“Please don’t keep me guessing,” I say for the tenth time. Caaseum plays with me the way kids play with their food. It’s infuriating.
“I wish you’d call me Caasy.”
“Okay . . . Caasy. What is it you’re certain of?”
The Geminin Guardian and I are in Equinox’s galley, talking over glass vials of hot tea. We left House Gemini an hour ago, and after a fight in which Hysan and Mathias nearly resorted to martial arts, we’re traveling at top speed toward House Libra.
We had to strike this compromise because, after all, we’re on Hysan’s ship, and he’s frantic to alert his own House. At least he trusts my warning.
He promised me the detour would be brief. Caaseum—Caasy—doesn’t seem to care where we go. He’s treating this like an adventure. Mathias is holed up in his quarters meditating, and Hysan’s at the helm. This is the first moment I’ve had alone with Caasy.
“Dear Mother, tell me again why we can’t use your black opal. I think you’re overstating the risk.”
“Just trust me. It’s a rule.”
I used to hate when people said things like that to me. But Caasy knows why we’re flying dark. I’ve already explained our situation three times, yet he keeps going back to it. At first I thought his lapses in understanding were genuine, but now I think he’s toying with me in more ways than I realized.
At least he promised not to use his Tattoo when he got on the ship, and since Hysan has the Psynergy shield up, he won’t be able to access the Psy even if he tries. So far, Caasy hasn’t noticed. I hope it stays that way.
“So what are you certain of?” I ask again, trying to keep my impatience from slipping out with my words. He munches on a sweet biscuit. I tug my plush yellow hood around my ears and pretend I don’t want to reach out and smash that cookie in his face.
I dropped my space suit and the blue Zodai uniform in the refresher to clean them in time for our next stop. In the meantime, Hysan lent me a hooded Libran uniform. It’s as soft as a blanket, and its smart fabric actually senses my body temperature and thickens when I get cold. I’ve never worn anything like it.
Caasy takes a sip of tea from his vial, and when he’s run out of ways to drag the moment out longer, he says, “You have been singled out, but not by the one you think.”
I frown. “It’s Ophiuchus. Trust me. I discovered who he is, and he wants to shut me up.”
“Possibly.” Caasy sips more tea. “But I sense you are being deceived. That deception hangs over you larger than anything else. If it is not Ophiuchus who is deceiving you, then you must find out who is. Until then, this deception will cloud your judgment.”
I think about this new piece of the puzzle, turning it around and around in my head, like I’m trying to find the right orientation to make it fit everything else I know. I’m deceived—by whom? Someone close to me?
Immediately the faces of Mathias and Hysan come to mind. I don’t believe one of them is against me. They’ve been saving my life this whole time. I stare at the youthful old face before me, and suddenly something else occurs to me. He’s been having a lot of fun at my expense; couldn’t this be Caasy taking things too far?
“I don’t think I’m deceived,” I say decidedly.
“Of course, Mother. You wouldn’t! That’s how the best deceptions work!” He laughs at his own joke. Then, maybe seeing my good humor’s been depleted with his games, he leans in and says, “Deception does not have to be as sinister as what you imagine. Consider this: Perhaps you are deceived in that you think Ochus is the one hunting you . . . when in fact, someone else is pulling his strings.”
With that, Caasy stands up. His curls bounce like copper coils, and his chin dimples. “We’ll be doing our slingshot soon, and I wouldn’t dare miss it. Every close flyby of Helios gives me a sensory charge.”
His words remind me of the course Hysan has charted to take us from Gemini, the Third House, to distant Libra, the Seventh. Since we’re in a hurry, we’ll do a slingshot around our galactic sun and use its gravity to boost our speed. Hysan says we’ll cut as close as possible without setting ourselves on fire. It’s unnerving—but thrilling. I can’t wait to see my first close-up view of Helios.
I stay seated a while, thinking about what Caasy said. I don’t like the idea of someone more powerful than Ophiuchus out there. Maybe that’s not the deception.
