The Book of Air: Volume Four of the Dragon Quartet by Marjorie B. Kellogg Page B

Like, get out of the sun and the punishing heat. Then she sees the ocean, and the parts of her scattered self draw together. She scrambles to her knees like a worshiper at the altar.
    “Steady, now,” wheezes the young man, though he hardly sounds steady himself. He frees his leg and arms and edges away, then gets up to scan the beach warily.
    “The water! Ah! It’s so . . . beautiful!” Blue from side to side. Water as wide as the sky. The hot light dancing off a billion shifting surfaces. She’s seen the ocean on computer screens, more of it than she’s seen dry land. But the realityis overwhelming. It’s awe-inspiring. It’s so animated, so very . . . wet. The rolling of the surf is hypnotic. Paia has only known still water, like the Sacred Pool in the Citadel. Immediately, she wants to paint it, to try to capture that dance of reflected light, to work with all those colors she’s never had use for before. “Are we in . . .?”
    N’Doch nods as if he had something to be ashamed of. “My place.”
    The western coast of Africa, then, in the year 2013. Half a day ago, she and N’Doch were total strangers. But they have been in the Meld together, and know everything there is to know about each other. By contrast, she knows almost nothing about the soldier, Adolphus of Köthen, except that they are fated together. But this sharing of minds, what a gift and privilege! Paia recalls that N’Doch at first felt invaded by his fellow dragon guides, but at least he’s come around enough not to resist entirely. A sense of the merging still lingers, like an intimate scent. Intimate enough to be compromising, but N’Doch won’t take advantage, even if he’d welcome the chance. It’s too much like incest. Even better, he doesn’t believe in running other people’s lives—unlike most of the men she’s met. Paia smiles up at him. He’s as beautiful in his own way as the soldier is. It would be comforting just to flirt a little, as she used to with Luco, in the security of knowing nothing would come of it. But she senses it would upset this young man, at least until they know each other better. Delicately, she offers him a hand, asking to be helped to her feet.
    He looks away, frowning. “He’s gonna kill me, y’know. Just absolutely murder me.”
    Paia laughs, picturing the soldier’s handsome, rough-hewn glower. Like a rock at sunset. A bright block of unpolished marble. The memory of his beauty distracts her momentarily. “I won’t let him. I promise.”
    “Easy for you to say.”
    He’s watching her like she’s a bomb primed to go off. Waiting for the weeping and panic. But Paia’s had enough of all that. For now, she prefers her numbness. It allows her to get on with things. She rises on her own, brushing sand from her long white shirt and soft pants. The open beach is as hot as a griddle. She’s sweating already, and knows she must look a sight. In the Temple, looking uglyand concealing her body was her idea of rebellion. Now she’s glad for the protection of long sleeves and pant legs. The sunlight may be as lethal here in 2013 as it is in her own time. Paia doesn’t recall her history lessons all that well. What’s the point of history when you know the world is ending? Besides, whenever she wanted actual information, she could always ask House. But House is two hundred years away. Ignorance, she realizes, can be a dangerous liability.
    Farther along the beach, she sees an unimaginable thing: children running about naked, their dark little bodies as shiny as wet stones.
    “Look!” she cries.
    “Shhh! What? Keep it down!” N’Doch’s eyes dart about. “Oh. That’s just kids. Nothing to be worried about.”
    “But they’re out in the sun! What are their mothers thinking?”
    “That they might get a moment’s rest if their kids have something to keep them busy.” He shades his brow to study a group of colorful boats beached a short distance away. “Don’t see anything that