Zodiac (16 page)

OUR FOOTSTEPS ECHO AS THE
Libran Guards escort us down
another wide corridor glistening with plexifoam tiles. We’re going to the
banquet hall, though I can’t imagine why. Mathias glances behind us, and so do I. The dignitaries haven’t followed—we’re alone with Caasy and the two
Guards.

I catch Mathias’s eye and notice he’s clutching his silver weapon. He gives me a subtle signal with his eyes. It seems like he’s telling me to hang back.

I slow down, and when I’ve put a little space between myself and the Guards, he moves like a bolt. He fires first at one Guard, then spins to shoot the other. His weapon discharges an arc of electricity, and I realize it’s a Taser. The Guards fall unconscious, and Caasy shrieks.

“What the Helios did you do?” he asks.

“They’re not injured. They’ll revive soon.” Mathias glances around and listens, but when no one else appears, he says, “Something’s wrong here, and I want to look around. You and Rho can go on to dinner.”

I square my shoulders. “Forget dinner. I’m coming with you.”

Caasy rises up in his levitation boots and sputters, “I’ll not be part of this. We’re abusing the hospitality of this House.”

“Then enjoy your meal, Guardian,” says Mathias. “We’ll find you when it’s time to leave.”

“Humph.” Caasy pivots on his levitated heel and marches off like an indignant child.

Mathias seizes my hand, and we run back the way we came. When we hear footsteps, he pulls me into a shallow alcove. “Our collars,” I say. “Should we veil?”

Mathias presses me farther into the shadows, and he’s so close I can feel his heart pounding through his tunic. Or maybe it’s mine.

“We’re Cancrians,” he says. “We don’t use deception.” The distinction strikes me as ironic since we’re creeping around like a pair of thieves, but I don’t argue. I’m enjoying being near him too much.

A few courtiers pass by without noticing us, and then we slip down the hallway and steal into the room where we’d been earlier. It’s now dim and deserted. Onstage, the white cube looks as inert as a block of salt.

Mathias puts a finger to his lips, then pulls a thumb-sized laser torch from his belt. Its beam scintillates across the cube’s white surface. The walls look like they’re solid glass, but when we touch them, our hands pass right through.

Mathias turns to me with raised eyebrows. Then he steps through the wall and vanishes. I watch the surface ripple for a second. Then I follow him.

Inside, the cube is much larger than it appears, and it’s empty. Mathias shines his light around the glassy walls, casting tiny rainbows everywhere. He brushes his fingers over one side, and I follow his example. It feels solid now, and I wonder how we’ll get out. When I rap it with my knuckle, it rings like glass. Mathias bends to examine the floor, and I ask, “What are we looking for?”

“Smoke and mirrors,” he whispers, stooping to run his hand along a seam.
“Ha.”

He shines his light on a panel in the floor. It’s so well concealed, I never would’ve spotted it. He pulls some kind of tool from his belt, and when he presses a tab, it fans out with a dozen blades. He uses one to pry open the panel, and a shaft of brilliant light shoots up from below.

We hear a noise, and the light shuts off. Mathias wrenches the panel wider and drops into the darkness. I ease down after him and fall to a slick, hard floor. When I stand up, Mathias flares his laser torch around the space, and the first person I see is Lord Neith.

He’s sleeping under a row of lights that are now switched off. His long, golden body lies stretched on a waist-high table, and there’s something funny about his nose. We step closer.

The Guardian’s nose is tipped up like a hinged lid, revealing a triangle of clear plexine underneath, flecked with bits of glowing metal. “What—”

“Shh. It’s a machine.” Mathias dims his laser torch. It seems we’ve entered some kind of workspace. There’s a bank of inactive smart screens, shelves of exotic gadgets, and dozens of small tools lying scattered over every surface. As his muted light plays over the room, it catches the glint of two green eyes.

“Wake up.”

The room suddenly fills with soft light as screens flicker to life and gadgets begin to hum. Hysan steps forward. “So you’ve found my secret.”

He’s exchanged his court suit for gray workman’s coveralls that show off the muscles in his lean build, and he’s holding what looks like a stylus. Everything in here is stainless steel and spotlessly clean, even the scattered tools.

Mathias touches Neith’s skin with his fingertip, and his face twists with disgust. “Kartex.”

