor light when we're tired. The path down into the valley is more treacherous than it appears."

Dayamar agreed. "We'll make the descent at first light tomorrow. That will give us maximum daylight hours to locate the cave."

Silence descended as they went about the now familiar routine of establishing a camp. Hope tried her best, but found it difficult to concentrate on even the simplest of tasks. She was under siege, battered by a welter of emotions: fear, despair, longing for home, fury at being forced on this pointless journey. Finally she'd had enough. Hands on hips and feet apart for balance, she lifted her chin and shrieked, "Stop it right now!"

"Stop what?" Varaya whispered.

"All the negative things you're thinking! They're driving me crazy. Don't you all realize what's happening?"

"What are you talking about?" Blayne gripped Hope's forearm but she shook off his hand.

"Remember Taran saying he thought he'd been 'encouraged' to explore the caves? Something is messing with your minds. It wants you to leave. It doesn't like you being here and it's trying to scare you off. Don't you feel it?"

"She's right," a voice boomed.

Blayne dragged her behind him, and Hope detected the ominous scrape of hunting knives being drawn from leather sheaths.

"Tell us who you are." Dayamar had infused his voice with a strong compulsion.

"Uh uh, Sehan," the stranger said. "None of that."

Hope recognized the voice. "You!" She stepped out from behind Blayne but he hooked an arm about her waist and jerked her back against his chest.

"It's all right, Blayne. He won't harm us. Will you, Chryss?"

"Right again, girl," the man said. "You did good bringing her to Dayamaria, old man."

"How could you know about Hope?" Dayamar sounded flummoxed—something Hope had never imagined she would witness in a million years. "And more to the point," Dayamar said, "Hope, how do you know this man?"

Chryss gave a deep rumbling chuckle. "I know many things. I sensed it when you opened the gate between worlds and brought someone through. Took a lot of strength to do that, eh, old man? I knew when the seer-power took her, too. Didn't take a genius to figure out there was a new adept in the land. And she's a strong one. Very strong. That's how she contacted me. Missed the Third Settlement by miles and reached me instead, didn't you, girl?"

"Why didn't you tell me about this, Hope?"

She hadn't meant to deceive Dayamar. In truth, she'd had so many other things to worry about the encounter had slipped her mind. Rather than admit it, she ignored Dayamar's question. "I didn't call for help but I'm glad you're here, Chryss."

"Happens you _did_ call me, girl. Your mind has been roaming willy-nilly ever since you set out on this journey. Three days ago I felt your call. Figured you were headed here and decided to meet you."

"I have a few questions—"

"I bet you do, old man. So I'll tell you this for free: Ferreting about in my head is a waste of your energy. I hold my secrets close. All you need to know is I'm here to assist. Ask your little apprentice. She knows."

"He's telling the truth," Hope said. "I don't understand how or why I know, but we need him."

"And thirteen is a luckier number than twelve, don't you think so, old man?"

Dayamar's muffled imprecation provoked Chryss to roar with laughter.

"I wish someone would let me in on the joke," Cayl muttered.

Blayne's slow exhalation ruffled Hope's hair. "I trust Hope's judgment," he said, and squeezed her arm. "Let him stay."

"Good choice, Panakeya. Not that you could force me to go, in any case. Now let's see what we can do about this negative energy affecting everyone's mood. Time for you and me to put our heads together, Sehan Dayamar. If you'll excuse us a minute?"

Dayamar was wary of the newcomer—Blayne could tell from his fiercely knit brows and the tension in his spine as he followed the big man. But after a few minutes of listening to whatever Chryss had to say, Dayamar relaxed. And by the time the big man had finally stated his piece, Dayamar's face sported a smile.

Good. Blayne hadn't relished the prospect of backing Hope over Dayamar if the old Sehan had decided to reject Chryss's offer of assistance.

He beckoned everyone into a huddle so they wouldn't be overheard. Hope seemed preoccupied, so he left her to her thoughts. "That's two of us he's won over. Be honest, what do the rest of you think of him?"

"I back Sehan Hope, no question about it." Taran scratched his beard as his gaze drifted to Chryss. "Even if he's not Sehani, it appears the man has powers of his own. Might be useful having another adept around."

Blayne understood the implications behind the tracker's words. They were relying on an old man and a pregnant blind woman to protect them from whatever was in the cave. Not overly good odds, no matter how skilled Dayamar and Hope might be. And Hope's powers were often unpredictable.

"I agree with Taran," Naytan said. "We need all the help we can get."

Willem was not so easily swayed. "I don't trust him. And I won't until he proves himself. I'll be keeping a close eye on him."

"I'm with you, Willem," Cayl said.

Varaya flipped her braid back over her shoulder. "If this Chryss has anything to do with how much more positive I'm feeling right now, I'm happy for him to stick around."

When the others had nothing further to add, Cayl said. "Anyone hungry?"

Maya sighed. "How you can think of your stomach at a time like this is beyond me. All right, let's get some food organized. Hope," she called. "What do you feel like eating? Hope?"

Blayne pivoted, and his stomach performed a lazy roll. Hope's face was pale, eyes wide and unfocussed. She swayed slightly, as though buffeted by an unseen breeze. He'd taken but two strides, and was reaching out to steady her, when a voice resounded loudly in his mind.

No! Don't touch her.

Blayne whipped back his outstretched hand and let it fall to his side. His fists clenched. "Why not?" he asked, dark and dangerous.

She's entranced, Panakeya. Right now her mind is linked with ours. She was eavesdropping and inadvertently joined us. If you disturb her, her mind will snap back to her physical body and she'll be left with a killer headache she won't thank you for.

"What can I do for her?" he asked. "How can I help her?"

"Who are you speaking to, Blayne?" Maya's gaze darted about, seeking an unseen presence.

Blayne flung up a cautionary hand. "Chryss says not to touch her."

_We're nearly finished here—it goes more swiftly with her assistance. She'll come back to herself in a minute or two. Just watch_.

"You'd better be right," he growled and heard Chryss chuckle before his mental voice faded.

"Blayne?" Maya batted his arm. "What's going on?"

"Hope's mind-linked with Dayamar and Chryss. I'm told she'll be back with us shortly."

"You're told? How—? Never mind. I'll stick to things I can understand. Like cooking a meal for my bottomless pit of a life-partner."

Naytan sauntered up to nudge Blayne in the ribs. "Never a dull moment with Sehani, eh?"

Blayne grunted. "Try being Promised to one."

"I can imagine. Look. She's coming around."

Hope blinked. Blayne closed the gap between them and touched her arm. He exhaled in a relieved whoosh as her eyes focused in his direction. "Hello, you," he said. "You're back. Everything okay?"

"Yes."

"Hungry?"

"Mmm."

"Let's go eat then." Tucking her beneath his arm, he led her back to Maya and the others. He caught Naytan's expression as he turned away. Right now the healer was probably hoping that if _he_ ever fell in love, it would be with a "normal" woman. But Blayne wouldn't have Hope any other way.

Dayamar and Chryss rejoined them. "Thanks for your assistance, girl," Chryss rumbled. "But next time, ask first."

Hope hung her head. "I'm sorry. I was curious."

"Hmph. You know what they say about curiosity, don't you? It killed the cub."

She lifted her chin, eyes flashing at the big man. "Point taken. And my name is Hope, not girl."

Chryss guffawed. "Feisty, aren't you? All right. Point taken, _Hope_. How's everyone feel now?"

"Much better, thanks," Varaya said.

"We do good work, don't we, old man?"

"Indeed we do, Chryss." Dayamar had recovered his composure. "It was a pleasure to work with you."

"Likewise," the big man rumbled. "What's to eat? I'm starving."

"A man after my own heart," Cayl said.

~*~

Hope had curled up beside Blayne in a spot close to the fire. Indulging his curiosity, he asked her to explain what Chryss and Dayamar had done.

"They didn't want to alert the... _whatever_ , by negating its influence," she told him. "Instead, they disguised us—made us seem part of the scenery, like trees and such. So now the influence just ignores us and passes us by."

"Clever."

"Yes." She yawned. "I don't know what to make of Chryss. He's... unusual."

"What do you mean?" Blayne levered himself up on one elbow but she'd already closed her eyes. He tucked the bedroll around her shoulders and then scanned the campsite, cocking his head to listen intently to the sounds of the night. Reassured that all was well, he was about to settle down again when he sensed he was being watched.

He glanced around and caught Chryss's gaze. The big man had offered to keep first watch during the night and was hunkered down on the outskirts of the camp. He gave Blayne a thumbs-up sign and turned away.

Blayne's last conscious thought before fatigue dragged him into sleep was that he could have sworn Chryss's brown eyes had flashed to gold.

~*~

Hope and her companions all woke within minutes of each other and quietly went about breaking camp and preparing a light meal. When they'd finished their tasks, they stood about in the faint dawn light until the silence became awkward.

"Don't look at me," Chryss said. "Dayamar's in charge of this expedition. I'm simply along for the ride."

"Why didn't you wake me to take my turn at watch?" Daryon asked, his tone coldly suspicious. "You look far too alert for someone who sat up all night."

"Don't need much sleep when you get to be my age."

"And what age is that?" Varaya had to ask.

Hope delved into her friend's surface thoughts... and justified the intrusion by telling herself it was necessary. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't read Chryss at all. Psychically, he was the equivalent of a block of granite. Perhaps using physical sight, courtesy of Varaya, would reveal something to satisfy her curiosity.

Seen through Varaya's eyes, Chryss was a weather-beaten bear of a man, heavily muscled and topping around seven foot. A mop of shoulder-length curly blond hair contrasted with his red-gold toned beard. Deep-set brown eyes, an almost too-large nose sprinkled with freckles, and a generous mouth completed the picture. He was garbed in patched and worn leather, and Varaya thought he might efficiently fade into the background if he didn't want to be seen. She estimated him to be somewhere between his fourth and fifth decade, though he exuded a sense of great age that both repelled and attracted her.

Chryss's eyes glinted. "Too old for the likes of you, girl, that's for sure. I'm much older than you can imagine."

_And_ you _won't learn anything about me by lurking in other people's minds. Didn't the old man teach you any manners?_

Hope gave a startled squeak and left Varaya's mind in such a rush she nearly lost her balance.

Blayne steadied her with a hand on her forearm. "What's wrong?"

She blushed. "Nothing. I, uh, tripped."

Dayamar neatly diverted Blayne's attention by suggesting they be on their way. And if the old Sehan had learned anything of interest about their new traveling companion he kept it to himself.

The sun approached its zenith by the time the party reached the floor of the deserted valley. No one had spoken during the descent. Hope's skin felt paper-dry, her mouth parched. Tension thrummed through her muscles and adrenaline flooded her veins. Her body was preparing for that most basic of human instincts, fight or flight. But flight wasn't an option.

She forced each muscle to relax and flopped to the ground, coughing as she kicked up a cloud of fine dust. "Will someone please describe this place to me? I want to know if I'm going mad."

Cayl's thought came through loud and clear. _That's all we need—an insane Sehan._

Hope snorted. "Don't worry, Cayl. I'm not losing my mind. I simply want to know whether this place looks as bad as it feels."

"It's awful," he finally said.

"I agree." Breanna's voice startled Hope, forcing her to fight to school her expression. Unless spoken to directly, Breanna had remained mute throughout the journey. It was a huge surprise that she would volunteer information.

"There's not an ounce of moisture in the place," Breanna said. "It's completely barren." She paused to gather her thoughts. "This valley looks like it's been fired at some stage. But there are no signs of the regeneration one would expect from a natural burning. No plants or foliage, no animals or insects... nothing living at all. We're standing in the only relatively clear area. The rest is littered with boulders and rubble. By all reports this place has been here for generations, so the rocks should show some signs of weathering from the elements. But each piece of rock is jagged and sharp, like it's been newly split by someone. Or something."

Hope suppressed a shudder. "I get a sense of being surrounded by something menacing."

"We _are_ surrounded," Taran told her. "By massive boulders. They loom over us like they'd be delighted to crush us. It's a warped and twisted gods-forsaken place. Nothing looks natural."

"I suppose this is where I come in, Sehan Dayamar," Breanna said. "What do you want me to do?"

"We're looking for a cave of a particular structure. With your permission, I'll insert the picture directly into your mind."

"Go ahead."

The wait seemed interminable. And then Breanna said, "I'll see what I can do."

Hope listened carefully and heard the scuff of Breanna's boots as she slowly paced the dry dusty ground. She halted, and a monotonous humming drifted to Hope's ears. She had the sense of Breanna communing with the stone. This time, Hope kept a tight rein on her curiosity despite her desire to See what the woman was doing, and learn how she wielded her talent.

When Breanna finally spoke her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "It's here, beneath us. The entrance is over there."

For Hope's benefit, Breanna described a small cleft partially obscured by a large boulder. "It leads to a large tunnel that's perhaps wide enough for two people to stand side-by-side. The tunnel goes down for quite some distance before spiraling around itself and widening into a huge cavern, directly beneath our feet." A hesitation and then, "It doesn't seem possible it could be a natural formation at all."

"Are you sure this is it, Breanna?" Daryon said.

"Have you known me to be wrong yet, Leader Daryon?"

"Er... No."

"Do you think the Sehan might have constructed it all those centuries ago to hide those six people?" Naytan asked.

"This area is much more ancient than that, Healer," Chryss told him. "Though the girl is correct: It's not a natural formation. More than that I can't tell you."

"How did the Sehan get them down to the cavern?" the ever-curious healer wanted to know.

"Likely he dragged them down one-by-one," Blayne said. "It would have taken him quite some time, I imagine. And afterward, he blocked the entrance to make it difficult for anyone to explore."

"It'll be a tight squeeze," Daryon said. "But if we work out a way to push aside that boulder, we should all fit—"

"We must not disturb the entrance," Dayamar interrupted.

"But—"

"We don't want to alert it to our presence if we can avoid it."

"Then how—?"

"Full of questions, aren't you?" Chryss chuckled. "Remind me of myself when I was a youngling—ready to jump in the deep end without much thought for the consequences."

