Zodiac

by Romina Russell

  Hysan stares into my face like he’s reading it. “What weapon can attack through the Psy?”

  His words startle me. “Did you see him, too?”

  “Who?” Hysan reaches for my black opal.

  I draw away, gripping it tight. “If we use this, he’ll find us again.”

  “He?” Hysan frowns. “I think you have more to tell me.”

  I zip the opal into my pocket, next to my Wave. Again, I probe my throat for nonexistent bruises. “Have you heard of Ophiuchus?”

  Surprisingly, Hysan has heard the theory of a Thirteenth House. He says the secret society 13 has a strong base on Libra. Among my friends, I’m usually the one who knows the most facts about our universe. Yet for all the knowledge Mom drilled into me, she never mentioned anything about another House in the Zodiac.

  When I explain how I saw Ochus in the Ephemeris, and how he’s responsible for the recent disasters in our world and the attack on our moons, I begin to see why I’ve continuously failed to convince Mathias. It isn’t easy to convey the terror I felt in the ice man’s presence when all I have are words.

  As I speak, Mathias busies himself at the screens, but Hysan pays close attention. Instead of mocking my story, he seems to be giving it earnest thought. When I finish, he says, “Early astrologers said the first Guardians could project an alternate node of their being through the Ephemeris, because they themselves were once objects represented there.”

  Mathias grimaces at his screens. “That’s just a theory; no one knows if they actually spoke that way.”

  Hysan looks only at me. “Even so, it fits what you’re describing.”

  “But then . . . you believe me?” My voice is so small it probably undermines any credibility I have, but I don’t care. I haven’t registered anything beyond the fact that Hysan hasn’t laughed or scowled at me yet.

  Slight lines form on Hysan’s face, framing his confusion. “My lady, why in the Zodiac would I not?”

  The ship seems to grow smaller the longer the conversation stays suspended. While Hysan tries to figure out what he missed, Mathias avoids my gaze.

  Hysan didn’t jump to doubt. He just met me, and still it came easier to him to trust me than not.

  “Have you shared your findings with the Psy?” asks Hysan.

  “I can’t. Ochus is in there listening.”

  “Let’s not take irrational leaps, Rho,” says Mathias, and I can tell by the red splotches on his face that he’s struggling to keep his emotions in check. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I’m not the only one who can’t accept your theory. Reasonable people don’t believe in Ophiuchus.”

  I want to shake him, but instead I cross my arms and glare. “Hysan believes me.”

  Mathias’s jaw shakes dangerously, and he finally snaps at me. “Really, Rho? He’s just a kid!”

  I don’t say anything in response.

  A kid. Hysan is my age, if not a year or two older. A kid. A kid. A kid. I say the phrase so many times in my head that it starts to sound like a tune. In that tune lies the truth of how Mathias sees me: He treats me like his kid sister because to him that’s who I am. A kid.

  Hysan’s voice cuts through the dead space. “Maybe ’Nox can convince your . . .” He looks to Mathias like he’s searching for the right word. “Lady of Robes?”

  Mathias glares at him, and Hysan calls up a holographic log. “’Nox has Psynergy sensors that can detect a Psy attack.”

  Mathias studies the arcane column of symbols. After scrolling for several seconds, he frowns. “I’m not denying there’s been Psy interference or that someone isn’t after Rho. I just don’t think we’re blaming the right person.”

  I wall off my annoyance with Mathias. Something else is bothering me—how we got away. Shutting off the Ephemeris got rid of Ochus’s form, but how did the veil shake off the Psy attack on the ship? “You have a Psy shield,” I blurt, looking to Hysan for confirmation.

  He nods. “How?” I ask, awed.

  “’Nox and I like to invent things,” he mutters, growing distracted by something on a screen.

  His green-gold eyes start to wane, as if his attention were literally fading from the present moment. But before I can press Hysan, Mathias injects in a suspicious voice, “It’s unusual for a diplomat to carry such a specialized shield.”

  “I like my privacy.”

