Maia and the Xifarian Conspiracy (The Lightbound Saga Book 1)

by S. G. Basu

  A message from Miir, with instructions for their travel to the capital, arrived on the first day of the closure. By then, all five members of Core 21 had grown impatient, but still disappointed enough with their mentor to not give in and ask first.

  “He tells us to meet him at the gates after breakfast,” Ren announced after reading Miir’s message.

  “That’s it?” Kusha asked.

  “That’s it.”

  Breakfast that morning was a hefty affair. The partitions separating the dining bays were stripped down and the individual tables were joined to form a large dining area at the center of the room. It was gaudily festooned with sparkly red and gold ribbons and loaded with delicious-looking food. Nafi pranced around, giddy with joy at the sight of fresh food that was laid out in neat rows—loaves stuffed with spicy meats, pastries glazed with a variety of spreads, baskets overflowing with fruits, cans of flavored milk, and everything else one could imagine. As much as they wanted to linger, Maia and her friends did not have a lot of time on their hands. While the other teams continued to amuse themselves, Maia and her teammates slipped out of the dining room after eating as quickly as they could.

  The glass staircase looked quiet and forlorn. Not a soul was in sight, and only the sounds of laughter and merrymaking occasionally wafted out of the visitors’ dining room. The group sat at the base of the staircase and waited for Miir to arrive. He came soon after, dressed in an immaculate black Gambrill. A quick exchange of awkward and lifeless hellos from both sides followed. While the team rose expectantly, waiting to be led out to a transporter, Miir simply stood.

  “Are we waiting for someone? Or something?” Nafi ventured to ask after several moments of uneasy silence.

  “Yes.” Miir’s reply was as inscrutable as ever.

  Nafi rolled her eyes and sat down on the stairs with a noisy thump. The others stared, confused beyond words by his behavior. It suddenly seemed like they had gone back to the first day they had met—the association between them strained and uncomfortable once again. The wait was short, but the person who came out of their dining room made Maia grimace. Miir, however, smiled broadly as Yoome strutted up to the staircase.

  “Okay, we are all set to leave now,” he announced to the dumbstruck group.

  “What’s she doing here?” Nafi whispered to Maia as they piled into a waiting transporter.

  “And you think I would know?” Maia glared.

  Their transporter glided over sky-high roadways, past buildings large and small to their destination on Boulevard Central. All the important government and public buildings were spread around this grand highway that cut through the center of the capital. Maia was awestruck by the beauty of the road; it lay in a spotless stretch across blocks of resplendent yellow buildings, and an endless series of Sakoro trees, shrouded in frothy white, pink, and blue blooms, flanked its two sides. Revelers, dressed in costumes bright and shiny, walked and danced along the pavements, and the clamor was unlike anywhere else on this typically quiet and somewhat drab planet. While the team sat tongue-tied, Miir chatted happily with Yoome, who also seemed to be a lot more animated and livelier than usual. The duo talked non-stop, all the way to the Boulevard Resthouse, an elegant structure on Boulevard Central.

  A droopy eyed, exhausted-looking man, who turned out to be the owner of the Resthouse, led them through the crowded lobby, up a finely embellished staircase, and showed the group to their rooms. The girls’ and the boys’ rooms were right next to each other on the third floor. Maia and the girls trooped into the room allotted to them. It was simple and practically furnished. A pair of bunk beds lined each side of the rectangular space, and a couple of chairs arranged around a round table filled the far end. Yoome sat in one of the chairs as the other three jumped around staking their claims on the bunks. She continued to watch as Maia, Nafi, and Dani settled into one of the beds and discussed their prospects for the day.

  “Why does she stare at us like that?” Nafi whispered after a while, pointing surreptitiously in Yoome’s direction.

  “Maybe we should talk to her?” Dani asked. “Should we?”

  “No,” Nafi gripped her hand just as Dani was about to shout out to Yoome to join them. “She’s just too creepy. Let’s leave and find the boys.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Maia concurred, jumping out of the bed.

  “We’ll be outside,” Dani said to Yoome as they stepped out.