"Uhhh!"

Hope guessed from Daryon's grunt that Chryss had given him a hearty slap on the shoulder, which had most likely almost knocked the Usehani leader off his feet. "What next then?" Daryon asked.

"You're not going to like this," Dayamar told him, "but only three of us are going into this cave."

"And those three would be?" Blayne's tone was flat and emotionless but his aureya roiled.

"Myself, Hope, and Chryss."

Before Blayne could respond, Daryon exploded into laughter. "Hope and Sehan Dayamar I could see squeezing through that gap. But him?" His snort indicated he was referring to Chryss's massive form. "You've got to be kidding me."

"We have our methods," Dayamar said.

"If that was your plan all along, why drag the rest of us along?" Naytan asked, frustration and anger clipping his words. "I could have stayed behind to help Kaylia with the survivors."

"You're all important to the outcome of this confrontation, Healer," Chryss rumbled. "And yours is a harder task than ours, I think."

"What task might that be, big man?"

"To wait. You're here because you're important to Hope. She needs you all close by."

Daryon snarled. "I don't like this at all."

"I don't like it, either." Blayne rounded on Dayamar, the full force of his strong-willed personality centered on the old Sehan. "What makes you think I'm letting Hope go with you?" This time he hooked both hands firmly around her middle and pulled her close to his chest.

"What makes you think you can stop me?" Hope countered softly, tilting her face upward. "This is what I was brought here to do. I have to do it. I have to try."

"What happened to 'just going to take a look'?" Cayl demanded. "When did it turn into a 'confrontation', eh? And how do you know so much about all this, big man?"

"That's a conversation for another time," Chryss told him. "We need to move fast. I have no desire to be down in that cave when darkness falls. It's now or never, Dayamar."

"Now," Dayamar said. "Hope?"

"I'm sorry Blayne. I have to do this." She turned in his arms and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to the side of his mouth before pulling away.

He grabbed her hand, tugging her back to face him. "Promise me you'll come back to me, Hope. Promise me."

"I promise. I love you, you know."

With one last squeeze he released her hand. "I know. And I love you, too."

He could see the same fears he strove so hard to hide etched on her face. And he yearned to grab her hand again, to keep hold of her and never let her go. But he knew she couldn't allow his fears—or her own—to sway her from the task ahead.

"Whatever happens, don't try to come after us," Dayamar told him. "You'll soon know whether we've succeeded." He turned his attention to Hope. "I'll lead. Hope, you go next, and Chryss last."

Blayne backed away, his gaze fixed on the trio now standing to one side of the large boulder disguising the cave entrance.

Dayamar gripped Hope's hand. "I'll lead you through the process this first time." He stepped into the solid rock and it seemed to slowly absorb his body until he'd almost disappeared from view. Only the hand that still clutched Hope's was visible, protruding from the stone like a severed limb.

Cayl shuddered. "Gods. That's just... unnatural. I can feel my hair standing on end."

Blayne watched the woman he loved slowly melt into the rock. And then Chryss dived in and disappeared from view.

Beside Blayne, Willem sucked in a sharp breath. "I can't sense Hope through our link. It's like it's been pinched off."

Blayne tore his gaze from the bleak uncompromising stone and strode away, fists clenched at his side, jaw working. He'd never felt so useless, so powerless.

~*~

## Chapter Twenty-Three

Hope's journey through solid rock felt like pushing through a wall of not-quite-set Jell-O. Every time she moved, the rock seemed to flow back to fill the gaps her body left. The trick was to keep moving steadily and not think too hard about what she was doing. And, just when she was getting the hang of it, she broke through into a tunnel.

"This is the main tunnel leading down to the cavern," Dayamar murmured. "It should be much easier going from here."

They continued onward, picking their way carefully along the rubble-strewn pathway. Chryss had squeezed past Hope, and now he grasped her hand, assisting her whenever needed. Not once did _he_ falter, however. She wouldn't have been at all surprised to learn he could see in the dark.

Since adapting to her blindness, lack of light had never concerned Hope overly much. But this darkness oppressed and unsettled, and led her thoughts down a sinister, twisted path. Chryss squeezed her hand, offering reassurance. Doubtless he'd divined her thoughts, too.

Abruptly the darkness morphed into something more intense, reeking of malevolence.

"We're getting closer to the cavern," Dayamar whispered for Hope's benefit. But his caution was unnecessary. She could sense it. Nameless fears battered her. Dread wormed down her spine.

I'm going to die horribly, painfully—here in the darkness, alone. I'm going to die. I'm going to— Shut up! I know what you're trying to do and it won't work. Leave. Me. Alone!

Instantly her mind quieted... only to be filled by Chryss's mental voice. _Good work, girl. Chin up. Nearly there._

That's what I'm afraid of.

No point being afraid. What happens, happens. We can only do our best and trust we will prevail.

What if our best isn't enough?

Can't dwell on 'what ifs'. That way lies a direct path to insanity. Have faith in yourself. You were brought here for a reason. Dayamar believes in you. Those people waiting aboveground believe in you. And I believe in you, too. Now you only need to believe in yourself. You are the key.

_What do you mean?_ But his voice had faded from her mind.

"The cavern is just around this bend in the tunnel," Dayamar whispered. "Be ready!"

Ready for what? Hope desperately wished she knew.

Chryss held his breath as Dayamar poked his head around the edge of the tunnel. He told himself—as he'd done time and time again—that nothing was set in stone. That sometimes the future _could_ be changed.

The transition from gloomy darkness to brightness momentarily dazzled the old Sehan. That was when it struck, and Dayamar screamed for an excruciatingly long moment before he crumpled.

Chryss dragged him back into the shadows. He knelt to check Dayamar's pulse... and swore beneath his breath. The vicious attack had stopped the old man's heart. He pounded on Dayamar's chest. "Live! Dammit old man, don't give up yet. Live!"

"Weaklingsss. Sssso easy to kill. Sssso easy to hurt. Do you fear usss? You should. We are worthy of your fear. Yesss, fear usss. Feed usss with your fear. We hunger for you. We need more... a body. Then we will be free to feed unencumbered. Free to rule again!"

For the first time in countless centuries Chryss was gripped by true fear. They had all made a fatal error. In their determination to rid Dayamaria of this monster, they had brought it not one, but _three_ potential bodies it could use to break free from its imprisonment. He fed more power into Dayamar's aureya, and muttered a prayer.

The eerie echoing voice hissed again. "A sssstrange one. Not like the othersss. Come here to usss, little one. Let usss know you."

Chryss glanced up to witness Hope take a jerky step forward. Horror speared his soul. He lunged in a desperate attempt to prevent her leaving the puny safety of the tunnel.

"You will not interfere," the voices said. "Your turn will come sssoon enough."

Chryss found himself immobilized. The veins on his neck bulged with his efforts to free himself from the stasis. Useless. He was not going to be allowed to change fate.

With his mind he sought Dayamar's rapidly waning life-spark. _Gods. I'm sorry, old man._

Don't be. You of all people should know we have to play by the rules. I'm glad you'll be here for her when I'm gone. Teach her well or I'll haunt you the rest of your days.

And Chryss could only watch, helpless and heart-sore, as Dayamar's life-spark faded.... And died.

~*~

The instant Hope stopped fighting the compulsion, it eased. And as she picked her way over the rubble-strewn ground, she prayed her acquiescence would afford Chryss time to escape with Dayamar.

For the first time since her Sehani transformation Hope was truly blind. She could no longer See with her senses. She took another step and— Something crunched and snapped underfoot. Shocked, she inhaled sharply, and acrid dust coated her throat. Gods.... She had a horrible feeling her disability might prove a blessing.

"Interesssting. Not of thisss world. Young and powerful, eager for knowledge."

The voice seemed to come from many directions. It sounded... _layered_ , as though multiple voices had achieved some sort of imperfect synchronization. Something probed at the barriers Hope had erected in her mind. When they cracked wide open, she knew it was pointless to resist. She opened her mind.

"Sssso fearlesss. Why do you not resissst?"

Curiosity? Good. She could work with that. "Many times I've wanted to die. If that time has come then so be it."

"We are sssstronger than you. We will consssume you."

"Yes. I kind of got that." She hoped they couldn't sense the fear beneath her bravado. "You're obviously very powerful. And I know that you're ancient. But what are you? How did you become a being that preys on human souls?"

"Tell her what she wants to know."

"Tell her nothing. Consssume her!"

"Yesss. Consssume her now."

"Wait! She isss different from the othersss. We mussst be cautiousss."

"Hungry.... Feed now!"

"No! Wait. She should join usss, make usss sssstronger."

Hope thought she could identify six distinct personalities. "I want to hear your story," she told them.

"Why?"

"It interests me. You interest me. I'm sure you can consume me any time you want but if you tell me what I want to know I might be willing to join you. As an equal."

"Very well. We will tell you our story."

The voice sounded normal, now, as though one personality had detached itself from the rest. Something rustled, swiftly followed by a succession of creaks and cracking sounds, and then a musty odor wafted to her nostrils.

"We are old, ancient," the voice said. "We were human once. We lived amongst others but we were different. There were six of us. We were Sehani, young and powerful. Curious. We read ancient books, searched for ways to increase our powers. We discovered many secrets, found we could link our minds and transcend our weak human bodies. We melded and became a six-fold entity—six times as powerful as one alone.

"Our people feared us and forbade us to use our melded powers, but we heeded them not. We fed on their fear and it increased us. We became unstoppable—godlike. Never would we have to beg mere gods for favors again. They had no power over us and we stopped believing in them.

"But the oldest Sehan was cunning. He put a block in our minds while we slept so we could not become Six. He drugged us, brought us here and sealed us in the darkness. But he could not block our minds forever. One by one we broke free. We were weak but we killed him. His bones lie here still."

A scraping sound, like something being dragged across the ground, and then a rattling like... like... bones? Gods, yes. It was bones.

"Do you wish to see them?" it asked.

"No." Hope clenched her fists and fought not to shudder. "I believe you." She snatched a breath and willed herself to speak calmly. "I presume you finally became strong enough to mind-meld again and become the Six?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"We fed on the life-forces of animals and humans who stumbled into this area. Eventually we grew strong enough to send our essences beyond this place, and we used the lights to lure more victims. We have trapped the souls of those we drained between this world and the next, and soon we will have an unlimited supply of soul-energy to nourish us. Their pain and suffering will be ours to feast on for eternity. All of you will soon be ours. You are merely fodder to satisfy our appetites."

A loud thud echoed throughout the chamber. And then they invaded Hope's body. She was powerless to resist. The violent throbbing of her skull kept perfect time with each panicked beat of her heart. The agonizing pressure inside her skull built and built. They were inside every part of her, a seething mass of bickering beings, each jostling for dominance. She fell to her knees, clutching her head, praying for it to end.

"Cannot ssssee. All is darknesss. Why?"

They sent signals to her battered brain, forcing her to blink her eyelids, open them wide and blink again. They made her rub her eyes with her fists until tears coursed down her face. "I'm blind!" she shrieked at them. "I can't see! I live in the darkness too, just like you!"

And then she had control of her body again.

Relief was short-lived. They had left of their own accord, and if they wanted her, she would have no choice but to surrender.

"Poor little one, living in hateful darknesss. We lived in darknesss for centuries until we were sssstrong enough to make the lightsss. We offer _you_ light. You will not need eyesss if you join ussss. Join usss. Thisss isss what we offer you."

Chaotic images cascaded through Hope's mind. They tested her desires, learning from each inadvertent physical and mental reaction—no matter how tiny. Each image became more seductive than the last until finally, Hope saw herself walking amongst the people of the First Settlement.

Supplicants prostrated themselves before her, begging for her favor. All were young and beautiful and eager to serve her. She saw herself selecting a handsome youth, leading him to her lair, leaving those unworthy of her favor weeping. Her chosen one pleasured her, responding to her every whim and craving with no thought for his own desires. And in the throes of her orgasm, her eyes glowed a poisonous green. Her lips curved, body thrumming with anticipation, and then she lowered her head to his heart and sucked the life-force from his body. While he screamed with ecstasy she fed, mindless with greedy lust.

Hope's body jerked and shuddered as though caressed by a knowing lover. Her skin flushed. The juncture of her thighs moistened with longing. "I'm hungry!" she screamed at them. "I want more. More!" And a small part of her soul despaired, knowing she was lost.

The orgasmic flush receded from her mind and body. She sank to her knees. What she now recognized the as bones of countless victims stabbed her skin, and because the pain was real, because it was true, she welcomed it

"Yesss, little one. You have tasssted the pleasuresss we offer. Now you will join usss!"

They took her again.

She fought. A tiny portion of her mind was still hers to command and she focused on the people waiting for her aboveground. Her lover. Her family and friends. A healer scarred by recent deaths. A broken woman who'd lost too much already. People who prayed for her to save them. _Her_ people.

New images invaded her senses, speeding through her mind like a fast-forwarded home movie. She cherished the memory of each and every one of her Dayamari family, and those memories strengthened her. But they were not enough.

And then she was making love with another man. This man she could not see—had never seen except in a dream or through someone else's eyes. She knew him intimately though, body and soul. When he entered her, joined with her, she was whole at last.

The memories of him coursed through her, heating her blood and filling her mind. The seductive ecstasy the beings offered paled in comparison to the depth of her love for this man. Blayne. And the certainty that he loved her back strengthened her resolve. She couldn't fail him—wouldn't. She couldn't fail her people. Gathering her will, Hope stepped back from the abyss. She would destroy herself rather than let these beings use her. But first, she would fight.

They recoiled, distancing themselves from her. "What isss thisss? We do not remember thisss emotion."

"Love."

"We do not need love."

"You're wrong. You've never felt it. You will never feel it. And its absence makes you weak."

"We feed on your pathetic human emotionssss. We are sssstrong!"

"I pity you."

"Enough! It isss time for you to join usss."

"No."

It attempted to invade her again, to possess her mind and her body. But this time she was ready. She stood firm and resisted, repelled its advances with all her remaining strength. And this time it could not take her.

