The Sight of Blood: Rhen's Story

-4- Terdan's Envoy

The dream stayed with her for weeks. Rhen found herself lying awake for hours each night, staring wide-eyed at the darkness for fear of closing her eyes and seeing the flames again. She followed her mother dutifully and mostly in silence, saying nothing of that night. She had decided that magic was no longer something she wanted to take part in.

The nessari were equally as quiet and paid Rhen’s change in character little mind. At first Rhen was too occupied to ask questions, but at last her own cares abated and she began to press her mother and aunts. Her mother refused to answer anything, insisting that she was tired from the Blood Moon. Aunt Celane was unusually morose and took to standing at one part of the outer wall or another and staring at the whitewashed stone for long periods of time. When Rhen asked her for anything she simply knelt and kissed her forehead before telling her to go and play.

Desperate and lonely, Rhen decided to seek out Trissa. She had neither seen nor spoken to the blind woman since the night of the ritual, too shaken by her encounter with the strange scaled woman in the under-rooms. If she had to pass over the iron grate she held her breath and closed her eyes, trusting in her memory of the stone path to see her through. She avoided the path that lined the outer wall, not at all eager for that old woman to speak to her again, but now she felt she had no choice.

Strangely, Trissa was waiting for her when she approached the little hut. The old sightless woman was seated on the stoop of the door, and beside her was a small tray with two cups and a plate of little cakes. Trissa pushed the tray to her side and motioned for Rhen to sit down. Rhen did as she was told, taking a cup when it was offered to her.

Trissa stared upward to the top of the wall in front of her hut. She smiled a sad and distant smile with hints of warmth as she sun began to shine between the clouds. “I heard a hawk yesterday. They won’t pass over the Temple, oh no, but he let me know he was out there.” Her voice was old and tired.

Rhen took one of the cakes and rested it on her knee, prodding away a few loose crumbs.

“You have a bit of the hawk in you, little Rhen. Sharp eyes and silent wings.”

“How do you know?”

Trissa smiled, knowing and mysterious. “We don’t need eyes to see. Give it a try.”

Rhen was silent for a long time. Bit by bit she broke the little cake into crumbs that fell around her knees and onto the ground in small piles. She wasn’t sure what it was that Trissa was asking of her, but sensed that it was important. She spoke without thinking. “Something is different now, Aunt.”

“Yes, child, it is.”

“Someone new is coming.”

“That is right.”

She blinked. The words were her own, and after speaking them she could suddenly see the shapes of men and horses in a dark tunnel, blurred as if they walked through a thick haze. Rhen rubbed at her eyes and saw the wall and the gardens again, the sun bright and hot. Colors and lights danced before her eyes for a moment before fading away. Trissa placed a hand on her shoulder and gave an encouraging squeeze.

“They get clearer after a time.”

“Was that magic?”

Trissa nodded, staring at Rhen with her sightless eyes.

Rhen brushed the crumbs from her lap. She wasn’t sure what had changed, but now she felt different and self-conscious. Trissa was smiling at her, waiting for her to speak, but no words came to her lips.

Heavy, determined footsteps grew louder as someone approached the hut. Celane was staring hard at Trissa with a severity that Rhen had never seen before. Grabbing Rhen’s wrist, she pulled her to her feet and away from the old woman. Rhen’s cup toppled to the cobbled path, spilling its contents.