  Not seeing the boys anywhere around their room and hesitant to knock on a door that could be opened by Miir, they decided to walk down to the lobby.

  “What now?” Maia asked as she followed Nafi to a crescent-shaped couch and plopped down between two oversized cushions.

  “We wait,” Dani replied, depositing herself on Nafi’s other side.

  “Are these of any use at all?” Nafi tapped the wristbands they had received from Mahswa Tabrin. “Hello? Ren? Kusha? Can you hear me?”

  “I’ve tried that.” Dani shook her head and sighed. “They don’t seem to work . . . yet.”

  Killing time by sitting at the lobby was not as boring as Maia had initially thought. Interesting people streamed in and out through the doors, always piquing their curiosity in one way or another. When Yoome and the boys joined them, the three girls were laughing giddily as the owner of the hotel and some of his staff ran around in circles trying to contain seven grimy and energetic kids, tiny little tornadoes that wreaked havoc in the lobby as their hapless parents tried to check in.

  “If you can take your eyes off the live entertainment, we could decide on our plans for the day.”

  Miir’s mockery never failed to irritate, Maia thought, suppressing a chuckle. She stared blankly, listening to the mentor describing the various museums that were nearby that would be of possible educational value.

  “Could we visit the Sanctuary of the Stars?” Ren asked.

  Miir seemed startled at the preciseness of the request, but only briefly. Then he nodded.

  “It is not too far from here, so I suppose we could,” he said. “We have to come back here for dinner before we set out to watch the shower of the stardust, so we better start immediately.”

  “What did you say? Stardust? What’s that?” Nafi asked.

  “The start of the festivities in honor of our First Passage is marked by a shower of shooting stars from the Sedara. They are not just light though, but the tiniest bits of L’miere crystals,” Ren explained. “It’s a spectacular scene, and people come from all over Xif to view the shower and gather stardust.”

  “Actually, it can be seen from all of the cities. But since Armezai is right below the Sedara, the view is all the more dazzling,” Miir added as the group walked out of the hotel. “For the entire duration of the display, most of the population stands outside, gazing up at the Sedara.”

  They soon reached Central Square, a gigantic field with the greenest carpet of grass that Maia had seen in a while and the destination for the evening to watch the shower of stardust. The Sanctuary of the Stars was right next to it—a magnificent building made of yellow stone, its round girth directly underneath the Sedara. At the huge gates that opened into the grounds surrounding the Sanctuary, a pair of sentries recorded their specifics and assigned entry badges.

  Miir led them through the portico, across the atrium, and up the ornate staircase that wound up around the foyer to the second floor. A mammoth white column stood at the middle of the atrium, rising all the way up to the roof. Its surface was engraved with tiny designs of trees and vines, flowers and fruits, stars, suns, and moons.

  A mural, canvassing panoramic vistas of all the galaxies and planets that the Xifarians had visited, wrapped around the circular wall of the building. The depiction started at the system of the Alei and Groh and ended at the current position of the planet next to Tansi. Juxtaposed with the enormous and overwhelming artwork were the displays of artifacts from various cultures across the history of Xif. Scores of visitors thronged the place, and guides led groups of tourists around
the rooms circling the atrium.

  “So, the journey ends here at Tansi,” Maia muttered thoughtfully as she studied the mural.

  “Of course not,” Miir and Ren replied in unison, startling Maia with their vehemence. Both seemed a little embarrassed seeing the effect their outburst had on the others, particularly after Maia stammered a quick apology.

  “That’s not something you should ever say about Xif,” Ren explained a little later with a shy smile, evading Maia’s gaze all the while. “Traveling is our way of life, our heritage, our legacy. If we stop, our way of life ceases to exist.”

  Although assured by the explanation, Maia felt something had jarred the harmony she had with Ren. And the hurt simply refused to leave. Ren should have realized that she did not mean to offend. Miir was always eager to find fault, Maia could accept that, but Ren should have known better than to yell at his friend.

  Or maybe friendship is too much to hope for from a Xifarian. Maybe Miir is right, and not just about himself, Maia thought. A host planet could never be their own and its inhabitants could never be their friends.