"You think you are sssstrong, young Ssssehan. You think you have won. But we do not need all of you. One small part of you will do."

Somehow, Hope endured the excruciating pain of her soul being torn from her body. She clamped her jaw shut, refused to give the monster the satisfaction of hearing her scream. And she prayed she could bear the agony for however long it took her to die.

And then it was over and she felt no more pain.

Why am I still alive?

She cast her seer-senses over her body and discovered the terrible price she had paid.

"Nooooo!" Her wail echoed throughout the cave.

And as if her sacrifice hadn't been punishment enough, unexpectedly she could See again. She could See the pulsing silvery-gray aureya of her fetus, surrounded by six pairs of gloating, inhuman green eyes. She watched them enfold it with skeins of energy drawn from their own life-forces. With sickening care they cocooned it, womb-like.

Hope screamed until her throat closed and she could scream no more. "Not my baby!" she croaked. "You can't take my baby!"

But they could. And they had.

She curled into a tight ball on the cold stone floor of the cavern to await her fate.

Don't give up, Hope. You can beat this evil! Trust in yourself. Believe in yourself. Have faith you will prevail. I believe you will save us. I've always believed—that is why I brought you to Dayamaria.

Dayamar! Chryss had saved him. Thank the gods.

No, my dear. He could not. But my spirit is with you. It will always be with you.

Dead? No. He couldn't be. No!

Hope's mind sank beyond rational thought until it seemed to her that foiling her adversary was laughably simple. She'd lost her family because of one careless man behind the wheel of a car. She was not going to lose everyone she held dear again. Not to six selfish beings who thought they deserved to rule the world. She would teach them a lesson they'd never forget. She would make them pay.

As she crawled to her feet, her hand brushed the pouch at her waist. Wisa's Promising gift. She fumbled with the pouch and drew out the small dark gem. "Light!" she said, and Saw the small dull stone transform into a glowing opalescent gem bursting with light. She infused it with her Sehani powers. Everything she was, and everything she had the potential to be, she gave to the gem. And it grew until it spanned the palm of her hand.

"What isss that? A weapon? Sssseize it!"

"You're too evil to be redeemed. I must destroy you. I _will_ destroy you." Hope hefted the gem in her hand, testing its weight. She'd given it everything. She was blind again, and with no Sehani powers to enhance her senses the doubts crowded in.

_Go for it, girl!_ Chryss's voice echoed again in her mind. _Throw it as hard as you can and trust yourself._

She heaved the gem into the air. Unerringly, her weapon found its target and the instant it made contact with the entity, the gem shattered into six jagged pieces.

"No!No!No!No!No!No!" The entity split into its individual life-forces. Five of the creatures had been pierced by a glowing crystal shard. Desperately they attempted to re-meld but the shards held them separate and apart. The wounded ones retreated to separate areas of the cavern, cowering and gibbering at one another, their sickly green amorphous forms pulsing with rage and fear.

"I can still hurt you, young Sehan!" the sixth shrieked.

Hope flung herself to the ground, instinctively reaching for her powers, forgetting she'd drained herself dry. A rush of air ruffled her hair. And somehow, something inside her answered, sending a blast of energy at the being. It loosed an eardrum-splitting yowl before it was abruptly silenced.

Pain stabbed Hope's stomach. She doubled over, clutching her midriff. Before she could give voice to the agonized cry bubbling in her throat, the pain dissipated. And by the time she crawled unsteadily to her feet, she could no longer sense the sixth being.

Chryss could move again. He stormed from the tunnel, bristling with power, wielding a light-sphere like a shield. One-by-one, he sought out the entities and drew them to him, capturing them in the sphere. They flitted about their prison like large, sickly green fireflies.

"Where's the sixth one, girl?"

"I— I don't know."

He scanned the cavern, inspecting every nook and cranny. "Hmm. You must've zapped it when it flew at you."

"I guess. Chryss, what happened? I thought my powers had gone forever. How did I manage to blast that... that... thing?"

"Not so, girl. You drew on as much power as you could hold and released it all at once. It leaves you defenseless and too weakened to access them for a time, but that doesn't mean they're gone for good."

Her beautiful face twisted with loathing. "What are you going to do with them?"

"Can't risk them getting loose again. Can't trust them to behave themselves, either. Their fate is in the hand of the gods. Come and get it, you three!"

The light-sphere immediately solidified to opaque white with five small smudges of palest green barely visible within. Chryss tossed the sphere into the air and it vanished.

The shrouds covering six perfectly preserved corpses crumpled as the physical shells beneath each one disintegrated to dust. He incinerated both shrouds and dust motes with a concentrated burst of energy. Best to be safe than sorry. "Nothing will be using these bodies again," he said for Hope's benefit.

"Why didn't you destroy the beings, too?" she asked. Her voice hardened, infected by hatred. "They deserve to be obliterated after the atrocities they've committed."

"Nothing _deserves_ to be obliterated, girl."

Hope's jaw worked and her fists clenched at her sides like she'd dearly love to hit something. So long as it wasn't him, Chryss was tempted to let her have at it. "They are evil," she said. "Evil should never be permitted to live."

"Evil is part of life, girl. Light and dark, good and evil, love and hate—one couldn't exist without the other."

She sagged, all anger draining away. And then she heaved a sigh that about broke his heart and knuckled her eyes. "Dayamar's dead."

"I couldn't save him. I'm sorry, Hope."

"I've lost my father. And my baby, too."

"Eh? What are you talking about?"

But she'd shut down, withdrawing from the pain, creating a hardened shell to imprison her emotions.

"Hope... Hope!" He shook her gently until her dull eyes focused again. "Your baby's not dead."

"I don't believe you."

"It's not dead. How could it be dead?"

"They took it from me. They needed a... a living body to inhabit. But I was too strong. They couldn't take me so they took my baby."

"Look inside yourself. You're still pregnant. It was all a trick of your mind. Those things don't have the power to keep a fetus alive outside of its mother's womb. They were playing tricks with your mind."

"Really?"

"Really. Now look deep inside yourself."

She did as she was bid. Her palms cradled her belly... and the smile she gave him was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

"We won?"

"Yes, girl. We won."

She launched herself at him and Chryss enfolded her in his arms. Silently, in the depths of his heart, he mourned Dayamar's passing as he comforted the girl the old Sehan had loved like a daughter.

Hope pushed herself away from his embrace and wiped her eyes. "What does this place look like now?" she asked. "I couldn't see anything in my mind's eye much of the time—I was completely blind."

"Just as well," Chryss said. "Wasn't a pretty sight. But the remains of the old Sehan who brought them here have now crumbled to dust and it looks pretty much like any other underground cavern. Dark and dingy and uninviting. You get the picture."

"What about the lights?"

"Extinguished."

"One more thing, Chryss. I'm too drained to check the spirit world. Is it still diseased?"

"Rest easy, girl. It looks bright and beautiful—just as it should. Those trapped souls can now continue their journey."

"The Usehani will be pleased to know their people are at rest." She sighed. "It's really over, then. What—?" She exhaled a shaky breath. "What shall we do with Dayamar? I don't want to leave him all alone down here. It's not right to leave him in this place"

"Leave it to me, girl." Chryss led her over to Dayamar and scooped the old man's body from the ground. "Whatever you do, keep hold of my hand."

They materialized from thin air before Blayne's startled gaze. The welcoming shout died on his lips as he spotted the body Chryss had slung over his shoulder. Chryss shook his head and Blayne closed his eyes, locking away the pain. He allowed himself one deep breath and then he rushed toward Hope to pull her into his arms and hold her tight. "You're back."

"I promised, didn't I?"

A sighing moan echoed around them. That lone voice was joined by others, the eerie wailing interweaving to form a sonorous song of farewell.

"What in Wisa's name is that noise?" Cayl shouted, just as the sound abruptly abated.

Hope heard the flapping of huge wings and followed the sound with her Sehani senses. She Saw Wisa gathering the lost souls about her. She Saw the pure joy shining from each phantom. And she Saw the goddess leading the hundreds of souls onward, showing them the way.

"Those were the voices of the dead," she told Cayl. "That monster fed on the energy of souls it had trapped between planes of existence. The souls of the dead can now move onward to the spirit world, where they'll find peace."

Unlike those left behind.

~*~

## Chapter Twenty-Four

Energy zinged through her body, and with a single blink of her eyes Hope came fully awake. It was over. She'd fulfilled her destiny. There would be no more fighting the fears and worries that had consumed her every waking moment. She had everything she'd ever wanted—a family, friends, a wonderful man.... And she was pregnant.

She eased from Blayne's embrace and as she sat up, it all came rushing back. Dayamar was dead. Hundreds of people had died. She—everyone in Dayamaria—had paid a terrible price. Bitter tears stung her eyes. She bit her lips to keep from sobbing.

"Good morning."

She jumped. "Chryss! You startled me!" Blotting away her tears she turned toward Blayne.

"Don't worry about him waking, girl. I've made sure everyone will sleep for a while yet. Been waiting for you."

"Why?"

"I'd like you to help me transport you all back to the Usehani settlement. Thought I'd use you for a bit of a power-boost—if you're up to it."

"Of course. I'm heartily sick of walking." Now would be the perfect time to find out a few things about this mysterious man. It would be a welcome distraction from the pain of losing her mentor, the man she'd thought of as a second father. "Chryss?"

"How about we wait until we get this sleepy lot back to civilization, eh? Then you can question me all you want."

Hope gingerly picked her way over to him, praying she didn't trip over anyone or anything. "What do you want me to do?"

"Use your instincts, girl. That's what you do best."

She sent out a mind-tendril to link with him. And in her mind's eye, she observed Chryss surrounding the campsite with an interwoven net-like structure of raw energy that enclosed them all.

He pulled it tight. _Now!_

Hope opened her mind, allowing her power to interweave with the energy-net Chryss had created. She visualized the Usehani settlement. The structure pulsated. In the next instant they were elsewhere.

"Did it work, Chryss?"

No reply.

"Chryss?" Hope extended her seer-senses and, one-by one, identified her companions by their aureyas.

Chryss was nowhere to be found.

"You sneak!" she yelled. "Come back here and answer my questions!"

"Wha—?"

"What's wrong?"

"Who's shouting?"

"Sorry, everyone," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"What were you yelling about, dearling?" Blayne asked. "And where are we?"

"Chryss and I transported us all back to the Usehani settlement. At least, that's what he claimed we were doing. Did it work?"

"Yep," Daryon said. "We're on the outskirts of the settlement. And if I'm not mistaken, here comes our welcoming party."

"Where's Chryss?" Maya asked. "I was going to make him something special for breakfast—we talked about it last night."

"He didn't come with us," Hope told her.

"How rude."

"Don't be too hard on him," Blayne said. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Might be nice to know what those are for a change," Hope said. And in her mind she heard a hearty belly-laugh and the gruff whispered words, _Patience, girl! We'll meet again—when you next have need of me._

While they waited for the Usehani visitors, everyone busied themselves dressing and packing up the camp. The trainee healer, Kaylia, was the first to arrive. And from what Hope could make out, she'd thrown herself at Dayron and was busy kissing him to within an inch of his life.

"Really, some decorum please." That was Nerraya—slightly out of breath from running after Kaylia.

Hope hid a smile, silently applauding Kaylia's lack of decorum. She wished she could see the expression on Daryon's face right now.

"Welcome back Sehan Hope," Nerraya said. "Is it true? Did you—?"

"Yes. We defeated it. The threat is over."

"Thank you. Thank you all. We are forever in your debt."

Hope couldn't think of what to say. Her grief was too raw. She bowed her head.

"Would you like to return to the settlement now?" Nerraya asked. "We've been anticipating your arrival."

"How did you know we would be here?" Maya asked.

"It was strange," the Usehani co-leader said. "I was woken at first light this morning by a huge man with an impressive beard. He said his name was Chryss and that _you_ had sent him to me, Sehan Hope. He told me we were all safe now, and explained where I would find you all. Then he sort of shimmered and disappeared."

"There were no more deaths while we were away, were there?" Naytan's anxious voice told Hope he was in full healer-mode.

"No, Naytan," Nerraya said.

"Everyone well?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thank the gods."

Whatever Nerraya had been about to say was cut off by Kaylia's horrified gasp. "Who—?"

"Dayamar," Hope told her. "The monster.... It killed him."

"Oh, Hope. I'm dreadfully sorry." Nerraya embraced her, awkwardly patting her back. "He was a fine, dedicated man. I.... I will miss him."

"Me, too." Hope kept a tight rein on her misery. If she started crying now she wouldn't stop. And she suspected Nerraya, who'd once loved Dayamar, too, would join her. "Thank you, Nerraya. I need to ask a favor of you. Would it be all right if we buried Dayamar here? I-I don't think I could bear it if we had to wait until we got home."

"Of course, Sehan Hope. But surely the Dayamari will want him to be buried with his own people?"

"The Usehani are his people, too, Nerraya. You were never truly _U-Sehani_ , Seer-less. Dayamar watched over you, too. And now you will watch over him for us."

"You're right." Nerraya squeezed her hand. "Gods know, you're right."

Gathering her will, Hope cocooned her blood-father's body in pure power and lifted it from the ground. It hovered there, waiting for the small procession to set off. She lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes.

In her mind's eye she could See the enormous white owl, its wings beating strongly as it flew higher. On its back rode a familiar figure. He waved to her, his cat-like golden eyes crinkling as he smiled. _Be at peace, Daughter. I love you. I will always watch over you._

"I know," she whispered.

~*~

Dayamar's body had been interred the previous morning, and the Dayamari contingent were ready to depart minus one more companion. Taran had opted to stay. According to him the Usehani Settlement required an experienced tracker.

Daryon confided that Nerraya had beamed from ear to ear when she heard Taran's offer. And had been extremely pleasant to everyone ever since. "It's unnatural," he complained.

"Maybe she's taken with him," Hope delicately suggested. "He's a high ranking man with a lot going for him beneath that gruff exterior. And she is a single woman, after all."

