Gillian Anderson - The Sound of Seas

Qala looked from Bayarma to Vilu. “Two curious cases,” she announced. “One bit of passing madness—that I’ve seen. It is the close timing and proximity of these two that has me concerned. The strange words and ideas. And the violence . Bayarma, you were fighting with Lasha, the water guardian.”

“Fighting? I have never fought with anyone, Standor !”

“That is why you are both going to see the physician,” Qala said. “Come.”

Hoisting the boy back on her shoulder, the Standor took Bayarma’s hand and started along the side of the enclosed cabin toward a door in the back. Despite the unexplained mental state of her two guests, Bayarma’s hand felt strong and right in her own. They separated when the space between the central cabin structure and the outer wall of the gondola grew somewhat narrow, so Bayarma had to walk slightly behind.

The large door panel was made of the same fabric as the envelope of the airbag, the skin of the shavula , in this case sun-dried and taut. The frame was made of knotted seaweed, also baked in the sun. Like the rest of the structural materials, the door was designed to be as strong but as lightweight as possible.

Qala pressed a palm to the door. It wasn’t bolted, meaning there were no patients and the physician was not meditating. The Standor entered. As they did, Vilu reached out and rapped the doorjamb, hard, then listened as if awaiting a response. When none came, his fingers clutched the Stando r tighter.

The physician was sitting in a low-hanging mesh sling that hung from an overhead beam. Qala had to duck to avoid the beam; the roof was so low she could barely stand upright. The physician was reading a scroll and looked up.

“ Standor , we need to take on more fish oil for the health of the children in Aankhaan,” the youthful-looking man said. He slapped the scroll with the back of one hand. “This ridiculous manifest is less than half of what I requested.”

“We needed room for the explosive dyes, Zell.”

“Did you hear what you just said, Standor ?” Zell said. “Entertainment over medicine?”

“It wasn’t my decision,” Qala said. “The Great Council commanded.”

“Because the citizenry must have a colorful celebration,” the physician said, gesturing angrily with his free hand. “ That is more important?”

“Take your complaint to the Council,” Qala said. “I have patients for you.”

With a deft shrug of his wide shoulders, the physician extricated himself from the confines of the sling. The short but powerfully built man wore a blue tunic and skirt with a white sash pulled tightly from left shoulder to right hip, identifying him as a physician. His shoulder-length blond hair hung freely, framing a round face with wide-set eyes. His flesh was ruddy from hours spent in the rigging of the airship, where there were pots that grew medicinal herbs. Behind him were racks of narrow clay containers, over forty in all, that were painted a variety of colors denoting their contents. They were held in place by leathery bands that protected them during turbulence.

The physician contemptuously tossed the scroll to the floor as his eyes focused on the boy and the civilian woman.

“What did you do to them, Standor ?” Zell asked. “They look quite terrified.”

“This woman is named Bayarma,” Qala said. “She was in a physical struggle with the water guardian and has no memory of that or the time it took to walk from the town—”

“I had just left the company of a Priest and now I’m here!” she exclaimed.

“That will teach you to mingle with Priests,” the physician muttered.

“—and she was talking strangely the entire time,” Qala said.

“About?” Zell asked.

“Being from another time,” she said. “And she occasionally used very odd words.”

Zell seemed intrigued. “Did she speak of the past?”

Qala shook her head. “She told me she is from the future.”

That seemed to take the physician by surprise. “So it’s not Candescent Yearning,” he said.

“I don’t believe so,” Qala replied.

“What is that?” Bayarma asked.

“The conviction that one is an all-knowing god,” Zell said casually. He looked away from Bayarma and stepped up to the boy. “And what about you?”

The boy buried the lower half of his face in Qala’s shoulder. He did not speak.

“Vilu fainted shortly after Bayarma and the guardian fought,” Qala said. “And now the woman seems all right but the boy is speaking oddly. He claims he was unable to hear, and now he can.”

“I can,” the boy raised his mouth and pouted. “And… my name is not Vilu.”

“Oh?” said the physician. “What is it?”

“Jacob,” the boy said. “Jacob O’Hara.”

“Jay-cup-oh-ha-rayaah,” the Standor said thoughtfully. “Oh-ha-rayaah was part of the woman’s name as well.”

“A shared delusion or something you overheard?” Zell wondered. “What was the rest of the other name?”

“The first part of it was Caty-laahn? Cayta-laahn? That’s how it sounded.”

“Caitlin,” Jacob said easily. “Caitlin O’Hara.”

“Yes,” Qala said at once. “That’s exactly it. Very impressive, Vilu.”

“I am not Vilu. Caitlin O’Hara, Dr. Caitlin O’Hara—she’s my mother,” the boy replied, his eyes shifting to Bayarma.

“Dahk-tar?” Zell said.

“ Doctor , like they say you are, but she helps people with mental illness,” the boy said.

“These occurrences were in the same location?” Zell asked.

“At a pool. But Lasha, the water guardian, was unaffected. So were others who gathered around. So was I, for that matter.”

“My mother was here,” the boy insisted. He pointed a slender finger at Bayarma. “She was her.”

“But she isn’t now,” Zell said.

The boy shook his head once.

“Are you from the future?” Zell asked the boy.

“I am from New York,” he replied. “Not from Galderkhaan. I was reading about Nemo and a ship like this… then I slept… I think I am still asleep.”

Zell regarded Bayarma. “And you are not his mother.”

“No. As I said, my allotted birth child, Bayarmii, is with her grandmother in Aankhaan.”

Zell motioned for Qala to put the boy down in a hammock that hung high in the middle of the room. The Standor obliged. Vilu fought for a moment then dropped of his own weight when the Standor bent. The boy quickly gathered himself in a ball in the center.

“Did you two happen to eat from the same barrel of fish, drink from the same cistern?” the physician asked.

“You sound like the water guardian Lasha,” Qala said.

“There is truth in folk wisdom,” the physician said. He raised his brows inquisitively. “Well, Bayarma?”

“I had fish and cake this morning, but how am I to know?” Bayarma said. “I never saw the boy before now.”

Zell ran the side of his thumb absently along his sash. “Boy, you say your name is Jay-cupo-oh-ha-rah-ah. I have never heard such a name, and I have been many places in Galderkhaan.”

“Have you been to New York?”

“I have not heard of such a place,” Zell admitted.

“He kept touching around his ears,” the Standor said. “Here.” She touched her temples to indicate the spot. “Could that account for the strange words?”

“I did that because I could hear!” the boy said, trying to sit up in the swaying hammock. “I couldn’t before. Are you people even listening to me?”

“Cayta-laahn had a similar streak of disrespect,” Qala observed.