  They walked around the displays for some time. Trying to find any clues to the Stabilator kept Maia engaged, her eyes scanning for any telltale signs of a grotto. By the time they had finished looking at the indoor exhibits, the crowds had started to thin. Miir suggested a quick tour of the grounds before heading back to the Resthouse.

  The garden around the Sanctuary was peppered with scores of sculptures, which Miir explained were geometric devices for measuring and tracking celestial bodies. He showed a variety of instruments for predicting eclipses, tracing the orbits of stars, ascertaining the declinations of planets, and determining the celestial altitudes. Particularly enthralling was a cascading waterfall that was calibrated to the rotation of Xif and synchronized with the lighting and dimming of the Sedara.

  Maia stood spellbound, watching the waterfall thin to a trickle as evening fell, until she felt a sharp tug on her sleeve. It was Dani, pointing urgently at a row of trees that skirted the back of the Sanctuary. Beyond the thick foliage were the indistinct outlines of sentries gathered in front of what seemed like the shadow of a door. Maia nudged Kusha who turned back frowning, but his annoyance disappeared quickly. Together they peeked to observe the door and the unit of guards until Miir wrapped up his presentation at the waterfall.

  Next, Miir led them to a very popular display. Three groups of tourists had gathered there, and their overly enthusiastic tour guides waged a battle against each other, showing off their knowledge, squawking as loud as they could. Miir seemed engrossed by the spectacle and seeing the opportunity, Maia, Dani, and Kusha inched away from the crowd.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Kusha said with conviction as they crouched behind the shrubbery to look at the rounded gate guarded by a dozen armed guards. “Notice how the building looks taller from the back? There has to be an underground vault beneath. That must be the entrance to the Grotto.”

  Maia agreed wholeheartedly.

  “Nice little hideaway, huh?” a coarse voice screeched behind them.

  A man, who looked as old and shriveled as Master Buzzot, stared at them with a crooked smile on his face. He stooped on a knobbed old stick that was as worn out as its owner. His eyes gleamed as he flashed a toothy and somewhat crazy grin.

  “Curious kids from the academy I see,” he said, squinting at their uniforms. “And seems like you’ve lost your tongues.”

  “We were just looking at those guards,” Kusha replied in a hurry, hoping to end the conversation before Miir noticed.

  “Yes, yes. They have a handy lair down there,” the old man cackled, showing no signs of finishing the chat.

  “Yes,” Maia smiled and tried to move away. “Well, we’re done looking now.”

  The man blocked her way with his cane. “Don’t you want to know what they hide in there? What kind of students are you anyway?” he glowered. “No curiosity, no audacity . . . now, back in our days—”

  “I think it’s the entrance to the Grotto,” Dani blurted, “where they keep the Stabilator.”

  The man guffawed and roared; the trio flinched at the thought of their mentor hearing the commotion.

  “Good. This girl has pluck,” the man wheezed; the laughter seemed to have exhausted him. “Right you are, girl. They’re guarding the heart of our little world, the Stabilator.”

  “Why don’t they let anyone in there?” Kusha put on an air of naivety. “And guards? What is it anyway . . . a weapons system?”

  The old man raised his cane and poked Kusha in the chest. “You wouldn’t let just anyone into your heart, would you?”

  As Kusha blushed, the man grinned.

  “It’s more than any weapon system. One stab at that, and we could lose everything in here. And also those unfortunate millions on that poor, grimy little planet next to us,” he yammered away with no regard to his audience, who grimaced at his irreverent reference of Tansi. “It’s odd that they don’t guard it more . . . the policies are growing shabbier by the day. Sometimes I can’t help but think that it’s one elaborate conspiracy. Can you believe that only two sentries—”

  “What are you three doing back there?” Miir’s sharp voice stopped the man mid-sentence. He strode up to the group, looking curiously at the old man who shot back a furtive glance.

  “Er . . .” Kusha stammered.

  “We were showing this man the way out; he seemed to be a little confused,” Maia jumped to the rescue.

