“No thanks,” I say, completely drained and devastated. “I think I’ll just get some sleep.”
“Rho, Lord Neith told me he spoke with you about his fears of falling into the wrong hands. You understand how important it is that Hysan take precautions now, before the master uncovers his true identity and turns Neith’s knowledge into a weapon.” Her crystallized quartz eyes pierce into me. “It’s time Hysan takes his rightful place. He’s the leader Libra needs now.”
“Hysan will never destroy Lord Neith,” I say forcefully. “He loves him.”
She looks at me almost pityingly. “Of all the lessons your species has failed to learn, this one is the most tragic. Sometimes the best way to love someone is to let them go.”
I sleep fitfully. At dawn I finally send Sirna a message asking about Aryll, and a little while later, she, Rubi, and Brynda show up at my door. It’s clear from their half-lidded eyes and messy hair that they’ve been up all night.
“Did you find him?” I ask as soon as they walk in.
“No,” says Brynda, crossing the room and sitting on the vanity. “Bastard got away.”
“You were right about Squary, though,” says Sirna, settling into the hammock while Rubi perches at the end of my bed. “Stridents found a group of Risers who’d been secretly living there, building what appears to be a nuclear weapon, a device more powerful than what even Scorpio’s Stridents are familiar with. They’re studying it now. The Risers’ transformations must nullify the radiation’s effect, because it appears they’ve been there at least a year, with enough food and supplies to keep them going for five more. They’ve been brainwashed and refuse to speak at all.”
Sirna pauses for breath, and her severe face softens. “Rho, if you hadn’t found out about this place, they would have completed their weapon, and who knows how much damage they could have caused.”
“How’d you figure it out?” Brynda asks me.
I tell them how Mathias was able to remember the word, part of which I’d seen earlier when Aryll took the aural tonic. “It was all pretty lucky,” I admit.
But even as I say it, I know it wasn’t. If I could have heard Hysan over the sound of my stubborn heart, we would have known about Aryll earlier. Even now, looking back, I don’t know how I could have ignored his warnings. Mathias is right: Hysan is the best judge in the Zodiac.
So is he right about me? Am I pushing him away out of fear?
Am I not as open-minded as I like to think I am?
“How’s Nishi?” asks Brynda gently.
I shake my head. “She went home. I’ll probably visit soon.” I turn to Sirna. “What happens now?”
“The Guardians must decide how to deal with the Marad soldiers that have been captured. They will face judgment on either House Libra or Aries, depending on the vote. We will continue searching for Aryll and the rest of the army, and also study their technology from the ship you captured to the weapon on Squary. As for Ophiuchus and the master . . . we’re all looking to you for the next clue.”
“I’m going back to Capricorn,” I say firmly. “I’m going to consult Sage Ferez and read my Ephemeris, and when I have new leads, I’ll share them. But please, keep me updated on Aryll and what happens to the other Risers.”
Sirna nods and stands. “I’m happy the Houses have rectified their mistake. I’ll be in touch with updates soon. There are still too many dark spots in the Zodiac, and we could use your leadership.”
I get to my feet, too. “Thank you, Sirna.”
She bows to me. “Good fortune, Wandering Star.”
Brynda slides off the vanity. “You’d better not come to the Capital without seeing me, or I’ll come for you.” As she did the first time we met, she gives me a hug and whispers in my ear. “And go easy on Hysan’s heart. We’re going to need his brains if we want to win this war.”
Guilt sizzles like acid in my stomach, but I don’t say anything. Sirna and Brynda leave, but Rubi stays.
“Sirna told me what happened in the Geminin embassy,” she says when we’re alone. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, sitting down again next to her. “Rubi . . . what’s the point of the maze and the words in the Imaginarium?”
“They’re prompts.” She smiles and perks up. “Imagination isn’t a reliable constant. It’s different for each of us, and we can never know what it’s like inside anyone else’s head. As it is with what we See in the Psy, one’s imagination exists only inside one’s mind. The words are prompts to deepen your exploration, and the maze is a destinationless journey to give your thoughts space to wander.”