Even though I have a ton to prepare for, I feel homesick. Stepping on foreign soil made me think of the last time I set foot on Cancer. And since I can’t concentrate on anything else, I search for the thing on this ship that brings me closest to home.
Equinox is small, so I don’t have far to go. “Mathias?” I knock on his round metal door. “Can we talk?”
When he opens it, he’s shirtless and holding a stretch band. Droplets of sweat cling to his hair, and his chest is swelling in and out like he’s been exerting himself. His body is so smooth and sculpted that soon the homesickness is replaced with fantasies of what his skin would feel like if I touched it.
When he pulls on his blue Cancrian tunic, I look up.
“I can loan you the band if you want some exercise,” he offers.
“Thanks, maybe later.” The way he eyes my Libran uniform makes me wish I hadn’t put it on.
I edge a little farther into his cabin, which is as narrow and cramped as mine. It’s chrome green, and there’s a sleeping cocoon, a few storage bins, and a desk that folds down on hinges. Unlike my cabin, though, his is neat and tidy, without a single item strewn on the floor. “Caasy just told me what he saw in the stars. He says I’m being deceived somehow. He thinks someone else is pulling Ochus’s strings.”
“Do you believe him?” Mathias stows the stretch band.
“I don’t know. I don’t think he was lying when he said it.”
“Well, I don’t trust him.” He turns around and faces me. “Or Hysan either. Although I admit we wouldn’t be alive without the Libran’s ship.”
“Yeah, this place is starting to feel like a safe harbor.” I rest my side against the wall. “I just wish I knew how the Psy shield works. Hysan won’t spill.”
Mathias takes a small device from his belt and waves it in a broad sweeping pattern, as if brushing away cobwebs. When he continues this strange behavior, I ask, “What are you doing?”
“Checking for eyes and ears.”
“You mean Hysan may be eavesdropping?” I glance around for cameras, but of course they would be concealed. “Well, as Cancrians we have nothing to hide. Right?”
“Yes. We’re not sneaks.” Mathias announces this to the walls, as if the cabin itself is listening, and I have to smile. In spite of our disagreements, his Cancrian nature comforts me and reminds me of our people back home.
We head to the nose and find both Hysan and Caasy planted at the front tip, gazing at Helios. Our sun’s light flickers through the glass, setting every surface aglow. At this distance, it nearly fills our view, and although the glass has automatically polarized and darkened to protect our eyes, the light is intense. The surface boils like liquid fire in hues of violet, crimson, brass, and gold, with bursts of white so extreme, my eyes sting. Around its horizon, a scarlet corona blazes like a holy crown, and here and there, superheated jets of gas spew outward in luminous blossoming fountains.
“Hail mighty Helios, womb of heaven.” Mathias murmurs the Zodai chant, and we all join in. “Star maker, heat giver, doorway from death to light. Preserve our Houses now and in the ages to come.”
I study the three enraptured faces around me. It’s easy to see why Helios stands at the center of all our sacred texts. The Libran Seddas. The Gemini Book of Changes. Of course our own Holy Canon. Even the famous eight-volume Covenant of Scorpio, the most secular and scientifically advanced House in the Zodiac, speaks of Almighty Helios. Many people believe our galactic sun holds the gateway to paradise, and seeing it, I unders
tand why.
Youngest looking, but oldest by far, Caasy watches Helios with reverent adoration, like one gazing at a great beauty from afar, knowing he can never hold her.
An hour passes while we gather in the glass nose. None of us seems willing to move while the sun’s still in view. Only when our transit’s complete and Equinox hurtles away toward Libra do I settle back into my skin. The sun’s behind us now, visible only in the small square frame of Equinox’s rearview screen.
Hysan returns to the helm, and Caasy goes back to the galley for something to eat. He says the sight of Helios always gives him an appetite.
Mathias comes over to me. “Our course is locked in. We’ll be on Libra by morning.”
“I thought it was farther off,” I say, rubbing my neck.
“This bullet-ship has a photon pump, so we can travel at hyperspeed. And thanks to our loop around the sun, we’ll go even faster.” He peers over his shoulder at Hysan, then lowers his voice. “The Libran’s totally unreliable. He encrypted the ship’s controls and locked me out.”