  “We are leaving now,” Miir said, casting another doubtful glance at the man who tottered away toward the front gates, still grinning crazily to himself.

  43: At the Grotto

  Miir kept eyeing the wayward trio on the way back to the Resthouse. Nafi and Ren suspected that the others had found some clues, but they kept their curiosity in check. After a long, weaving journey through the rapidly swelling crowd, the group reached the Resthouse. The building dazzled. Lamps shone in every corner; the streamers hanging from the ceiling caught the light and sparkled and shimmered. Guests streamed in and out, the harried owner buzzed around, and a few sorry-faced workers scurried as he yelled and bellowed. On noticing the group, the owner waddled over and apologized profusely to Miir.

  “I’m so sorry for the conditions here today. It’s not something I want the XDA to know . . . people are going crazy about the display this year . . . they promised free rations for a month to all who collect the stardust . . . hardly have anyone around . . .” he went on and on until Miir recovered from the mournful siege and cut him off, politely but sternly.

  “Please, calm down. We are not going to report anything to the academy,” he said, eager to get past the apologies. “If we could get something to eat, and quickly please.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” The man scooted away after seating them at a table in one corner of the dining area.

  Plump loaves of bread, a large carving of meat that was tastefully decorated with colorful pieces of vegetables, and small pots of garnishments were served quickly. There was also a plateful of rainbow-hued pastries on one side. But the flavor of the food did not live up to its looks. The salty meat was cold and hardly edible; the bread was tough and left a stale taste in Maia’s mouth. Nafi almost spat out the first bite, gagging and choking on a piece of meat, and eliciting a severe look from Miir. The owner returned to the table from time to time, his wails making the ordeal even harder to bear. Yoome soon excused herself and went up to the room, and Miir left the table to pay for the food. As soon as they were alone, heads crowded together to share the story of the nutty old man and the gate behind the trees.

  “So, we know where the Grotto might be, but how do we know when they’ll try to sabotage the Stabilator?” Nafi voiced the question on everyone’s mind.

  “We nearly had the answer.” Kusha hit the table with his fist in frustration. “The man was just about to tell us when the Sanctuary is least guarded. I’m positive that those hooded thugs would choose that exact time
to raid the Grotto.”

  “Are you done playing with the food?” Miir was back at the table followed by Yoome. “We should start walking back to the Square. Just to remind you, the place will be very crowded, so please stay together. I would not enjoy trying to find you in the dark among thousands of sightseers, and I doubt you would enjoy being lost in such conditions either.”

  They had scarcely stepped out through the doorway when a pair of grubby hands accompanied by a wail threw themselves at Miir.

  “Oh no, sir.” It was the mournful owner again. “I couldn’t possibly take any payment for what we served you today. These idiots hardly know what they are doing. It’s all about the new policy . . . will kill off my business in a night . . . have to let people off for the display . . . for the entire show . . . it’s their birthright it seems . . . and those free rations . . . doesn’t matter how important or critical their work is . . . a while later it’ll only be me around here . . .”

  “All right,” Miir was quick to interrupt. “We can adjust the payment tomorrow. Thank you for being so considerate.”

  “If you don’t mind doing it now,” the owner pleaded, his droopy eyes and sagging mouth clearly portrayed his misery. “Might be busy again tomorrow, so . . .”

  “Okay,” Miir sighed as he gave in to the man’s appeals. He turned toward the group, sulking as he spoke. “You stay here. I will be back soon.”

  The owner forced a tired and weak smile before retreating into the building with Miir. Yoome threw a glance at the five and decided to follow Miir inside. Ren slipped away at the same time, reappearing soon, holding Kusha’s satchel.

  “Got some cakes that looked somewhat better, in case we get hungry,” he explained before handing the bag to Kusha.

  Kusha winced as he slung the bag over his shoulder. “Are the cakes made of stone or something?” he said, rubbing his back gingerly.

  “No,” replied Ren.

  As Kusha continued to stare at him, Ren shrugged apologetically. “Thought we could use some private entertainment. It’s Doob and Daab.”