Zodiac (15 page)

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 Mathias. 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.

I keep watching until we enter the atmosphere, and then once again, my feet sink further into the deck, and my bones bear more of my flesh. It’s nice to feel my full weight again.

Mathias says Lord Neith’s court is “high church,” very formal and ritualistic, and it would be a serious misstep for Cancer’s Guardian to show up in a Libran uniform. I know why he’s really saying it, so I go back to my quarters to change into my blue Zodai suit. The refresher has finished with it, and the fabric is crisp and fresh. I slip it on, and my fingers trace the embroidered moons on the sleeve. I miss the sisters.

I check out my reflection in the mirror and try applying makeup the way Leyla does. I don’t manage nearly the effect she can, but at least I obscure the blue-black bags beneath my eyes. I add a little eyeliner and some lipstick, then I loosen my ponytail and spray one of the smoothening lotions on my curls. They lengthen and grow glossy.

When I return to the nose, Caasy is still sleeping, and we’re now racing down toward the largest bubble in sight, the city Aeolus. The sphere contains breathable air, which is much lighter than the planet’s dense atmosphere. Each sphere is weighted at the bottom with ballasts so it can’t flip over, and the storied levels inside are oriented to the planet’s surface. The uppermost level gets the most sunlight, so it houses the city’s corporate farms. The lower levels recycle air, water, and waste.

“Like it?” asks Hysan. “Our airborne capital is one of the Four Marvels of the Zodiac.”

“It’s amazing,” I say. “Is it made of glass?”

“Ceramic, actually.” He slides closer to me, and for the first time I notice the cedary scent of his hair. “Transparent nanocarbon fused with silica, extremely tough. It’s engineered to withstand our sulfuric atmosphere.”

Mathias edges between us. “A hot air balloon. Very appropriate.”

Hysan looks like he’s about to say something, but when he spies the discomfort on my face, he keeps quiet.
Equinox
’s
thrusters fire, and we glide low over the face of Aeolus. This close, its protective membrane is mirror-bright and pockmarked with thousands of openings, with aircraft of every size and color circling, landing, and taking off. Hysan leans over me and says, “The landing pad is through there, and that’s—”

“Why are we still veiled?” snaps Mathias. “Aren’t you welcome in your own home?”

Hysan gives Mathias a superior look. “Do you think I’d draw a Psy strike on my world?”

They glance at me and turn away, and my stomach flips upside down. “Yeah, I know. I’m a walking target.”

The lower we glide, the denser the swarming traffic grows, and
Equinox
dodges through the jumble of vibrocopters, hover-ships, and pulse-jets. The ship makes a banking turn into a port and comes to rest, invisible to all eyes except our own. I wake up Caasy, and once again, Hysan insists we don our collars before disembarking.

From inside Aeolus’s transparent skin, the surrounding clouds look woolly green. This far above the planet’s surface, gravity thins out. The walls and ceilings are made of glassy-smooth ceramic, and the floors are covered in soft, cushiony plexifoam tiles. The whole place has a light, airy feel—a wonderful change from the cramped bullet-ship. The halls, however, are crowded with Librans dressed in all the colorful plumage of tropical birds.

We’ve landed near a major shopping zone, and consumers rush along with mesh bags and gold-starred eyes. Vivid films blare across the walls, promoting overstuffed fruit baskets, gourmet liqueurs, and baked goods. Illuminated arrows point the way to hostess gifts, caterers, florists, and party planners, and holographic ads flit through the throngs of people, showering everyone with minute-by-minute announcements of festive new merchandise.

Hysan seems to swell with pride as he takes everything in. “I forgot it’s Friday. Everyone’s planning weekend dinners. Hospitality’s a blood sport here.”

Caasy eyes a display of feathered hats. “I don’t suppose we could try a few things on?”

“There’s no time,” I whisper, already moving.

