“You’re right,” I say, sighing. “I can’t let him keep using me—whatever he is, he’s the opposite of me.”
We’re silent a while, Aryll probably still thinking through his theory, while I’m wondering what I’d do—what Stanton would do—if Aryll didn’t make it back.
I steal a glance at him, and he’s still fingering his bronze locket. I recognize that kind of attachment to an object; without having to ask, I can tell it’s Aryll’s last memory of home.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I whisper.
He doesn’t immediately answer, his gaze still adrift. “Not really,” he admits.
My voice flush with relief, I say, “Great! Then stay—”
“I also don’t want to be on Capricorn. I don’t want to be watching the news waiting to hear how many others have died. I don’t want to be in a war. I don’t want to be an orphan.” He’s squeezing the locket so tight, I’m worried he’ll cut himself. “They’ve taken everything from me. My family, my home, even half my vision. I have nothing left.”
I rest my hand on his, and he finally looks at me, his grip on the locket relaxing. His blue eye is shiny with tears. “You have us,” I whisper. “We’re your family now.”
He wipes the tears with the back of his bandaged hand. “My older sister and I used to fight all the time. We could barely be in the same room without competing for the same game or the same person’s attention.” He shakes his head like he doesn’t like remembering.
“I wanted a brother. Like Stanton.” More tears run down his cheek, but he doesn’t wipe them. “Do you hate me now?”
“No,” I murmur, squeezing his hand. Then I pass him a tissue, and while he dries his face, I try one last time. “Stanton really loves you. He’d be thrilled if you stayed.”
Aryll surveys the room, as though his decision depends on these very walls. “I can’t stay. I don’t like it here, Rho. I’m not sure what it is . . .”
Watching him now, I spot the discomfort in his expression. His sunburn is looking worse today, and I start to wonder if maybe it’s just this place that doesn’t agree with him.
“Too much land,” I say, nodding decisively. “I think we’re going to like Sagittarius.”
The next morning, Stanton accompanies Aryll and me to the spaceport. Aryll boards the shuttle first and saves us seats so that I can say a longer goodbye to Stanton. As I look into my brother’s face, I think of the flickering of Thebe in the Ephemeris and how I stayed silent while Stanton was in danger. My mind travels back a decade, and I see the bubbles in the Cancer Sea that foreshadowed the Maw’s attack. I stayed silent then, too.
“Come with us,” I say, taking his hand.
He frowns. “This is your calling, Rho . . . mine’s here.”
“I saw Ophiuchus in the Psy yesterday. He told me Capricorn is the true target, not Sagittarius.” I say it real quick so that I don’t have to hear the words or consider their meaning.
“I know.”
I blink. “You know?”
“Aryll told me. He also told me his theory about Ochus being an invention, and I think it’s worth considering. I’m happy you can talk to him, Rho.”
Stanton’s gentle tone sounds like Dad’s again, and I realize how much I wish we still had someone to tell us what to do right now and take care of us and shield us from our fears—a parent. Only as I think of the word’s meaning, it’s not Mom or Dad who come to mind.
Stanton’s right. He’s always been more than a brother—he raised me. And now, to both of our dismays, I’ve outgrown his protection.
“I love you,” I say, pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug.
“Love you, too,” he whispers, and then I step up to the shuttle, refusing to look back, so I won’t cry. I feel like I’m twelve years old again, boarding the ship to Elara and deserting the person I love most in the Zodiac.
Just as I’m stepping through the door, a Chronicler calls my name. “Rhoma Grace! A package for you from Sage Ferez.”
I accept the small box and step inside the ship, which is a long cylinder lined with reclining levlan seats on both sides. It’s built for speed, not comfort; we’ll get to Sagittarius in under a day.
I spot Aryll’s red hair and make for the seat next to his, suddenly stricken by how much even he’s reminding me of myself from five years ago, when I left home for the first time. How lonely it felt to leave behind everything I loved. Only in Aryll’s case, everything he loved left him.
