Ri — Eye of the Ocean Book One 232
“In this place I can feel the beginnings of Ri-pattern,” Sarkalt said without
turning or rising from where he knelt. “I wonder if I will find Altasimic as familiar.
Do you mind meeting here?”
Mind? Spoken plainly enough, but something older rose up with the man's
words. Something that spoke in the light that glinted from the water and in the
reflection from the grains of amber sand. The world-net, not Temple Net, had
echoed the Priest's words.
The mound was little more than twenty feet across, the water surrounding it
much less, and looked shallow—where the bottom could be seen from the
surface—but was not. The same here as Li-Fu had remembered from her Lillisim,
not the story that the old Simic had told in the diamond where the Phoenix—
where Cassa—had waded as she wove the girdle out of grass and flowers. She
must have told him about the girdle, the real one that she had buried here. The
old man stole bits of lives and wrapped them in his lies.
Ragged tuffs of short grass poked through the sand on this side of the water,
sand and grass both dry already, the hot morning sucking the last of the night's
moisture into the air. The Overpriest's robe had been wet; it had dried in soft
wrinkles with sand caught in the folds. Almost transparent white silk with a
loosely tied paneled over-gown of a lace weave, heavier, showing linked circles