Caitlin awoke in a gently swaying hammock. There was distant, muted noise and someone sleeping at her side. The room was dark and the physical atmosphere was highly charged.
Her head throbbed as if she had a hangover; it wasn’t the drugs from the hospital, it was something else. It came with a floral scent, something other than jasmine, that clung to the insides of her nose.
Caitlin was aware of all that in a moment. It took her a few seconds longer to realize she was back in Bayarma’s body, in a hammock onboard Standor Qala’s airship, that people were very active just a few feet away… and that the figure beside her was that of little Vilu. She released a single, breath-stopping sob when she realized she had made it back.
Even in the dim light behind drawn, heavy curtains, she could tell that he was asleep or unconscious; his normal, audible breathing suggested the former. She prayed that Jacob was no longer here, that he was at home in their apartment with his grandparents.
Caitlin eased from the hammock, gripping the mesh as she steadied herself on wobbly feet on a floor that was swaying too. Vials rattled on a shelf behind her, all of them knocking to the left; the airship was twisting in a wide circle.
Bayarma’s body was perspiring and Caitlin pulled down the hem of her robe before she made her way through the heavy hide curtains suspended from the low ceiling. Walking proved difficult, and not just because of the motion of the airship: she felt pressure, almost as if she were ascending in a high-speed elevator. It was pushing her down, toward the woven flooring, causing the pitch that sealed it to crinkle audibly. She had to move slowly with an awkwardly wide stance to keep from dropping to her knees.
There was more than just the clear sunlight outside the cabin. She squinted as she saw the yellowish glow that suffused the area just below the rail. She noticed that a section of that rail had been broken, that taut bands of hemp had been pulled across the narrow opening.
Crew members were moving swiftly but without panic along the ropes. It reminded her of the crew of a windjammer bracing for a storm, adjusting the sails, preparing for heavy winds.
Standor Qala was forward. The glow was more intense in that direction, girdling the pointed prow of the ship with a nimbus. Caitlin began to approach the officer only to find herself stumbling forward, dropping facedown on the deck, her arms forward, fingers pointing.
Helping hands gathered round her while voices called for assistance. The Standor turned and rushed toward them.
“Bayarma, what are you doing?” Qala asked.
“It’s Caitlin,” she replied in Galderkhaani. “And you must get away from here.”
The Standor indicated for two crew members to carry her back to the sleeping cabin. She followed the woman in then sent the two men away. Caitlin curled protectively around Vilu, spooning, cradling his head while Qala approached. Supporting herself on one of the ropes from which the hammock was suspended, the Standor leaned over the boy and the woman. Her face was drawn, her eyes pained.
“What is it?” Caitlin asked.
“The galdani was using a mineral he discovered—he fell to his death.” With a motion of her forehead she indicated the broken rail.
“Was it a stone? One of the tower tiles?”
Qala nodded. “He said that you two felt it first. What is this? What’s happening? How are you back?”
“I used one of the tiles… in my time,” Caitlin told her. “Standor, you must listen to me. You appear to be heading inland.”
“I am.”
“I beg you to reverse your course, head out to sea.”
“That isn’t possible,” the Standor said as she rose. “I must find out what’s happening to the columns. I have been looking inside the simu-varkas. Something is causing it to burn from within. Apparently others as well.”
“It’s the Source,” Caitlin assured her. She didn’t want to say more unless she had to, lest Qala attempt to stop Vol.
“The expansion of the Source is not yet complete and the conduits to the new tunnels remain closed,” Qala replied.
“It’s the Source,” Caitlin repeated.
“How do you know this? Because you are from the future?”
“That’s all I can tell you. The Source is going to release a great deal of energy and it’s best that your airship—all airships, if you can signal them—go to sea. Boats as well.”
Qala shook her head. “Only the Great Council in Aankhaan can authorize a flotilla. They are prohibited by the Theories of Conflict.”
“Then take that responsibility yourself,” she said. “You will save many lives.”
Qala’s expression darkened. “You are not telling me all you know.”
“I cannot,” she said. “There is too much at risk.”
The Standor turned her back and stood silently facing the wall. Caitlin held tighter to Vilu. Once again, she didn’t know how much time she had here. Her primary goal could not be Qala or the airship. She had to wake the boy and find out if Jacob was still present.
She kissed the boy’s temple once, then again. He stirred.
“Hey there, Captain Nemo,” she said deep into his ear. Even when Jacob couldn’t hear her, he felt the vibrations of her voice.
Vilu rolled his shoulders, reached back to touch the woman.
“Boy of mine,” Caitlin went on. “It’s time to rise and do something wonderful!”
Jacob opened his eyes and then smiled in recognition. “Mother?”
The boy turned and threw his arms around her so hard he nearly choked her. She let him.
Qala had turned and was watching them.
“You are both here, now?” the Standor asked.
Caitlin nodded.
“And you will leave… by the tiles?”
“Hopefully,” she said. “We will return the bodies of Vilu and Bayarma to them.”
“Mom, how did you find me?” Jacob asked.
“Dream magic,” she said. “Like in The Wizard of Oz.”
“I believe you,” he replied, releasing her so he could gesture. “I can hear, now. That’s magic.” The motions came naturally to him and were a beautiful thing to see.
She kissed his forehead. “You know we have to go,” she said.
“Home,” he offered. “Yes, I know. I miss Arfa. And I’m missing school. A lot of it.”
“I’ll tell your teachers I took you on a trip, which is kinda true,” she said.
As they spoke, Caitlin felt the pull of the tower beneath them. It was causing the hammock to sway, to sag. She threw her arms around her son and looked up at Standor Qala.
“I’m sorry about the galdani,” she said.
Qala smiled graciously. “The winds are unusually restive. I must see to the course.” She started toward the curtain.
“Thank you for all you’ve done,” Caitlin said. “If this doesn’t work, if the boy and I are separated—”
Qala stopped and looked back. “Whoever is here, I will look after him,” she said.
The Standor left the cabin and Caitlin broke the embrace with her son. “Jacob, I want you to do exactly as I tell you. All right?”
“I heard everything you just said,” he said, grinning.
“That’s fine, just make sure you do it,” she replied. “I’m going to hold your left hand and point to the ground like this.” She demonstrated how to extend two fingers out and down. “I want you to do the same with your right hand. Got it?”
He nodded.