An offer of friendship was the only way I got through that trip to Elara.
“Aryll,” I say, sitting down beside him, “I know you have an easier time talking to my brother, and that’s totally fine. But I want you to know I’m here for you. I’m going to look out for you like Stanton did. You’re not alone.”
Aryll’s gaze grows glassy, and he nods at me without speaking. He’s clasping the locket in his fingers again, like it’s for good fortune. I give him some privacy by looking down at my lap and focusing on the box from Sage Ferez.
When I pop the lid, the first thing I find is a note:
Until you are reunited with your true Ephemeris, this one is on loan to you from the Zodiax. It is said to have belonged to Vecily Matador of House Taurus before she became Guardian and a member of the Trinary Axis. Should you find time to indulge in the mind’s most sacred act, I Waved you a text on Guardian Matador that I think you will find most illuminating. Safe travels.
I set the note aside and find a heart-shaped device that looks like it’s been carved from bone. Rolling the Ephemeris around in my hand, I feel the buzzing of the Abyssthe in its core responding to the Abyssthe in my Ring.
“You really made an impression on him,” says Aryll, reading over my shoulder.
Since we’re taking off, I put the Ephemeris back in the box and stuff it in my bag. After buckling in, I say, “Aryll . . . if, for whatever reason, I don’t make it—”
“I’ll return the stone to Ferez,” he says in a low tone. “But only if you never bring that up again.”
I nod just as an automated voice speaks through the ship. “This shuttle is now taking off. Please enjoy your trip. We will be landing on Sagittarius in nineteen galactic hours.”
The engine vibrates across the cylindrical ship, and I look through the windows across from us as the spaceport grows smaller. Tierre has the widest range of topography and animal species of any planet. It’s so vast that the higher we go, the more land I see—forests, mountain ranges, grassy fields, swamps, beaches—until, with a jolt, we escape Tierre’s gravity, and I can make out the edges of the colorful globe. The tapestry of textures is undeniably impressive . . . but I miss the blending blues of home.
Once the ship jumps to hyperspeed, Aryll takes an eighteen-hour sleeping powder from the seat’s side pouch and promptly passes out. But sleep doesn’t appeal to me—I’m in a thinking mood.
I open my Wave and pull up the file from Ferez. It’s a report dated almost eighty years back, which he wrote when he was a university student. Blue holographic text unfolds before me.
It’s been almost a millennium since the Trinary Axis, and yet we have never forgotten the greatest love story in Zodiac history: the forbidden romance of Cancrian Holy Mother Brianella Amarise and Leonine Holy Leader Blazon Logax. Their story is the basis for the universally popular nursery rhyme “Ballad of Bria and Blaze” as well as the inspiration for the two most famously star-crossed lovers in Zodiac fiction, Nella and Lazon. The legend of these two ancient Guardians has even crept into modern-day idioms: When someone says his relationship or marriage “blazes on,” he is alluding to the eternal flame between Blazon and Brianella.
I stop to consider the legendary love story about the Cancrian and Leonine Guardians. Even today, the galaxy’s most popular holographic series—holoshow—is shot on House Leo, and it follows the love triangle of three Zodai—
the last human survivors after the Zodiac’s been wiped out—who adventure to unknown reaches of Space searching for a new home. The characters are named Amara, Logax, and Velia, after the three Guardians of the Trinary Axis.
The thought brings Hysan and the Taboo to my mind. I can’t even consider how people would react if they found out we broke that law, especially given how much closer the Zodiac is coming to war . . . and the worst war we ever had was triggered by the same breach. I refocus on Ferez’s report.
However, the person about whom the least is known is the Axis’s mysterious third member, Vecily Matador of House Taurus. Vecily never told her people why she joined the Axis, and she rarely spoke at any rallies. Yet, after reviewing the details of her early life, I believe that I have stumbled upon three crucial moments that point to her state of mind and reveal her reasons for taking on this fight.