"Oh, yes. Sometimes I forget—about Nerraya being female, that is."

"Daryon!" Hope had to laugh at his dry humor.

As they said their final goodbyes, a white owl skimmed overhead, flying so low everyone ducked. It hooted once before shimmering into human form.

Daryon swore. "Sweet Wisa!"

"Precisely, young man," the goddess said. "I've come to congratulate my daughter."

"Mother!" Hope held out her arms and was enveloped in a hug.

"You've done well, Daughter. Are you looking after her, Blayne?" Wisa harrumphed with mock-disapproval. "She looks a bit peaky to me."

"They both need a holiday," Maya piped up.

"Good idea. Blayne? Come here and hold Hope's hand."

Blayne's hand engulfed hers and Hope sensed an outpouring of power from the goddess. It enveloped her and then....

"Shikari's hairy paws!" Blayne's voice echoed strangely. "She's transported us to my cave."

Hope stayed put while Blayne investigated. "It's fully provisioned, at least," he said. "Looks like there's enough food and water here for two weeks. I know Wisa means well but this wasn't exactly what I'd imagined when I planned to whisk you off somewhere."

"We're together—and alone. It doesn't get any better than this." She meant every word. _Thank you, Wisa!_

I have one more gift for you, child. It's only temporary unfortunately. As much as I wish it could be otherwise, all will be as it was when you leave this place. Call me when you're ready to return to the settlement. In the meantime, enjoy yourselves....

Hope blinked and found herself watching Blayne rifling through the neatly stacked stores.

Then it hit her. She could see him—really see him, not just in her mind's-eye. She drank him in. Shoulder-length dark brown hair sprang back from his wide forehead. His brows were black slashes over slightly slanted chocolate-brown eyes. He had high cheekbones, a strong, straight nose and a full-lipped mouth. Darkly tanned olive skin and about a week's worth of bearded stubble completed the picture. His hair was disheveled and the whole effect was rather devastating. Her Promised was six-foot something of well-muscled, damn good-looking male.

She could only stare at him and grin idiotically.

He glanced up, frowned. "Hope, is something wrong?"

"No. Not at all. Everything is perfect."

## Chapter Twenty-Five

Once the fuss following their return had died down, and the stream of constant visitors slowed to a trickle, Hope finally gave Maya the go-ahead to plan a Joining ceremony for her and Blayne.

"Thank the gods, finally! Ever since you two got back everyone's been nagging me about it. They need a celebration to take their minds off everything that's happened." Maya sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So, when is it to be?"

"Next week."

"Next week?" Hope winced at Maya's shriek. "Are you punishing me for something?" Maya asked.

"Don't be silly. There isn't much to arrange. Just some food and drink. Maybe a bit of music."

"You're joking of course."

"We don't want a big fancy affair."

"You have no idea, do you?"

"No idea about what?"

Maya's sigh this time was fondly exasperated. At least, Hope hoped it was fond. "No idea how important you are to Dayamari and Usehani alike," Maya said. "You saved thousands of people from a fate worse than death. You're the only Sehan in the whole of Dayamaria. You're Joining with our Panakeya. You're the adopted daughter of a goddess. And that little bulge in your midsection could very likely be the next Sehan."

Gods, she hoped not. She wouldn't wish _that_ on the child.

"Regardless," Maya was saying, "your child will have high status because of its lineage. And as for your Joining? Everyone expects a big celebration. And don't you want to give your Usehani friends a chance to attend? It'll take at least a month by the time we get them a message, they pack up, and travel here."

Hope sighed. She should have known she'd never get away with a small Joining. "You've got three weeks from tomorrow. I'll contact Daryon tonight. If he and the others leave immediately, they'll be here in plenty of time."

"Wonderful!"

That shooshing sound had to be Maya rubbing her hands in anticipatory glee. "Now off to Shay with you," she said.

"Why? I've plenty of clothes already."

"You need a Joining dress."

"What about the one I was Promised in? It's only been worn once. I know I'm starting to show, but can't we simply let out a bit?"

Maya moaned. "Gods' grief! No more arguments. I'm not having you standing at your Joining ceremony in a dress everyone's already seen."

"Whatever. I really don't care. So long as we're Joined, that's all that matters."

Maya grabbed Hope's wrist and towed her out the door. "You're impossible sometimes, Hope. Don't you care what you look like?"

"Well, yes. But it's hard to get really enthusiastic about it when you can't see yourself. Besides, Blayne loves me whether I'm wearing an old dress or a new one."

"Then how about you dress up for Blayne?" Maya's tone turned wheedling. She'd always been an excellent wheedler. "Don't you want him to be drooling over you?"

Hope laughed and gave in. "All right, you've got me there. Let's ask Shay to help me make that man of mine drool."

~*~

By the time she finally got home, Hope could barely muster the energy to greet Blayne. She headed straight to their sleeping room and flopped face-first on the mattress.

He followed her in. "Rough time with Maya, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I did warn you she wouldn't let you off lightly. And I bet we're not being Joined next week, either. Am I right?"

She roused herself to roll onto her back and make a rude face at him before flinging an arm over her eyes. "The date's been set for three weeks time. First, it was the dress, then the footwear, then the menu, music, decorations, blah blah blah. I thought I'd be there all day."

"It's all under control, then?"

She groaned. "Sort of. I was just about to scream 'enough!' when Willem spirited me away on a fake pretext. He must have heard my mental anguish and come running. The man's a god. By the way, I hope you don't mind me making plans without you, but I told Maya we wanted an outdoor feast—so she could go wild and invite as many people as she could squeeze into the gathering area. And then I asked her if she would mind dreadfully if I left all the details up to her. Willem told me she seemed delighted. He reckoned he could hear her brain squeaking with plans."

Blayne picked up Hope's left foot and began to massage it, digging his thumbs into her instep. "Excellent idea on both counts. Smart girl."

Hope wiggled her hips to get more comfortable. "All I wanted was a small, intimate ceremony—just you, me and some close friends. But now I'm stuck with this huge affair."

"I know, dearling." He turned his attention to her right foot. "But we would have been very lucky indeed to get away with something small. We're too important."

"I guess. Once I contact Daryon that's it for me. No more Joining arrangements, thank the gods. I know I should feel guilty about dumping this all on Maya but I feel like I've been rung out like a dishrag. I'd be a sniveling heap on the floor if I had to organize everything to her satisfaction."

"Don't feel guilty. Maya thrives on this sort of thing. She'll be in her element." He patted her foot and released it. "As a reward for all that hard work, I'll cook you some dinner. Then rub your feet some more—properly this time, without you bouncing up and down all over the place."

"Have I told you lately I adore you?"

"No. I'm all ears."

"Dinner first, then I'll tell you. After my foot-rub."

"You drive a hard bargain, you know that?"

She smiled at him. "What's for dinner?"

~*~

From then on everything proceeded exactly to plan—Hope's plan.

Cayl exuded smug delight when he visited. "Great idea to have a feast rather than a formal banquet for your Joining. I thought Maya would be her usual impossible self while she was organizing this thing, and I'd end up cooking or we wouldn't eat. But everything's under control and going so smoothly she's even got time to cook for me."

"So, no risk of food-poisoning, huh? That's got to be a plus."

He flicked her arm. "My cooking may be bad but it's not _that_ bad. Anyway, she's quite relaxed about it all. I could hug you."

"Go ahead. I'm always up for one of your hugs."

"Aww." He swept her into a bear-hug. "Mmm. You're getting heavier. Good to see you putting on some baby-weight."

Blayne fake-coughed. "My best friend and my pregnant Promised, carrying on right under my nose? Now there's a subject for the gossipmongers."

"I wish." Cayl's tone was rather wistful as he set her on her feet. "Sorry. That came out wrong. What I meant to say was, when your baby's born I'm hoping Maya might be so taken by the idea of motherhood, she'll want us to try for a baby of our own."

Hope frowned. "Maya strikes me as someone who'd want a horde of babies."

"She lost her mother when she was only a girl, then her sister and her father, too. She has no family now apart from me—and you, of course. I suspect she's scared that if we have a child, something might happen to us and our child would be left orphaned."

Hope's heart fisted in her chest. She knew how Maya felt. "Would you like me to talk to her?"

"I think it's something she'll have to work through herself. Though I wish that herbal concoction of yours wasn't quite so efficient, Blayne. A happy accident wouldn't be such a bad thing."

Herbal concoction? What herbal concoction? Hope didn't get a chance to ask because the talk turned to more prosaic matters, such as whether to schedule a hunt before the Joining ceremony.

After Blayne had waved Cayl off Hope pounced. "What's this about a herbal concoction to prevent pregnancy?"

"It's a mixture I have the healers make up for all women who want it. How else do you think Varaya's managed to stay childless all these years?"

"Oh, right." She hadn't thought about it before. "And you didn't offer it to me because...?"

"The first time we made love caught me by surprise. I wasn't anticipating a female companion so I hadn't packed supplies. And after that, well, I don't know." He paused for a long moment, and she could almost hear the thoughts clattering about in his brain.

"I can't believe I didn't think to ask you," he finally said. "Are you furious with me? You have every right to be."

Hope laughed off his dismay. "Don't worry, love. Seems I was destined to have your baby. We didn't stand a chance—herbs or no herbs."

"You think so?"

"I know so." She smiled at him. "And I couldn't be happier."

He stood behind her cupping her belly in his hands. "Kunnandi's teeth! Did you feel that?"

She smiled at the awe she heard in his voice. "I thought you'd seen it all."

"This is different. This is _our_ baby."

"Yes. I wish I could help Maya."

"Maybe you will, Hope. You're Sehani, after all. And Sehani do See the future."

"Mmm. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

~*~

It was the eve of her Joining and Hope was bored. Extremely bored. Everyone was so busy with arrangements she had no one to talk to. She took a stroll through the settlement, hoping to bump into someone, until eventually her aimless wandering brought her to the women's dormayre.

She stuck her head inside the entrance. "Varaya? You there?"

No answer.

Hope was about to leave when she heard the muffled sobs. "Can I help at all?" she called as she followed the sad sounds.

"It's me, Hope," Varaya said, sounding very watery. "Hold on, I'll come to you."

Hope held out her arms and Varaya ran into them. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Varaya sniffed. "Willem and I had a huge fight. We've broken up."

"Oh, Varaya. It can't be that bad, surely? You and Willem have been inseparable. I keep half-expecting you to announce you're to be Promised."

"Me, too. I thought we had a chance to be happy. Now it's over." She dissolved into huge gulping sobs.

"You'll work it out. I know he loves you. And you love him, don't you?"

"I love him so much it hurts."

Hope rubbed gentle circles on Varaya's back. "Shhh. It'll be all right, I promise." And her words proved prophetic, for she sensed a presence and heard soft footfalls. Willem.

"I'm pleased to hear you finally admit that, Varaya," he said. "Even if it was to someone else and not me."

Varaya pulled from Hope's arms. "What are _you_ doing here? Go away!"

"No. I'm staying right here. And so are you, until you admit how you feel about me to my face. Ah-ah! Not so fast!"

Hope guessed from Varaya's gasp Willem had grabbed her before she could retreat to her room. "Don't you love me?" he asked—demanded, really. "Were you lying when you said as much to Hope?"

"I wasn't lying!"

"I love _you_ , even if your nose is red and your eyes are puffy."

Varaya choked on a giggle. "I love you, too, Willem," she said.

From the sounds they were making things would very soon go beyond the kissing stage, and it would be prudent to leave them to it.

Unfortunately that little moment of excitement didn't stave off the boredom for long. And finally, Hope was desperate enough to seek out Maya. She figured she had nothing to lose by pleading for something to do. "Yoohoo, Maya? It's me, Hope. Are you _sure_ you can't find something for me to do?"

"Nope. All done. It's called delegating." Maya's tone was insufferably smug. "Why don't you go home and try on your dress and boots?"

"I've done that already. Twice. And they seem to fit fine—not that I can see what they look like of course." She pouted. "I'm sooo bored! There must be something I can do."

"You can get me another cup of tea."

"Fine." Hope screwed up her face and concentrated hard for a moment. "Hold your mug still."

Maya gave a squeak of surprise as the mug refilled. "What would Dayamar have said if he'd caught you using your powers for mundane things like that?"

"Oh, phooey. And this is the first time I've refilled a mug with tea. So there."

Maya giggled and patted her hand. "I won't tell—"

The vision rocked Hope backward and she fell off her cushion. From a very great distance she could hear Maya's concerned voice but she was unable to respond until her Seeing played out.

She came back to herself to find Maya gripping her arms. "I'm back with you now," she said, and scooted onto the cushion. "Just give me a moment."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She could sense Maya peering closely at her. "Why are you grinning like an idiot?" Maya asked. "What did you See?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. It was about me, wasn't it?"

"Maybe."

"Tell me!"

"I can't. I'm not supposed to influence events by talking about them."

"Just a little clue?"

"Maybe just this once." Hope fumbled for Maya's hand and squeezed it hard. "But don't you dare tell anyone I said anything. Promise?"

"I promise. Now tell me before I die of curiosity."

"You and Cayl are going to be very busy in the future."

"Huh?"

"Think about it." Hope beat a hasty retreat.

She didn't want to head home in case Maya came looking for her, demanding answers, so she headed for Treya's.

"Oh good, you're here!" Treya said. "I was going to send Roban to fetch you."

Uh oh. That sounded ominous. Hope waited for the axe to fall.

"I can't decide between these two shades for your eyelids. Roban, what do you think?"

"The darker one," Roban said. "It'll go perfectly with her dress."

Hope nibbled her lower lip. It was either that or pout again. "How is it you've seen my dress, Roban? I thought Shay had kept it under wraps."

"I happened upon her when she was in the middle of some beadwork and she asked my advice." He sounded smugly pleased with his cleverness. "She's done a wonderful job of it, don't you think?"

"I'm sure she has but I can't really tell unless I invade someone's mind and borrow their eyes. Which I shouldn't do unless the situation is really dire."