“That’s a little paranoid.”
“He’s a spy. Spies don’t trust anyone.” Mathias’s jaw tightens. “Problem is, we need him to fly us to Virgo.”
“He promised he would. Let’s go talk to him.”
Hysan glances up from his screens as we approach, and his eyes glint with amusement. “You might as well know I overheard you.”
Mathias gives him a dark scowl. “Hidden microphones?”
Hysan’s centaur smile dimples his cheeks. “Truth is often overlooked for her simplicity. This cabin has excellent acoustics, and I have excellent hearing. I don’t need microphones.”
“Why did you encrypt the controls?” I ask.
“My lady, I assure you I meant nothing shady. This is my ship, and I’m captain here. I don’t like having to give your Advisor explanations.” The way he says Mathias’s title leaves little doubt he has a different word in mind.
Before Mathias can argue, I say, “But you’ll take us to Virgo, like you promised?”
Hysan steps around his screens and moves closer to me. Mathias tenses, but I see only humor in Hysan’s expression. He’s doing this to annoy Mathias. “Will you promise not to grill me about my Psy shield?”
I appreciate his directness, so I answer in the same spirit. “Not a chance.”
Hysan laughs, and his cheer is so sincere, it relaxes me. Again I feel my skin growing warmer in his presence, like he’s radiating his sunny disposition. I know it’s probably the smooth-talking Libran thing, but every time we have an interaction, I’m already looking forward to the next one.
Having skirted another battle between the guys, I head to the bathroom for an ultraviolet shower, and then I change back into the plush yellow tunic. I’m so exhausted that I sleep through dinner. When I awaken, everyone but Mathias is asleep. He’s out front, having discovered one of the ship’s secrets by accident.
It turns out Equinox’s helm has a Libran teaching crown. I’ve heard of them but never seen one before—they’re only installed on ships outfitted for long-distance travel. Librans have them for the same reason they have a Scan embedded in their eyes: They believe when you’re leaving home, the most important item you can pack and take with you is your knowledge.
Mathias found out we can access it by speaking the word tome. At the sound of that trigger, the helm projects a horizontal ring of glittering lavender light. It’s about head high and two meters in diameter, so Mathias and I can both stand inside it.
We ask it a series of questions about Psynergy, but it mostly spews back things Mathias already taught me. None of its answers help us form any theories about how the Psy attack on the ship—or moons—was possible. So after a while, I try something else.
“Tome,” I say in the crown’s ring of light, “how does a Psy shield work?”
This is the first time the crown has no answer. Its ethereal voice responds, “Insufficient data.”
“Is Hysan Dax a spy?” asks Mathias.
“Insufficient data.”
“Is the Libran censoring what you tell us?” he growls.
“Insufficient data.”
I leave the circle of light. “Mathias, turn that thing off.”
“Let’s try another neutral question,” he says. “Tome, who are the most respected experts on the Psy?”
“Good one.” I go back in and watch the answer materialize inside the lavender ring. Tome displays a miniature 3-D image of a glowing spiral ladder shaped like a double helix. On its rungs stand seven shining figures. They look like tiny celestial beings on a stairway, and nametags glow over each of their heads.
On the top rung, of course, stands Empress Moira of Virgo, our Zodiac’s preeminent Psy master. The image standing on the rung just below her is far too familiar. It’s our own Mother Origene. I bite my lip. “This list is outdated.”
When Mathias sees Origene, he sucks air through his teeth. As a member of the Royal Guard, he probably knew her better than most. On an impulse, I reach out and stroke his arm. “You miss home as much as I do,” I say, halfway between question and statement.
He glances at the ladder of scholars again. “Alerting the other Houses is the honorable thing to do . . . but every hour we travel at hyperspeed, two hours pass on Cancer.”
“I hate not knowing what’s happening there.”
“Me too.” He unzips a pocket and takes out his antique Astralator. The mother-of-pearl glimmers softly in the ghostly light. After a moment, he presses it into my hand. “I want you to have this.”