The first moment occurred when Vecily was a seventeen-year-old Acolyte at the Taurian Academy. She had a best friend, Datsby, from whom she was inseparable. They were top of their class, the best star-readers at the school, and their instructors and classmates were certain both girls would make it into the Royal Guard. Until one day, a few months shy of graduating, the stars diverted their paths.
Vecily and Datsby were sun-soaking in a corner of the Academy’s grazing grounds between classes when a couple of male friends dumped water on them from a fifth-story window. Vecily’s initial shock gave way to laughter as soon as the young men ran over with towels, but Datsby’s shrieks would not be soothed. When Vecily and the boys tried to help, they discovered something strange about Datsby’s appearance. Her makeup had washed off, unmasking a deep, tawny tone far darker than the caramel color of her face paint.
Datsby was changing Houses. The young men’s playful, flirting words changed to outbursts of disgust, and they shouted ugly names at her: Riser! Deviant! Freak! Soon a crowd formed around them. All Vecily could do was shield her crying friend from the gawking glares and vicious voices.
At last, a Promisary intervened. Vecily was taken to the dean’s office, where her mental and emotional health was thoroughly assessed, and where she was assured and reassured that the situation would be handled.
Later, it was noted that, earlier that same year, Datsby had started wearing long, sweeping bangs to conceal her eyes, which were no longer hazel but dark brown. And though her hair color hadn’t changed, it had started growing so fast that she had to trim it at her chin every week to keep it at the traditional Taurian length. In Datsby’s day, the Zodiac’s stance on Risers was even more narrow-minded than it is today, which means they invariably became outcasts.
Vecily is said to have spoken only once in the dean’s office, to ask if Datsby was okay and if she could see her. Nothing else is known about that day, but it has been documented that Vecily and Datsby never saw each other again. For the rest of her recorded life, Vecily rarely spoke, and when she did, she chose her words sparingly and wisely.
I let my eyes drift from my Wave, too distraught over Datsby’s fate and my renewed thoughts of the Trinary Axis to read on.
A thousand years ago, the Houses didn’t operate as separate, sovereign entities, the way they do now. Back then, the Guardians passed universal legislation that superseded the Houses’ own laws. Universal rights versus House rights was a constant source of tension and debate, and one universal law in particular was creating controversy: a ban on inter-House marriage.
The ban had been around a few centuries, but there were rumbles that some Houses wanted to reverse it. A court case on House Libra was working its way up the ranks to a universal trial at the Plenum, and when it was finally brought before the Guardians, it was struck down, seven to five.
Two Guardians had been hoping the law would be overturned—Brianella and Blazon. Their outrage over the case’s outcome transformed their unbridled passion and unconditional love into something fearsome. They decided to secede from the Zodiac and convinced Vecily to join them. They called themselves the Trinary Axis, and they declared themselves free of Zodiac rule and able to run their Houses however they wanted.
The other Guardians didn’t honor their secession, but the Trinary Axis continued their work underground, recruiting members from every world to their cause. By the time they launched their choreographed attack on the Houses, it was no longer an issue of inter-House marriage; it was a crisis of universal rights versus House rights, and it had awoken a monster.
For one hundred years, civil war raged on in every House. The Guardians eventually stopped convening, too busy with the situations in their own worlds. By the time the war was over, new Guardians had replaced the old, and they all agreed to govern their Houses independently—with the exception of one galactic rule, which the Guardians swore always to follow in order to prevent the destruction caused by the Trinary Axis from ever happening again and to ensure no two Houses would ever get too close and gain too much power. It’s the Taboo—the Zodiac’s only unbreakable law.
And I broke it.
8
I WAKE UP WITH MY Wave still in my hand. The lights of the Archer constellation wink through the windows across the aisle. We’ve dropped out of hyperspeed, so the trip will be over soon.
House Sagittarius has four planets—all inhabited—and five moons. Centaurion is its largest and most populated world, and the Capital is where the government meets and also where Nishi’s family lives. Sagittarians call their capital city simply the Capital, for the same reason they refer to their Guardian as Guardian. I sometimes think they’re the only people who use language how it was originally meant to be used—literally.