"And not being able to see your own Joining dress isn't a dire situation?" He sounded quite serious. "Don't worry sweetling, we'd tell you if it looked appalling, wouldn't we, Treya?"

Hope snorted. "Thanks! I think."

"Roban, sometimes I wonder if you were sleeping in when the gods handed out tact." Treya's mock-exasperated tone was loaded with fondness. "Why don't you make us a cup of tea?"

"Hah. I can see when I'm not wanted."

"Roban!"

"Just kidding, dear. I'll make a pot of tea and then check on Hopian." He bustled off.

"I'd give my right arm for a cup of strong _coffee_ right now," Hope muttered.

"What's _koh-fee_?" Treya asked.

"A beverage made from beans. You roast them, then grind them into a powder and infuse it with hot water through a special filter. Gods I miss the stuff."

"Mmm. I wonder if we grow something similar here?"

"Hey, that's an idea." Hope brightened at the thought. "Mind you, I wouldn't know a coffee plant if it jumped up and bit me. And even if I found one, I wouldn't know what to do with it." She frowned, recalling something she'd once read. "I know people sometimes used a plant we called _chicory_ as a substitute. Its leaves are used for salad greens, but you can use the root as a substitute for coffee. Somehow."

"Blayne's your man, then. He would know. And speaking of Blayne, what have you gotten him for a Joining gift? If you don't mind my prying, that is."

Hope got one of those sinking feelings in the pit of her stomach. "Joining gift? No one's ever mentioned that to me before."

"I'm sure Blayne isn't the sort to worry about such things," Treya soothed.

"I bet that's why he's been acting all mysterious these past couple of days." She climbed to her feet. "I'm sorry Treya, I can't stay for tea. I've got to organize a gift right away. Please apologize to Roban, and give Hopian a hug from me when he wakes up. Bye!"

"What's so urgent she couldn't even stay for tea?" Roban asked when he entered the room laden with teapot and cups.

"Poor thing was frantic. No one told her she was supposed to get Blayne a Joining gift."

"Oh my. Well, that's a pretty good excuse. Hopian and I might let her off this time."

"Roban."

"Just kidding, dear."

~*~

Hope got her wish and ended up thoroughly busy. For at least an hour she racked her brains to think of a suitable gift, until she was forced to conclude even if she could think of something, she wouldn't have time to find a tradesperson who could make it for her. Undeterred, she turned her thoughts toward creating something instead.

She recalled how fascinated Blayne had been when she'd described her appendectomy. He'd commented it would be amazing to be a healer in her world and know so much about the human body. She couldn't take him to _her_ world but... maybe she'd bring a little of her world to him.

As a preteen, Hope had been given a book about human anatomy with big bold pictures and simple explanations about how the body functioned. Maybe, just maybe, she could reproduce the book. Yes. That would be an amazing gift for Blayne. Now if she could just lay her hands on some paper.

_Willem?_ She cast out the mental plea. Aside from Blayne, he was the most adept at conversing with her in this way.

Hope? Is there something wrong?

_Not exactly._ She briefed him on the problem.

Oh, I see.

I wish I could. It would make things a whole lot easier! Can you help me?

No problem. I'll send someone over with a stack of blank pages for you right away. What do you need them for?

Blayne's Joining gift.

???

You'll see tomorrow. How're you and Varaya getting along?

She sensed him doing his best not to think about what he and Varaya had gotten up to after they'd reconciled.

_I knew you'd both make up_ , she thought at him _. Thanks for your help._ She blew him a mental kiss.

A mystified messenger boy duly arrived with a large stack of what he assured her was paper. "Excuse me, Sehan. But what are you going to use this for? I mean, you're—"

"Blind? Yes, I am. Would you like to stay and watch? I'm not certain how I'm going to do it yet, but it shouldn't be too dangerous. And—" Hope realized she was talking to air. Her young messenger had bolted the instant she'd mentioned the word "dangerous".

She retired to her room and sat on the sleeping platform. Might as well be comfortable. First, she concentrated on recalling all the details of the book. It'd been her favorite one for a while, back when she'd imagined being a doctor when she grew up. And in a very short time she found she could flip through virtual pages in her mind exactly as though the real book were right in front of her.

Now for the transference process. Hope decided to start with the cover. But when she attempted to burn the image from her mind onto the page, all she accomplished was a heap of charred paper... and what she suspected was a large scorch mark on the coverlet. Hmmm. The cooking hearth might be a safer place for her experiments.

Next she tried to magically engrave the image onto a large cooking stone, thinking to somehow use the stone as a stamp and transfer it onto the paper afterward. The stone disintegrated into rubble, unable to withstand her psychic energy. And now she came to think about it, she would quickly have run out of large stones given the number of pages.

This wasn't going so well. And after a few more abortive attempts Hope was fervently wishing for a scanner and a printer.

She rubbed her eyes. "Shit!"

Even if you're swearing in a foreign language it's hardly ladylike.

Chryss? Is that you?

Of course. I'm always here when you need me for something important.

I'm, uh, embarrassed to admit this is hardly a save-the-world kind of need.

It's obviously important enough for you to reach out all the way to me, isn't it?

I guess so.

Then quit worrying and tell me what you're trying to do.

She opened her mind to him.

_Interesting. I'd like to see the finished product some day. You're going about it all wrong—thinking like a tradesman, not a seer. Portray the image in your mind, and think of the same image on the paper. Don't worry about the_ how _of it. Be certain it'll happen and it'll happen. And most of the time it'll end up exactly how you wanted, too._

What do you mean, 'most of the time'?

The human mind's a complex thing, girl. And yours is more complex than most. Sometimes things don't quite turn out how we expect. A good thing for you to remember.

_All right. I'll give it a go._ Hope concentrated on the book's cover, felt the power burst forth from inside her, and....

There! Something happened. How does it look?

Beats me. If you could see, I'd be able to look through your eyes and tell you. Sorry girl. You'll need someone else for that.

It feels like it happened right. Thanks, Chryss! By the way, I tried to send you a message a couple of weeks ago—about our Joining Ceremony tomorrow? Are you coming?

Don't hold much with that sort of nonsense, girl.

Please?

Don't bother batting those long eyelashes at me, either. I stopped being susceptible to such feminine wiles an age ago. Tell you what. I'll watch from a distance and you'll know I'm there.

All right. Thanks again, Chryss.

No problem, girl.

Hope tapped her forefinger on her lips. Now who could she get to check out the book cover for her? Aha. A healer. Perfect. _Johan?_

_Arrgh!_ He dropped whatever he'd been carrying.

Sorry, Johan.

Please don't ever do that to me again. I nearly had heart failure.

Would you please come over right away? It's really important. Pretty please?

Yes, yes! Though why you couldn't just come and ask me personally like any normal person....

He continued his mental grumbling as he hurried to her house. "Here I am in the flesh," he announced. "What's so important?"

She brandished the piece of paper. "What does this look like to you?"

"It looks like a picture of a human." She sensed him peering more closely. "But it's got no skin."

"Excellent, it worked!"

"And there are some strange words I can't read."

"Blast!" She'd forgotten that it would be in English.

"What have you been doing? You're covered in soot. And what's all this stuff on the floor?"

"Never mind about the mess. I'm trying to replicate a book from my world as a Joining gift for Blayne." She huffed a sigh. "But I didn't think about the fact he wouldn't be able to read the language."

"Don't worry about that. This is fascinating! Are there any more pages?"

"There will be. And loads of drawings, too. This is just the cover. But if he won't be able to read it I guess I'd better think of something else." Double blast.

"Nonsense," Johan said. "It'll be of immense use to a healer if only for the drawings. If Blayne wants to know more, he'll have to learn to read your language. After all, you learned to speak his."

Johan's impeccable logic made her smile.

"Can I stay to watch?" he asked.

"Please do. I really need someone to help with, uh, quality control."

"Great! Whatever that means. Carry on with the, uh, whatever you're doing. I'll collate the pages."

It took another hour but she finally accomplished forty-odd pages of brilliantly colored drawings and accompanying text.

"This is incredible." From the sounds she was hearing, Johann was caressing the pages. "Shall I have them bound inside a protective cover for you? There's a tradesman who owes me a favor. He'll be discreet, I promise."

"That would be wonderful. Thank you, Johan. Will it be ready in time?"

"I'll make sure of it. And I'll just wrap these pages in this old tunic of Blayne's so no one spots them. I'll bring the finished product to the ceremony for you. That way, you won't have to hide it from Blayne."

"Hide what from Blayne?" asked the man himself, who, luckily, was distracted by the state of the cooking hearth. "What have you been up to, Hope?"

"Um, see you both tomorrow." Johan escaped out the door.

Hope released the breath she'd been holding. "I... uh.... Nothing much. Just experimenting."

"Why is there a stone missing from the cooking hearth?"

"Um—"

"Is _that_ the stone?"

"If you're pointing to the rubble on the floor, then yes. I had a bit of an accident."

"I look forward to hearing all about it after you get clean." Blayne backed her into the sleeping room while he undid the fastenings of her clothes. She heard his sharply indrawn breath. "How did that scorch mark get on the cover?" he asked.

"That was me, too. Sorry. Is it bad?"

"Bad enough. How'd it happen?"

She batted her eyelashes at him, hoping he was more susceptible to womanly wiles than Chryss. "I can't tell you. It's part of your surprise."

"Really. Any more surprises happen while I was gone?"

"Just that one. And the disintegrating cooking stone."

"Wisa's wings. Into the washroom with you. Now."

"Okay, okay, I'm going." Phew. She'd gotten away with it. Kind of....

## Chapter Twenty-Six

Hope and Blayne's Joining day dawned cool with the promise of winter, but redeemed itself with clear skies and no hint of rain. Chryss sent his thanks to the beings responsible for the weather—he'd put in his request some time ago but was relieved they'd conceded to oblige him. They were contrary beings.

Hope and Blayne snuggled beneath the covers, both strangely reluctant to face the day.

"Are you two decent?" someone called from the doorway.

"Daryon? You made it!" Hope scrambled for her clothes.

"Come in," Blayne invited, laughing as Hope squealed and dived back under the covers.

"Still sleeping?" the Usehani Leader asked. "On your Joining Day? Outrageous!"

"What are you two up to?" Naytan asked, his smile evident in his voice.

"Use your imagination," Daryon deadpanned.

Hope cooled her flushed face with her palms. "I was beginning to think none of you would make it in time."

"Nerraya dithered over whether to come or not. It got so bad I was tempted to leave her behind."

Oh no. Hope gnawed her lip, trying to recall whether she had— Yes. She definitely had. "I did specifically invite her. So, did she come or not?"

"Of course she did. After Taran finally convinced her that whatever people thought about something that happened so long ago was neither here nor there."

Naytan snickered. "He was a little less diplomatic than that. He asked her why she thought anyone would be interested in _her_ considering it was Hope's big day."

"Ouch." Hope mock-winced in sympathy. "Are they still talking to each other?"

"It was just the right thing to say," Naytan said. "Nerraya decided then and there she would show her support of you and Blayne, and everyone else could be damned. And here we are, so it must be true. We got in last night."

"Who else came with you?" Hopefully Breanna had made the journey. Hope wanted to check on Breanna personally rather than relying on secondhand accounts about how she was coping.

"We ended up with a few extras," Daryon said. "Which is why we're camped on the outskirts of the settlement rather than occupying the visitors quarters."

"How many extras? Not that I mind but I'll need to let Maya know so she doesn't have a conniption."

"Quite a few."

Hmm. What wasn't he telling her? "How many, Daryon? Exact numbers, please."

"The entire Usehani population."

"All of them?" The words erupted from her throat in a high-pitched squeak. Since the Usehani had unofficially rejoined the ranks of Dayamari settlements their numbers had swelled. Many of those who had gone to help them rebuild the burned hall had opted to stay.

"Yes. When your invitation came we held a public meeting, and _everyone_ decided they wanted to attend. We owe you our lives, Hope. So you shouldn't be surprised we all wanted to be here for you. Besides, it's a chance to catch up with our Dayamari friends and families openly, instead of sneaking around."

"Maya is going to kill me." Hope covered her face with her hands and moaned. "Quite a few" extras was a gross understatement.

"It's all sorted," Naytan soothed. "We've already spoken to Maya. We brought supplies with us, so there won't be any shortages. Our best cooks are organizing their signature dishes, and we've brought skins of the alcoholic beverages we're experimenting with. So expect a little bit of friendly rivalry in the food and drink stakes."

Hope flopped back on the mattress and pulled the covers over her head. Her small, quiet, intimate Joining ceremony was turning into the Dayamari equivalent of a three-ring circus.

~*~

Hope couldn't help feeling the teeniest bit smug about insisting the celebration take place outdoors because in the end, the extra guests had barely caused a ripple. About the only thing she wished could be different was her ability to see. She'd been told over and over she looked radiant in the full-length bronze-colored dress with glittering beadwork at the hem, but a girl liked to see the evidence for herself on her Joining day. And using someone else's eyes at a time like this seemed rude and a little frivolous.

Now, all that remained before the formal part of the ceremony concluded was the exchange of gifts.

The man Hope loved stepped forward to hand her a small but heavy package. She heard Blayne exhale, long and deep, before he spoke. "I wanted to give you something to show how much you mean to me, how much I love you and am humbled you would choose to spend your life with me. But finding the right gift was more difficult than I imagined, so I enlisted help from some friends. I know you're saddened you can't see me, and all our family and friends at our Joining. This gift will make it possible for you to see us all whenever you want."

Hope unwrapped the package and turned the heavy ball-shaped thing over in her hands. "I'm sure it's beautiful, Blayne. How does it work?"

"We need someone to 'set' the picture first. Then it'll be inserted into this globe. Whenever you think about it, the picture will be transferred into your mind and you'll be able to see it, just as if you were sighted and were viewing a painting of us. Now, who do you want in the picture?"

She nibbled her lip, still uncertain how the gift was supposed to work. "Us of course, and my family, too. And anyone else you'd like to include."

"My friends are already part of your family," he said. And Hope's smile faltered a little when she thought of Dayamar, and the family she'd lost back on her home-world.