Caasy dawdles briefly, fingering the hats, then hurries after us. The line to enter the transportation tubes is a dense mass of bodies rather than an orderly queue, but since we’re invisible, we follow Hysan’s example and shove right in. Watching Hysan move, I begin to suspect this isn’t the first time he’s entered his city unseen.

He elbows his way through the shoppers, and though it goes against my grain, I have to do the same to keep up. The last thing I want is to lose sight of Hysan in this mob. Mathias stays close behind me, but I worry about little Caasy—until I remember he’s been taking care of himself for over three centuries.

Hysan leads us to a cordoned-off area marked
Departures
, where a crowd of people stands around, waiting to catch a Flutterby. We squeeze in among them and look up—a flock of transparent tubes, each with its own pair of large flapping insect wings, is descending on us.

When a Flutterby gets close enough, Hysan shows us how to reach up and grab the plexine loops overhead. Caasy’s too short, so he hangs on to Mathias’s belt.

Since no one can see us, several others try to grab our loops. When a heavy man steps on my toes, I pinch him to make him move. Hysan spots me and cracks up. “You’re violent.”

“Yeah, so watch yourself,” I say through my smile.

All at once, the Flutterbys ascend again, and I feel a thrill of fear and excitement as I realize there’s no floor beneath us—just air. I feel a cool whoosh of wind pressing past us as the tube soars toward the city center. The Flutterby itself is barely visible, so it feels like we’re flying on a zephyr.

Looking around, I realize everyone’s blond here, whether natural or not. Yellow blond, platinum blond, silver-gray blond streaked with gold. Their eyes glisten in shades of green, gray, and quartz, like Lord Neith’s, and a gold star adorns the lower corner of every right iris. They wear a variety of fashions, but they seem to prefer their primary colors—reds, yellows, and blues.

Caasy yanks Hysan’s sleeve to get his attention. “I’ve always wanted to witness Lord Neith read the stars. After all, the Cardinal Houses have outstanding Emphemerii—and as Libra represents Air, his is bound to be extraordinary. Will you ask him to demonstrate his great skill?”

Hysan frowns. “We won’t have time for that.”

Caasy looks genuinely annoyed.

Three people let go of their loops and fall through the sky. I shriek and reach out to grab the closest one, but Hysan calls out, “Don’t—they’re fine, Rho!”

I try asking him where they went, but the air whipping through the tube has grown too loud—we’re now shooting through Aeolus at tremendous speed. In a residential area, we pass towers of flat, circular apartments stacked up like porcelain platters. Abruptly, we bend around a corner, then drop down a thick ceramic deck into an industrial zone full of tanks and pipes and steamy white smoke. More layers rush by as we descend—factories, office districts, theaters, aqueducts. Through every zone, transparent tubes flap their insect wings, speeding gusts of commuters to their urgent destinations. The rapid alternating sights are making me a little seasick.

“Your Center steadies you,” whispers Mathias in my ear.

I close my eyes and think of Dad and Stanton on Kalymnos, putting our sand-and-seashell bungalow back together. The picture of them safe and side by side, surrounded by the blue of the Cancer Sea, does what Mathias said it would—only ever since the attack on our moons, my protective wall has been faulty, and bad thoughts are hitching rides with the good.

I see again how Crius’s face filled with fear as he interrupted the meeting with the Matriarchs to announce an emergency. Then I think of House Pisces’s urgent warning, and of the feeling I had when I faced the Ephemeris and sensed the approach of more storms . . . and war.

“Almost there!” calls Hysan, and I open my eyes. Beneath us, House Libra’s royal court stands next to their parliament at the city’s core—a collection of spiky towers that look like sharp-edged teeth.

“Let go now!” he shouts.

“What?”
I blurt, watching in horror as Hysan releases the plexine loop. When Mathias does the same, I let go, too.

The fall starts fast, making my stomach shoot up my throat. Twenty feet from the ground, we slow down, and I open my eyes. The four of us are dropping gently, our bodies swaying like feathers. We land in a cordoned-off area labeled
Arrivals
.

“Our seat of government,” says Hysan, gesturing at the grand buildings around us.

