Eye of the Ocean Book 3 Ji'jin Station

Eye of the Ocean – Book 3: Ji’Jin Station
translation. When they separated again, two men stayed with the Zimmer. Strom,
she thought, the taller man that is, and he wasn't in Temple clothes, but still rich,
like the two local Zimmer. He resembled the odd-out juggler, thin and delicate
with brown hair that shone red in the sunlight. Closer, she saw his eyes. Plain
light brown. The other man was short and broad; she didn't know what he was.
Maybe just fat. He waddled like Pasbal did but lacked her height. She wandered
away into the sunshine, concentrating on unpeeling the last piece of toffee. The
short man was watching her, if he'd been alone, she might have risked talking to
him. He looked approachable and thirsty. She knew the look.
She didn't wander far. “The first hot day of summer,” a voice next to her said
in ordinary Xintan. The taller man, the one she didn't think had noticed her. She
smiled yes to the question those brown eyes held.
The few goat’s tongue she hadn't picked had shot to seed in only days. She
had hoped the shade nearest the pin berry bushes would slow them, but the
leaves were already bitter. The pocket of her apron held speckled purple seeds,
bush beans, they would go in where the lettuce had come out. When she heard
the gate squeak, she was on her hands and knees, shaping the hills with a dip in
the center to hold water. Three beans to a hill and pushed in to the second joint
of her index finger.
“I thought you would have come back,” he said.
Surprised, Ulanda sat back on her heels. He must have had her followed. Or
used Alisim Net to locate her, she supposed that was possible - and thought he
might be high enough rank to have the access codes. “I bored you,” she blurted
out.
“Did you?” He offered her his hand.
Lin, that's all she knew, just his common name. Not even his House or rank,
just assumptions, but the long split-side riding tunic was as expensive as his
clothes the day they had met, tailored to fit his narrow chest and show off the
muscles she hadn't expected seeing him in a loose robe first. High boots to midthigh.
He smelled of oiled leather and horses but she hadn't heard hoof beats. He
wouldn't have walked all this way, not and have kept the dust on the boots to
sparse film of gray.
“I know I bored you,” she said, getting up without his help. She had a bucket
ready to dip over the beans, she washed in the water instead. He watched her,
his arms crossed. “Besides, come back where? I don't even know where you're
from...” Not local and she guessed: “Endica?”
She waited and he finally nodded. “Close. For a while at least. The summer, I
think.”
Laurel Hickey www.2morrow.bc.ca