The Seer

The Seer (Draft version, © L Doughty November 2004)

Splinters of Ramone's precious orb lay around her.
"Why?" she snapped. "You know that I could never sell it!"
Thorne shrugged. "Your penance," he answered as he sheathed his blade, "is to reflect on what might have been had you indulged my need."
"My penance? On top of losing my scrying ball?" The words escaped before Ramone could control her anger. As Thorne's hand stung her cheek she realised that perhaps it would have been better had those words been left unsaid.
His black eyes drilled into hers as he gripped her chin firmly. "Yes, your penance. You've become too sure of yourself, wife. Denying me our possessions is just one of the ways you've shown how self-centred you've become. With the money from the sale of that orb we could have paid our debtors and stayed. Now, we'll have to move on, again, before they realise that we can't pay."
For several long moments Thorne held her gaze. Ramone tried not to let the tears fall. His scar had reddened with his anger, standing out in jagged peaks that stretched from his left eye to his nostrils before it disappeared beneath the black hair of his moustache and beard. She knew it continued to his throat, that he had been lucky to survive that particular brawl. It was just one scar of many that marked his body, as she knew too well. Ramone shuddered and Thorne's lips curled up in derision.
"Prepare to leave. Tonight. And don't try to go alone, like last time. We're watching your every move," he snarled before kissing her.
There was no love behind the kiss but Ramone didn't draw away as his tongue forced itself into her mouth and the bristly hairs of his moustache dug into her skin. Instead she allowed him to finish and didn't wipe her lips until after he had stormed out of the caravan.
Her first thought after he left was to pick up the pieces of the scrying ball. Kneeling down Ramone began to gather the shards carefully, placing them in the red velvet bag that the orb had always been kept in. It had belonged to her mother and to all the women in her family, stretching back generations. Until now it had survived. Ramone wept as she searched the floor for every last splinter.
Thorne had had no right to demand it of her. The ball was her only family possession, her only link with the past. Damn his gambling! If not for him throwing away their money they could have lived a reasonable life. Not rich, but comfortable. Instead they'd joined up with this ragbag of travellers, the Ullitos, who were unwelcome every where they went. But they were Thorne's protection, Thorne's friends. And Ramone's keepers.
She flinched as one of the shards pierced her skin. Instinctively Ramone sucked her finger, swallowed the blood. And, unbeknown to her, a tiny splinter of the scrying ball.

It was dark before Thorne returned. Ramone had done as she had been told and was ready to leave. Neither of them spoke as they mounted the caravan and Thorne took up the reins. In moments they were moving along a narrow trail along with the tribe. It was a given that the Ullitos would depart with them. Thorne was regarded as one of theirs and they stuck by each other in times of need. Where one went, they all went. Ramone knew and understood why Thorne stayed with the travellers. And she had encountered the cruelty they dealt out when she had tried to flee. It wasn't done to desert the Ullitos.
As they travelled in silence Ramone had plenty of time to think. She had considered fleeing again. All afternoon as she had cleared up their pots and pans, watched by the other women and a few of the men-folk, Ramone had longed for an opportunity to leave the camp. But none came. Once, in her scrying ball, Ramone had seen herself living in a small cottage by a lake. She'd been alone, free and happy. The sighting returned as the horses pulled them further away from civilisation and Ramone sighed. Thorne glanced at her, his expression wary.
"Why so happy, wife? Have you at last come to your senses?"
Ramone shrugged. "A memory. From my scrying," she answered. She'd learned not to lie to him. The man had a knack for knowing when she did.
"Well, you won't scry again, will you? Not that you were any good. It was why I lost all our money, relying on your so-called sight."
"It was never meant to be used that way," Ramone said as she gathered her shawl more tightly around her. The wind was growing in strength, as if trying to tug away her scant protection. "You knew that. The orb tells only of possible futures, not of guaranteed predictions."
Thorne snorted. "So you say. But it won't happen again, now, will it? Better that I use reliable seers from now on."
Ramone shrugged, returning to her reverie as Thorne shouted at the horses and whipped their flanks as they struggled to climb a steep hill. Behind them the chief of the Ullitos also spurred his horses on. It would be a long and difficult night.
Thorne was right, of course. She had never been good at scrying. Nor had her mother. But it was a family tradition for the eldest daughter to become a seer. It was why Thorne had married her, Ramone now knew. He had hoped that she would bring him fortune, a life of luxury. But it hadn't worked out that way. She'd had some luck, seeing things that Thorne could make use of. But his insistence that she used her skills to see the outcome of horse races had never worked well. He could never understand that what she saw was only a fleeting possibility, one of many, and not a certainty.
As the caravan reached the peak of the hill and started back down the other side and through woodland, Ramone gasped.
"There are soldiers down there!" she screamed. "Turn back or you'll all be killed!"
"Soldiers? Have you gone mad, wife?" Thorne glowered at her. "There are no soldiers for miles. And why would they kill us? You make no sense!"
"I see them!" she cried. "Hundreds of them. Sent to rid the lands of the Ullitos by the young prince."
Laughing, Thorne shook his head. "Now you have lost it, wife! There is no young prince. He died at birth."
Ramone closed her eyes, saw the twin boys. One had died. One had lived. But was rejected by the queen, sent to live with a trusted manservant and his wife. They should have kept quiet, said nothing. But seeing the turmoil in the land and fearing what would happen should the old king die without an heir, they had told him the truth.
Now the prince wanted to earn his inheritance. Already he had gathered a small army, a big enough force for him to avenge the death of his foster mother, raped and murdered by...
"You killed her! You, and the chief, and the others!" hissed Ramone.
Angrily Thorne thrashed at the horses. "I've killed many women. We all have. So what?"
"You butchered the hunter's wife for pleasure. And now you'll die."
"You're no seer, wife! Am I to believe the ranting of a mad woman?"
Ramone spoke quietly. "I've never needed the orb. None of us have. It was in our blood. The orb contained the magic we had lost. When you broke it the power in the swirling glass was released. What I see now is true sight, husband. And the soldiers are waiting on the far bank of the stream..."
Thorne appeared troubled but she could tell that he wouldn't believe her. None of them would. As they rounded the next bend Ramone took advantage of the slowing of the horses and jumped. Rolling into a ball she flung herself to the ground and vanished into the undergrowth.

As Thorne yelled out to the chief that she had escaped he found himself approaching a stream. There were flashes of light, the sound of blades upon blades as the Ullitos in front had to jump from their caravans and defend themselves. For a moment Thorne wondered that perhaps, for once, his wife had been right. A second later and he, too, rolled from his seat as arrows pierced his body and splintered his heart.

Ramone waited in the undergrowth until the soldiers left then she followed the stream to a lake. There she made her home, content in the knowledge that she was safe from the civil war that raged throughout the land. It was ironic that now she was a true seer Ramone never shared her visions. But she had learned that it wasn't necessarily a good thing to see what would happen.
Had she known the outcome of the race on which Thorne had lost the last of their money, her future, and that of others, would have been different. She had no desire to change anyone's Fate. Least of all, her own.

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