By Paula E. Downing
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Additional resources for A Whisper of Time
It's not your fault, Ian! Why make it your personal failure? ” He turned away uncomfortably. ” “You don't fail me,” she said earnestly. “You just don't. ” He looked at her unhappily, quite unconvinced. ” Her shoulders sagged; in his way, Ian was as stubborn as Sieyes. “I appreciate it,” she said, defeated. He gave her another quick kiss and smile. “Have to go now, back into the fray. ” She sat down on her bunk and shivered. I don't understand; I don't understand anything. She rubbed her hands slowly over her face, then let them drop into her lap.
Oh, hell,” Medoret muttered in embarrassment. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the delicate curls of grass by her knees, the bobbing stems of the frostflowers just within her peripheral vision, their chiming muted now—and wary. ” Medoret rose awkwardly to her feet and walked toward her; the frostflowers brushed her legs with a delicate touch, but the spell was broken. She sensed a hush fall over the glade, a ripple of silence that spread across the carpet of blooms into the wider glade behind her.
She stopped at a favorite glyph, the Celestial Bird, a jeweled and fantastic creature with sweeping plumes and a fierce eagle's head. Stalking on its delicate fringed legs, the beautiful bird led a procession of five carapaced squat creatures, suspected to be Targethi themselves, each named after an ancient Mayan king. “Great-Jaguar-Paw, Stormy-Sky, 18-Rabbit, Ah-Cacaw, Lord Water,” she whispered, tapping each with her finger. She leaned her chin upon her hand and smiled at the procession, wondering about each of the Targethi depicted there—who they were, what they had known, what age they had lived in, what stars they had seen.