Eye of the Ocean Book 3 Ji'jin Station

Eye of the Ocean – Book 3: Ji’Jin Station
“Did they?”
Oimit nodded. “You can find them, you had a glimpse of where they went.”
Had she? Someone else had, she thought. Poss a'ltic closed her eyes, the glare
of the sun from the light haze was already giving her a headache; the ocean was
gone, the farms were gone, only a shimmering white and the sun straight above.
But the day had been clear, she remembered. The ocean had been a line of
silver-green and the shore blazed white before the dark of the farms, the order in
the growing things after the wild...
Oimit didn't know that it had been different. Had she access to fragments of
memory pulls only and those distorted by overpattern effect? Or, more likely,
only words to make up a story of what had happened?
The ocean was green fire when she opened her eyes. She turned the other
way. Ri-altar, the moss brown and dry under her feet, she raised spores and dust
from the brittle plants. How many times had she been here, she wondered as she
walked away from the edge. Over how many years, but with each day existing
single and perfect? And as joined to a thousand years past as to the day before.
“Oimit?” she said, realizing she hadn't passed the two. “Tu'pin?” More flies
swarmed, but quieter ones. One more step, but a quick one away from the ring of
trees, and suddenly, the sky was a boiling gray mass held back by the rise of Rilight
from the center of the mound.
One of the dreams that she couldn't quite make behave. She had been here
she remembered and remembered the consequence. Niv. Kalduka d'Nivhks. She
felt his hands on her and almost laughed. Ulanda had some compensation. She
hadn't laughed then, or cried except from the pain. She had killed him, she
remembered and still hadn't cried and certainly hadn't laughed. Overpattern
hadn't touched that Poss a'ltic, she felt the lack of it waiting for her, her other self
was very close.
The hands pressed harder, she must be partly out of the pull for anyone to see
her, to feel her. The vision was lingering. Or should she complete the pull? No.
Green was merely a light and dark skin on the ocean; she didn't want to leave the
deep water. Her home - she wondered when that had happened. Ti'win, he had
wanted to know what overpattern was like. The gray fell around her now like
clouds of flies. The hands on her were too clumsy now to be his or A'in's or Niv's:
a fly's hands, a fly's buzz in her ears.
She looked at the dank walls. Stained, green tinged algae grew in the cracks.
The air remained hot but stank, laden with water. Kascin's face pressed against
the back of her neck, buried in the hair that had pulled loose. She felt his sobs of
exhaustion even as his fingers dug into the flesh of her upper arms. The gauze
overrobe was torn and stained.
The Clan marks on Oimit's face were pale to the flame of her skin. What color
really? Red would do for that as well as for her underrobe, Poss a'ltic thought, as
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