Read Through the Whirlpool for Free Online

sugar and salt that grew on the lowlands around the coast. The wind also brought the scent of baal-aarsh melons, which looked like volcanic rocks on the outside but were the most intense sunset orange within. They were chewy, tangy, full of juice, and his mouth watered at the thought of them. Then the wind briefly changed, and he was sure he could faintly detect, wafted down from the volcano’s higher slopes, the sugary-acid bite of the bluish purple zjheh-rohsh clusters, lounging on their low vines among the trees.
    He finally pulled a fish impatiently from the skewer. It was agony to chew slowly and carefully, locating the many spines with his tongue and spitting them into the fire, when what he really wanted to do was wolf the flesh down as fast as he could. He managed to curb his hunger, finishing off just three of the fish. Those that remained, he wrapped in a large leaf to save for the next day. Sea-nomad-becoming required continual exertion. He had only the potion prepared by his mother and food he had time to gather. He needed to ration himself.
    Then, huddling close to the little fire in its hearth of sand, he stared into the flames, clearing his mind to begin the exercises. His eyes searched through the embers, seeking the different colors he could find there, relaxing, tuning his concentration, emptying his mind of thought. The flames absorbed his complete attention. Little by little he began to see beyond…
    The shahiroh appeared with no warning, but not suddenly. She seemed to materialize out of the firelight on the far side of the fire. When he became aware of her, Kreh-ursh was unsure how long she had been standing there. She gave the impression of having existed since the birth of time, growing from the sand like an ancient, black-rooted loman tree. Her dark robes merged with the darkness behind her, the ceremonial mask could be a gray-silver billow of smoke frozen perversely in its horrible grimace, and her power enwrapped her like an invisible cloak. Behind the carved wood only the shining points of her eyes—glittering jewels that anchored her in time and space—and the harsh rasp of her breath through the breathing hole showed she was alive.
    Immersed as he was in trance, he did not jump up or make any outward movement. Yet his mind tensed, on guard. The shahiroh, more knowledgeable in lore and craft than the other villagers, were unpredictable and dangerous. They observed each other for long moments. He felt her probing subtly at his mind. Then she mind-spoke:
    Kreh-ursh, I am glad to be your mentor for sea-nomad-becoming.
    So articulate was her mind speech, so accurate, it was almost as if she were speaking directly to him in words. And her friendly tone disarmed him.
    Hoh-ee, Taashou.
    He recognized her despite her mask, this lean, haughty woman he had known all his life. They said she undertook sea-nomad-becoming at twelve years old, the youngest candidate the village had ever known. Her name meant “waving grass spear.”
    She now reached under her robes, brought forth her clenched fist. In a scattering movement, she tossed fine green powder into the fire. It erupted. Flames leaped. Thick green- gray smoke seethed out, the fumes clogging his throat. Heat singed his cheeks. His eyes watered. He coughed, but the smoke was already swirling thickly inside his head. His inner sight bucked and rolled, wild and unstable. Taashou’s presence was there, before him, demanding. Her eyes, two obsidian chunks, locked onto his own. All he could see were those points burrowing deep, forcing him to hold her gaze. He stared through the flames. Beyond the shining came the visions…
    Tell me. Describe what you see.
    There’s a jungle… rainforest… I’m walking… thick forest…
    Vines and creepers fell around him, hung above. The sun ’s rays reached down through high trunks, but they produced a green, underwater light.
    …looking for…
    He examined the trees. He was searching for something. Here were