Grabbing hold of the medician blanket, Octavia lunged forward, jumping over the stairs entirely. A surprised conductor fell backward. Incontinence. She landed, ready to run.
Pandemonium drowned her.
Songs, bodies, thousands of them. As many as an army encampment, but all in tight proximity. A stew of humanity, with her senses more attuned than ever before.
She screamed, but even that sound was lost in the cacophony.
She ran, faces blurring around her. Dark suits, dark skins, Âpeople, Âpeople everywhere. Train whistles blasted like a whisper against the needs of bodies. Starvation gout disease pox infection syphilis double amputation typhoid pregnancy migraine. She ran, she shoved, she found a wall of glimmering white tile. A door. She opened it. She threw herself inside. A hallway, the lights electric. She staggered another twenty feet until she collapsed, heaving for breath, heaving from terror. The songs still burbled close by, like ocean waves hidden behind a dune.
âLady, what is happening to me?â
She pulled the blanket from beneath her arm and pressed it to her face. The cloth absorbed her sobs as she rocked for a minute. Enough of this. I need to find out where I am. Find Alonzo.
Up the hall she found a map painted on the white wall: TAMARAN TERMINAL Colored lines depicted a massive facility of multiple floors and several dozen tracks. The place could easily hold tens of thousands of ÂpeopleâÂno wonder she had been overwhelmed. Even at her normal sensitivity, this place would have left her dazed and desirous of a quick retreat.
How am I to find Alonzo amidst these crowds? And how am I to cope with the noise of all these diagnoses?
The map showed several access hallways, like the one she was in, but she could not avoid the city itself. The terminal was located at city center, at the plaza. Even as a newcomer to Tamarania, she knew of the plaza.
The southern nations were a cluster of twelve city-Âstates. Tamarania possessed the largest area by far, though its principal city occupied only the tip at the continentâs end. The other city-Âstates overflowed islands interconnected by bridges, naval vessels, and airships. The plaza was the hub of Tamarania, and of all the southern nations. Millions of Âpeople were said to live in the immediate environs.
Millions. My brain will explode.
Octavia had heard millions of living beings beforeâÂmicroscopic zymesâÂwhen the Ladyâs magic had enhanced her hearing so she could diagnose the Wastersâ water contamination. ÂPeople were so much bigger and more complex, there was no comparison.
If the Lady can enhance my hearing, maybe she can decrease it. ActuallyâÂshe did. In the train car, I barely heard the womenâs songs once I was in the circle. The magic filtered it.
Frowning, she fluffed out the medician blanket. It looked ghastly with an entire long edge hacked away. She had not properly disengaged the circle before she fled and she still felt the inherent heat of the Ladyâs presence. âIâm sorry,â she murmured. While sheâd been in training, forgetting to disengage a circle was a grave offenseâÂthe sort that earned a hundred lines and a week of doubled manure-Âshoveling duty. âBut I do still require your attention.â
She delved into her satchel to find her headband. The white cloth bore a hand-Âstitched emblem of the Ladyâs Tree on the front. It sparkled with the same enchantment as the rest of her uniform. Warding the cloth had taken many days of meditation; she hoped that the existing enchantment might make the cloth more receptive. As if Iâm one to judge the Ladyâs capabilities.
Octavia sat in the circle, headband across her lap. âLady,â she whispered. At the word, heat stroked her as if she were a cat. âYou have opened my eyes and ears in new ways, and now I ask something more of you. Iâm too attuned to
Pandemonium drowned her.
Songs, bodies, thousands of them. As many as an army encampment, but all in tight proximity. A stew of humanity, with her senses more attuned than ever before.
She screamed, but even that sound was lost in the cacophony.
She ran, faces blurring around her. Dark suits, dark skins, Âpeople, Âpeople everywhere. Train whistles blasted like a whisper against the needs of bodies. Starvation gout disease pox infection syphilis double amputation typhoid pregnancy migraine. She ran, she shoved, she found a wall of glimmering white tile. A door. She opened it. She threw herself inside. A hallway, the lights electric. She staggered another twenty feet until she collapsed, heaving for breath, heaving from terror. The songs still burbled close by, like ocean waves hidden behind a dune.
âLady, what is happening to me?â
She pulled the blanket from beneath her arm and pressed it to her face. The cloth absorbed her sobs as she rocked for a minute. Enough of this. I need to find out where I am. Find Alonzo.
Up the hall she found a map painted on the white wall: TAMARAN TERMINAL Colored lines depicted a massive facility of multiple floors and several dozen tracks. The place could easily hold tens of thousands of ÂpeopleâÂno wonder she had been overwhelmed. Even at her normal sensitivity, this place would have left her dazed and desirous of a quick retreat.
How am I to find Alonzo amidst these crowds? And how am I to cope with the noise of all these diagnoses?
The map showed several access hallways, like the one she was in, but she could not avoid the city itself. The terminal was located at city center, at the plaza. Even as a newcomer to Tamarania, she knew of the plaza.
The southern nations were a cluster of twelve city-Âstates. Tamarania possessed the largest area by far, though its principal city occupied only the tip at the continentâs end. The other city-Âstates overflowed islands interconnected by bridges, naval vessels, and airships. The plaza was the hub of Tamarania, and of all the southern nations. Millions of Âpeople were said to live in the immediate environs.
Millions. My brain will explode.
Octavia had heard millions of living beings beforeâÂmicroscopic zymesâÂwhen the Ladyâs magic had enhanced her hearing so she could diagnose the Wastersâ water contamination. ÂPeople were so much bigger and more complex, there was no comparison.
If the Lady can enhance my hearing, maybe she can decrease it. ActuallyâÂshe did. In the train car, I barely heard the womenâs songs once I was in the circle. The magic filtered it.
Frowning, she fluffed out the medician blanket. It looked ghastly with an entire long edge hacked away. She had not properly disengaged the circle before she fled and she still felt the inherent heat of the Ladyâs presence. âIâm sorry,â she murmured. While sheâd been in training, forgetting to disengage a circle was a grave offenseâÂthe sort that earned a hundred lines and a week of doubled manure-Âshoveling duty. âBut I do still require your attention.â
She delved into her satchel to find her headband. The white cloth bore a hand-Âstitched emblem of the Ladyâs Tree on the front. It sparkled with the same enchantment as the rest of her uniform. Warding the cloth had taken many days of meditation; she hoped that the existing enchantment might make the cloth more receptive. As if Iâm one to judge the Ladyâs capabilities.
Octavia sat in the circle, headband across her lap. âLady,â she whispered. At the word, heat stroked her as if she were a cat. âYou have opened my eyes and ears in new ways, and now I ask something more of you. Iâm too attuned to
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