Blayne gathered everyone together. "Ready?"

"But who's going to set the picture?" Hope asked.

"Me!" a voice said.

"Kunnandi?"

"In the flesh." He kissed her cheek. "Wisa, stop primping and get down here or you won't be in the picture."

Hope felt the warmth of the goddess's presence surround her. "As if I would miss my daughter's Joining," Wisa said.

"You cut it fine," came Shikari's deep rumbling voice.

"Blayne, step closer to Hope and put your arm around her," Kunnandi ordered. "You're grinning like an idiot, by the way. You might want to tone it down a bit. Cayl, shift over slightly, you're blocking your lovely life-partner's face. Good, that looks perfect. Now, everyone say 'please'. Oooh, perfect! There, it's done. And a very good picture, too, if I do say so myself."

"Not bad for an amateur," Shikari said.

"Here you are, Hope." The god handed her the globe. "What do you think?" She could sense him dancing around her, eagerly awaiting her verdict.

She cradled the globe in her hands and concentrated. It warmed slightly and after a few seconds, a picture formed in her mind. She gasped. They were all perfectly portrayed—as though captured in a camera snapshot. And there was someone else in the shot, too. Dayamar's dear face smiled proudly out at her.

"Thank you, Kunnandi," she whispered, overcome by the precious gift.

"You're most welcome, my sweet. But it was all Blayne's idea."

"Do you like it?" Blayne asked, his tone just a little anxious.

"Blayne, it's the most wonderful thing you could have given me."

"Don't cry, dearling. I can't bear it when you cry."

"They're happy tears." She couldn't help it. She gazed at the globe again and smiled when the picture formed in her mind.

"Don't worry about dropping it," Kunnandi said. "It's practically indestructible."

"Oh! I have a gift for you, too, Blayne. At least, I hope I have. Johan? Have you got it?"

"Of course." The healer handed over a bulky parcel that Hope immediately presented to Blayne. Now it was her turn to wait anxiously while he examined her gift.

"This is incredible!"

She released the breath she'd been holding. The awe in his voice told her everything she needed to know.

"Where did you get it?" he asked.

"I made it. Though I had to ask for help, too. Let's just say I had a couple of false starts before I got the technique right."

"Ah. So that's what the cooking stone and scorch marks were all about."

"Worth the mess, I hope?"

"Absolutely. Naytan, Johan, you've got to see this book."

"All in good time, Panakeya," Elder Evan said, somewhat querulously. "We still have a ceremony to complete."

"Sorry, Evan."

"Blayne and Hope." Elder Evan took Blayne's right hand and Hope's left. "I now declare you Joined as partners for life." He clasped Blayne's hand over top Hope's. "May your union be blessed and joyous."

Blayne swept Hope off of her feet and kissed her long and deep. "Well, love-of-my-life. It's time to celebrate. Let's see what Maya's thrown together for us."

"It'll be the best Joining celebration you've ever attended, Blayne," Maya told him, taking the comment meant in jest very seriously.

"I know, Maya," he said. "Because _you_ organized it and you could never give anything less than your best. Thank you."

"Oh!" She sounded unusually flustered. "It was nothing, really."

"Come, children," Kunnandi said. "Food, drink and merriment await. We'll start without you if you don't get a move on."

Blayne addressed the guests. "Before we begin, I'd like to welcome a group of people who have come a long way to be here with us today. And representing them are two people you doubtless recognize. Daryon, Nerraya, will you come up here please?"

"Thank you, Blayne," Nerraya said. "As you've no doubt noticed the entire Usehani settlement traveled here to celebrate this Joining. And just as these two young people have been Joined today, I propose another Joining. I propose the Usehani reunite with the Dayamari and that our settlement be henceforth known as the Fourth Settlement. It is our wish that we Seer-less Ones be seer-less no more."

First Elder Varon wasn't at all impressed and didn't hesitate to show it. "You can't propose something of this magnitude at a time like this! There are proper channels—"

"I can, and I did," Nerraya said. "For your information _all_ settlement elders barring yourself have already agreed to support my proposal. You're outnumbered, First Elder."

"But... but—"

"Never mind, Varon," Kunnandi said. "Have a swig of this."

The First Elder coughed and gasped for breath. Whatever Kunnandi had given him must have been highly alcoholic.

"Goodness," the god said, sounding surprised. "The poor man's absolutely overcome with emotion by your proposal, Nerraya."

"To the Fourth Settlement!" Nerraya shouted, not about to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Loud cheers echoed her. "To the Fourth Settlement!"

"Happy?" Blayne whispered as the music started.

"Very." Hope nuzzled his neck. "Being Joined to you is all I could ever have wished for."

A familiar voice resounded in her mind. _Well done, girl. You've caught yourself a good man there._

Have you been watching, Chryss?

Of course. Gods' peace be with you both. Give Blayne a hug from me.

_I'll give him more than that._ Chryss's hearty chuckle was the last thing she heard before his presence faded from her mind.

~*~

## Epilogue

"Congratulations!" Healer Johan said. "You have a baby girl."

Blayne cradled his newborn daughter while Johan finished ministering to Hope. The baby gave a lusty howl and he smiled, entranced. "She's beautiful. She looks just like her mother. Don't you think so, Johan?"

"I think she looks a lot like her daddy, too. What are you going to name her?"

Blayne placed the baby in Hope's arms, watching with his heart in his mouth as she put the baby to her breast and caressed her downy head. Gods. How cruel that she would never be able to see their daughter save through another's eyes.

Johan caught his gaze. The healer's smile was tinged with a sadness that mirrored Blayne's own.

As if she knew she was being discussed, the baby opened her eyes and stared solemnly at her mother.

"Her eyes are blue, like yours were," Blayne said for Hope's benefit.

"They may change yet. Most babies in my home-world are born with blue eyes. Then they change—if they're going to, that is." She paused, and a smile curved her lips. "Her colors are beautiful."

"Her colors?" Johan asked.

"The colors of her aureya."

"Ah."

"We're going to call her Romana," Blayne said.

Johan nodded approval. "That's a lovely name."

A man poked his head through the doorway. "Are you up for visitors yet, girl?"

"How did you know—? Never mind." One of these days Blayne was going to sit Chryss down and force him to answer some questions. "Romana, I'd like you to meet your, uh, _Uncle_ Chryss."

"She's a beauty," Chryss said. "Like her mother. May I hold her?"

"Of course." Hope handed the baby to the big man without hesitation.

The two regarded each other, one newborn and the other ages old. And then Romana yawned and closed her eyes. Chryss waited until she was asleep before handing the infant back to her mother. "You've done well, girl," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Content. I have everything I've ever wanted."

"Perhaps," Chryss said. "Do you still wish to return home?"

Blayne's heart skipped a beat. From the corner of his eye he saw Johan's jaw sag.

"Go home?" Hope sounded as horrified as Blayne felt. " _Here_ is my home. Are you... are you telling me I have to go back?"

"No!" The word tore from Blayne's throat. "You can't make her leave now."

"Be calm, Panakeya," Chryss said. "I'm only asking. I have to, you know. Hope was taken from her world and given no choice in the matter. Now she's fulfilled her destiny, I'm obliged to give her the chance to return home. It would take a bit of physical tinkering for her to cope with living there again, but we'd manage. Probably."

"I have everything I ever wanted, right here," she said, her golden eyes flashing. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," the big man said. "You can stand down now, Panakeya."

Blayne unclenched his fists and allowed the terrible tension to drain from his muscles.

"Get some rest," Johan advised, breaking the strained silence. "I can only hold off a gaggle of clucky women for so long. You're going to be inundated with visitors soon."

"Rest is good," Chryss said. "Plenty of sleepless nights ahead."

"Thanks," Blayne told him sourly.

"You're welcome, Panakeya. Thought you might appreciate knowing what's in store." And with that, Chryss dragged Johan from the room.

"If you had wanted to go back I would have found a way to follow you somehow," Blayne told the woman he loved.

"I would never leave you," she said. "Never. My home is here." And the truth of her words reverberated through him.

~*~

Hope awoke with a start. Her seer-senses told her it was the dead of night. She climbed from the bed and tiptoed to the crib. She checked Romana's temperature with the back of her hand and listened intently to her daughter breathing.

The baby's breaths sounded labored and forced. Something was not right. Damn not being able to see! "Blayne. Blayne!" She shook him. "Wake up! Something's wrong with Romana's breathing. I'm worried."

She waited anxiously while he checked Romana over.

"She's fine, dearling. She's fast asleep."

Thank the gods. Hope crawled back under the covers and tried to calm her racing heart. "Are you sure she's all right?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You're overtired—trying to do everything yourself instead of accepting help. I'll get you something to help you sleep and please, let me see to her next time she wakes."

"Thank you." The wait while Blayne prepared his concoction seemed interminable.

He handed her a cup. "Here, get some of this down you. I've flavored it with sweet syrup, so it shouldn't taste too bad."

Hope drained the cup and lay down. Blayne soon drifted back to sleep but she remained awake for a long time, counting her daughter's breaths and scanning her aureya.

~*~

The next episode occurred two nights later. Hope's distress lasted much longer and ended with her insistence Johan be brought to examine Romana. But Johan, too, found nothing wrong with the baby.

Blayne's concerns grew. He woke one night to see a shivering Hope leaning over the crib, her sightless gaze intent on her baby. When he tried to coax her back to bed she was unresponsive, as though sleepwalking.

As the days passed, Hope became more withdrawn and strangely reluctant to touch her daughter. Desperate, Blayne consulted Johan for advice. "What can we do? I've never seen her like this before. I have to remind her to feed Romana. Do you think she's depressed?"

"I'm at a loss," Johan admitted. "She seemed so content immediately after the birth. And she didn't strike me as the type to succumb to post-birth malaise. Perhaps another nursing mother could help with feeding?"

"Only as a last resort. Having her baby close and needing her may help pull her through this." Blayne raked his hands through his hair. "I wish Dayamar were still alive."

"So do I. He'd know what to do." Johan heaved a worried sigh. "In the meantime, I've made Hope a sleeping draught—just in case."

"Thanks, Johan."

Blayne returned home to find Hope curled up on the sleeping platform with Romana sleeping peacefully in her arms.

"Hope?"

The anguish in her eyes told him something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?"

"I had a Seeing."

Gods, no. Please, no. "What did you See?"

"Romana. She's sick, Blayne. We have to try and send her back—to my world. She'll have a chance there."

His heart stuttered and he pressed a fist to his chest to keep the panic at bay. "She's fine Hope. How many times do I have to tell you? There's nothing wrong with our daughter."

"We have to send her back. Soon. Before it's too late."

Blayne thought her voice sounded strange—inhuman. "I'll help you then," he said, dying a little more inside. "But first, let me hold Romana a while, hmm? And I've made you a drink. Nursing mothers need plenty to drink, remember?"

"I remember. Thank you." She drained the flask he handed her to the last drop.

He watched her eyelids begin to droop. When he was certain she was deeply asleep, he strode off to locate a nursing mother for his baby daughter. It was all he could think of to do.

~*~

Hope opened her eyes. She scanned the house with her Sehani senses. Empty. She extended her range and found Blayne in conference with Johan and the other healers. They were discussing her.

Despair shrouded her. Why didn't Blayne believe her? The only sick one here was their daughter. And where had he taken Romana?

Ah, there. Slumbering in a spare crib in the child-minding facility. Mmm. Maya would be taking her meal break soon....

Perfect. But right now there was a document to write.

After so long expressing herself in Dayamaru, the English words didn't come easy. The date, too, was a problem. Hope presumed time passed in a similar manner on both worlds but who knew for sure? After some thought she backdated the document to the week before Dayamar had snatched her from Earth.

It took three frustrating attempts before she remembered the knack of writing across a ruler so her words didn't wander down the page. She grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and started over.

When she'd finished, she reviewed what she'd written in her mind, mentally checking for loopholes. And then she walked outside, grabbed the first person she sensed, and dragged him back to her room. "Look at this," she instructed the unfortunate man. "And keep looking at it until I tell you to stop."

"Y-yes, Sehan!" He did as he was told, unaware that she was using his eyes.

She signed her full name and the date she'd settled on, and then tapped the quill's feather on her lip. She couldn't risk a letter of explanation—not that anyone would believe it. But after her parents' and brothers' deaths one person had been there for her: Maggie. Her mother's best friend. Maggie had treated her like a daughter. Maggie, of all people, would understand what she was trying to achieve.

Please gods, she prayed, let that be true.

Hope printed Maggie's full legal name beneath her own signature. All Maggie would have to do was sign the document... and keep her mouth shut.

Through her borrowed eyes, Hope scanned the document one last time. Perfectly legible. Yes, it would do. "You can go now," she told the man, and he bolted from the room like a pack of wolves was on his tail.

She rolled the parchment and tied it with a piece of leather thong. And then she smoothed her hair, tugged her clothing straight, and set out for the center to fetch her daughter.

When she entered the center, she greeted Degan and some of the little ones she knew by name. No one questioned her when she scooped her baby from the crib and walked away. Now came the hardest part of her task.

By the time she'd broken through the protective veil between her home-world and Dayamaria, Hope's unnatural composure had crumpled and her knees were wobbling. And after she'd spun the gate that would prevent the opening from inadvertently closing, the immense well of her power was almost drained.

"Goodbye, my darling," she whispered to Romana. "I love you. Be safe and grow. If I survive this, I will find a way to be with you again someday. I give you my word."

Hope kissed her daughter's soft cheek and carefully placed her on the ground. Then she stepped back, biting her lips to keep the sobs locked inside her. She sucked in a deep breath to center herself. Her hand brushed her belt pouch and an idea bloomed. Yes!

She darted forward to tuck her precious picture-globe into the baby's swaddling blanket next to the rolled parchment meant for Maggie. She kissed Romana one last time and backed away. Now. It had to be now, before she lost the will to do what must be done and condemned them all.

She concentrated. The air around the baby began to whirl. Faster, and faster... forming a vortex that streamed upward, taking Romana with it.

