Chapter 37

Gavin followed the Third Eye to a clearing not far into the jungle. There was a fire to fend off the coolness of the evening and cheery lanterns hung from the limbs of a jambu tree, the light showing its ripe, pink fruit. Rugs were spread on the ground. A bowl of wine and a larger bowl of figs and jambu and other fruits sat in the middle of the rug.

The Third Eye sat cross-legged on the rug, the movement exposing her legs to the knee. She gestured to the place opposite, and Gavin sat.

“So how did you come here to Seers Island?” Gavin asked. “How does one gain an eye?” He gave her a wry grin.

She ignored him, turning her face to the heavens, praying, blessing her meal. He tried not to stare at her breasts as she took a deep breath. He glanced over at Karris, who was standing guard in the jungle. She glanced at the Third Eye’s breasts, then back to Gavin, nonplussed. You think that was on accident? she asked him with the barest twitch of one eyebrow.

Gavin closed his eyes so as to appear to be praying, too. Some people didn’t like to think their Prism was irreligious.

Nice spot you’ve put me in here, Orholam.

He pretended to finish praying. When he opened his eyes, she was leaning forward—which did distracting things with her low neckline. She said, “I think you’ll want to dismiss your… bodyguard? There are things I wish to speak with you about alone.”

Gavin turned to Karris, who had of course heard everything the woman had said.

“I’m not leaving,” Karris said, “unless those two women with muskets you have stationed in the forest withdraw and I search you for weapons.”

The Third Eye looked off into the jungle. She stood, gracefully. Apparently light-blinded by the lanterns, she didn’t look the right direction. “Clara, Cezilia, is that you? I told you my life is not in danger. My virtue, perhaps. Please withdraw now.” She turned to Karris. “Be my guest,” she said.

Briefly, and not roughly, Karris patted her down. She was a professional. Plus, in that dress, there weren’t that many places the woman could be hiding a weapon.

Before Karris finished, the Third Eye leaned close and spoke to her, too low for Gavin to hear.

Karris blanched. Started, looked at the Third Eye, looked over at Gavin to see if he’d heard.

“You can’t know that,” she said. She was trying to speak low enough that Gavin didn’t hear, but there was too much emotion for her to keep the reins tight. She shot a look over at Gavin as the Third Eye continued.

Then the Seer finished, and a long moment passed.

“I’ll be nearby if you need me, Lord Prism,” Karris said stiffly. Then she withdrew.

The Third Eye took her place across from Gavin once more. His eyes were tight, disturbed. Very few people had that kind of effect on Karris.

“Please,” she said. “Drink. Eat. You’re my guest.”

He began, and she joined him, not saying a word. There was goat cheese with the fruit. A woman came with a loaf of flatbread and a bowl of beans and rice and wild pig in a spicy sauce. Following the Third Eye’s lead, Gavin tore off chunks of bread and used it to scoop up the mixture. She said nothing, though she studied him intently. His attempts at starting conversation met silence. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed she was deaf.

“What are you doing?” he asked finally.

“I’m waiting,” she said.

“Waiting?”

“It’s coming, sometime tonight. I thought it would be by now, but clearly…”

“So you really do see the future,” Gavin said.

“No,” she said.

Gavin raised his hands. “And yet here you are, predicting the future.” She raised a finger to object, but Gavin cut her off. “Even if not well.”

She smiled. Gleaming white teeth, perfect smile. “Gifts can be curses, can’t they, Lord Prism?”

“I suppo—”

“You’re beautiful,” she said, cutting him off. “Always did like a man with muscles, and the sight of yours has been filling my mind all day. Quite distracting.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Are you a swimmer?” she asked, glancing at the breadth of his shoulders.

“Only when I make mistakes skimming. Which isn’t often.”

Her pupils flared. “I see. You know, that masterful, cocky thing you do makes me want to tie you to my bed and ravish you.” Her eyes trailed over him and Gavin knew she was picturing it in her mind.

Gavin swallowed. There’s no subtle way to adjust yourself when you’re sitting cross-legged. He glanced guiltily over at Karris.

“Exactly,” the Third Eye said. “You need her more than she needs you, Prism. She makes you human.”

She tilted her head down and closed her eyes. The tattoo-and-luxin yellow eye on her forehead glowed, then she opened her eyes as it continued to pulse like a heartbeat. Then it faded.

“I see outside of time. And if that doesn’t make sense to you, it doesn’t to me either. Nor is it perfect, how I see. I’m not Orholam. I still have my own desires and prejudices that can color what I see or how I interpret what I see—how I put into words those visions that come before my eye. Tell me, Prism, do you think mercy is weakness?”

“No.”

“Wrong question; your pardon. What I meant was, do you think justice is better, or mercy?”

“It depends.”

“Who decides?” she asked.

“I do.”

“Are pity and mercy the same?” she asked.

“No.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I don’t believe in pity.”

“Liar.” She grinned.

“Excuse me?” Gavin said.

“There are two kinds of people who make excellent liars: monsters with no conscience, and those who become excellent liars from practice and necessity because they’re deeply ashamed. I don’t think you’re a monster, Lord Prism. You’ve played beautifully. Your mask is compelling, gorgeous, alluring. It makes me want to get naked and subdue you with pleasure until you’re too exhausted to maintain that façade and I can rip it off and show you what’s underneath. Because I already know, and I judge that man beneath your mask much less harshly than you do.”

Fortune-teller tripe. Albeit tripe with a fine sexual edge to it.

“Are you sure you’re not trying to seduce me?” Gavin asked lightly.

“Ah, Prism, you always do like to cut corners, don’t you? It’s a strength, I suppose. Remember it. But then, you remember most everything, don’t you?”

He was confused.

She smiled. “What I’m sure of is that bedding you would be a disaster for you and for Karris and for the Seven Satrapies. I’m also pretty sure it would be really, really good for me. Both in the moment and in the long run. Which is why I’m doing everything I can to be completely over the top and disgust you with my wanton ways. If I make you uninterested, then that disaster won’t be an option anymore.”

He laughed—and could tell she wasn’t joking. She was acting as sex-starved as he felt, and something about her relentlessly frank style convinced him that she would be the best he’d ever had. He said, “The ‘wanton ways’ gambit is having an effect, but perhaps not the one you’d planned.” Orholam’s royal blue balls, Karris wasn’t ten paces away. Gavin was going to die.