Despite the warm welcome they had received yesterday, the Seers had become distinctly unfriendly overnight. The Seer who led them answered their questions with clipped answers, and Kyosti could hear other people around them hissing and whispering. Sanji’s hands flexed on his elbow; she pressed closer to him the farther they walked.
“I think these people really dislike you,” she murmured into his ear. “They all have such coldness in their eyes when they look at you.”
Kyosti shrugged. What did he care what a Seer thought of him?
Their guide shuffled to a stop. “We’re going up there.”
Kyosti tipped his head back, even though he couldn’t see anything. The snow still fell around them, and he reveled at the whisper-soft kisses on his skin.
Sanji coughed. “That’s...pretty high. Kyosti can’t---uh….can’t they come down and meet us?”
“No,” the Seer answered, and shortly after Kyosti heard the creak of wood as he started climbing up into some “pretty high” treehouse.
Sanji paused for so long that Kyosti looked at her. “Is it really that scary?” he whispered.
“Ummm,” she muttered back, “well I’m just not sure I can myself up there alive, let alone both of us. OK, you go on the inside by the trunk and we’ll just...take our time.”
Sanji and Kyosii were both shaking by the time they made it to the top of the treehouse. Skasdi couldn’t see the drop all around them, but from the flow of air and sound around him, he knew it was there. Sanji pressed him close to the trunk the whole way, the sleeve of his heavy coat catching on the bark at every step.
When they finally reached the landing, the elder from the night before was waiting for them with the guide.
“You should be honored to come to this place,” the elder said in his slow, deep voice. “Two such as yourselves have not entered this place in many a day.”
Kyosti wondered what he meant by “such as yourselves.” Non-Seers? Innis? Bird-worshippers? Chith? The possibilities were endless. He said, “What is this place?”
The elder didn’t answer, but Kyosti heard a door squeal open in front of them and the footsteps of the elder walking away.
Their guide’s voice was cold as he said, “We haven’t got all day. Come.”
Sanji tugged Kyosti inside. He groped for the doorframe--rough wood that felt old--and stumbled over the lintel.
“Anglorae?” the elder called out. “Anglorae!”
A groan, then rustling. “My lord?”
The voice was small and tired. A girl, maybe.
Sanji gasped. “She’s just a child!”
“In our camp, we do not count years like your people do,” their guide corrected haughtily. “Anglorae has passed our tests. She is a Seer.”
Kyosti strained to hear Anglorae again. The rustling continued. A musty smell, like old sheets and unwashed hair, filled his nostrils.
“My lord, who are these? Are they here to take me away?” Her voice sounded like she had just woken up. He suddenly realized the continual rustling was of her struggling out of a bed.
The elder sighed. “You should have made yourself presentable before I came up, Anglorae. This is Kyosti Romalidan from the Queen’s Army, and his guide, Sanji.”
“Guide?” Anglorae was more alert now. She sounded incredulous. “Can’t even a simple soldier read a map?” Footsteps. Kyosti opened his mouth to speak, but Anglorae cut him off. “He’s blind?! I’ve heard all sorts of stories about the Chith Empire, but it must be worse off than I thought if they let blind men join their army!”
More footsteps came from Kyosti’s right, and he flinched away as he realized there was a second stranger in the room.
“Oh, er, kind sir--” Sanji said, turning with Kyosti to see who this new person was.
“Pay him no heed,” the elder dismissed. “He’s a slave. Mute.”
“He’s my manservant,” Anglorae insisted. “Those abominable slavers cut his tongue out when they captured him. And he has a name.”
“What’s his name?” Kyosti asked quickly. His heart was beating quickly. Would he ever get used to getting snuck up on?
“John,” Anglorae replied. Her voice was close now. Kyosti got the feeling she was watching him. “His name is John Greenwood.”
“John?” Kyosti tried out the name on his tongue. “That’s an unusual name. Where does it come from?”
The elder cut in. “We’re not here to talk about your slave, Anglorae--”
“Manservant,” the girl muttered under her breath.
“--We’re here to prepare you to be sent off.”
She laughed softly, a long, low sound that sent chills chasing down Kyosti’s back.
He stood up straighter. “Is this the Seer you’re sending back to the court of Queen Galveston? She sounds like a child. Uneducated. Unfit to be a member of the House of Wizards.”
Anglorae laughed even harder at that.
“And isn’t that the point?” she cackled. “To send the worst of us to her court? Why should we love her, traitor, why should we give her anything---”
“Anglorae!” the elder snapped; Kyosti jumped at the harsh noise. Anglorae kept muttering against the queen, and there was a sudden sound, like the guide had stepped forward and slapped her. Sanji made no noise of protest, but her hand tightened like a vice around Kyosti’s elbow and she jerked him back a step. Kyosti’s muscles tightened, ready for a fight---but for what? And from where? He’d lost track of where exactly everyone was in the room---except Anglorae, who was cackling again.
A heavy feeling descended on the room; Kyosti’s fingers itched for the Innis knife hidden in his pack, but he didn’t dare pull any weapon.
“It’s settled then,” the elder said, his voice back to soft and firm. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”
______________________
Photo by Roseanna Smith on Unsplash
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