Chapter Thirteen: In the Seer's Camp

 

Kyosti knew they were almost at the Seer’s Camp when the smells of civilization started to reach his nose: fires, cooking food, and latrines. He had wondered before what the Seer’s Camp would be like, how much of it would be familiar, how much of it would be foreign. The Camp, of course, was far away from Chithoobra, even if it was still in the empire. However, the Seers were descended from people who had once been Innis; he might find similarities here with the Icefields.

The thought made him feel slightly ill. He didn’t want to have anything in common with the Seers. Not these traitors.

No guards or sentries approached them or questioned them as Sanji led him into the Camp, but what need did the Seers have for sentries? They had probably seen the two of them coming for weeks, even months. “What do you see?” he asked Sanji. “Is anyone around?”

She hmmmed. “Just a lot of trees, so far. But I can see smoke, and smell it. And do you hear that? Voices.”

Now that she mentioned it, Kyosti did hear voices.

“Are they,” Sanji continued hesitantly, “singing?”

Indeed, it was singing that Kyosti found so familiar, of the sort that he might have heard on the Icefields.

His stomach clenched, and he resisted the urge to check if the knife was still in his pack. He really had stepped from the pan into the fire now.

As the voices grew louder, Sanji spotted dwellings finally---houses built into the trees, with elaborate staircases or ladders leading up to them. She described them to Kyosti in a great detail as they passed---the whitewashed sides that blended into the pale, wintry sky, the thousands of bones suspended from twine hanging from the edges, the rope ladders leading from one house to another.

It sounded quaint. A quaint little village.

The singing led them into the heart of this village, a good ten-minute walk. By the time they had reached, the singing had reached a deafening fever pitch, the chanting and drumming beating against Kyosti’s ears until he feared he would start to lose yet another sense. Sanji’s hands tightened around him until it was almost painful as she led him into what he could only assume was a huge mass of people. Hands touched him all around, and he shrank away, arm looped protectively around his pack.

“How many people are there?” he yelled into her ear. She yelled back, “More than I can count with all this noise!”

The sound now had changed, pressing in on every side, sounding less like a joyful singing and more like a joyful greeting, like Kyosti and Sanji were long lost warriors coming from a harrowing battle. It reminded Kyosti of the clamor that would happen in his own childhood household when his parents or older siblings would return from a hunt or scouting. First the joyful singing to guide them into a camp, and then the screaming, hugging, and distribution of treats.

“I think the leader---or whatever---is up ahead,” Sanji yelled.

Sure enough, the crowd jostled them into place within a few moments, the yelling and cheering finally dying down to a manageable level.

In the almost-silence that came after, Kyosti realized he wasn’t sure what to do next. These people were close to Inniss...surely they wouldn’t expect an Innis greeting from him? He wasn’t sure if he could stomach that.

A voice, that of an old man, came from in front of him, and the crowd immediately went silent to listen. “We welcome our brave messenger, who has come all the way from Chithoobra with joyful news. Welcome also to this woman from the north, who assisted him in the last legs of his journey. Sadness for the death of our brother, the Seer Elto, who died so that we might be free.”

Kyosti found himself breaking into sweat. So, they knew the Seer from the capitol was dead. What else did they know?

“Grief also for the accident that happened on the way, where this messenger lost his sight. Comfort for him, and help.”

Sanji leaned in to whisper into Kyosti’s ear. “Is he praying? Are we supposed to talk back like that?”

He suppressed a smile and ignored her, instead staring at where he thought the Seer was standing, his mind whirring.

This could go so badly...if they knew about the accident, did they know about the knife?

There was only one way to find out.

Once the Seer had reached what seemed to be the end of his speech, Kyosti distangled himself from Sanji’s grip and took a careful step forward to give a formal Chith greeting: the presenting of the hands to show they were empty, the presenting of the heart to show trust, the presenting of the face to show friendliness, and the presenting of the voice to make a connection.

“All greetings from Her Majesty Queen Galveston of the Chith Empire, General of the First Army, Champion of Wizards. Greetings from His Highness the Crown Prince Marion. Greetings also from the House of Wizards, who wish to welcome another Seer into their midst.”

“Yes, yes,” another voice interrupted. “All good, but get on with it.”

Kyosti paused in surprise, and the elderly Seer from before said, “Have patience. Continue with your message, child.”

“Uh,” Kyosti hesitated, caught off his guard. He had thought, after that lengthy greeting, they would appreciate some flowery wording! Apparently not.

Again he presented his hands. This wasn’t necessary, but he had seen other messengers do it so perhaps it would look good.

“Queen Galveston respectfully requests that you choose another Seer to send to Chithoobra to serve in the House of Wizards. I will---” he choked up for a moment. “---of course I would be honored to escort this person back, but I would understand if you wanted to send them with your own guard, now that I’ve had an accident.”

Sanji’s hand came up to clasp around his elbow. He resisted the urge to shake her off.

There was a moment of silence---of expectancy---and Kyosti waited anxiously to hear the verdict. It had been cloudy the day the queen gave him the knife….and he had never removed the box from his pack during the journey, until the day the box had broken, which had also been a cloudy day. He could only hope against hope they didn’t know he had the knife.

“And the queen…” the Seer said slowly, “....didn’t give you anything for us? No letter? No…..gift?”

His heart thumped wildly, but Kyosti kept his face neutral. “The queen gave me only that verbal message. Anything else could be seen by others.”

A soft sound, like the Seer was sighing in disappointment. A buzz began all around them, like a crowd whispering all at once. He knows, Kyosti thought wildly. Or, he knows there was supposed to be something, and he’s wondering why I brought nothing.

“I understand,” the Seer continued. “The queen changed her mind. But it has been so long….”

There were murmurs of assent from the others gathered around. The buzz grew louder, more upset.

“So long since what?” Sanji asked. 

Another sigh, this one a collective sigh that echoed. “It’s no matter, if the queen has decided we’re not worthy.”

A stab of white-hot fury shot through Kyosti, and for a moment he didn’t even care if it showed on his face. These Seers---traitors, infidels, heathens---sitting here talking about being worthy. They were the least worthy of all the people, these people who had abandoned their true queen for a false god, these people who probably physically resembled him---so much so that Sanji probably thought they were Innis too---but who wouldn’t know what to do with that knife if he had stooped to hand it over to them---

Someone whispered. “And who is the Chith queen to decide if we are worthy? Have we not served her? Have we not paid our dues?”

“Hush!” another person said, louder. “Are you not ashamed?”

Kyosti made sure, again, to school his expression into one of polite disinterest, but inside, he was thinking, It was not the queen who judged you and found you unworthy. The Leopard Queen herself did.

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Photo by Al Soot on Unsplash