This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: Use a word ending in “ay” as the subject/theme.
I’ve more or less recovered from camping, and the scattered energy that followed those days away. I’m back to a more typical level and type of productivity, if still a bit subdued and distracted. What does that mean?
Well, for one thing, that, in addition to posting, this week I also intend to visit some of you, and share some of my favorite posts on my Facebook Writer Page – kind of my way of apologizing for having more or less disappeared, these last few weeks…
It also means that I’ve gotten back to my fantasy WIP, Foul Deeds Will Rise, (Trueborn Weft #2), with an aim to finish the rough draft by the end of the month so that I can move on to Other Things. So, this week I used the prompt to write another few hundred words of the story.
We join Shentaa in dire circumstances, considering how she got into this mess…and almost certain sure that there’s no way out…
The Seer’s Way
It was the Seer’s Way.
Shentaa had known it, with her mother’s milk – nay, long before that. Truth, she had taken the knowing of it with her mother’s blood, and her breath, even before she first filled her own lungs to cry out lustily into the air of the Seer’s Keep.
It was the Seer’s Way.
‘Interfere not with what is dreamed, when what is dreamed is truth. It matters not what cost you may pay; none could overmatch that of attempting to undo that which must be.’
There were many ways of phrasing it. It was the subject of song, of dance, of writing and art, among her family, and the others she knew of who carried Seers’ Lines.
There was no undoing such a dream. It would come to be; it was, as the Tacivaarii were so fond of saying, as sima garo provided. There could be no unweaving the warp and weft of it, and any Hunt that made such a thing its prey was like as not to only bind the threads of it more tightly about the shuttle.
And yet, she had set aside the Seer’s Way, without a thought, to come to the child she had raised, who was a child no more. She had told herself that the dream meant something other than it had – something other than simply a clue; something she was to learn more of, mayhap, but not to weave herself into.
She was well woven into it now. It might be that she would be woven into it, into this blue stone, for all of time, now.
Had any ever scaped the Jeweled Walk?
None of her kin, nor the false Kai’s, of a certain. Here they were, all embedded with her – she’d felt herself whooshing past them – all the Seer-women who had held to the Way, and still ended here, where they had known they must.
Only she had tried to betray that knowing, to do something to undo what she had seen in the true dreaming.
She had broken the Seer’s Way, and, though she was was not a Seer, now she would pay.
Now, and mayhap forever….