Eye of the Ocean Book 3 Ji'jin Station

Eye of the Ocean – Book 3: Ji’Jin Station
And lost her place in it again when she saw the vass'lt. He wasn’t Camerat. For
some reason she had expected that the vass'lt would be Camerat. Human. A sun
darkened man, fleshy and coarse with the contrast of the Temple robes he was
wearing. His mouth turned down at the sides to join deep lines as though he had
never smiled in his life. The bearer was almost to him and he watched him, not
her. The streaks of white in his dark hair turned from red to silver as the last of
the natural light died.
The drums were stronger, she should be lost in them by now but once she
dropped the thread, she hadn't been able to find it again. She was skimming this
in the same way that she did her visions, there and not there at the same time.
Had she seen him before, had she reached this far? And lost that thought as she
had the ones before in the fear that cramped her stomach. She wasn't matching
anything here.
She had thought the visions meant that she could be a Priest. Any Altasimic
Temple would have taken her in for the training even if she had her Bluestone
blood from the wrong side.
An Acolyte House. She remembered the feel of it more than what she could
see or hear. It was real; she must have taken the oaths, the training, that put her
here.
She looked towards the Poultat Priest, the woman kneeling already, the Salin
at her side. This wasn't taking long enough.
Hands touched her wrists; the aides were fitting the cuffs. Stop it, she tried to
say but nothing came out. I wasn't supposed to be afraid, she remembered.
Hadn't that been from one of the visions?
The Bearer retreated in a flurry of a dance, matching the wildness of the
drums. The handle of the knife was lost in the vass'lt's large hand, the hanging
cords looked like threads. He had started moving immediately, circling. And
watching her now, his narrowed eyes half hidden by silver flecked eyebrows, but
she saw gold in them from the yellow light of torches. And saw more than greed
or carelessness, or even stupidity. Hate - directed at her.
I'll die here, she thought, relieved that there wasn't any reason to be afraid
anymore. There was pressure on the cuffs, the aides moving to the back of her.
Very soon.
The wind is what she felt first and then over that, or just recognizing it, the
familiar tickle that meant her mind was reaching someplace else. A vision. Now?
She thought her knees would buckle but still she wanted to laugh.
A cold wind, but only on her face, she relaxed with the luxury of enjoying the
cold, pleased with the warmth of her cloak and mittens. He was riding beside her
on that funny fat mare of his, the small animal huffing under his weight and the
quick pace. Her gray mare pranced, showing off and she felt the pride of
dominance the horse felt over the other mare, and its own pleasure in the day
Laurel Hickey www.2morrow.bc.ca