On Gemini, every new set of Guardians has carte blanche to reimagine a new government. In Acolyte studies, we learned that, last century, Rubi and Caasy ran their House as a dictatorship—he took charge of Hydragyr, and she ruled over Argyr—but this century they opted for a democracy.
“Do you think it’s good to keep reinventing the Geminin government over and over again?”
She shrugs. “I think we Geminin get bored easily, and we thrive on challenges and complexity and the unknown. So it works for us. Why do you ask?”
I shake my head absentmindedly, unsure I’m ready to vocalize my ideas. I don’t even know if they’re ideas quite yet—just thoughts. “No reason. Just curious.”
“Rho . . .” Rubi looks into me with her tunnel-like eyes, her gaze so intense I feel like I’m falling into them. “In more than three centuries of life, I’ve seen many people rise to power and prominence and then pass their legacies on to the rest of the galaxy. I’ve seen firsthand how influential figures can change the course of history. But no one’s ever united the Zodiac the way you have. I predict you will live on in Zodiac lore forever.”
“How can you know that?”
“You’ve brought the Zodiac back to its natural state. We were always supposed to be united; that’s why we’ve each been given one piece of the puzzle of survival. Your actions have reminded us of something we once knew but had forgotten, and as long as we remember your legacy, we won’t lose our way again. You’ve become universally unforgettable.”
35
TWO DAYS LATER, STANTON AND I are back on Tierre at the Fluffy Giraffe Resort. We ignore the empty third bedroom as though it doesn’t exist, and neither of us breathes a word about Aryll or dares to say his name.
The newsfeeds are reporting on the discovery on Squary, and since every Marad soldier captured so far has been a Riser, everyone is speculating whether the army is all Risers. Riser hate crimes are growing commonplace on every House, and every time I see a new report, I think of Fernanda’s warning.
The fair treatment of Risers has become a renewed subject of debate across the Houses. Fernanda is the only Guardian who’s stepped forward to defend Risers, saying that extreme imbalance among them is rare and calling for empathy rather than rage. So, naturally, some Houses are now accusing her of Marad involvement.
Meanwhile, we’re all awaiting the Guardians’ decision on where the soldiers will face trial. With no boogeyman to hide behind, the master is staying silent. But I know this peace won’t last long.
I message Ferez as soon as I land on Tierre, but I don’t hear from him until the morning of my second day back. I check my Wave from bed, eager for any news, and I find a new note from the Sage.
Wandering Star Rhoma Grace, would you care to join me for tea in my office?
I jump out of bed and get dressed. When I walk into the common area, it’s empty. Stanton’s not in his room either. He must already be on the surface helping out at the settlement. Anything to avoid being down here, where the memories are too loud.
I zip through the Zodiax until the Vein deposits me at the Guardian’s chambers. I press my thumb where I saw Tavia press hers weeks ago, and the whole wall slides open into the crystallized cave of amber agate, revealing the centenarian with eleven technologies.
Sage Ferez smiles kindly at me from behind the broad wooden desk. “You’ve had quite an adventure.”
“I feel like I’ve lived three lives since we last spoke,” I say, sinking down into the chair across from him. A teapot and two ceramic cups and saucers sit on a tray between us. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about Ophiuchus’s warning sooner—”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says, pouring hot brainberry tea into both saucers. He passes one to me. “Your testimony at the Plenum was magnificent.”
“Thank you. And thank you for speaking on my behalf to the other Guardians.” I withdraw Vecily’s Ephemeris from my pocket. “And for this,” I add, setting it on the desktop.
“What did you make of Guardian Vecily?” he asks, taking a small sip of his tea.
“I feel sorry for her. I think she was a talented seer and could have been a good leader if anyone had followed her. But she also frustrates me. I’m mad she gave up so easily. When she joined the Axis, she was taking on this uphill fight that she had to know would be incredibly difficult to win—and then at the first failure, she just gave up.”