  There’s a finality in Hysan’s tone that makes me drop the subject. I’m glad to know the three of us are protected, but Ophiuchus could use a Psy attack to hit Virgo or Gemini at any time, in any way, from anywhere. This trip is feeling more hopeless by the moment.

  “I’ll have to convince the Houses to cut off communications with the Psy . . . somehow,” I muse.

  “Your enemy attacked our ship because he means to silence you,” says Hysan, frowning, piecing together what he can.

  “We can still turn back,” offers Mathias.

  “No, we can’t. Not when the Houses are at risk.” If Mathias actually believed me, he’d understand.

  “What Houses?” asks Hysan.

  “All of them. Virgo and Gemini will be next.”

  Hysan listens without moving, then turns and speaks to his ship. “’Nox, set an immediate course for Libra.”

  Mathias instantly countermands the order. “Gemini’s our destination.”

  “My duty is to warn my own House about this threat,” says Hysan, rounding on him.

  Mathias draws himself erect. “And Gemini gets no warning?”

  In a low voice, I say, “Hysan.” At the sound of his name, he turns and looks at me. “I need to warn Gemini and Virgo. They’re in the most danger right now. After that, we can go to Libra. Okay?”

  His chin tips up, and I realize his pride is so great he might disagree.

  Instead, he bends forward in a low bow. “As you wish, my lady.”

  15

  TO SETTLE MY MIND, Hysan locks my black opal and our three Rings in his strongbox. We even drop in my Wave with the tutorial Ephemeris, to be extra safe.

  It seems impossible, but Ophiuchus has discovered how to bend Psynergy to his will, so we’re shutting ourselves off from everything that could tether us to the Psy. I even make Hysan and Mathias promise to avoid sending or receiving holograms, at least for now. So we’re flying dark. And with no news from the outside world, worry is starting to infect my every thought.

  Our zigzag flight during the attack took us far out from Gemini, but we’re speeding back, and the constellation already fills our view. Even now I can’t forget Mom’s drills on the Double.

  House Gemini has two colonized planets. The largest one, Hydragyr, is an airless cratered rock, but its mountains hold a trove of rare metals. The smaller planet, Argyr, has been terraformed to support a vast forest. The chief point Mom drummed into me was that Gemini is a House divided. The rich live in splendor on Argyr, while the vast majority of Geminin work in beryllium mines deep under the surface of Hydragyr.

  Mathias is in his cabin napping; he and Hysan are taking turns at the helm. “Do you need a break?” I ask Hysan.

  “No, but your company would be nice.”

  I sit beside him and stare at the screens. ’Nox’s Brain Powers has a litany of settings for the ship’s artificial brain. Shielding from Shadows lists the various veils available, including those of the Psy variety.

  “He doesn’t believe you,” says Hysan, as though we’ve been carrying on a conversation this whole time.

  “Mathias?” I ask. “No. Neither do the rest of my Advisors. Right now, my only supporters are my best friend, Nishiko, who’s a Sagittarian, and you, a Libran. The only people I can’t convince are my own.”

  “The most crucial truths are always rejected before they’re accepted,” he says, gazing out at Space. “It’s one of our greatest human flaws: arrogance. We look up and dare to
assume we know, when the universe is unknowable.” The words sound like they’re coming from a deeper place than usual. “In my experience, it’s better to keep an open mind and judge without prejudice . . . whenever I can.”

  There’s an invitation in Hysan’s voice to get to know him better . . . and the more he shares, the more I want to learn about him. I know I should leave my wall up, at least until he’s revealed more about himself, but it’s hard keeping my distance when every time he gets close, I find myself wanting to get closer.

  “How very Libran of you,” I say, pointing to the heading on one of the monitors. “I like your House’s Recovery-Requires-Review approach.”

  “Always nice to meet a fan.”

  Librans are known for their pursuit of justice, and they believe education is the best path to achieving it. To recover from any blow or overcome any challenge, they recommend reviewing all information available and studying all of one’s options, as an antidote to snap judgments and rash actions. “Do you know this one, too?” he asks.

