Eye of the Ocean Book 3 Ji'jin Station

Eye of the Ocean – Book 3: Ji’Jin Station
faceted eyes darken as she repeated his words to him. “The real sun.” And to
Cayse, “If someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say to them?”
His need was immediate and simple and he didn't have to speak. Poss a'ltic.
“Anga? And you?”
“I've made that plain.”
So he had. She nodded.
The ti'Linn Salin. “Va'lin'si,” she said, recalling its name. The Salin moved in a
circling path so as not to come closer. Pincers shaped orders to the others
nearby. “Service,” it said in High formal but without any qualifiers as to her rank.
And in ti'Linn-native, the sphere giving the translation, “The eye, the ocean, to
own the shape of what we are by the words we use.” And in plain tongue, added,
“An ordinary life.”
Cayse stood, watching the ti'Linn a moment, then signed both dismissal and
ordered privacy with his hands and turned back to her without waiting to see if he
would be obeyed.
It didn't matter, the ti'Linn were already here, she thought. Op'ki'na - and
Ge'on'ni, somewhere. The guard frozen mid-step. And the Zimmer? Their three
and she couldn't give a damn about the Clan Zimmer. Maybe they were the
question too, Clan and freeborn. Who else? The Spann? Their problem, she
decided. Besides, it wasn't as though she had to do anything; this place was
falling apart around her.
“I don't know what will happen... Peecit was praying...” She remembered the
smell of paper burning. One of her drawings from the leather book perhaps, Eunni
had been busy with Garm and hadn't been paying any attention, the words were
like the smoke, an indistinct haze in her mind. She hadn't been the only one
making a request; they all might have been in one way or another, prayers or
actions. Only, she had been the one with a close tie to Rit and Garm.
Hic'lic was half in her lap, white against the blood red of her lace robe. The
linking sphere rolled until she caught it between her knees. It sizzled and Eunni
yelped as she brushed it away from her. Noise was growing in the corridor
outside; people were bunching up, crowding the door. Cayse ordered them to
clear; there were shouts in a dozen languages. If there was a Net out there any
longer, she couldn't sense it.
She kept Hic'lic in her arms as she struggled to get up, her robe catching at
her efforts. “Get the door closed,” she said, finding a strong hand helping her up.
Cayse.
“Will it make any difference?” he said. His look of amusement surprised her.
Then the Clan Zimmer after all, she heard Zimmer-native and High formal both,
with orders being given in an accent different than she'd heard from Peecit, more
like Kori but with the expectation of obedience inherent in the words. Cayse
Laurel Hickey www.2morrow.bc.ca