Page 82 of The Seeker
“Yes.” He yawned. “But I want to hear your voice while I do.”
“Okay.”
She wokein the blue light before dawn. Something was waiting for her in the darkness. Meera untangled herself from Rhys’s arms and crept out of the tent.
The pontoon rocked slightly on the gently moving water, and the moon was full, hanging low in the sky. Meera walked to the edge of the boat and looked out toward the forest. A flash of green eyes met hers before they disappeared.
Come with me.
It was an animal. Animals couldn’t talk. But there was something out there, and it was calling her.
Meera opened every sense and searched in the night. She heard the souls of the two scribes resting peacefully on the boat. She felt the hum of plant and animal life verdant in the bayou.
But there was something else. Someone else.
Anya niyah…
The whisper of a children’s song carried in the wind.
Mashak tamak…
“She’s old.” A voice came from the edge of the pontoon. Vasu was sitting in child form, swinging his legs back and forth from the railing of the pontoon.
“What are you doing here?”
“Did you miss me?”
“Not particularly.”
He frowned. “She’s old. Older than you. Older than Anamitra.”
Meera frowned and slipped on the rubber boots Roch had set out for her, then she grabbed a headlamp and stuck it in her pocket. She whispered a spell for night vision before she slid the wooden planks over the edge of the water and into the trees.
Vasu walked beside her, a child with ancient eyes. “Do you know who you seek, Meera Bai?”
“No.” She glanced down. “And neither do you.”
“That’s true. She is an enigma. The singer who can slay an angel with her voice. So many others tried. She was the only Irina who won. Is that why you want her magic?”
“It’s not about winning.”
“It is for him.”
Meera turned to reply, but Vasu had disappeared.
Annoying creature.
Walking carefully across the boards and balancing herself on the knees of bald cypress near the shore, Meera entered the forest. She picked each step with care but followed the memory of the green eyes and the whispered song.
Cicadas and crickets sang around her, adding to the wild cacophony of life that surrounded her. The magic of the bayou filled her up and spilled over. She could feel the threshold as she crossed it, a magical boundary redolent with moss and the earthy scent of pine.
A fox jumped on a log and perched there, watching Meera as she came closer. It was so intelligent-looking, she almost wondered if Vasu had shifted again. Perhaps it was some other creature.
“Do you understand me?” she asked, coming closer. She tried French. Did foxes speak French? “Are you a true animal or something else?”
“No.”
Meera raised her shields and spun around to see a lean woman squatting next to a fallen cypress log. She was dark-skinned even in the moonlight, and intricate black tattoos covered most of her body. Her hair was knotted at the top of her head, and a thick necklace of shells hung around her neck. She wore no clothes save for a skirt made of animal skin wrapped around her waist.