“Like you did by coming to Capricorn after the armada?”
“No.” I stare at Ferez, taken aback by the comparison. “I went to every Guardian, pleaded my case to the Plenum, and I was rejected by the whole Zodiac—”
But that’s as far as I get before I fall silent, because I realize he’s right.
Vecily was cast out by her House, just as I was by the Plenum. At first, like her, I chose not to use my voice again. I came to Capricorn and buried my head in its pink sand. Even though I was still secretly searching for Ochus, I abandoned people like Candela and Imogen and Numen and Twain—and all the others who’d rallied at my cry—to pursue my own obsessive agenda. If I hadn’t gone to Sagittarius, I would have turned into another Vecily—a once-powerful memory trapped inside a forgotten Snow Globe.
A calm smile comes over Ferez’s wrinkled features. “When we pass judgment, we hit a dead end. When we analyze something with an open mind, we can explore a concept into infinity.” He gives me a moment to think about that before he continues. “If you dismiss Vecily, she remains forgotten. But if her experiences can guide you, then she still has the chance to lead someone.”
I feel awakened by his words, and I sit up straighter. “Is that why there’s such a weight placed on memory here on Capricorn?”
“Precisely. Wisdom lies not in facts themselves but in our understanding of them. Memory is the unseen fabric of our universe, the force behind intelligent life, and the way we train our senses. And it can either be an enemy you fear or a weapon you wield.”
My confusion must show on my face because he leans in and says, “Consider this. How can we know about Ophiuchus, even after he’s been written out of our history? He survives in children’s tales so old that we remember the words long after we’ve forgotten their authors. You’re our Zodiac’s new Wandering Star—how do you suppose that title originated?”
A thirteenth place at the Guardians’ table . . .
Ferez nods along with me, as if he can see my brain working it out. “Was this tie-breaker’s seat perhaps the very place where the Thirteenth Guardian once sat?” he prompts.
As understanding dawns on me, the newfound wisdom makes me feel like I’ve accessed a larger universe. Memories ripple: Change the meaning of the thirteenth seat for one generation, and you’ve changed it for every generation that comes after it.
I used to think I had my past under lock and key, submerged behind the impenetrable wall of my shell. That I recalled Mom’s memories when I wanted to, plucking them at will like reviewing Snow Globes in a Membrex. But the memories are always in me, and they shape me in ways I’m not even aware of.
Memories aren’t the same as Snow Globes. We don’t get to close them up and store them somewhere they can’t hurt us. Aryll used a memory of Mom to manipulate Stanton and me. Mathias held on to his sanity by clinging to memories of who he was and the people he loved. The same thing that makes Lord Neith so human is what could turn him into a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. The last words Deke said to us were Don’t forget me.
Our memories aren’t finite and containable. They’re part of us, and they’re so enmeshed in us that they’re constantly evolving. They’re more like Psynergy signatures, ephemeral and ever changing, and we don’t have the luxury of shelving them. They stay with us. Always.
It’s the reason why, in a universe obsessed with tomorrow, the wisest people turn to yesterday for guidance.
“I hear you met Fernanda,” says Ferez, pulling me from this rush of revelations. “What did you think of her?”
I consider what I’m going to say before speaking, not wanting to sound judgmental, as I did with my comments on Vecily. “I think her heart is in the right place . . . but she’s a little like I was before—so focused on her version of the truth that she’s hurting her own cause.”
“That is a wise assessment,” he says, and I can’t help but grin. “For Fernanda, the Risers’ plight is personal. Just like Ophiuchus was for you.”
I nod, thinking of Nishi’s theory about Guardian Sagittarius and the possibility that Ophiuchus was betrayed. “Sage Ferez, do you think that maybe Ophiuchus truly was wronged by the original Guardians?”
“It’s entirely possible. That would account for the intensity of his hatred.” The Sage’s inky black eyes glisten, and he leans toward me. “I have a new clue to add to this growing mystery. I’ve not yet made this knowledge public, but when the Marad attacked us, they smashed every Snow Globe in Membrex 1206.”
