Zodiac

by Romina Russell

  Every surface ripples with stripes of color. Orange, blue, green, white, purple, brown—the color bands swirl in sinuous patterns over the rounded domes.

  “Like it’s made of rainbows,” I say, repeating what I used to tell Mom when she’d show me pictures.

  “It’s agate,” says Hysan, “mined from their other planet and transported at tremendous cost.”

  Mathias puts on a pair of lightweight field glasses and scans the east and west. He’s holding that silver oval thing that may be a weapon, and when we take off running through the grass again, he stays close beside me.

  The buildings are shaped like globes, with fanciful cupolas bulging in all directions. Windows bubble outward, gleaming in the sunlight. The city has no wall, no apparent defenses, and since we’re invisible, it’s easy to walk in. I think about our own unfortified islands, and I wonder how often Hysan, or other veiled travelers like him, has wandered unseen through our villages, spying on us.

  With a shudder, I glance up at the sky. Does Ochus already have us in his sights?

  Hysan winds us deeper into the city, through a warren of curving lanes, where we constantly dodge little kids on skates and hover-skis. From my lessons, I already knew the people of Gemini have coffee-colored eyes and lustrous tawny skin, ranging from salmon pink to deep burnt orange. What I didn’t know was how bizarre it would be to walk through a world overrun with children.

  In the shops and residences, I glimpse adults working as salespeople and household servants, but the streets are filled with kids, and their formfitting suits gleam in metallic patterns of brass, nickel, and platinum with accents of glittering jet. They’re so androgynous it’s hard to tell girls from boys.

  Soon, we arrive at a broad plaza, dazzlingly white, where hundreds of small, elaborately dressed Geminin dash about, all wearing thick sunglasses and interacting with unseen people and things.

  “This plaza is Gemini’s Imaginarium.” As Hysan explains, I remember. “People come here to interact with their own imaginations. When you’re wearing the glasses, anything you envision in your mind becomes real . . . but only to you.”

  His words pull on my memories of Gemini, until it feels as though I’ve lugged Mom’s lessons up from a long way down. “Holograms you can touch,” I say, recalling the mnemonic I’d made up.

  “The technology extends the length of the plaza, and it only works when paired with those heavyset glasses. As long as you feel the weight of the glasses on your nose, you know you’re still in the Imaginarium. It’s the only way to keep from going crazy.”

  Sounds like a protective measure that falls under the banner of Trust Only What You Can Touch. I scan the childlike people and realize not all of them look like they’re enjoying themselves. Some are crying, others shouting, and a few are running from invisible monsters.

  “There are two sides to the imagination,” says Hysan, catching where my gaze has strayed.

  “There are two sides to everything,” I say. Only I meant everyone. Maybe I meant Mathias.

  Or myself—after all, I never thought I could feel competing emotions for the same person. Or that I could be attracted to two people at the same time.

  Mathias looks at me with questions in his indigo eyes. I turn away, hiding my answers.

  Hysan leads us forward, toward one peculiar building, different from all the rest. Instead of a globe, this edifice is dull black and cone-shaped, sweeping upward to a sharp point. It’s the tallest building we see, so I think it must be House Gemini’s royal court.

  Zodai Guards in Gemini’s orange-colored uniforms flank the entrance, wearing ceremonial swords, their eyes managing to look fierce despite their childlike stature. In our veils, we slip past unnoticed.

  Inside, the hall is cool, dim, and quiet. Mathias puts away his field glasses but keeps the silver weapon half-concealed in his palm. He pivots and watches for danger, while Hysan strides ahead, walking like he owns the place.

  The vaulted ceiling echoes our footsteps, so we slow down and move quietly. We ride up a moving staircase, then dart along a balcony, peeking in through various doors. Images depicting aspects and characteristics from each House drown the walls and ceiling of each room, rendered in such detail that I could be persuaded this building contains the actual Zodiac—and that each of these doors opens up to our various worlds.

