Wandering Star: A Zodiac Novel (23 page)

MATHIAS’S WORDS WON’T LEAVE MY
head. He’s not upset with me. He doesn’t blame me. He’s just . . . replaced me.

He has a bond with Pandora I can’t come between. I don’t have a place in his life anymore. He’s not my Guide, and he’s definitely not my boyfriend, so where does that leave us when
Equinox
touches down?

My body feels heavier as we cross the invisible barrier into Vitulus’s gravity, and I join Stanton and Aryll in the nose for a close-up look at the planet. Hysan’s with Neith at the control helm, and he keeps his eyes glued to the screens when I stride in.

I wish I could walk over and clear the air between us, but now more than ever, I wouldn’t know what to say. If my feelings were jumbled before, that’s nothing to what they are now that Mathias is back. And Hysan knows, because he always knows.

I think of Nishi and Deke, Stanton and Jewel. Mathias was right a lifetime ago, when he warned me against falling for him or Hysan, but he was wrong about the reasons. It wasn’t about age or rank. Love simply can’t
thrive in a war—and believing it can is like trying to light a flame in a room without oxygen.

Vitulus now looms larger. Its twelve countries are referred to as Sections, and each one is named for a part of the bull—the Hoof, the Heart, the Shank, the Horn, the Head, the Rib, the Spine, the Flank, the Throat, the Tail, the Belly, and the Leg. When I was younger, I read that the naming system was meant to convey the notion that each Section is part of one organism, and they must all work together for the whole system to function. I always found that beautiful.

The Heart is the House’s capital, and it’s where the Plenum meets. The Guardian is the House’s Chief Executive, and her Advisors are the executives of each Section—together, they form the Taurian Board of Directors. Everything in each Section is privatized in a free market model, down to public services, and, collectively, the businesses in each Section must subscribe to three rules: Employ the full population, ensure environment-friendly operations, and maintain a positive consumer rating—or the Guardian can replace the offending Section’s Executive.

As we near the Heart of Vitulus, its cities grow bigger through the glass. The place looks as busy as the Sagittarian Capital, but its architecture is infinitely more modern. There are sleek-walled starscrapers everywhere, blaring huge holographic ads visible from even this altitude. Speeding bullet-shaped cars zoom through white roller-coaster highways that loop around the air and through the buildings like ribbons wrapping the scenery together.

When we land in the spaceport, a line of Promisaries—Taurian Zodai—march onto
Equinox
in their olive green uniforms. They present their orders to Lord Neith, the highest-ranking official on our ship.

“They’re in the storage hold, very last door,” says Neith, waving the officers on. They file forward, returning straightaway with Corinthe and the masked soldier, both tied up at the hands and feet. Corinthe’s close-set eyes
glare at me defiantly as she’s shuffled off the ship, and I can’t help wondering what’s going to happen to her.

She murdered a Cancrian and a Virgo, so both Houses will want to bring her to justice through their laws, which makes it a universal case. So she’ll face her charges on Libra, where the jury will be made up of twelve people, one from every House, and Lord Neith will preside over the proceedings. However, if hers is declared a wartime crime, she’ll go before House Aries, and it’s likely we’ll never hear from her again.

When the Promisaries disembark, I see two Cancrians run on board toward me—Amanta and Egon Thais.

They pull me into a hug, shocking me with their affection and ready acceptance, and immediately I feel guilty for not reaching out to them. But I was too afraid they blamed me as much as I do. I can’t believe they don’t.

“I’ll show you where he is,” I say and lead them to the largest cabin, its door still closed even though we’ve landed. As soon as Mathias sees Amanta, he leaps up and engulfs her in his arms. As Pandora begins to introduce herself, I quietly leave and head into Nishi’s room, only to find it empty. Back in the nose, Lord Neith is perusing another holographic document from another set of Promisaries.

“We’re grateful to your Guardian for arranging this,” he says, looking up. Then he turns to me. “Chief Executive Purecell has sent these Promisaries to transport Deke and Twain’s bodies back to their families.”

I nod jerkily and lead them to the cabin where my friends are resting in Space-proof body bags. When I open the door, I find Nishi.

She’s lying beside a black body bag, staring through the small square window at Deke’s pallid, bluish face.

“No,” she says, looking up at me and clinging to Deke.

I push past the Promisaries and cross over to her. “Nish, they’ve come to bring him home to his parents. He wouldn’t want to be launched into Empyrean from here.”

