Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (45 page)

Yosef’s bushy gray brows drew together. He clumsily creased the hem of his green robe and gazed at his nephew from the corner of his eye. Mikael calmly studied the checkerboard. “An angel comes to you, too?”

“Only sometimes. When I’m feeling sad or confused, I call him and he comes to talk to me.”

Yosef’s heart throbbed. “You can call me, too. I’ll come talk with you whenever you’re lonely.”

“Thanks, Uncle Yosef. Sometimes Metatron doesn’t answer right away and I get pretty crazy waiting. Maybe next time I’ll call you.”

“I’d like that.”

“Metatron’s very busy. He goes to other universes a lot. Do you know what those are? They sort of look like this one, but not really.”

“Oh, I know they exist, but I’ve never thought much about them.”

“I think about them all the time now. Metatron says you have to get past ones and future ones to hit just right, or the present isn’t like it is. And there’s a bunch of different ones that hit you all the time.”

“Universes hit us?”

Mikael’s young brow creased, as though he struggled to find the right words. “Well… I don’t know for sure, but it has to do with waves.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, he says we have a Seer in our brain who uses waves to make things real or not.”

“Uh-huh.” Yosef glanced at Ari who blinked expressively. “Well, that’s interesting.”

As though their willingness to talk about it triggered the boy’s excitement, words bubbled out in a flood. “Yeah, it is, because, you know what? Metatron says that people in this universe are all a little crazy and they can’t help it.”

Ari shifted position, shoving his book across the table. “Metatron’s right. You should see Yosef’s girlfriend. She’s about as crazy—”

“She’s
your
girlfriend, not mine. Now, hush, you old fool.” Yosef pursed his lips disgustedly. “I’m trying to listen to somebody with an IQ above fifty.”

Mikael laughed. “You know why people can’t help it?” He looked from Ari to Yosef, eyes wide and glistening.

“No, Mikael, why?”

“Because,
because,
the Seer has been crazy so long he can’t see very good anymore. So he picks the wrong futures and pasts and just gets more mixed up. And—”

“Like you trying to pick lint out of your navel with your glasses off,” Ari declared.

Mikael clasped his hands together in a prayerful position. “But we can fix it, Uncle Yosef. We just have to throw Indra’s Net back into the sky! That way, we can go through the naked singularity again and everything will be all right!” He stopped and beamed, looking at them hopefully, as though he knew they’d understand.

Yosef frowned, pushing up the spectacles on his nose. Naked singularity? He had no idea what that meant, but he knew about Indra’s Net. The Old Stories spoke about a web of interconnected
Meas
that sparkled in the sky once-upon-a-time. The zaddiks, holy men, of Old Earth had supposedly been able to fly between them to go any place they wanted in the universe—some
Meas
even reputedly led to Epagael. His own brother, Zadok, had claimed to be able to ascend through the seven heavens to the throne of God. Once, during the last Gamant Revolt, Zadok had been in a catatonic state for so long that his soldiers had prepared his body for burial. They were rudely stunned when Zadok awoke, told them Epagael had revealed the path to salvation, then led them to a crushing victory over Magisterial forces on the plains of Lysomia.

But Indra’s Net had vanished mysteriously in the mists of the past. Fanatics claimed that the wicked Aktariel had gathered all the
Meas
—except Zadok’s—and given them to the Galactic Magistrates, disentangling the net. The Magistrates, so the story went, had put the
Meas
into a big hole at Palaia Station.

Yosef shrugged and smiled indulgently. “I believe you,” he said lamely.

Mikael’s face darkened, exuberance dying. He looked at An, but seeing no light there either, dropped his gaze morosely to the checkerboard. “Never mind.”

“No, no!” Yosef hastened to soothe. “It’s just that Ari and I don’t understand things like that very well. But maybe if you told us more, we could—”

“That’s all right, Uncle Yosef.” Mikael aimlessly shoved a checker across the board with the heel of his hand. “Metatron said nobody understood anymore.

“… Nobody. But he’s trying to help.”