  When I look into the room that depicts Cancer, I bite down on my inner lip to avoid crying out. The skyline over the Cancer Sea looks like it always did, our moons like four pearls on a string. The water is clean and roaring, and the pod cities light up the horizon with our gleaming, cascading buildings and sun-bleached streets. From this high up, they look like massive lily pads cradling our Cancrian communities in their palms. It’s not easy closing the door on home.

  “You see why I despise this place,” Hysan hisses under his breath as we pass more rooms filled with children who are engaged in some version of playing, cuddling, or fussing. “These people are Gemini’s leading families. Not one of them is less than a hundred years old, yet they behave like toddlers.”

  “They seem creative,” I say. After all, we’re in the land of imagination—and I’ve never seen anything like it.

  A heavy scent hangs in the air, something fragrant and beguiling. It makes me dizzy and . . . dreamy.

  “Don’t breathe too deeply, my lady,” says Hysan, glimpsing the change in my face. “They’re using psychotropic drugs.”

  I wonder how I can avoid breathing.

  “And before you make excuses for them,” he says, “you should see the miners who pay for all this. Only the richest people can afford youth and imagination. The rest of the population ages and dies like the rest of us, and they spend their lives in the mines, unearthing the minerals that keep the rich rich. It’s sick.”

  Hysan’s right, but for a Libran, he’s not being entirely fair. My mom’s lessons taught me that mining is the highest-paid work on Gemini, so the mines are mostly filled with people who want to one day retire to this city and live like children again. There’s a separate settlement in the caves of Gemini’s other planet that’s filled with people who aren’t seeking an inhumanly long life. They’re just normal humans who use their imaginations to build incredible cities within the rock.

  We slip into another corridor, where the fragrant scent wafts from every door. Hysan stops at the entrance to a lavish room full of giggling centenarians. They’re sprawled among cushions, watching a puppet show in an ornately carved theater the size of a dollhouse.

  We stand at the front of the room, beside the small stage, invisibly looking out at the audience.

  “There,” whispers Hysan, pointing to the far back, where two especially gorgeous young people are ensconced together in a blue velvet puff pillow. They have skin as pale as the inside of a cantaloupe and curly copper hair. Their arms are draped around each other, and their cheeks rest together. I would guess they were in love, except they look exactly alike.

  “Those are the Twins.”

  17

  EMBRACED IN SIBLING AFFECTION, the Twin Guardians of Gemini look so angelic, they could be cherubs in a frieze—except for their tunnel-like eyes. Eyes so deep they’re endless.

  The puppet show either wraps or reaches intermission because the puppeteer scurries right past us. Everyone is applauding. “How should we introduce ourselves?” I whisper.

  Hysan says, “How about we send a message requesting an audience and then reveal ourselves once they accept—”

  “No more tricks.” Mathias tugs at his veil collar. “How do I get this thing off?”

  “We’ll lose our advantage,” whispers Hysan.

  I shake my head. “Mathias is right. We came for their trust—how will it look if we don’t give them ours?”

  With a sigh, Hysan gives a quiet command. Our veils switch off, and twenty pairs of wide, coffee-brown Geminin eyes turn
toward us. There’s a hush, then a series of shrieks as some of them have meltdowns and others scatter away, like they’re really frightened children.

  “Sorry,” I say feebly from the front of the room. “We . . . we apologize for our sudden appearance, but we come in friendship.”

  Instantly, the Twins spring up from their blue pillow. Their metallic costumes throw off brassy scintillations, and their faces shimmer with opalescent skin paint, the kind Deke’s family manufactures. “Welcome!”

  They speak in unison, in a cheerful singsong. “Holy Mother Rhoma, how delightful. We’ve been expecting you.”

  I freeze. “You have?”

  They give a signal, and the remaining little Geminin scurry out, whispering and giggling. Arm in arm, the Twins sashay toward us, beaming. As we exchange the hand touch, one of them—the girl—says, “My name is Rubidum, and this handsome fellow is my brother, Caaseum.”