  A hologram beams out from the gold bloom on Hysan’s iris. The text he’s projecting is a children’s morality tale from Libra.

  When the letters of the alphabet began disappearing, word spread there was a murderer among their ranks. They agreed every letter with a sharp edge on its body was a suspect. This ruled out O, who was asked to be the judge. He put each letter on trial and eventually blamed X, who had the most violent appearance and the worst disposition of them all. The real killer went free.

  It was the eraser.

  For the Librans, the villain in the story is O because he judged without knowing all the facts. From this tale, students are supposed to list all the things O did wrong as a judge. They can say he didn’t canvass broadly enough for suspects, or that he didn’t widen his worldview to account for all possibilities, or anything else that comes to mind.

  The point isn’t the answer—it’s for Libran children to brainstorm as many potential factors in a given situation, in the hopes of broadening their outlook and instilling objectivity as an early value.

  “O . . . for Ophiuchus,” says Hysan, shutting down the hologram. “I wonder why he’s been biding his time, and why he’s coming out of hiding now.”

  I know I should be relieved Hysan trusts me—and I am—but there’s something strange about how easily he’s accepted my story when compared to everyone else’s reactions. “How did you get to be a diplomatic envoy at such a young age?” I ask.

  “That’s funny.” But for the first time, he’s not smiling. “I didn’t peg you as someone who would ask that question.”

  His eyes seem to darken during moments when he’s most present, but when his mind clouds over with other thoughts, like now, the green fades until his irises become as elusive as air. We’re quiet again, and I realize he’s touchier about his age than I am.

  “You’ve been to Gemini before?” I ask, determined to keep the tone lighter from now on. There’s enough tension on this ship already.

  “Unfortunately,” he says, his eyes still distant.

  “Can you tell me about its Guardians?”

  He nods. “’Nox, show us the Twins.” A small holo-map of the Double constellation spins in the air above the helm. “Gemini’s two Guardians are brother Caaseum and sister Rubidum, and they’re at least three centuries old—but when you see them, you’ll think they’re twelve-year-olds. They use appalling procedures to maintain their youth.”

  “Three centuries? How can anyone live that long?” My mother told me about the Twins, and we touched on them at the Academy, but only very peripherally. Like every House, Gemini guards its secrets jealously, so they don’t share all the details of their major discoveries.

  “In the early days, Gemini led the Zodiac in scientific and humanitarian achievements,” says Hysan. “They imagined solutions for every problem, and they brought a lot of those solutions to life. Then their House discovered cell regeneration, and holding on to youth became a Geminin obsession. Lots of aristocrats do it, but few take it to the Twins’s extreme. The cost is beyond imagining, and so is the pain.”

  “How long can they live that way?”

  “The longest anyone’s lasted is about three hundred and fifty years. The Geminin Guardians are probably reaching their end.”

  Goosebumps ripple up my arms. The thought of living long enough to watch my family and friends die around me is depressing and lonely in a way that no other companionship could fix.

  Hysan scans the blinking messages on the Shielding from Shadows screen. As he clicks through the entries, I ask, “How did you design a shield that repels Psynergy?”

  He keeps studying the controls, looking preoccupied. Another screen blinks new data, and he speaks quietly to his ship. To me, he says, “We’re about to land. Better alert your watchdog.”

  “He’s my Advisor,” I say defensively.

  He hands me two metallic devices. “Take these collars. There’s one for each of you.”

  “What do they do?”

  “They’re cloaking veils that project a mirage of invisibility. We should all wear them when we disembark until we’re sure it’s safe.”

  Before I can ask more questions, he turns and starts a long conversation with his ship, so I wend my way forward to reach the front tip of the nose. Ahead of us, the smaller Geminin planet, Argyr, shines like a green melon. When we get there, I’ll have to explain my theory about Ophiuchus again, the theory Mathias still won’t accept.

