Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (54 page)

Mikael reached under the blanket to grab her hand and squeeze it hard. She squeezed back. With his opposite hand, he took the
Mea
out and laid it on top of the sheet covering his chest. It shone over the room. Sybil prodded it with her finger. Then jerked back at the unusual warmth it threw out.

“This is different than the one my mom has.”

“It is?”

“Hers is cold and only comes on when I touch it.”

He frowned. “That’s weird. I thought they glowed all the time.”

“Hers doesn’t. So, does your grandfather live in the
Mea?”

He let out a breath. “Yeah. God put him there so he could talk to me.”

“Why does he have to?”

In the blue glow cast by the
Mea,
she saw him swallow. “Sybil, you know those
funny
dreams you have?”

“Yeah, what about them? Sometimes they’re real scary.”

He rolled over on his side to stare hard at her. They looked at each other for a long time without saying anything, and she fidgeted, pulling the blanket up around her neck.

Finally, Mikael whispered, “My grandfather says they’re true. That someday I have to lead the war. But first, I have to talk to Magistrate Slothen. Lots of people are going to get killed, but we can’t help it. It has to happen.”

“Okay, so if we have to, we have to.”

“But you know what’s the bad part? You kind of made me afraid when you were talking about your mom and Aktariel.”

He fiddled with the sheet and Sybil said, “Why?”

“Because the final battle between Epagael and Aktariel…. Did you learn about it in school? My grandfather taught me.”

“I learned about it.” She flopped back on the bed and made an explosion with her mouth while throwing out her hands. “Everything’s going to get burned to a crisp and only Epagael Believers will get saved. Right?”

“Yeah. But… you and me? The battle we lead helps Epagael.”

“Of course. We wouldn’t help Aktariel. He’s a bad guy-”

Mikael timidly reached over and stroked her arm. “Yeah. I knew you’d know that. I’m glad you’re going to be there to help me, Sybil. I’d be real afraid if I was by myself.”

“I won’t let you be afraid, Mikael. Besides, you’ve got Metatron to help you, too. So is the war starting soon? Is that what your grandfather was telling you?”

“Pretty soon.”

“You know what? One time, I put my mom’s
Mea
to my head and I heard a voice, too. Do you think my dad could live in my mom’s
Mea?
I think it was his voice coming out.”

He chewed the insides of his cheeks for a while. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think my grandfather living in one is pretty different. It’s the first time I ever heard of it. But maybe.” He lifted his shoulders. “God does some weird things sometimes.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You know what else, Sybil?”

“What?”

“I really have to see Mister Baruch.” He looked away and his mouth puckered. “I have a secret I need to tell him.”

“Hasn’t he come to talk to you yet?”

Mikael shook his head like it really bothered him. “He tried to a couple of times when I was asleep, but he’s been pretty busy since.”

A small thread of anger and surprise went through Sybil’s chest. “I bet he forgot, Mikael. But, hey! I know him real good.
I’ll
take you to see him.”

“Can you?”

“Sure, you bet.” Her forehead lined with concentration. “Maybe tomorrow or the next day.”

Mikael rolled over on his side and put his arm around her, hugging her tightly. “You’re my best friend, Sybil. I think maybe you and me together can do just about anything.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

They shared a smile and talked long into the night, until Sybil’s eyes felt so heavy she couldn’t keep them open. She yawned and let them fall closed. Mikael kept talking for a while, the sound of his voice soothing in her ears. The last thing she felt was him curling around her, “spooning her,” her mother called it, because it looked like two spoons fitting together. She nuzzled back against him, feeling how warm his legs were against hers. He put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders.

“You and me and Metatron, Sybil, we’re going to make everything all right for God here.”

She nodded sleepily, drifting off… drifting into a
funny
dream. It was like she was floating, up high, near a tall ceiling. Down below her, a horrible blue creature leaned back in his chair and twined his fingers together like a braided rope. …

CHAPTER 40

Carey Halloway drew her saffron shawl around her shoulders, letting the long fringe drape down over her bare legs. Just out of the shower, she’d put on a silver gossamer sleep shirt which hung below her hips. She sat on the chilly floor of her cabin, gazing up at the magnificent peaks of the Tetons. Their coral color salved her tormented soul like the soft strokes of a pink silk scarf across her face. A candle burned in the center of her table, casting a tawny glow over the room.

“You’re being a goddamned fool,” she whispered roughly to herself.

A tight band of self-pity and resentment constricted her chest. Through her emotional haze, she caught the sweet scent of soap drifting from the shower.

“How could you have let this happen?”

But she knew. When she’d decided to adopt Pleroma’s facade, she hadn’t figured on the consequences. The hallmark of Syene Pleroma’s character was her open vulnerability to the eyes of the universe, though beneath the facade, all records showed her to be a shrewd, tough soldier. For Pleroma, the vulnerable characteristics came naturally, but they were nonetheless a facade. Carey’s personality operated differently. Her facade was that of a hard-eyed, ruthless soldier—she had no ability to contrive a vulnerable facade in its place.
No, she had to
be
vulnerable to pull off the play.
And Baruch had responded to her bared soul unexpectedly. She’d only wanted him to let down his guard so she could find a way of cutting his throat. She hadn’t dreamed he’d lower the shield enough to share his desperation with her, to really show her the galaxy from his perspective. He’d planted doubts in her soul that burned like raging fires.

She propped her chin on her drawn-up knees and gazed at the sooty shadows clinging in the corners. Never in her professional career had she erred so outrageously. How could she mend the damage? How could she unfeel the things she was feeling for her side’s greatest enemy? Falling in love with Baruch was suicidal.