CHAPTER 34

The 13th of Tishri.

Pavel felt bone-tired, arms shaking as he stuffed bags full of clothes, one for him, one for Yael. Then he filled another with food and all the medicines he could find. Yael caught cold so easily. From the kitchen, metallic clangings rang. Sekan and Toca’s voices meshed, planning, soothing each other. Grandpa had gone upstairs to sleep and Karyn had disappeared into the night.

He looked over to where Yael slept, curled into a ball on the long couch beneath the window. She had a finger tucked in the corner of her mouth. A terrible fear rose in him. What would they do to her? To his only child? He got up and went across the room, gathering her in his arms, kissing her sleepy head.

“Daddy?” Yael said in a muzzy voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, baby. Nothing. I just wanted to hold you.”

She blinked at the window, seeing the lightening heavens. Already the stars had disappeared. “Is it morning?”

“Yes, Yael. But you can sleep another hour if you want. You don’t have to get up. I’m sorry I woke you.”

She snaked a hand around and tenderly patted his throat. “I love you, Dad. Maybe just another five minutes.”

He smiled, but tears stung his eyes. She told him the same thing every morning when he got home from work and kissed her hello. She’d heard him say it once and it had stuck, “… just another five minutes.” Gently, he nestled her warm body back against the couch and stood.

An hour later, they sat outside, staring at the rising sun. The clouds turned pink and orange, brightening the heavens like strips of colored lace. He looked out over the reddening autumn leaves to the fields beyond the city. Ripe barley rippled in golden waves beneath the gentle fingers of morning wind. The dark beauty of Tikkun cedars covered the rolling hills.

Pavel hugged Yael against him and watched people emerge from houses across the street to pile belongings in their yards. Elderly matrons kept coming over, sobbing to his father, and Toca did his best to comfort them.

“Now, Patlica, don’t fret so much. They’re probably just taking us to one of the Magisterial military installations where they can keep a closer eye on us.”

“Do I look like a threat to the Magistrates?” the elderly woman demanded hotly through her tears. “Well? Do I?”

“No, no dear. Of course not, but just be calm. Don’t give them any reason to hurt us. I’m sure everything’s going to be all right.”

He patted her shoulder tenderly and she walked back to her own yard and family. Pavel tried not to notice how sunken his father’s cheeks looked, how dull with worry his black eyes had grown.

He stroked and stroked Yael’s back, whispering soft words in her ear, keeping her still and quiet. Her heart thumped against his chest like a small frightened bird’s. For a brief moment, hurt penetrated his fear.

He buried his face in Yael’s hair and closed his eyes.

Minutes later, a hum split the cold morning air. Ships swooped down out of magnificent pastel skies. Thousands of purple-clad soldiers disgorged, rifles aimed at the people who waited so innocently in their yards for God only knew what.

Grandpa Jasper hobbled over to slump down next to Pavel and Yael on the step. He clamped a hand over Pavel’s, holding it in silence. Toca turned, his withered face dark and tired. In a low voice, he said, “I hope they don’t blame us for Karyn’s absence.”

Grandpa’s face went stony. “I just hope she can shoot as well as Freia said. We need the Underground desperately.”

“You!” a marine called, pointing the barrel of his rifle at them. Tall and very broad-shouldered, he had stringy blond hair. “Get up and move to the center of the street.”

They gathered their bags and complied, huddling with the others who’d been driven from their yards. All around Pavel, people exchanged warm glances or comforting touches. Many clutched prayer books to their hearts.

“Jacoby?”

Toca turned and called, “Here!”

The dark-haired sergeant who’d visited them last night strode haughtily up, a crystal sheet in his hands. His purple uniform smelled sweet, like flowers, but his eyes gleamed maliciously.

“Is your whole family here?”

“Yes.”

Pavel felt himself pale. He glanced sideways at Grandpa. The old man subtly shook his head, warning him to keep quiet. Aunt Sekan started to sniffle uncontrollably.

“Answer when I call your names,” the sergeant instructed. “Jasper Jacoby.”

“I’m over here.”