“1206?” I grip my end of the desk forcefully. “But that’s the one I was in the day we first met!”
“It is my belief,” he says, nodding, “that they were only after one Globe, but they destroyed them all so we wouldn’t know which one.”
I take a sip of my tea and think back to the memories I reviewed. What could the Marad have found? I searched that room for weeks and didn’t come across anything useful.
“I know I have kept you long enough already, but if you would gift me a little more of your time, I would like to show you something I believe will be worthy of it.”
I nod and clink my cup into its saucer, eager to hear his theories about the master and see evidence of what the Marad did. If I was in the right Membrex, I must have been close to the right clue. Maybe I even found it without realizing—
The cave dissolves to complete blackness. “It’s okay,” says Ferez’s gentle voice in the dark. “This room is a Membrex. I’ve just activated a Snow Globe.”
A small light pops up in the center of the cave. It slowly expands, and the air around us looks like a black curtain lifting up to reveal a scene.
When the place is fully lit, we’re still in a cave, only it’s not underground. It’s somewhere within the Capricorn woods. I can see the giant, gnarled tree trunks just beyond its mouth. In the center of the cave sits a boy no older than thirteen.
He has pale skin and obsidian eyes. His head is completely bald, and there’s a small patch of skin over his ear that looks burned. Even though I’ve never seen him before, there’s something familiar about him.
He’s tinkering with his Sensethyser, either unaware or unconcerned that his recording has already started. When he finally looks up, I notice something peeking out from the neckline of his black robe, a pendant I immediately recognize.
“Aryll?”
“He’s only thirteen here,” says Ferez softly. “He’d already discovered how to record a Snow Globe. He probably learned more of the Zodiax’s secrets by that age than most advanced Chroniclers.”
I shake my head disbelievingly. “How did you find this?”
“When I learned he had betrayed you, I had my Advisors look into his astrological fingerprint. There was a second record buried beneath the first, which
showed his birthplace. He was born here, on House Capricorn, seventeen years ago. At age thirteen, not long after this was recorded, he disappeared.”
No wonder Aryll never liked it here. He might not have realized it on a conscious level, but some part of him must have known he was home.
Aryll suddenly looks at me, and I bite back my gasp. His black stare is so intense, I think he might actually be able to see me. Then he speaks.
“My name is Grey Gowan. Two weeks ago, I saw a warning in the stars when I was reading my Ephemeris. I saw myself changing Houses, to Scorpio.”
An icy bolt cuts through me as I flash to the image of the Aquarian face in my own stars, and I clench my hands on my lap to keep them from shaking.
“Last week, my scalp started to itch,” the Snow Globe boy goes on. “Today, I shaved my head and found tangible proof that the shift has begun. I’m becoming a Riser.”
Aryll—Grey—pauses, his eyes still staring straight through me. “I’ve always loved my House. I love the power of memory so much, I taught myself to record Snow Globes. I know more about the Zodiax than even my parents. I don’t understand what I did wrong. Why this is happening to me . . .”
His voice cracks, and he takes another, longer pause. “I’m leaving this recording to explain why I’m running. I hope I’m a balanced Riser and that I fit into my new home . . . but if the worst should happen . . .” Tears fall from the corners of his eyes. “Mom and Dad, I can’t stay, because I won’t stigmatize our family. I don’t want to be a burden on you. If I’m balanced and get to keep my memories, I’ll come back for you. But if I lose myself, and you never hear from me again . . . you know what happened. I’m sorry.”
He nervously runs the pendant of his necklace between his fingers. It’s strange how, even though he forgot everything else about himself, that habit still stuck with him.
“If I become a monster . . . and if I end up hurting anyone . . .” His voice is a low murmur. “Please forgive me.”
The light returns to the cave, but I feel like I’m still in the dark.
Wandering Star: A Zodiac Novel Page 28