Hysan beams. “Pretty realistic, don’t you think?”

“Why does an android pose as Libra’s Guardian?” demands Mathias. “What are you hiding?”

“Mathias, you have no right to question me in my own House.” Hysan steps closer, and his eyes flash with authority. “But since dear Rho is here, I’ll tell you: I don’t like living at court, so Neith stands in for me.”

Mathias glowers. “Are you implying that
you
are Guardian of Libra?”

Hysan performs his low bow. “In the flesh.” His gaze jumps to me. “Literally, this time.”

I STARE AT HYSAN,
completely
at a loss for how to react.

For some reason, the first thing that runs through my mind is the Taboo. It’s been around since the Trinary Axis, and it’s pretty much the only rule the Guardians have to follow: We’re forbidden from dating—or loving, or marrying, or even kissing—each other.

I shake my head, as if afraid someone might read my thoughts. I don’t know why I’m even thinking of dating right now.

“I use Neith because I can’t be tied down,” says Hysan, looking at me as though his explanation is for my ears only. “I’m a born traveler. I must have had a Sagittarian ancestor.”

“A born spy,” mutters Mathias. “That android doesn’t even look like you.”

“Of course he doesn’t. I was eleven years old when they named me Guardian. Do you think a boy could ever command respect?”

Eleven.

I’ve been Guardian for barely two weeks, and it feels like a year of my life has elapsed. But Hysan has already been doing this for
six years
. My eyes meet his, and we exchange a look of loneliness that no one else in the Zodiac could understand.

No one else is a teenager and a Guardian.

“How many people know about this hoax?” asks Mathias, still using a demanding tone of voice even though we’re
technically
addressing the Libran Guardian in his own home.

“You do enjoy interrogating me, Cancrian.”

For the second time, I glimpse the counterbalance to Hysan’s good nature. The darkness beneath his light.

“How did you pull this off?” I ask, drawing Hysan’s attention from his staring contest with Mathias.

“On Libra, our Guardians predict their own deaths. In their final year of life, they read the stars to find their successor. The new Guardian’s identity is kept hidden until the present Guardian passes.”

I remember that from my lessons with Mom. The thought of knowing the day of your own death always struck me as cold and unnatural. Now I feel like mine could be at any moment.

“When my predecessor, Lord Vaz, chose me to succeed him, he understood no one would trust a boy. That’s why he and I built Neith, in secret. When the time came to name the new Guardian, he announced Neith’s name. Everyone in our government just knows me as a diplomatic envoy who happens to be a distant relative of Lord Neith’s.”

Mathias makes a disparaging face. “This is outrageous. You deceive your own people.”

Hysan’s expression tightens when he turns to him. “My people are wealthy and content. They don’t complain.”

“Why did your android claim not to believe me?” I ask.

“That was for the jury’s benefit.” Seeing Mathias’s confusion, Hysan explains: “A jury of at least a dozen Advisors and City Senators must be present for every meeting with our Guardian, to protect him from making rash decisions.”
He bends over the robot and gently tips its nose back in place. “I knew they wouldn’t give their consent, so I reprogrammed Neith to begin shielding my people from Psy attacks. He’s going to activate our House’s veils so they’ll protect our cities from the Psy whenever our sensors pick up high traces of Psynergy.”

“So that’s why you insisted on coming to Libra first,” says Mathias.

“Of course. My people are my priority. I never joke about that.” Hysan crosses the room and opens a hidden door. “Rho, let me show you something.”

Mathias moves between us, but I dodge him to look inside the secret room. What I see makes me stagger.

The space is hexagonal, and all six walls are covered in artificial glass eyes of varying shapes and sizes, each with quartz irises like Neith’s. The intense way they rake back and forth makes them seem alive. They’re all staring at a large holographic Ephemeris that slowly rotates at the center of the room. “Shut if off!” I shout, shrinking back.

Hysan whispers a code, and the Ephemeris instantly vanishes. “It’s not connected,” he explains.

All the eyes turn toward me. It’s one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen. Mathias materializes at my side, looking as shocked as I feel.

“This is my reading room,” says Hysan. “My talent for reading the stars isn’t the same as yours, Rho. I rely on technology’s help.”

Despite all the eyes watching me, Hysan’s green gaze has never felt so intense. “I’ll do anything to defend my House.”

