Read Online The Sound of Seas by Jeff Rovin, Gillian Anderson - Free Book Online

neither a surprise nor her concern. From the corner of his eye Ben saw that Anita was frowning. But he had worked at the United Nations too long to be insulted by the madame’s dismissiveness; he was busy trying to find a place in Galderkhaani lore for the imagery she had described, and also for the designs on her clothing, which seemed to fit somewhat into the research he and Caitlin had been doing on Galderkhaan. There was a strong resemblance of her tattoo to the dragonlike prow of a Viking ship that Caitlin had drawn after experiencing a profound and terrifying trance . . . in Haiti.
    Madame Langlois turned to stare out at West Eighty-Fourth Street, her dark eyes settling briefly on the rooftops of the brownstones across the way.
    â€œThe leaves are dead here,” she said. “The branches are sad.”
    â€œI’m not too happy either,” Ben said.
    â€œWhy? You do not die every year,” she said.
    Ben didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. He also wasn’t in the mood for verbal or philosophical game playing. Then she leaned her head into the bay window and looked toward the part of Central Park she could see. The sun was just rising above the nearest line of trees, casting the tips of the bare limbs in a light, almost glowing, shade of bronze.
    â€œBut they are God’s fingers, and the promise of resurrection,” she said.
    â€œYou’re still talking about the trees?” Ben asked.
    Madame Langlois appeared reflective. “He fashion all living things, push them from the earth to the sun,” she said.
    â€œFrom darkness to light,” Enok added in a quiet monotone, almost as though it were the response to a prayer.
    â€œAll right,” Ben said with fast-growing impatience, “what does this have to do—”
    â€œBut too much light is death,” the woman went on as though he hadn’t spoken. She turned back toward Ben. “Dr. O’Hara saw the fires.”
    â€œYes. I was with her when she did,” Ben said.
    â€œNot here,” Madame Langlois said. “Somewhere else. Some time else.”
    Ben started. Caitlin had been to Haiti before she had witnessed the destruction of Galderkhaan. This woman could not possibly have known about the incident at the United Nations. Even if they had been in contact—which Ben doubted—Caitlin probably wouldn’t have mentioned it. Her experience in Haiti was not a pleasant one.
    The woman’s bracelets rattled as she held out a bony hand to her son. Enok Langlois dutifully reached into a large satchel he carried and removed a cigar, handed it to her.
    â€œDr. O’Hara does not permit smoking in here,” Anita said firmly.
    â€œThe airplane did not allow my matches,” Madame said. “They fear fire too. I will just hold it for now and smell these leaves, remember the smoke.” She put the cigar in her mouth, looked back at Ben, and said nothing. Apparently, it was his turn to speak.
    He turned slowly away from them, looking to Anita for direction. The psychiatrist had nothing and shook her head. Ben glanced at Enok, who did not look happy to be there.
    â€œWhat can you tell me about the snake, about what Caitlin saw and did in Haiti?” Ben asked.
    Enok remained defiantly silent.
    â€œWe await the snake,” Madame announced. “We wish it to show us things. Then we can say more.”
    In an environment where nothing should have surprised Ben, that did. “Are you saying . . . it’s coming? A snake?”
    The woman nodded once. “It ask me to come. To witness things. I did. Now it must tell more.”
    â€œWhat kinds of things are you supposed to witness?” Ben asked with growing exasperation. “You came all this way because you felt there was danger. You flew up without even knowing if anyone would see you—”
    â€œDidn’t matter,” she said, looking back out the window.