"Hope!"

Her shoulders hunched as his horror-filled shout smacked her.

"What have you done?"

"Gods help me, I've saved us all," she whispered. And then the painful tightness in her chest flared into agony, her knees buckled, and she toppled to the ground in a heap.

Blayne skidded to a halt on his knees and felt for her pulse. None. He pounded on her chest. "Come on," he chanted. "Live! We need you, Hope. _I_ need you. If you die, we'll never get her back."

She gave a choked gasp. Beneath his hands he felt her heart stutter to life.

"Chryss!" Blayne implored the empty air. "Help me, please! Help me get my daughter back!"

"It's too late, Panakeya." Chryss's deep bass tones came from behind Blayne. "I haven't the power to bring her back. Only Hope can do that."

Blayne dragged her across his lap and rocked her. "Why couldn't you have come sooner?"

When the big man finally spoke his voice was immeasurably sad. "There was nothing I could have done."

"Why, Chryss? Why did she do it? There was nothing wrong with our daughter. Nothing. It was all in her mind!"

"You're wrong, Blayne. If Romana had remained here she would have become evil incarnate. What's infecting your daughter will be contained in Hope's home-world. There, it will hold no sway over any being save its host."

"No. I don't believe you. I don't understand. If you can't bring my daughter back, why are you here?"

"To show you what Hope has Seen and help you understand. Link with my mind, Blayne. See."

The air shimmered and a scene formed. Blayne saw a large shade tree. Beneath it, on a bed of leaves, lay his baby daughter. She screwed up her face and loosed a frightened wail... and he thought his heart would break.

A middle-aged woman came into view, and hastened over to the baby. "Oh my goodness!" She scooped Romana up and glanced around, obviously perplexed. "There now. Sshh. Where's your mommy? Sshh, my sweet. There now."

As the woman cooed softly and jiggled the baby, two items slipped from the blanket. She hugged the baby close to her chest while she bent to retrieve them.

Blayne recognized Hope's picture globe. The second item was a rolled piece of parchment—a letter of explanation, perhaps. If so, it was far more than he'd been given. His lips compressed to a tight line and fury welled in his soul.

He watched the woman prop his daughter over her shoulder and walk briskly up a pathway to a large dwelling the likes he'd never seen before.

His heart shriveled. What Hope had done.... It could never be undone. He would never forgive her for this. Never. "Goodbye, little one," he whispered. "Your mother and I will always love you, even if we're a world away. Remember me, Romana. Please, remember me."

And it seemed the baby heard his voice, even from a world away, for she opened her eyes and stared right at him. Her eyes glowed with a sickly-green malevolence that chilled his soul. "No!" he shouted, appalled as the truth slapped him. "No!" And then the vision cut off.

"I'm sorry, Panakeya," he heard Chryss say. "It was written this day would come. There was nothing I could do."

In his arms Hope gave a low moan of distress... and a tear tracked down her cheek.

***

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Turn the page for a peek at the next book in The Seer Trilogy, _Seer's Promise_!

## Seer's Promise

### Excerpt

Romana's stomach loop-de-looped. The people she'd glimpsed coming up the driveway worried her. It was their clothes. They didn't fit in. They looked like they'd walked off some movie set or something. And it was the "or something", and her suspicion about what the man was carrying over his shoulder, and the fact Maggie didn't respond to her questions, that made her pulse ratchet and prodded her to run down the last flight of stairs and through the open the door to the lounge.

She skidded to a halt.

The woman standing in the middle of the room looked to be in her twenties. She had thick waist-length reddish brown hair. She was beautiful, Romana noted, but her clothes were even more eye-catching. Their style was like nothing she had seen before. Dress, jacket and boots were all made of blood-red leather edged with black oval designs that looked kind of like eyes.

The woman smoothed her hair back from her temples, revealing a tattoo that could have been a stylized eye on her left temple. And Romana realized something even more strange. The woman's eyes were gold. They raked her from head to toe, absorbing every little detail, stripping off the veneer of teenage self-assurance that Romana clung to and seeing right to her heart. She shifted uneasily. "I'm Romana."

"I know," the woman said, soft and gentle but with an undercurrent of something strong and raw that made Romana even more uncomfortable.

"Oh. Um, do you know Maggie?"

"Yes. But I'm here to see you."

"Oh." She tried to think of something intelligent to say but the awkward silence intensified along with the woman's alien golden gaze, until Romana couldn't take it any longer. Her glaze darted away and fixed on a figure lying on the couch.

Unconscious? That couldn't be good.

He was big—strong-looking. And his features were exotic. High cheekbones, full lips for a man, olive skin. His longish dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her gaze swung back to the woman standing patiently in front of her. So familiar. _Both_ of them. Why?

Recognition came with a sensation like a punch to the stomach that made her take a lurching step backward. No. It couldn't be. She sucked in a breath. And then another. A part of her mind screamed for her to relax but it was too late. The wheeze built deep in her chest and she stumbled toward the kitchen door. "Need... inhaler. Can't... breathe. Maggie!"

The monster inside her took full advantage of her weakness and tried to possess her. Her spine stiffened, fingers curling into claws. Sweat beaded, slid down her skin.

"Romana!"

The woman's voice cut through her growing panic and Romana found herself turned around again although no one had physically touched her. She glued her gaze to the woman's face, focusing on those strange golden eyes.

Let me help you, Romana.

The woman's lips hadn't moved but her voice echoed in Romana's mind. And then she heard, _Please_.

She nodded, feeling something—an upwelling of certainty that she could trust this woman. Her mother. And the instant she gave in and put herself completely in her mother's hands a warm glow centered in her diaphragm and spread quickly through her torso. Her breathing calmed and the tensed muscles of her chest and abdomen relaxed. Somehow she knew it would be okay. This time it would not win.

That's it. Good girl. Now let me join with you to fight this thing inside you. Let me in, Romana.

"Okay," she breathed. And felt a slight pressure behind her eyes, not uncomfortable, but insistent. All her barriers dissolved. Her mind felt like it had expanded, as though long unused neural pathways had suddenly flared to life. And the thing inside her roared to life.

Use me, Romana. Draw on my power to fight this thing inside you. All I have is yours to use. Fight!

Romana took what she'd been offered. In her mind's eye she spat flaming gouts of pure energy at her tormentor and beat it into submission. And then she caged it behind bars that sizzled with psychic energy, imprisoning it inside herself where it could do no harm. She sensed approval from her mother and smiled triumphantly. Now for the kill.

She was gathering her will when her mother's presence vanished, leaving her powerless and filled with nothing but a savage need. "Why did you do that? I was going to kill it!"

"Killing it would damage your soul. Don't you see, Romana? If you try to kill it out of hatred, it will have won. As much as I loathe it and want it destroyed for what it's done to you, we have to find another way. We'll work it out. Together."

"I-I guess you're right. Hating it always made it stronger." She was silent for a long moment. "How do you know so much about it?"

"Because I'm your mother. I'm the one who sent you here. To save you."

"You're really my mother." Her mouth went dry. "You're Hope." And the man lying on the couch was her father. God. This was big—huge. So huge she couldn't get her head around it.

"Yes. I'm Hope Leah Delamore. I'm your mother." And she held out her arms.

For what seemed like an eternity Romana couldn't bring herself to move or speak. And then all the pent-up fury she'd locked up for so long poured from her. "Don't think I'm going to welcome you with open arms, _Hope_. You abandoned me, dumped me under a tree like a piece of garbage. I was a baby, for Christ's sake. A tiny, defenseless baby. What kind of unfeeling bitch are you? I don't want you here. Go. Go now, and take that man who's supposed to be my father with you. Just... just... fuck off back to wherever you've been hiding all my life. I don't want you here."

Hope flinched. Her arms dropped to her sides. Her eyes glistened with tears, but she made no attempt to defend herself.

Romana sucked in another deep breath, and cursed as a surge of glee infected her. It was feeding on her emotions, growing stronger. She swallowed the fury bubbling up inside her and threatening to make her lose control. And when she'd beaten it back and willed herself to a semblance of calm she tried to think logically.

She had always known Maggie loved her deeply. The times when she'd lashed out verbally—and physically, too, when she was younger—at anyone nearby had driven others away. But not Maggie. She had always offered unconditional love. Romana had told herself she had everything she could ever need, and she didn't miss her absent mother one iota. But now, at this precise moment in time, she understood she'd been lying to herself. She'd nursed a jagged wound in her heart that no amount of love from Maggie could heal. The older she grew the wider it gaped, and the more effort it took to conceal the wound from others.

She gazed at her mother, refusing to let the silent tears coursing down Hope's face move her or affect her. Yeah, right. Another lie.

"Do you truly want me to leave, Romana?"

There was love and longing and despair in that question, and Romana felt each word as a punch to her heart and soul.

How could she resist?

She couldn't.

"No." Her voice was the merest whisper. "I don't want you to leave. Please don't leave me alone again." She wasn't consciously aware of moving and then she was enfolded in a tight embrace, hyper-aware of her mother's tears dampening her shoulder. The wound in her heart shrank just a little bit. It was nice to be held, to know her mother loved her. But she held a piece of herself apart, and that piece observed and analyzed and wondered at Hope's motives for turning up after all these years.

"How're you two getting on?"

Chryss's gruff interruption caused Hope to jump and give a girly squeak. "Do you have to sneak up on me like that?" she said, sounding so irate that Romana giggled.

"By the gods, look at the two of them. They could be sisters. Don't you think so, Maggie?"

"She doesn't look a day older than the last time I saw her."

The note of uncertainty Romana heard in Maggie's voice made her take a step back from her mother and consider her through new eyes.

Maggie was right: Hope didn't look anywhere near old enough to have an eighteen year old daughter. Was she really who she claimed to be? The same woman who'd appeared in Romana's crystal globe?

She fought the impulse to chafe her arms and warm her chilled skin. She had a monster living inside her. A real live bona fide monster that possessed her and used her to do horrible things. How was that any stranger than having a mother who looked far too young? Who had somehow recognized and helped her fight the thing inside her that no one else could see or sense—not even with the latest diagnostic equipment?

"You should go to your room and rest while we see to your mother's, ah, companion," Maggie said.

She knew Maggie was only concerned for her wellbeing—and the safety of these unexpected guests should Romana's supposed schizophrenia make an untimely appearance because of the extra stress she was under. But she didn't much appreciate being treated like a child who couldn't control herself... even if there were times she _couldn't_ control herself. Sometimes she didn't know whether it'd make things better or worse if Maggie realized her "illness" truly was caused by the monster she'd tried so desperately convince others to believe in as a child. Funny how Maggie never seemed to notice how her eyes turned a hideous shade of green when the monster took over. Or if she did, she found some logical reason to explain away the phenomenon.

"Romana will be fine, Maggie," Hope said. "I have some... medical training and I've already checked her over quite thoroughly."

Romana cocked an eyebrow at the barely discernible pause. Her mother, or the woman claiming to be her—take your pick—was hiding something.

Maggie pursed her lips. "You know about her ill-health?"

"Yes. That's why we're here. But we'll talk about that later. I'd like her to stay with us. Blayne will want to see her when he wakes up."

"Please, Maggie?" Romana tried her best wheedling tone. If Hope really was her mother, and this unconscious man really was her father, then no way was she missing a moment of their visit—even if she had to fake getting all worked up to get her way.

"Oh, very well. I'm sure your mother knows best. But just you do as she tells you, miss." Maggie wagged a forefinger at her. "From what I know of your mother, blind or not you won't get around her as easily as you do me."

_Blind?_ OMG! She'd completely forgotten that Hope had been blinded in a car wreck. She found herself staring into those golden eyes. Hang on. Maggie had told her Hope's eyes were _blue_.

"Would you like to ask me something?" Hope said.

Whoa. It was like Hope had read her mind. Or something. "Um, why are your eyes such a weird color? I thought they were blue, like mine. Are they contact lenses? They're pretty cool, I guess—like some wild animal or something. And when did you get the tattoo on your temple? Did it hurt much?" She flushed. God. She sounded like a little kid.

Hope only smiled in a way that didn't make her feel embarrassed. That was a point in her favor. "I'll tell you all about it after we help Blayne," she said. "Is that okay?"

"You're asking me?" Deep breath Romana. "I mean, sure. Of course that's okay." Two points. She liked being treated as an adult. She jerked her chin at the big blond man, who looked just plain out of place holding one of Maggie's fine china teacups. "Who's _he_?"

"I'm Chryss. A friend of your parents'. Pleased to meet you."

Her gaze skittered from his too-knowing penetrating eyes and fixed on the unconscious man's face. Safer. Much safer.

Her brain isolated certain physical characteristics and made comparisons and—

"He _is_ my father," she whispered, awed. "I saw him in my crystal sphere."

"Yes," Hope said. "I prayed one day you would discover how to activate the sphere. It was created so I could _see_ my family in my mind's eye whenever I needed to. It's one of the most precious things I own. But I believed it was important you had a chance to know what your father looked like." She smiled gently. "So I gave it to you."

The breath caught in her throat. "That must have been hard—to give it up, I mean."

"Giving you up was harder."

Romana had no answer to that.

"His name is Blayne," her mother continued. "I didn't want him to risk his life to journey here with me. His people need him too much. But he insisted. No force on our world could keep him from seeing you."

What was she supposed to say? That she understood it must have been hard for them to give her up? She didn't. Maybe she never would. This morning she'd woken up an orphan. This afternoon she had two parents who professed to love her but had abandoned her. It was doing her head in.

"Your mother's important to her people, too, Romana," Chryss said. "They need her even more than they need Blayne."

She shot him a glance over her shoulder. "What do you mean 'her people'?"

"I'll leave your mother to explain. I'll enjoy hearing _that_ particular tale." He threw up a hand to forestall the questions that had bubbled to Romana's lips. "First, Blayne. Then you get to ask questions. Maggie, my dearest woman, here's what we'll need." He reeled off a lengthy list.