The sergeant grinned malevolently. “You thought you could skulk around the back alleys and hide from us, did you? Well, now you’ll find out what we do to cowards.” He laughed shortly and called, “Pavel Jacoby?”

“Here.”

“Yael—”

“She’s here in my arms.”

The sergeant looked up and his gaze went over Yael in detail. He scowled as though her retardation disgusted him. Feeling the hatred, she tightened her grip around Pavel’s neck, staring back wide-eyed. Hatred rose in Pavel.

“Karyn Landson.”

No answer. Pavel’s heart pounded so loudly, he couldn’t think straight.

“Karyn Landson?”

Toca shifted, but said nothing.

The sergeant eyed each of them threateningly, then went on. “Sekan Landson.”

“Here, sir.” Her red hair clung to her head in matted curls, accenting the hugeness of her eyes.

Once more, the sergeant said,
“Karyn
Landson.”

“Maybe she’s somewhere else in the crowd, officer,” Toca said mildly. “She has friends—”

“You filthy liar! You think you can deceive me? She tried to escape to go fight with the Underground.
We caught her last night!”

A tremor climbed Pavel’s spine. Truth? Or a clever lie designed to terrify them and make them talk? From somewhere in the crowd, the sweet lilting strains of a violin rose, caressing the very wind that swept around them. Unconsciously, he searched for the source. Who could be playing it? Who could feel such magnificent joy? Such unspeakable beauty? Surely only a divine hand could play such music.

Toca responded, “I—we … didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know,” the sergeant mocked. He lifted a hand and slashed down through the air as though his palm were a knife. Two privates ran forward, looking at him for instructions. “Gerome, Niniva. This old man is guilty of lying to a Magisterial officer and of protecting a Magisterial criminal. Take him to the reorientation lab.”

“No!” Pavel screamed, thrusting Yael into Jasper’s arms. He ran forward and tried to keep his voice calm, controlled. “No, no, Officer, please. My father told you the truth! We didn’t know Karyn was involved with the Underground. Let him go. He’s done nothing.”

The sergeant laughed. “Then we’ll discover his innocence under the mind probes.” He stabbed a finger into Pavel’s shoulder. “And if you’re lying, Pavel Jacoby … you’ll be next.”

He shuddered. The two privates grabbed Toca and started leading him away. Pavel’s mind reeled with horror. The probes destroyed critical centers of the brain! Like a cat protecting her litter, he threw himself on the guards, shouting, “Leave him alone! Let my father go!
Damn you!
”

He jerked one of the guards backward and wrestled him to the ground. The crowd surged forward, hopeful, terrified faces watching in disbelief. Yael’s insane screams of “Daddy! Daddy!” made him fight harder. Who’d be next after Toca? Her? Him? The other guard released his father and turned sharply. Pulling a long petrolon bar from his belt, he slammed it into Pavel’s back, beating him unmercifully. Pavel writhed, covering his head with his hands. The bar landed like agonizing fists against his legs, his arms.

“Stop! Stop it!” he heard his father shriek raggedly. “Don’t hurt him. It’s my fault,
my fault,
I’m the only one who knew about Karyn being in the Underground! Punish me!”

“No,” Pavel murmured sickly. “Papa, no.” When the beating ceased, Pavel rolled to his side and vomited. Sharp pains ran up and down his spine. Had they broken his back?

The tall sergeant ambled lazily forward. “Take the old man away. I’ll handle this one.”

Pavel barely heard Aunt Sekan’s sobs as Toca was dragged toward a black ship. He forced himself to breathe, but it hurt terribly. He felt as though his lungs swelled with fire. Then he saw the sergeant kneel beside him. An eerie glow filled the man’s eyes.

“I’ve got a special place to send problem cases like you and your family, Pavel Jacoby. You’ll like it there. Just wait.”

His sudden laughter left Pavel frozen with terror. The poignant strains of that faraway violin sang louder. Then—as though to silence the majesty—a burst of shrill rifle fire shredded the wind. The violin stopped. Pavel laid his head on his arm and wept.