I jump back like he’s offering me a weapon. “I couldn’t. Mathias, this was your sister’s. I could never take it from you.”
“It’s tradition for a Zodai mentor to give his student a gift when she’s mastered her studies. Mastered is an understatement when it comes to you. So much was thrust on your shoulders . . . and you’ve been incredible.” He takes my hand, his eyes bright in the lavender light. “The gift is traditionally an Ephemeris, but that will have to wait until we get home. For now, it would mean a lot if you’d accept this.”
“Mathias,” I whisper, an aching in my chest, “thank you, but it’s too much.”
He puts the device in my hand and closes my fingers around it, like flower petals protecting pollen. “This Astralator has been in my family for generations. It’s become a good luck charm. My older sister gave it to me when I became a Zodai.”
A slight crease forms between his eyebrows, and he takes his hands away, leaving the Astralator with me. “We each have our cares, Rho . . . but you and I, we can’t succumb to individual grief.”
Understanding what he’s saying, I take the Astralator. “Spoken like a true Zodai,” I whisper.
When I slip it into my pocket, I promise myself I’m just holding on to it. If Mathias feels better knowing I have it, I’ll keep it for now. But I’m giving it back to him when we’re home.
He combs his long fingers through his hair, looking more troubled than I’ve seen him. “An enemy from the Thirteenth House,” he says, like he’s considering my words for the first time. “It still sounds irrational, but the Psy attack on our ship was real. Something’s happening that I can’t explain.”
“You’re not alone.”
“I’ve been trying to put it together, but nothing fits.”
For a minute, we drift into our separate trains of thought. I wonder if I’m wrong to worry so much about my family and friends. My job is to protect all Cancrian people, but my brain doesn’t work well with big numbers. It works well with faces. Names. Memories.
Whenever I worry about my world, I don’t picture millions of unfamiliar people. I see a House of mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends. Dad, Stanton, Deke, Kai, Leyla, Lola . . . those are the faces I see.
“Tome, tell us about the Guardian of Libra,” says Mat
hias. The teaching crown’s light marbles with rainbows, and images of a white-haired, cold-eyed man begin to materialize. I hear a noise behind me and turn to see Hysan.
“Busted,” I whisper to Mathias.
“I see you’ve met Tome.”
Mathias turns to Hysan. “Is that a problem?”
“If it were, you wouldn’t have gained access, I assure you.”
Here we go.
“Hysan, it was my idea,” I say, hoping to avoid another spat. “I just wanted to prepare a little before meeting your Guardian.”
“My lady, Lord Neith will be pleased. I came to tell you Libra’s in sight. We’ll be landing soon.”
I rush forward, into the nose, to see the constellation of the Scales of Justice. Since we’re travelling at hyperspeed, the nearest stars streak by like threads of light, and only the distant ones seem to hang still. For the next few minutes, I cling to the rail, watching House Libra bloom ever larger and closer.
Soon we’re deep inside the constellation, and Libra’s one inhabited planet, Kythera, glows like a smooth velvet ball, as lemon yellow as the Libran tunic I’m wearing. Smoky swirls and vortexes dimple the ball’s surface.
Kythera is blanketed in clouds as thick as fiberglass, made of black carbon and yellow sulfuric acid. Dirty, smothering clouds. They press down on the planet below with bone-crushing weight and lock in every joule of heat. The surface weather is brutal. The acidic storms can grind away entire mountains in a single night.
That’s why Librans live in flying cities. We’re near enough now to see the communities floating in the cloud tops like silver bubbles. There must be hundreds. Some appear gigantic, while others are very small, and they drift on leisurely currents in the upper atmosphere. Occasionally, two of them bump together, then bounce slowly apart. Their movements are fluid, dancelike, mesmerizing. Like the orbits of the balls of light in the Ephemeris.
Libra is one of the wealthiest Houses in the galaxy. Kythera’s never-ending flow of volcanic magma yields the purest industrial gemstones in the Zodiac. What’s more, Librans harvest their atmospheric gases and refine them into precious high-grade fuel and plexines.
Zodiac Page 15
