Eye of the Ocean Book 3 Ji'jin Station

Eye of the Ocean – Book 3: Ji’Jin Station
“I don't give a shit what you think,” she said to Lin, then glanced at him, her
cheeks red. She looked as though she might cry. Lin had tried a casual remark as
a way to approach her, acting more cautious than Rit had thought likely.
Before Lin could answer, the Overpriest turned to the boy, “I looked for her.”
Lanasi exchanged a look with him as she dutifully translated.
“Lord Priest, I don't understand,” Lin said.
Ca'mit sat heavily, the timbered floor creaking under him. “Boy, you are a poor
answer to the question, but the answer, none-the-less.” The Overpriest fingered
an apology over top of Lanasi’s translation of his words.
Bolda snorted. “Don't go ruin a good opinion.”
Forcing himself to settle, Rit sat on the opposite end of the rug from Ulanda.
Past the screen, the side of the pavilion was open to the further garden, the raked
surface was scarcely disturbed. On a rock in the center, the Zimmer-priest sat,
his sister close by, Kori by the near edge of the waves, between the Clan and
Ulanda. Anga was walking down the rising path that only lead to the same place
coming or going. He had seen Hic'lic go that way earlier.
He picked up a smaller piece of wood than the one Ulanda was chewing and
settled for breaking it into minute segments which he let fall to the rug as he
talked. “The consensus is that what has happened here can be taken as a model
for what will happen in the new reality. One of those is that Empire as we knew it,
won't exist. The framework of the world-patterns won't exist.” Bolda's opinion had
become the consensus when the rest of them hadn't anything to contribute. “The
changes aren't really happening here faster, but... think of this garden as being
like a splinter off a log, a much more restricted area. The peak of the change is
simply apparent sooner. It's likely those who didn't make it here aren't part of the
weave; they may well wake up whenever tomorrow happens to come, and not
know anything.” He sighed. “Or they'll have dreamed something of it.” A look to
Bolda but he was intent on rolling a ball out of fibers pulled from the rug fringe.
Or they were cat hairs. Tika was off looking for whatever mice might be around.
“He won't come in,” Oimit said from the bottom of the shallow steps.
The Zimmer-priest was deep in pattern; Rit didn't think there had been so
much a refusal as lack of any response. “He watches the waves in the sand,” he
said in Zimmer-native, with the twists that made it part prayer.
“An interesting observation,” Anga said as he passed Oimit. “May I join you?”
He already had, sitting next to the Overpriest in the same relative position as in
the Audience. “A considerable amount of effort was extended to reach... to allow
this mess to happen.”
Literal and figurative mess, Rit thought.
The loom-master wasn't finished. “Where's Cayse?” he said to Ulanda, then
repeated it louder when she didn't answer.
“I'm not deaf.”
Laurel Hickey www.2morrow.bc.ca