  Caaseum rises a few centimeters into the air and kisses my hand. I notice he’s wearing levitation boots to enhance his height. “Rhoma Grace, what a privilege it must be to reign over a Cardinal House.” Cardinal Houses mark the changes of the seasons, and each represents one of the four elements of life: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. “We have so many questions for you!”

  The Twins usher us off the stage and toward the pillows where they were seated. We pull over a few more, and we all sit down. The moment we’re settled, I say, “I’ve come to warn you—”

  “About an enemy as old as time,” says Caaseum, nodding genially.

  My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “How do you know?”

  “Good Mother, why just this morning the stars showed an omen! Have you not been consulting?”

  Mathias, Hysan, and I stare at him in shock. The depths of his eyes make me nervous. “You mean you’ve seen him?”

  Caaseum shuts his eyes and presses a hand dramatically to his forehead, like a fortune-teller at a fair. “I’ve seen someone powerful in the Psy is challenging you, someone using a timeless weapon. That’s why you’ve come, am I right?”

  “He’s going to attack your House using Dark Matter,” I say firmly.

  “Remarkable.” Rubidum gives me a vivacious smile. “Admiral Crius said you were coming to raise relief funds, but this is much better. Tell us more. I love your accent.”

  Caaseum leans toward me. “Did you bring your stone with you?”

  “My stone?” His change of topic addles me. “You mean my black opal? We left it on the ship.”

  “Black opal? Intriguing.” Caaseum’s eyes shine brighter. “The omen I saw was open to many interpretations. What I described is only one view. My Ephemeris may not be as precise as your stone. We should compare.”

  He opens his left hand, and the drawing on his palm starts to glow. The Geminin version of a Wave is a Tattoo. Each one is unique—in look and function—because every person designs and programs their own. When tiny stars spray upward from his palm, I yell, “No! Please don’t use your Ephemeris!”

  “Not use my Ephemeris?” He stares at me. “That’s like telling a bullet-ship not to speed.”

  “Or telling a Sagittarian not to ask nosy questions,” says Rubidum with a laugh. “Close your hand, brother. You’re making our young friend uncomfortable.”

  “If you insist.” Caaseum briefly slings his hand, and the glow in his palm vanishes.

  I blink to clear my head. “Listen. Ophiuchus struck our world with a Psy attack. He made our moons collide. And your House may be next.”

  When they flinch back and stare at me, I launch right in, describing the Dark Matter, the pattern in the stars, and my encounters with Ochus. Next I explain the omens I saw for Houses Gemini and Virgo. “You need to build shelters. Make an evacuation plan. Ochus will show you no mercy.”

  “Ochus? Priceless. This could be an opera.” Rubidum takes up a small musical instrument and rapidly plucks its strings, filling the air with melody. “My sources said your were quite a spinner of tales, and they weren’t wrong.”

  “Tales?” I have to force myself not to shout when I say, “Twenty million of my people are dead!”

  Rubidum plays more vigorously. Her fingers fly along the strings. “You want revenge.”

  “Absolutely,” I say. “But first I want to make sure your people are safe.”

  “Murder and vengeance, a classic. I hear the theme song now.”

  “Can it, Rubi,” says her brother. “Our guest is in mourning.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Rubidum’s music grows darker, stormier, and her eyes seem to hollow out like a pair of deep caves. “Revenge is a tale that never ends. It goes round and round forever, and no one finds peace.” She plays a run of soft descending notes. “It’s very sad, what happened to your moons, but as the years go by, you’ll gain perspective on these ups and downs. No one escapes the vagaries of nature.”

  “Nature had nothing to do with this.” I glance from one twin to the other. “Ophiuchus ravaged my world, and he’ll do the same to yours.”

  Caaseum inches toward me. “Let’s consult your black opal. I’ve heard fascinating reports of its powers.”

  “You should watch for abnormally high traces of Psynergy,” I press on. “Do you have a Psy shield?”

  “Never heard of such a thing.” Caaseum tilts his head. “Interesting idea. A metaphysical shield.”

  “How would it operate?” Rubidum asks brightly.