I have to lean against the wall to catch my breath. The jam-packed tube left me feeling jostled, and one of my side pockets has ripped halfway off in the crowd. At least there are fewer people in this transportation hub.

Breezes rustle through ferny plexine trees, and water trickles down a curving plexine chute. At the far end, Zodai Guards stand at attention in their lemon-yellow uniforms, flanking a pair of tall fluted gates that lead into one of the government buildings.

They stir and squint when we pass, but they can’t quite see us tiptoeing inside. The arched entrance is three stories high, and the antechamber is full of blond-bearded courtiers dressed like Hysan, in rich, stylish clothing.
“Veils off,”
murmurs Hysan.

We materialize like magic, but the few courtiers who notice us don’t seem at all impressed. Compared to these platinum-blond urbanites in their fancy court suits, Mathias and I must look like peasants. Hysan, however, looks like a fish returning to its rightful school—even if he’s the youngest courtier by far. I watch as he steps up to a kiosk and speaks to a female official who’s working at a smart screen.

He returns a moment later, beaming. The official’s expression sours when she sees him squeeze my arm. “We’ve been granted an audience.”

CAASY STAMPS HIS FOOT.
“Granted?
Helios, please
. When the Guardians of two Houses come calling on the same day, your man ought to damn well meet us at the front door.”

Ever the diplomat, Hysan pretends not to hear. “This way.” We follow him through clusters of murmuring courtiers. It seems they’ve just learned who we are, and they’re staring, so I cover my torn pocket.

Hysan leads us through a long gallery of decorative porcelains and blown glass. Overhead, a jewel-encrusted mural depicts our Zodiac galaxy, and I lean back to locate the Fourth House. Planet Cancer’s designed as a mosaic of tourmaline and lapis lazuli, circled by four opal moons. I wish we could linger, but Hysan’s practically at the other end of the hall.

At last we enter the last room in the passage. The place is dim and hushed, and a number of richly dressed dignitaries sit in red velvet seats facing a stage on which stands nothing but a large white cube. The cube is about five meters tall, and its walls are smooth and glossy. Maybe it’s some kind of multisided screen.

Hysan directs us to the front row, and we hear the dignitaries rustling their robes as we pass. I keep watching the cube. It’s just sitting there.

Hysan leans over me and says, “I need to file my report. I won’t be long.”

“Can you send a message to Cancer?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “You know a public message wouldn’t be safe.”

“At least try to get the latest newsfeed,” I say.

“Right. I’ll only be a minute.” He bows to the other courtiers and hurries out.

Ten minutes pass. Then another ten. I keep shifting in my seat, glancing around, wondering how soon the next attack will come. We don’t need this delay. We have to warn Virgo.

“This is outrageous,” grumbles Caasy. “What happened to the famous Libran hospitality? I expected singing birds and dancing monkeys. At the very least, a bite of fried larks!”

I’ve never met anyone who could get so moody over missing breakfast. Mathias closes his eyes to meditate—a sensible response to having to wait. I only wish I could feel that calm. The white cube is starting to bore me . . . so much that I start to hallucinate it’s moving. . . .

Until it really is.

What I took for solid white glass appears to be a trick of light. It’s roiling and marbled with iridescent color . . . and now the cube looks like a block of rippling liquid. The dignitaries stir as the house lights dissolve to darkness. The cube glows brighter, and through its fluid front pane, a regal figure steps forth in a white hooded robe.

He’s taller than anyone I’ve ever seen, and when he throws back his hood, his face has flawless golden skin and is framed with close-cropped white hair. Behind him, the cube alters from gold to violet, crimson, chrome, emerald green, and cerulean blue. The shifting light forms a prismatic halo around Lord Neith.

I have to remember to close my mouth.

“So pompous,” whispers Mathias. Caasy’s giggling with glee.

Neith lifts his hands in welcome, his face grave and his pale eyes glittering. “Honored guests, you grace us with your presence.” The deep, sonorous bass of his voice unsettles me.

