Eye of the Ocean Book 3 Ji'jin Station

Eye of the Ocean – Book 3: Ji’Jin Station
“I stayed for the same reasons she goaded him to kill her. He wouldn't have let
me live and the other me, if he existed, would have died needlessly. And I was
curious.”
She leaned against the table then wiggled up to sit on it. He moved the books
further over and let the scrolls take the space between so they couldn't roll off,
then smoothed her braid ends out. “An unusual trait in my tass'alt,” she said,
enjoying his attentions.
“I'd been through unusual times. Maybe I was just tired of being a prisoner.”
And he thought himself one again. “What did it feel like when the ship left?”
“The Ladybug was outside the portal at the diamond mouth... whatever it was
Poss a'ltic did left the center in ruins. I didn't see it happen but I thought the ship
would fall to pieces. By the time I carried her body outside all there was to see
was blackened marble, reeds and water. And...”
She had wanted his feelings, but this would do for a start. “And what?”
“I could see lines coming from all around and twisting into the center where
something white glowed, the only white where once the entire diamond had been.
The ship rose into the lines then snapped to them. I thought it was going to crush
me, there wasn't very much room, the ceiling was low there, but it got smaller as
the lines got closer together. When I walked it later, the distance didn't take more
than five minutes to cover, but the ship went from... well big, to small enough to
fit through the marble square. An area maybe six times the size of this table.”
“This sounds like more than fragments of memory.”
He hesitated. “It's all there now.”
“And how you felt at my death? Is that included in your memories?”
“I thought I'd make you ask.” He leaned against the table, they were arm to
arm. His hand stroked her thigh and there were words in the motion. “I found I
didn't want to die. Even staying in the diamond when the ship left, I didn't feel
like I was going to die. And now...” He gave her leg a squeeze then laughed, his
frosted eyes sparkling as he looked at her. “We're two ghosts talking, how can it
matter if I didn't die back then?”
“Honesty's as unusual a trait in those who serve me as curiosity.” She smiled.
“I'm more used to a narrowing of mind, as though cruelty and lack of imagination
are part of an instinct for survival when faced with what I am. This ghost finds
the opposite refreshing.” She had his feelings, a complex of love and attraction
and fear and inertia. He liked her most of the time, she thought, and the Host,
but liked himself better.
Reaching behind him on the table, with the edge of one hand, she scooped up
a scroll. A cylinder of leather as white as the silk of her braids. The tube end was
unfastened, the silver catch broken. The scroll slipped half ways out before she
got it on her lap. “We were wanting options?” she said, smiling even though the
Laurel Hickey www.2morrow.bc.ca