To Romana's surprise her guardian blushed pink at the endearment. She set aside her teacup and bustled off to fetch the required supplies. And Romana had no time to chew over everything she'd learned, or try to figure out how she felt about it and how she should react, because Maggie called loudly from the kitchen for assistance.

For a good twenty minutes she ran around at Maggie's beck and call collecting all the bits and pieces on Chryss's list, and by the time she'd finished she had a newfound respect for Maggie's phenomenal memory.

"It just takes practice, Romana," Maggie told her. "But you know, I swear I can still hear every item he asked for echoing inside my head. Isn't that strange?" She dumped a tray loaded with an assortment of containers and a single cup into Romana's arms. "That's all we have. I do hope it suffices. And Romana?"

"Mmm?"

"Why don't you call Hope 'Mom'? She is your mother after all."

"You've been more of a mother to me that _she_ has." She held her breath, waiting for Maggie to launch into a lecture. But she only compressed her lips into a thin line as she hefted the large saucepan of water Chryss had requested and cradled it in her arms. "Bring the tray," she said as she marched from the room.

When she entered the living room Romana nearly dropped her burden. Her hands shook as she placed the tray on the coffee table. Blayne floated in mid-air, his body sheathed in a pulsating rainbow of energy. Chryss stood by the unconscious man's head, and Hope at his feet. Although both were still and their faces serene, perspiration beaded their foreheads. Whatever they were doing wasn't easy. And... Hope's eyes were glowing.

"Lord have mercy!" Maggie had half-fallen into an armchair and was clutching the saucepan to her chest. "What on earth are you doing? Magic?"

_It's hard to explain, Maggie._ Hope's voice echoed strangely, and this time Romana knew absolutely her mother's lips hadn't moved as she spoke.

"Try," Maggie said, in the tone she used when Romana had pushed the limits of her patience.

Chryss and I have certain abilities and we're using them to help Blayne. He has a slightly different physiology to you, and he's having trouble breathing this world's air.

" _This_ world's air?" Maggie emphasized the word with eyes so wide she resembled a Manga character.

Romana didn't blame her for being shocked. Sure, she'd heard Chryss allude to "worlds" a short time ago, but she'd not truly comprehended the implications.

When I disappeared it was because I'd been transported to another world. If I could have I would've returned long before now. Nothing would have stopped me. Do you have what Chryss needs?

"Yes," Maggie said faintly. "But if you have... magic, then why don't you use it? Why do you need herbs?"

Blayne has been a healer for decades. He uses herbs every day and knows their properties intimately. Chryss believes he will respond best if we use what he knows when we heal him. Do you have all the herbs, Romana?

"Yes." She was proud that her voice sounded steady.

Good. Please don't touch them or try to assist. Chryss will take what he needs.

Romana glanced at Maggie and uttered a sincere prayer her elderly guardian wouldn't freak. She flopped at Maggie's feet, entranced by the wash of colors running up and down her father's body. This was beyond awesome.

Abruptly the empty fireplace flamed to life. But Romana was even more impressed when the saucepan of water bucked in Maggie's arms.

Maggie's eyes went owl-like again. She clutched the saucepan even more tightly while it tried to escape her grasp. The tug-of-war continued until Romana gently but firmly detached it from her guardian's hands. They watched as the saucepan sailed through the air and landed in the fireplace. While the water heated, various herbs popped from their containers to dance through the air.

Have you got everything, Chryss?

Almost. Scanned Blayne's mind for what to use and compared them to your memories of the herbs in this world. Got a pretty close match I think.

Clever.

Romana had the impression they were broadcasting their conversation to her and Maggie out of politeness. Just as well. She'd go crazy if she had to guess what was going on.

_Dried herbs should be adequate_ , Chryss said. _Though fresh would be better. We're missing one vital ingredient though._

What's that?

Fragrant herb with silvery foliage and purple flower-heads. Dayamar's favorite.

_It's called_ lavender _here. I'll check the garden._ A brief pause and then, _We're in luck. How much, Chryss?_

A bit.

That's not very helpful.

Romana stifled a high-pitched squeak as a bush from Maggie's prized lavender hedge, roots and all, appeared in the living room. It floated toward Chryss, shedding clods of soil along the way.

Didn't need the whole bush, girl.

Then you should have been more specific. How much do you want?

Six good-sized tips should do the trick. Can you manage that small thing for me?

If you say 'please'.

_Please._ Chryss didn't sound impressed, and Romana couldn't help but giggle.

Lavender tips joined the chaotic muddle of herbs swirling in the middle of the room, and then the entire mass flew toward the fireplace and cast itself into the now-boiling water. The uprooted lavender bush vanished.

_Please excuse her, Maggie,_ Chryss said. _She gets overly enthusiastic at times—it's a common trait with young people. I've re-planted your_ lavender _bush and it should recover well. And I'll make sure Hope cleans the dirt from the rug, too._

"Er, thank you," Maggie managed.

A fleeting image of Hope sticking out her tongue at Chryss formed in Romana's mind. She stifled another giggle.

The saucepan rose from the fireplace. It flew toward Romana, wafting the odor of infusing herbs.

_Would you pour this mixture into the cup for me, Romana?_ Chryss asked.

"Sure. But won't it take a while to infuse and cool down?"

Yes. That's why I'll have to 'magic' it a bit.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to criticize." She grasped the floating saucepan and found it amazingly light. She snatched the cup from the tray and gingerly decanted the contents of the saucepan into it, careful not to spill a drop. Maggie would have a fit if this mucky stuff ended up on the rug. As the saucepan emptied it became inexplicably heavier. The brimming cup, suddenly buoyant, floated from her grasp and headed toward Chryss.

_No offence taken_ , Chryss said. _I'm used to criticism. Suffered years of it from your mother._

_Chryss!_ Hope's voice lashed out and the cup gave a little dancing hiccup. _Can we discuss my manners later, please?_

Very well. Are you ready to wake him? This'll be tough.

I'm ready.

Good. Now you two ladies shouldn't be alarmed if Blayne reacts badly to this. It's not going to taste good. His muscles might spasm a bit, too.

Maggie's face scrunched into a worried frown. She reached for Romana's hand and squeezed it tightly.

Can you hold the weaving on your own for a short time, girl? I need to make sure he doesn't swallow his tongue or injure himself. Whatever you do, don't let go while the change is taking place.

Do it now. I'll manage.

Romana nearly jumped out of her skin when Chryss moved. In a flash he'd bent over Blayne and forced open his jaws. He poured the herbal concoction into Blayne's mouth bit by bit, pausing to massage his throat to encourage him to swallow.

He set aside the cup. Blayne's eyelids popped open. His limbs began to tremble and his facial muscles twitched uncontrollably. Abruptly he arched his back, and his jaws stretched wide in a silent scream His fingers curled into claws and then jerked upward to scratch at his eyes and face. Chryss moved quickly to pin him down. It looked like it was taking a whole lot of strength to restrain him.

The colors enveloping Blayne surged to engulf Chryss, too. Romana held her breath. She hadn't the faintest clue if this... _process_ was going well. She tore her gaze from her father to dart a glance at her mother. Hope was outwardly calm, but blood smeared her chin. She'd bitten through her lip.

Romana's gaze fixed on those beautiful crimson smears. And the monster inside her burst from the imperfect prison she'd created for it.

~*~

Get your copy of _Seer's Promise_ :

www.mareeanderson.com/books/

_The Seer Trilogy_ :

Seer's Hope (Hope's story)

Seer's Promise (Romana's story)

Seer's Choice (Ryley's story)

~*~

## Glossary of Characters and Terms

Characters: Dayamari

Blayne (male)

\- Panakeya (First Healer)

Cayl (m)

\- Hunter, Maya's life-partner

Chryss (m)

\- Hermit

Dayama (f)

\- First recorded Dayamari Sehan in history

Dayamar (m)

\- First Sehan

Degan (m)

\- Blayne's housekeeper

Dorian (m)

\- Willem's friend

Evan (m)

\- First Settlement Elder

Gerayne (m)

\- Geramar's son

Janus (m)

-Maya's father

Jarren (m)

\- Dayamari male

Johan (m)

\- Healer

Katya (f)

\- Maya's sister, Sehan (deceased)

Kevyn (m)

\- Dayamari male

Lukas (m)

\- Apprentice tracker

Lyam (m)

\- Treya's life-partner (deceased)

Maya (f)

\- Child-minder, Cayl's life-partner

Markis (m)

\- Dayamari male

Mikel (m)

\- Footwear-maker

Roban (m)

\- Musician, maker of woodwind instruments, Zavier's life-partner

Shay (f)

\- Clothing-maker

Shayna (f)

\- Willem's cousin

Taran (m)

\- Master Tracker

Treya (f)

\- Hair-dresser & body-painter, Lyam's life-partner

Varon (m)

\- First Elder

Varaya (f)

\- Previous lover of Blayne's

Willem (m)

\- Low status Dayamari male

Zavier (m)

\- Carver & spear-maker, Roban's life- partner

Gods

Kunnandi (m)

\- Child figure, overseer of afterlife; chosen animal form: serpent

Shikari (m)

\- Father-figure, protector, chosen animal form: wolf

Wisa (f)

\- Mother-figure, Seer; chosen animal form: owl

Usehani

Breanna (f)

\- Water-diviner

Daryon (m)

\- Leader and founding member of Usehani settlement

Geramar (m)

\- Historian, Dayamar's great-grandnephew, Gerayne's father

Kaylia

\- Trainee healer

Martyn (m)

\- Usehani male

Mayson (m)

\- Usehani male

Naytan (m)

\- Healer

Nerraya (f)

\- First Leader

Rikard (m)

\- Usehani male

Others

Hope Leah Delamore (f)

\- Young blind woman transported to Dayamaria from Earth

Maggie

\- Hope's guardian

Terms & Explanations

Ambre

\- Gold-colored fossilized resin, prized as jewelry

Anthemisia

\- Low-growing herb with a fragrance like apples, and daisy-like flowers with yellow centers; used widely as a tea; valued for its calming properties, but also used to reduce fevers, toothache, clear skin eruptions. Also useful as an insect repellent and as a poultice to speed wound healing.

Aureya

\- Psychic energy that surrounds the human body and all matter, both animate and inanimate

Cervida

\- Deer-like herbivore, hunted for hide, meat and antlers

Dayamaria

\- 'Dayama's Land'

Dayamari

\- People of Dayamaria

Dayamaru

\- Spoken language of Dayamaria

Dormayre

\- Dormitory complex for young single men or women

Euphrasia

\- Also known as "eyebright". Herbaceous plant commonly found in colder climes, with either purple, blue-white, or violet flowers. Flowers have a distinctive lower petal shaped like a "lip". Commonly used as a warm poultice for redness, swelling and eye strains or infections. Can also be administered as a tea to ease chest inflammation caused by coughs, colds and sinus infections.

Joining

\- Dayamari custom, similar to marriage

Kiyusari

\- 'Chosen Ones' (ancient name for Dayamari people)

Kuruvinda

\- Deep red precious gem

Lavendula

\- Fragrant herb with distinctive silvery foliage covered in fine hairs, and purple flower-heads. Used in balms, salves and infusions. Valued for its antiseptic properties; used to soothe insect bites, burns and headaches, and to help with insomnia. The dried buds add a slightly sweet floral taste when used in cooking.

Life-partners

\- Joined couples, similar to married couples

Panakeya

\- Highest status healer, i.e. First Healer

Promise/Promising

\- Dayamari custom, similar to engagement. An exchange of gifts is made during the Promising ceremony, traditionally a bracelet or necklace featuring the color red.

Sehan

\- Generic term for Seer

Sehani

\- Of, or regarding, a Sehan

Sekar

\- Beverage made from fermented fruit

Usehani

\- 'Seer-less people', renegade Dayamari Settlement

***

## Books by Maree Anderson:

PARANORMAL ROMANCES

The Crystal Warriors Series

The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle(Books 1, 2 and 3)

Book 1: The Crystal Warrior (Chalcedony & Wulf's story)

Book 2: Ruby's Dream (Ruby & Kyan's story)

Book 3: Jade's Choice (Jade & Malach's story)

Book 4: Opal's Wish (Opal & Danbur's story)

Elemental Riders Series

Lightning Rider

FANTASY (with romantic elements)

The Seer Trilogy

The Seer Trilogy Bundle (Books 1, 2 and 3)

Book 1: Seer's Hope (Hope's story)

Book 2: Seer's Promise (Romana's story)

Book 3: Seer's Choice (Ryley's story)

YOUNG ADULT (paranormal)

Freaks Series

Freaks Series Bundle (Books 1, 2 and 3)

Book 1: Freaks of Greenfield High

Book 2: Freaks in the City

Book 3: Freaks Under Fire

Liminals Series

Prequel (novella): Tangent

Book 1: Liminal

Book 2: Phase

Dangerous Boys Anthology

Sara Hantz: _Written in the Stars_

Maree Anderson: _Tangent_

Vanessa Barneveld: _Live Fast, Die Young_

Robyn Grady: _Raising Hell_

Ebony McKenna: _Dangerous Honesty_

***

## About the Author

Maree Anderson writes paranormal romance, fantasy, and young adult books. She lives in beautiful New Zealand, home of hobbits, elves, and kiwis—both the fruit and the two-legged flightless variety. Her first novel for young adults, the multi-award-winning _Freaks of Greenfield High,_ was optioned for TV, and currently has over 2 million reads on Wattpad. Alas, _Freaks_ didn't make it to the small screen, but it sure was a fun ride while it lasted. Readers will be pleased to know she is definitely planning to write more books in her popular _Crystal Warriors_ and _Freaks_ series.

For blurbs, excerpts, reviews and more, please check out the _Books_ page of her website: www.mareeanderson.com. Contact Maree at: maree@mareeanderson.com.

***

## SEER'S HOPE

ISBN 978-0-9922498-1-6

Copyright 2013 by Maree Anderson

Published by Maree Anderson

Cover Design by Rob Anderson

This novel is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved; the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form whatsoever in any country whatsoever without the express permission of the author is forbidden.

***

License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