Caasy’s on his feet, bobbing a bow. “Lord Neith, good to see you again.”

“You as well, Twin Caaseum. To what stars must I give thanks for this charming visit?”

While Caasy chats with Lord Neith, Mathias nudges my knee. “I think it’s all smoke and mirrors. They’re not taking us seriously.”

“I’ll see if I can touch him,” I whisper back.

When Lord Neith finally acknowledges me, I stand up and move closer, stretching out my arm for the hand touch. “Honored Guardian, I’m Rho Grace from Cancer.”

Only after a slight hesitation does he stoop to brush his fingertips against mine. His hand is warm, and blue veins run beneath his skin. When we touch, his quartz eyes soften slightly, and I wonder if I’ve connected with this foreign Guardian. “Well?” whispers Mathias when I sit back down.

“Solid flesh.”

Mathias doesn’t seem satisfied.

“Holy Mother,” booms Lord Neith, “we have watched the news of your planet with great heartache.” When he pauses, I’m startled by the degree of heartfelt compassion that comes over his face—a stark change from his severe expression. “The people of Libra grieve with you.”

I rise. “Thank you, Lord Neith.” I launch into my story, warning about the ancient leader of the Thirteenth House. The dignitaries near us shift restlessly as I describe how the Dark Matter knotted around Virgo and Gemini. “He already smashed our moons. I think he’s also behind the natural disasters of the past year, and he’s going to strike again soon. You should be prepared for the worst.”

When I finish, Lord Neith leans closer to me, and I catch a strong whiff of the scented lotions the Libran commuters all wear. It gives the skin special protection from Helios’s rays, which can be more potent here, given Libra’s heavy atmospheric gases.

“We are grateful for your concern, Mother Rho, but we have our own Zodai who have seen no cause for alarm. And now, may I offer you the hospitality of our court?”

The pleasantness of his rejection staggers me. “Please believe me,” I insist. “You have to prepare.”

He smiles. “Your colleague has already shared this story with us.”

“You mean Hysan?”

Lord Neith pauses a moment, and I hope he’s not accessing the Psy. “A juvenile named Nishiko has sent many messages. You deputized her, yes?”

Nishi
. The sound of her name is like a shot of adrenaline, and I feel myself coming back to life with purpose.

Nishi hasn’t given up. She’s doing what I asked of her. Now I need to do my part—whatever it takes to convince the Guardians to believe me.

“We admire your good intentions,” says Neith, “but the myth of Ophiuchus is a lovely work of art. And here on Libra, we deal in facts.”

Behind me, the dignitaries sigh, seemingly with relief, so I twist in my seat and face them. “Please listen. The Psy weapon is real. Your own envoy knows the truth. Hysan Dax. Ask him.”

“Hysan Dax,” Lord Neith repeats, and the dignitaries titter. “Hysan loves his pranks. He’s useful, but very green.”

As the titters die down, two Zodai Guards enter through the rear doors, and Lord Neith lifts his hands. “Again, my thanks for your visit. My Guards will escort you to our banquet hall, where many in my court are eager to greet you.”

I clench my fists. That’s it? We came all this way, and the grandiose Lord Neith just dismisses us? And where is Hysan?

“We can’t,” I say. “We have to warn Virgo.”

“Very well. Do come again.” With a bow, he steps backward into the cube, and the liquid surface closes over him.

I turn and stomp out, too angry for good manners. I’ve probably broken some dire rule of state protocol, but I don’t care. Mathias and Caasy follow, flanked by the Guards, and Caasy says, “I wouldn’t mind a taste of fried larks. It’s House Libra’s signature dish. Have you ever tried it?”

Mathias touches my back. “Let’s go to the banquet.”

“Are you serious? We don’t have time for a formal dinner.”

He gives me a subtle nod, and I sense this isn’t about protocol. He’s up to something.

“Okay,” I tell the Guards. “I guess we’re hungry after all. Please lead us to the banquet.”