  I steal a glance at Hysan, hoping he’ll speak, but he’s watching me with narrowed eyes. Suddenly he breaks into a genial smile and pulls me to my feet. “This has been a charming visit, but we really should be on our way,” he tells the Twins.

  “Oh, don’t go yet.” Rubidum springs up. “You’ve only just arrived.”

  “And I have much more to tell you about your enemy.” Caaseum hurdles over beside me. He’s amazingly fast. “Please stay.”

  I hesitate. My intuition urges me to listen. Maybe he saw something that can help us. But we also need to warn Virgo as soon as possible, and we’ve already spent too much time here. Finally, I say, “We can spare a few more minutes.”

  “Ah, the omen’s far too complex to cover in a few minutes.” Caaseum puts a finger to his chin. “I have an idea. Why don’t I come with you, and we’ll discuss things along the way?”

  Rubidum purses her lips. “Really, Caasy? Another junket?”

  “Mother Rho and I have much to contemplate, Rubi, dear.” Caaseum turns to me, and when his eyes meet mine, I don’t know what to make of this strange, elderly child. His face is smooth and untouched by time, yet his eyes are eerily ancient.

  “Okay,” I say at last. “Come with us.”

  Hysan and Mathias both snap their gazes to me in alarm, but Rubidum’s eyes sparkle. “In that case, enjoy your journey, brother. And try to keep your eccentricities in check.” While brother and sister embrace and peck air kisses at each other, Hysan and Mathias pull me aside.

  I speak first, so they’re forced to listen. “I know what you’re going to say, but this is our best option. It gets us back in the air fastest, it gets me the information Caaseum saw in his Ephemeris, and it gets the people of Gemini a final chance. I can use the flight time to convince Caaseum to take my warning seriously. If he believes me, he can send a message to Rubidum when we get to Virgo.”

  Both guys look like their resolve is crumbling in light of my reasoning. “It’s Gemini’s only chance,” I add unnecessarily. They’re not fighting me anymore.

  When the siblings pull away, Rubidum takes my hands. “You’re a vivid storyteller, Mother Rho, very inventive. You’ve totally won me over. I hope we meet again.” With those words, she lifts her stringed instrument and plays a rollicking waltz. Apparently, this is how Twin Rubidum bids farewell.

  We head into the corridor, now thronged by curious Geminin. Their russet heads fill the passage, and they
bob up and down, trying to see us. As we weave through the crowd, Caaseum takes my elbow. “Where is your ship? I’ll have a food locker delivered.”

  On my other side, Hysan puts his lips close to my ear. “There’s something devious about the way he watches you.”

  When Mathias glances back and sees Hysan whispering to me, his face darkens.

  The pretty little Geminin kids keep shoving against me, touching my skin with their soft searching fingers. They jam the passage, blocking our way, and the air is so thick with their cloying perfume of drugs, my head swims . . . until Mathias lifts me up in his muscular arms.

  “Make way!” he booms, and the crowd parts in two halves. While the Geminin people stand back, murmuring and pointing, he carries me across the balcony, down the moving staircase, and all the way outside to the sunny Imaginarium. Even though he’s doing all the work, I’m the one feeling breathless.

  Unfortunately, an even larger crowd is congregating on the plaza. Hysan comes up behind us and says, “We’ll have to activate the veils.”

  Mathias sets me down. “Where’s Caaseum?” I turn to see him parading toward us, flanked by his adoring subjects. When he comes near enough, I seize his hand. “Whatever happens, hold on to me.”

  Hysan activates our veils, and as a collective gasp rises from the crowd, Caaseum says, “Now this is a trick I want to learn!”

  Mathias wraps a protective arm around me and pushes ahead, nudging people aside so we can pass. The Geminin gripe and kick when they feel our shoves, but they can’t see us. All the while, I keep a tight hold on Caaseum’s wrist, dragging him along like a toy. When he realizes what’s happening, he lets out a hoot of pleasure.

  By the time we make it back to the ship, I feel like I haven’t slept in days.

  18

  “I SENSED A CORRUPTED SOUL who’s set his sights on you. This may hold many meanings, but of one thing I’m certain.”