Gillian Anderson - The Sound of Seas

Plus now he was truly frightened. The world as he knew it had suddenly ceased to be. Despite his silence, Eilifir and his companions were not just descended from any Galderkhaani. He didn’t know which was which, but they were descended from either the Priests or the Technologists.

And they were still at war.

Hearing Caitlin’s claim that she was from the distant future, brought here by transcended souls, Standor Qala stopped so suddenly that she had to throw an arm across Vilu to keep him from slipping off her shoulder. A half-smile quickly settled on Qala’s face, as though she couldn’t decide whether what Caitlin had just told her was a joke or whether she was mad. It certainly couldn’t be the truth. Undecided, the air officer continued walking toward the tower.

“The idea is absurd,” Qala said.

“No less absurd than Candescence.”

“ That is irreligious.”

“As your comment is ill-informed,” Caitlin replied.

Qala slowed, studied her as they continued toward the tower. Her eyes were suddenly like tiny machines, studying her… evaluating her.

“You are in earnest,” Qala said. It wasn’t a question. She wasn’t insulted by Caitlin’s remark. She wasn’t afraid that someone might overhear them questioning the foundation of Galderkhaan’s religious faith. The Standor was genuinely curious.

“I am quite serious,” Caitlin replied.

“Are you going to tell me you are Candescent?”

Caitlin had not been expecting that. She frowned. “No. I don’t think so. What I can tell you is that I am new to this culture, its language, its religion. Events here will occur that impact people I know, far from here in time and place.”

“In this future time. From which you say you come.”

“I am from the future.”

“And you have somehow dropped into the body of another.”

“That is correct, by means I don’t entirely understand.”

The Standor was quiet again, contemplative rather than doubtful. “The Drudaya were forbidden,” she said. “Do they return?”

There was no English word that matched. The closest would have been a phrase: the children of the earth.

“That name is unknown to me,” she said.

“If such is true, then it is best that we not speak of it.”

“Why?”

“Did I not just say they are forbidden?”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said, deciding not to press the matter. She wanted to try and find out everything she could in order to understand why she was here, in this city… and whether she should remain in Falkhaan or go to the capital. Because Bayarma was not present when Bayarmii and her grandmother died, Caitlin was reluctant to place this body anywhere near there. It might change events, cause them to transcend, alter the way Caitlin interacted while she was trying to protect Maanik. The young Indian girl might be lost as a result.

Nothing must change , Caitlin told herself.

Yet if Vilu were going to Aankhaan, there was no way Caitlin would not go with him. The burden was ferocious in its complexity, and Caitlin was still fighting hard to accept the reality of what was happening.

The road was wide enough for two, or for one of the many bicycle-like carts that passed them. They seemed to be constructed of tightly woven vines covered with some kind of smooth, brown pitch. The wheels were made of some kind of rubber substance. Perhaps sap or animal fat or even skin. She had seen some citizens with masks around their necks that appeared to be made of a similar substance.

Nonetheless, once the conversation was ended—as Qala made clear by the forward set of her head—Caitlin fell in directly behind the Standor , now and then touching the forehead of the unconscious boy. As they walked, it was deeply distressing to Caitlin when she considered that the person she was desperate to return to had not yet been born. That thought made her want to scream—and yet it also had an unexpected, calming quality.

If Jacob does not exist, he cannot be missing me , she thought.

It was a strange, elusive comfort but it was the only one she had and she forced herself to hold on to it. She failed. Her memory was her reality. She also wondered about Ben, what he must be thinking, trying, fearing. And her parents. It occurred to her, with a flash of horror, that she still had a body in her time. She suspected—hoped, prayed—that it was still alive and that Ben would somehow see to its care.

If it is dead, then there will be no “me” to go back to , she thought with deep horror.

And if the spirit of Bayarma began to push, tried to reclaim her body, where could the spirit of Caitlin O’Hara go? Would she be like Azha, ascended, stuck in limbo?

No , she told herself. Azha was cazhed with Dovit. She had transcended. A single soul would merely ascend—alone, witnessing without experiencing, moving through eternity with mute awareness.

Would I have to wait millennia to see myself, and Jacob, alive? Could I go wherever I want? Or are the ascended locked in one time, one place?

There wasn’t a thought that didn’t chill her, didn’t make her want to scream. And now she had the added burden of being with someone who, at best, wasn’t sure she could believe Caitlin; at worst, might think she was crazed.

The familiar sea and sky around her made the strangeness of the situation even worse. There were differences, but nothing alien. She had looked up at the blue sky and clouds from Central Park, had looked out at the Atlantic Ocean, with Jacob, from Coney Island. They had appeared more or less like this. Caitlin felt that she should be able to close her eyes, open them, and be in one of those places. But as much as she pointed her fingers down while she walked, the energy was gone, or at least depleted. Her spirit was inert.

Her curiosity about Galderkhaan was even less than that. She did not know how these people came to be, who they really were, how long the civilization had thrived. She should be asking questions, making careful observations in case she did get back. Ben—she actually chuckled a little maniacally inside when she thought of this—would probably be watching every gesture, noting every word, looking at every marking, satisfied just knowing more than he did.

But he doesn’t have a child. He doesn’t have other children who depend on him. He has ambassadors, most of whom he doesn’t even like.

What touched her, maybe even helped to anchor her a little, was the realization that Ben would swap places with her even knowing he might be booted out of this body and cast into limbo. He wasn’t a loving soul, but she knew he loved her.

Caitlin forced her brain to stop thinking. She was here because she wanted to help others, and she had succeeded. That was her job . Whatever has happened, you earned this, the gold star of collateral damage , she thought.

The walk to the tower was brief… or at least it seemed so, as Caitlin contemplated other things. When she had been at the motu-varkas it was dark, she was being assaulted by Pao and Rensat, and she was unable to appreciate the construction of the tower. Though smaller by about one-third than that largest of the columns, it was nonetheless an imposing structure. Constructed of blocks that resembled granite but were possibly volcanic basalt—and lined, she knew, with olivine tiles—the tower tapered slightly as it rose, with two inverted V-shaped structures on either side of the mouth: these were the moorings for the larger airships, of which there was only one at the moment. The vessel was about three hundred feet in length, with a long, open gondola suspended beneath the dark gray balloon. A large platform similar to but wider and longer than a window washer’s scaffold was suspended from ropes that hung from a long, pointed prow.