The Sound of Seas Read Free

apprenticed. No doubt she was to meet her prized vessel and fly it to Aankhaan for the night’s festivities. Qala was one of Galderkhaan’sfour Standors , and the sole commander of the fleet that plied the skies above the seas—and was likely to remain so, now that Femora Azhawas said to be in trouble for violence. Qala looked godlike in her airship regalia, a tight leather tunic and ankle-length skirt with silver bands and markings that caught the sunlight. A red cloth pouch hung from her belt and fishbone clips clattered in her dark, shoulder-length hair as she moved. The woman put her arms around the other woman’s shoulders and pulled her back.
    â€œStop this!” Qala said at the same time. “Get back, Lasha!”
    â€œShe began the struggle!” the old man cried. Aided by the Standor , he sought to enforce his control of the courtyard.
    Their communication was brief and superficial because their hands were engaged, unable to add nuance. All the while, the woman fought to get away from them. With powerful hands, Qala grabbed the woman’s black tunic and pulled so hard that poor Lasha, whom the stranger was still clutching, went with her, stumbling to one side but tearing free of his assailant’s hands. The woman’s fingers remained in motion, however, moving fast and wide, a gesture that Vilu had never seen used in speech.
    Because it is fighting, he thought. The language makes no sense because violence makes no sense.
    Overcoming his surprise, the young boy continued to creep forward, staying in the shadows—not like a creature of the tunnels, afraid of the light, but because the compacted earth was hot from the relentless sun. He continued to look ahead, like a seabird fixed on prey, as Qala bundled the struggling woman into her arms and held her there. The woman, whose features Vilu could not yet see, continued to kick and shout and then scream so loudly that the alleyways began to fill with more and more people drawn by her voice. People were beginning to wonder aloud who she was, for they did not know her; no one was a stranger in Falkhaan. He heard someone suggest that she was here for one of the local Night of Miracles celebrations.
    Vilu crouched lower and continued forward until he was closeenough to hear what the woman was saying. It was difficult to understand the precise meaning of the woman’s words, since her arms were flailing, unable to qualify what her mouth was speaking. But Vilu understood the gist of her anger:
    â€œ. . . must go!” the woman cried. “Must get back!”
    â€œWhere?” Qala asked. She hugged her close, the Standor ’s legs wide to brace herself.
    â€œMy son . . . let me go! ”
    â€œFirst, you must calm yourself!” Qala ordered.
    As the last of the shadows of the fishing fleet passed overhead, releasing the sun and causing the pool to sparkle wildly, the woman seemed to relax. She did not go limp but she ceased her struggles. Nonetheless, wily Lasha stood ready with a hemp noose he had just grabbed from the hut. He held it up, ready to slip it around the woman’s throat, but Qala shook her head.
    â€œShe will be all right now, I think,” the Standor said. It was as much an order as an observation. She tilted her head, looked down into the woman’s wide eyes. “You will be, yes?” she asked, motioning gently.
    The woman didn’t answer but she stopped struggling. Vilu felt a release of tension from the crowd. It was like the Priests said: people could feel people’s moods if they were open to them. Now Vilu relaxed as well. Too late, he recalled why he had come running out in the first place. Shielding his gold eyes, he looked up at the great airship as it nosed up to the high mooring tower on the coast—his heart seemed to grow huge as he saw the pride of Falkhaan roped and planked to the simu-varkas , the highest column in western Galderkhaan. The great