She buried her face in the saffron fringe of her shawl that tickled her knees. What should she do? Should she tell Cole her objectivity in the matter had dropped off somewhat? Oh, yes, he’d be intrigued by that. He’d probably shoot her on the spot for insubordination.

Jeremiel had already initiated light vault. They were four days from Tikkun. She didn’t have much time for pleasant feelings of self-pity.

She slipped a hand beneath her auburn hair and massaged the back of her neck, easing the tension in the muscles. How could this happen now when everything she’d ever cared about in her life was on the line?
They had to get their ship back.
And they had to turn Baruch over as an appeasement to the Magistrates to keep their crew healthy.

That fact gnawed at her vitals like a demon from the darkest pit.

“Five hundred people are counting on you.”

She dropped her hand to the carpet, drawing her fingers back and forth across the soft gray fibers. She prayed to all the Gamant gods in history for them to kill the hollow glow that spread through her when she was near Baruch—the tingling of forbidden want that tortured her dreams.

Her door com buzzed and she jumped, looking up somberly.

“Carey? It’s Jeremiel. Can I talk to you?”

“Oh, God. Not now,” she whispered to herself, but to the com she called, “Just a minute.”

She pushed to her feet and threw off her shawl, draping it over a chair she passed on the way to the closet, searching for a robe. She pulled out the first one she saw and slipped it on.

Jeremiel put his hands on his hips and stood uncomfortably before the door. He’d taken care of the refugee preparations, briefed his shuttle pilots, and reviewed all the available files he could find on Tikkun. He had a blessed hour to try and resolve the problem with Halloway. Behind him, Janowitz and Uriah guarded the hall, casting curious looks his way. Undoubtedly, they wondered why he hadn’t just ordered Halloway to level twenty, as he had in the past. But he wanted to meet her on a different battlefield, one where she felt more at ease and they could talk openly.

“Come in, Jeremiel.”

Her door opened and he stepped inside, listening to it snick closed behind him. The candlelight cast a flickering glow over the room, revealing the real leather bindings on the books stacked on her table and the magnificent holos of mountains that adorned the walls. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he clenched his hands into fists. She stood in the center of the cabin, dressed in a floor-length turquoise robe with tiny bands of lace around the hem and sleeves. Auburn hair tumbled in loose wisps around her shoulders. Through the vee in the collar of her robe he could see a gossamer sleep shirt.

“Forgive me if I disturbed your sleep. I’ll come back later.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“Can we talk?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want. … About what, Baruch?”

The room smelled subtly of a flower-scented soap. Pleasant. “Harper told me you requested an intermediary between us. I’d like to know why?”

She crushed the fabric of her robe in nervous fingers and walked across the room, getting as far away from him as she could get without going to stand by her bed against the back wall. He noted it with mild interest.

“It’s a simple matter. You’ve made a Cole a prisoner in his cabin. I’m solely responsible for crew psychology and the closer we get to Tikkun the more precarious it becomes. If you want me to keep things under control, you have to give me more time with my people.”

He folded his arms and stood silently, thinking. She expertly evaded his gaze, pretending to have found something fascinating on the carpet. His shaggy brows drew together. He moved to stand before the holo of the magnificent mountains. They sparkled like ethereal granite giants in the pink rays of dawn. “They’re breathtaking,” he said. “Where are they?”

“The Republic of Wyoming. Old Earth. They’re called the Grand Tetons.”

“Magnificent.”

“Yes.”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Ever been there?”

“No.”

“It looks peaceful. I’d like to go there someday—when we’re out of this insane mess.”

She laughed bitterly, scoffing at his optimism.

Bowing his head, he absently studied the way his black boots reflected the candlelight. “Carey, let’s be honest. We both know the reason you want an intermediary is so that you’ll have more time to coordinate tactics with Tahn. I can’t—”

“Do we?”
she asked sharply.

He lifted his gaze. She looked away quickly, but not before he caught the buried desperation. Shaking her head, as if angry with herself, she turned in a whirl of turquoise and went to stand before her table, playing with the candle flame, warming her fingers in the glow.

He tilted his head. “Don’t we?”

“Damn it, Baruch, just set up an intermediary. I’ll agree to anyone you assign.”

Standing before the dusty radiance of the candle, her hair glinted as though each strand had been hand-polished until it shimmered.

“No.”

She looked up, startled. “Why not?”

“I don’t want an intermediary. I want to meet with you.”

“You don’t. … I don’t care what you want. I
refuse
to continue meeting you on a regular basis. What do you think of that?”

He lifted a brow. “
Vox et praeterea nihil,
I always say.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you just insult me?”

“I said you’re gorgeous when you’re angry.” Striding across the room, he stood on the opposite side of the table. The candle glow cast his shadow like a huge beast on the far wall. “Carey, talk to me. We don’t have time for useless games. Tell me how I’ve offended you and I’ll find some way to—”

She gazed at him from beneath her lashes. “You don’t even have the brains Epagael gave a gnat, do you?”

He started to say something, but decided against it. Instead, he caressed his beard, hoping she’d finish that thought and enlighten him. But she clamped her jaws tight, the muscles jumping beneath the creamy veneer of skin.

“Carey, it’s too late to change communication lines. We’ve built up a rapport that I—”

“A rapport?” she asked hostilely. “A
rapport?
Is that what you call it?”

Her eyes leveled a scorching examination that made him blink in confusion. “Ah,” he said in a flash. “I understand. That is, if you’re referring to what happened in my cabin—”

“Of course, that’s what I’m referring to.”