Having finally met the true Hysan, I don’t doubt him for a moment. I step inside the hexagonal room, and the large glassy irises follow me. “This is pretty bizarre,” I admit. “How does it work?”

He flashes his crooked smile, then stoops to make a tender adjustment to one of the eyes. “Each of these oculi is a cyber-brain. They collect and analyze data from the stars, then relay information to each of our cities. They’re also linked to the brains of Neith and ’
Nox
.” He gestures to the whole room. “Thirty-six hundred brains, working around the clock. Massive parallel processing. Their findings are far more objective and extensive than a subjective human mind.”

From the animation in his voice, I think technology must be his natural element. He seems as much a Scorp as a Libran.

Then again, as a kid I always felt the dividing lines between us were blurry. For example, Librans value justice, and they pursue it through education, which is essentially the dissemination of knowledge. Knowledge is a Capricorn value, and yet Librans have made knowledge necessary for obtaining justice. Hysan’s just taking things a step further by using technology to amass knowledge.

“An artificial astrologer,” I say, thinking how cool it is. “Did you invent this yourself?”

He shrugs, for the first time not leaping for a compliment. “I came up with the general concept when I was nine and presented it at the annual Pursuit of Justice Symposium. It’s when all Libran citizens, of any age, are allowed to submit a new idea—system, invention, procedure—that furthers or improves our pursuit of justice. It’s why Lord Vaz chose me.”

He flashes another quick, dimpled smirk. “That and, of course, my consummate Libran nature.”

“Did this contraption predict the tragedy in our House?” asks Mathias. “Did it foresee the attack on your ship?”

Hysan’s sunniness fades. “No . . . it didn’t. I’m not sure why.”

“Not so accurate after all.” Mathias scowls and strides out of the hexagonal room.

“Maybe it can’t see through Dark Matter,” I suggest.

Hysan stares into the eyeballs, as if deep in thought. His body grows so still and his expression so intense, I can almost feel his clever mind sorting through hypotheses and calculations. I move toward him. “Hysan, you have to tell us about your Psy shield. Can you protect the other Houses?”

“Come.” He leads me back to his workroom, where he lifts a beaker containing a bluish liquid. With a pair of tongs, he scrapes some chunks of grainy sediment from the bottom and drops them into a shallow dish. “I’m making you a present, Rho. Sorry it’s not finished yet.”

He shows me the contents of the dish, about half a dozen tiny, round beads. As he tips the dish, they sparkle with rainbow light. “Cristobalite beads. They’re still growing.”

“What are they?” I ask.

“Nothing yet . . . but soon, maybe a bracelet, or whatever you like.”

“You’re serious?” I frown. “How about a time machine?”

He shakes his head sadly. “I’ll explain later. We first need to learn more about the Psy weapon. When we reach Virgo, we’ll consult Empress Moira, and then I promise you I’ll do my part.”

“Fine. Let’s go now then.”

He bows. “As you wish, my lady.”

• • •

The flight to Virgo will take a day at hyperspeed, and the tension on the ship is thick. Mathias and Hysan are locked in a cold war, and Caasy, who’s grown bored with me since I won’t show him the black opal, only eggs them on.

Back on Libra, I tried convincing Caasy to go to Gemini and protect his House, but he still wouldn’t believe there was any cause for panic. When he discovered he couldn’t use his Ephemeris on the ship, he became livid. Now his only entertainment is interfering with the guys.

And cooking. Turns out he’s a decent chef. I only wish I had more of an appetite, but I can’t stop worrying. We checked the newsfeeds before we left Hysan’s court, but the commentators only talked about a new pirate attack in Space. Armed assailants hijacked a fleet of Taurian frigates and abducted all the crew members. No one knows the motive.

The only good news is that Hysan downloaded the hologram Nishi sent around to all the Houses. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, alone, projecting the message from a small device Hysan handed me.

When it starts, it looks like a recording of Drowning Diamonds performing our most popular song on campus, “Across the Zodiac.” But a few seconds in, I have to rewind it to be sure of what I’m hearing.

The visuals are definitely from a performance we put on a few months ago at the university. It was our first paid gig—two Zodai instructors were getting married, and they hired us to play. But the song lyrics are not the same.

