Seeing is Believing

By Clarissa Ruth

“It’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”

My brother, the perpetual optimist. “You’re not the one puking over the side. Thanks to me, even the dragon probably wants this flight to be over.”

Tad’s chuckle was soft, but I could still hear it over the constant rush of air and the beat of the massive wings.

Whump, up. Down. Whump.

Oh no, not again.

Tad held my hair for me. Afterward, I groaned, shuddering as the headwind raced over my sweat. “I can’t believe Mother paid one-thousand silvers for this.” She never gave up on me, although none of our doctors held out the slightest hope.

“From what I’ve heard, Hammu-Rapi may charge even more. But you’re worth it.” His hand made soft circles on my back, offsetting the hollow ache his words brought. Tad was always kind to me, but I didn’t deserve any of it.

“Ha! Magicians and their tricks. If I choke on his smoke and die, please don’t bury me in foreign dirt.”

“Oh, Chrissy.”

With a sigh, I lay forward, letting the lizard’s body warm me. Nothing could help the icy ache in my heart. The daughter of a noble, but not eligible for marriage. No wonder Father shunned me. Even if someone could heal me, who would?

To distract myself, I traced little pieces of dragon armor. I counted one-hundred-sixteen before the beast coasted to a less-than-soft landing.

“Welcome to Ivirtir, passengers of the wing.” The nasally voice spoke with a heavy accent. I was in a strange land now, like it or not.

“Do I have to move?” I muttered.

“Not if you want another ride.” Tad said through an obvious smile.

“Mmmff. Fine.” I gripped Tad’s hand as he helped me to the ground. Though springy, the turf felt rock-solid to me, and released the glorious scent of grass. We found lodgings—insanely overpriced—and settled in.

We waited a fortnight, but it still seemed too soon when I stood before Chief Magician Hammu-Rapi.

His deep voice was soothing, but he smelled like a cacophony of herbs that made me want to sneeze. “My daughter,” he began.

I’m not your daughter. Stop acting like you care.

“I’m thankful you came to Ivirtir. Here there is healing.”

Tad jumped in. “A pleasure to be here, sir.” He probably hoped to cut off my remark. As if.

“I’ll believe it when I see you.”

A slight breeze brushed my cheeks.

“You can stop waving your hand in front of my face.” I sighed. “I can’t see it.”

He sniffed. “Sharp of wit and tongue, this one.”

“Please sir,” Tad sounded worried. “It’s just that she’s been this way since birth—”

“Blind, or sarcastic?”

A sense of humor. That was something. Still, I willed Tad to not respond.

“Don’t worry young man,” the magician continued. “Skeptics are my favorite patients. No, put your money away. The look on her face when we’re done will be payment enough.”

I had no comeback for that. He’s not just another greedy foreigner. What if he can heal me? The ice in my heart started dripping, the drops turning into butterflies that tormented my gut. Would he—even for me?

He shuffled away. Jars clinked together.

When he returned, I crinkled my nose and he laughed. “Here, I’ll keep these herbs in my hand and put them behind my back. Now my other hand—pardon me, I must place it over your eyes. May I?”

I nodded.

His hand was meaty and warm, smelling of peppermint soap and sage. I didn’t sense any sweat. My heart thumped harder, melting more ice. He didn’t doubt himself.

Was his hand this warm at first? I kept my eyes closed, pressing them tight as the heat grew. What’s happening?

My eyes began to tingle. I gasped.

“Chrissy?”

“Shh. Almost done.”

When he withdrew, I stood trembling.

Tad put a hand on my shoulder but waited in silence.

The world was warm. Not to my touch, but through my eyes. Warm like fire, but without heat. Was this color?

“Open your eyes, daughter.”

This time I didn’t resent him calling me that. How could I, when he said it with such tenderness—so unlike Father? The ice was almost gone.

I opened my eyes to a riotous fanfare. Colors… are all these colors? There are as many as there are sounds! It was too much to process, but I couldn’t bear to close my eyes again.

Finally I looked—looked!—down, trying to keep from reeling. Clenching my fists, I saw movement. I watched my hands come up, then rubbed my fingers and palms, combining touch with sight. Everyone said I have pale skin. That’s what the color “pale” looks like!

I raised my gaze, looking for anything else pale. Instead I saw hands, these almost as dark as my familiar blackness. I grabbed one.

Tad gasped.

I brought the meaty palm to me. Peppermint and sage. I looked higher, Hammu-Rapi’s face must be… there. Dark as his hands. But his eyes—oh, were those eyes?—were pale, with a center rich and sweet, like chocolate. Nothing could have prepared me for their depth, as if emotions echoed from them like my own voice from a deep well.

“I see you,” I whispered. Father would accept me now, but I hardly cared.

From behind, Tad pounced on me in a fierce hug, sobs wrenching from his throat. “Oh, Chrissy!”

I staggered under his embrace, but I couldn’t look away from those eyes. Though I’d never seen it before, I recognized compassion. Not for a girl who was blind, but for a girl who thought herself worthless. Now I saw myself through his eyes: I was a treasure. The ice was gone. Warmth spilled from my heart and leaked deep into my soul.

He smiled and cupped my cheek in his dark hand. “Welcome to a wider world, daughter.”

“Thank you, Father.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Clarissa Ruth is a storyteller, adventure-loving healer, and an undeserving bride of Jesus Christ. The outdoors may find her star-gazing while whispering a prayer, or weaving a morning dance of praise barefoot on the grass. Indoors, words are her playground. When this world becomes boring, she travels, via her Scriptorium, to Cheled and all the adventures her fantasy world contains. Though writing stories of freedom is her passion, she is lost for words without Jesus.

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