  I peer through the glass, and the cold black eternity of Space makes me sad. I miss the Blue Planet. “Every world is beautiful from a distance,” says Mathias, coming up beside me.

  The sound of his musical voice still jostles my heart, though I’m not sure how I feel about him anymore. If he could be the guy with the soft eyes all the time, it’d be different. But I can’t reconcile the person who swore his loyalty to me on his Mother’s life—who risked his own life setting out on this mission—with the Mathias who distrusts me.

  “What are those?” he asks, pointing to the thin metal collars.

  After I explain, we put them on. “All this stealth technology,” he whispers. “I suspect your Libran may be involved in espionage.”

  “Espionage?”

  “Every House engages in it,” he says, still whispering like Hysan can hear us. “Even Cancer has a secret service.”

  “We do?” It’s hard to imagine Cancrian spies. We’re not very good liars. “Well, aren’t you glad this ship is veiled?” The question comes out like a challenge, and I realize I’m being as defensive of Hysan as I was of Mathias earlier.

  “Of course,” he says, forgetting to keep his voice down. “If it hadn’t—if the shield hadn’t shut down the Psy attack . . .”

  He moves closer, and the raw look from earlier comes over his features. Seeing how much he cares about me makes my heart pump at hyperspeed. If he would just trust me in equal measure, things could be different.

  Trust . . . the word reminds me there’s something I haven’t told Mathias yet. And it’s time I confide in him fully—after all, even without believing, he’s come this far.

  “Mathias, I’ve put you in more danger than you know by letting you join me on this trip.” I hesitate a moment, then I confess. “I didn’t tell you earlier, but Ochus threatened to kill me if I spoke of him. In fact, if I do exactly what I’m doing now—warn the other Guardians—he pretty much guaranteed it.”

  Mathias blanches. “You predicted the attack on the ship? And you chose to do this anyway?”

  “To warn the other Houses,” I say, nodding. “Otherwise they’ll be unprepared . . . like we were.”

  The mysterious expression that comes over him is like the one he wore when I mastered the Ring. “You’re a truer Cancrian than I realized, Rho.” Even though it’s a compliment, his severe tone makes it sound like a criticism.
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  Crius and Agatha may disagree with me, but they stopped questioning my qualifications for Guardian when I passed their test. Sometimes I feel like Mathias is still evaluating my candidacy.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the risk sooner,” I say.

  He sighs, softness coming to the surface of his midnight-blue eyes. “I might not have believed you.”

  The ship rolls to the left, and we both reach out for the handrail. There’s a change in the atmosphere, like we’ve just crossed an invisible barrier.

  Real gravity is weightier than the ship’s imitation brand, and our muscles grow heavier. I feel every part of my body, like I’m becoming more alive by the second. It’s my first time on an alien world.

  “Entering orbit,” announces Hysan from the helm. “When we land, stay alert. . . . This is a place where nothing is as it seems.”

  16

  AFTER STUDYING THE PLANET’S TERRAIN, Hysan decides to dock in a wooded park outside the capital city. No one will see our ship, he says, thanks to the cloaking veil. Argyr is a lush garden planet with plenty of breathable air and decent atmospheric pressure, so we won’t need compression suits. It’s also massive enough to exert a reasonable level of gravity.

  I change into the Zodai suit Lola and Leyla made me, with the four silver moons on the sleeve. Before leaving the ship, Hysan activates our veil collars. The collars are networked, which enables us to see each other, but to anyone else, we’re invisible.

  When the outer hatch opens, we’re embraced in a warm bath of humidity, and the first thing I notice is the sweet smell of the air. I step onto loamy earth, birdsong echoing through a grove of enormous tree trunks. Our Cancrian trees are mere reeds compared to these giants.

  “Let’s be quick.” Hysan sets off at a fast trot. He’s lighter and thinner than Mathias, and he runs impressively fast in his expensive boots. The forest gives way to a belt of meadowland circling the capital city. We sprint single file through feathery, knee-high grasses, and when we draw close enough to see the buildings, I have to stop and shade my eyes.