When the Zodiac was new

There was a thirteenth star

The first among us knew

But in time we forgot

Now the serpent, he is back

And we must find a way

To push his presence out

Or he’ll be here to stay

When she gets to the chorus, Nishi belts out my name, and I cover my face with my hands, even though no one else is in here.

Trust in Guardian Rho

She’s our galaxy’s best chance

She’ll make Ochus go

He’ll forget his plans

I can’t believe what Nishi’s done.

Like always, she’s bold and brilliant—I only wish she hadn’t told the Zodiac I’m our best chance. All I’ve been doing is running around sounding an alarm. That’s not making Ochus go. . . . It’s just making a lot of noise.

I watch the film a few more times. The new lyrics are actually pretty catchy. After a while, I feel reinvigorated, and I access the ship’s Tome. There must be something in here about Ophiuchus, maybe in the older stuff.

An hour later, most of what I’ve found says the same thing. How our early forebears believed the sun’s core held a gateway to a mirror universe, one they called Empyrean. According to the scrolls, the gateway to Empyrean was cursed. If anyone tried to pass through, the two universes would collapse and annihilate each other.

To prevent a catastrophic collapse, the original Guardians sealed the gateway after the last people from Earth came through. There’s evidence our ancestors colonized Aries first, before spreading to the other eleven Houses. Over the millennia, the gateway drifted into the fog of legend, and that’s where our Cancrian burial tradition of ceremonially launching a body into the sun comes from.

There’s no mention of the Thirteenth House. I speed through a different text about conflicts in the Zodiac. Mostly it’s the same old story about the Trinary Axis. A millennium ago, three Houses formed a conspiracy and triggered a hundred-years war that engulfed the entire galaxy. Vicious atrocities raged back and forth, all too horrible to imagine.

Since then, the Zodiac has lived in peace, and each House has evolved its own systems and traditions. Instead of watching over a mythical gateway, our Guardians now focus on reading the stars to improve the management of their worlds and promote trade. I go back to the kitchen and play the song again.

When Caasy comes in to eat something, I punch the off button so hard I slam the device on the table, like I’m killing a water-fly.

I make up an excuse to go, and as I’m leaving, I distinctly hear Caasy hum,
“Trust in Guardian Rho. . . . She’s our galaxy’s best chance. . . .”

I don’t play the song again.

• • •

The next morning, I wake up anxious to meet Moira. As I change into my Zodai suit and fix my hair, I try to think of a more convincing way of relaying my warning. So far, I haven’t been very successful.

Moira is a Guardian-empress. She rules all of Virgo. It sounds unnatural to me, since we Cancrians value consensus so much, but she’s beloved on Virgo—and even among the other Houses. She’s one of the most venerable Zodai in the Zodiac.

Moira’s is a benevolent dictatorship. She is a passive monarch who allows her people to police themselves and only interferes when cases are brought before her.

Given their controlling natures, Virgos find it impossible to submit to someone else’s command. So Moira ensures that every household has access to food, water, housing, and education, but she allows her people to make their own decisions about all other aspects of their lives. She has only two commands: Everyone must contribute in some capacity to growing grain, and no Virgo will interfere with the pursuit of happiness of any other.

I’m standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the ripped pocket of my suit so that it’s not as noticeable, when there’s a knock on my compartment.

“Your gentleman-in-waiting, my lady.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and as I reach for the door, I spy my expression in the mirror’s reflection. I’m so startled by the sudden flush in my cheeks and brightness in my eyes that I hesitate—it’s scary how someone I’ve just met can change so much about me, from my mood to my physical appearance.

When I open the door, Hysan scans me up and down, and a light flashes from the golden bloom in his eye.

“Did you just take a picture?”

“A remembrance of your loveliness,” he says as he walks inside the cabin.

Bubbles of conflicting emotions rise within me. The feelings bump into each other like Libran cities, bouncing through my body and confusing my thoughts, as I turn to face him. “Sometimes you make it very hard for me to picture you as a Guardian.”

He stands closer to me than usual, and I realize I like him best as he’s dressed now, in the plain gray coveralls. It sets him apart from the stuffy members of his court.

“But I’m the perfect Libran,” he says, counting off each word on his fingers. “Cordial, graceful, nonviolent, and, of course, endowed with a massive . . .
intelligence
.”