“My first memories are of fleeing to Firi with other refugees. I knew no one. I had nothing to eat. No clothes. No family. In Firi, I was indentured and sold and brought to Quondoon.”
“Solemn is a long way from Kilmorda.”
“Yes,” she agreed quietly, “but I do not miss what I cannot remember.”
“Why don’t you remember?”
“I don’t know. Mina said it was because I am . . . simple.” Meera’s voice changed, and he couldn’t resist looking at her. “But I can read. I can read and I can write. The slaves here in Solemn do not read or write. I learned how . . . somewhere.”
“But you’re a Seer . . . surely you must have visions of your family.”
“I don’t see what has already been. I can only see what is to come, and even then, it’s like the breeze. I don’t call the breeze, it finds me. The things I s