“We there yet?” asks Aryll, popping open his cerulean eye.
“Soon. I’ll wake you when it’s time.” He nods and goes back to sleep.
“You’re Rho Grace.”
I turn around to see a Sagittarian Acolyte with blue-black hair and honey-colored eyes, also just waking up. “I’m Nova Ken,” she says, reaching out to trade the hand touch with me. As soon as our fists bump, she pulls hers back to stifle a yawn. “A-are you coming to Centaurion to fight the Marad?”
“To help, if I can.”
“Your Sagittarian friend who was spreading the word about the Thirteenth House—is she why you’re helping?”
“She’s one of the reasons, yes.”
Her honey gaze is so direct it’s like staring into Helios. “How did you convince her that Ophiuchus was real when you couldn’t convince the people in your own House?”
“She trusts me.”
When I first met Nishi at the Academy, I found the clipped, back-and-forth pace of her conversational style off-putting. I couldn’t believe the way she skipped small talk and went straight to satisfying her curiosity. But after getting to know some of the other Acolytes, I realized I preferred the purity of Nishi’s speech. It was a luxury, not having to wonder what was truly on someone’s mind.
Nova looks ready to fire off more questions, so I steer her to safer topics. “Why were you on Capricorn?”
“Conducting research in the Zodiax for my graduation project. My parents want me to stay there, but they’re not evacuating, so I’m joining them.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. I’ll never forget what it felt like to witness the devastation of my home. That kind of horror stays with you.
“I’m sorry for you, too. After everything that’s happened to you . . . if it were me, I’d have stopped helping by now.” Her brow dips quizzically. “Either you’re incredibly committed to converting the Houses to your Ophius cult”—she uses the Sagittarian word for Ophiuchus—“or you’ve been telling the truth all along, and now you’re risking your life again, even when it’s no longer expected of you.”
I don’t say anything, and her honey eyes hold mine in their glow. “What scares me is I think you’re telling the truth . . . but I really wish you weren’t.”
We stare at each ot
her a moment longer, and then the shuttle’s automated voice cuts through the air. “Prepare for landing.”
I wake Aryll up, and then my body grows heavy as we cross the invisible barrier into Centaurion’s gravity. From this distance, the planet looks as if it’s infested with metallic insects: Every variety of aircraft is buzzing in and out of the atmosphere, swarming the surface with activity. It’s easy to see why Sagittarians are called the Zodiac’s wanderers—even from way out here, they look restless.
“Good fortune, Rho,” says Nova when we land, steepling her fingertips and touching her forehead. I return the Sagittarian gesture, and as we rise to disembark, she surprises me by pressing a galactic gold coin into my palm. “And thank you.”
She rushes off, and I pocket the money, shrugging at Aryll’s raised eyebrow. “It’s nothing,” I mumble, moved and humbled by Nova’s gift.
It’s rare for people to carry coins anymore—nowadays they’re mostly used for off-the-books payments and bribes. For everything legal, we swipe our thumbprints, and the sum transfers from our accounts automatically. But for some Houses, galactic gold coins have taken up a symbolic significance.
Capricorns collect currency from every galactic year to see how far into the past they can touch. The Geminin have dream wells where they toss a coin and make a wish, and Imaginarium-type technology shows them what the world would look like if that wish were to come true. Sagittarians use them literally, to pay people praise: If someone does something truly worth commending, they give her a coin. They call it a fair trade—exchanging gold for gold.
“RHO!”
At almost the exact moment Aryll and I step onto the crowded spaceport, I’m pulled into a body-binding hug. Nishi and I cling to each other, and I flash to Ferez’s story about Vecily and Datsby. My hold on her tightens as I remember I’ve come here to fight. Last time I fought, some of my friends didn’t make it back.
What if this time it’s Nishi or Deke or Aryll or Hysan?
Wandering Star: A Zodiac Novel Page 7