She looks down at him, her dark bangs drooping over her eyes. She finally lets her hands drop to her sides. Two Promisaries reach down and scoop Deke up. Another two lift Twain, and then Nishi and I are alone.

“I don’t want to move on,” she says, her voice cracking. “I want to die with him.” She bursts into sobs, and I hold her close to me, brushing her long locks with my fingers.

“You only think that because it sounds easiest,” I whisper. “Deke will wait for you in Empyrean . . . but first he wants you to make a life here. Besides, what happens to me if I lose you, too?”

She sniffles and wipes her eyes. “I’m sorry . . . I do want to be here for you, especially now. It’s just—Rho, I feel so adrift without him.”

“I know. Me too.” I take her hands in mine. “So hang on to me, and I’ll hang on to you. We’ll be each other’s lifesavers.”

When Nishi and I head into the nose, we learn that Mathias and Pandora have already disembarked with his parents.

He’s gone.

Ignoring the ache in my chest, I file out with Neith, Hysan, Stanton, Nishi, and Aryll into a vast, open-roofed spaceport with ships of all sizes rising and descending everywhere we look. “Welcome to the Heart,” announces a lithe Taurian teen in an olive green Acolyte uniform. She shakes hands with each of us. “I’m Arcadia. Chief Executive Purecell dispatched me to escort you to the Plenum meeting, so please come along. Leave your bags—an attendant will make sure they’re delivered to the proper embassies at the International Village. This way, please.”

She’s articulate, polished, and succinct—in short, very Taurian. We follow her through crowds of people, all with silky hair and earthy complexions. Taurian skin tones range from caramel—like Arcadia’s—to dark cocoa, and they tend to keep their fine hair trimmed short.
Women rarely grow theirs past their chin.

Since the Taurians in this spaceport are sporting business attire, I know it must be Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. Taurus has four-day weekends.

“Step right in,” says Arcadia, ushering us into a bullet-shaped car with dark levlan seats and tinted windows. Arcadia sits up front with the driver, hidden from us by more black glass.

An attractive woman’s hologram materializes in the middle of the car. She speaks in a smooth voice, and the text of her speech scrolls beneath her.
“The Bullet Express invites you on board and welcomes you to the Heart. While here, be sure to visit our Heart-Pounding Amusement Park, shop from one of our Hearty Fashions franchises, and dine at a Heart Healthy restaurant. Don’t forget to award your driver Star-Stock in the Star-Stock Market to receive a ten percent discount on your next Bullet Express ride.”

The hologram disappears, and I click my seat belt closed. Suddenly, my shoulders slam into the seat back as the car accelerates forward so fast that I’m completely pinned in place. The highway twists and turns and loops, but our vehicle is so outrageously swift that the seat belt is unnecessary—I can’t move a muscle.

Across from me, Aryll and Stanton are ogling at the sights speeding past the window, and beside me, Nishi keeps her eyes closed, her mind clearly far from the present. I take her hand, and though she doesn’t react, I hold on to it. Sitting farthest back are Neith and Hysan, staring out of their windows in silence.

Even though Hysan and I have a lot to discuss, Mathias is in our way again. I’m no longer sure that the three of us can exist in harmony; I don’t know that I can handle both of them in my life.

As I look out at the rapidly passing city sights, I try to picture what this place was like in Vecily Matador’s day, one thousand years ago. Something about visiting this House after reading about her life, and while in possession of her Ephemeris, feels almost foretold. As if I’m back on the stars’ path.

As I observe the city, I realize that the Heart is tiered, with three stacking layers. The ground level is a vast layout of parks, gardens, and fields, where animals graze and parents play with children. The greenery is interrupted only by the foundations of buildings and the columns that hold up the highway system. The Heart’s uppermost level is a series of metal bridges built across all the building tops that pedestrians use to get around the city. Everyone uses these bridges; the skyline is filled with the silhouettes of people walking from rooftop to rooftop.

We’re between the ground and the sky, traveling through the middle layer—the roller-coaster highways that thread between the starscrapers, weaving white designs in the air. The only two things that can cross all three levels are spacecraft taking off from and landing in the spaceport, and restaurants that fill up on the ground and float into the sky for meals served with a view.

The Bullet Express comes to a stop at the edge of a vast forest. Until now, everything I’ve seen in the Heart has been so developed, it’s strange to suddenly arrive at a wall of towering trees.

As we climb out of the car, Arcadia hands each of us a small rectangular card. It’s a Guest Blotter—a stripped-down version of an actual Blotter, which is House Taurus’s primary communication device. The tourist versions lack any holographic functions, but, like real Blotters, they can be swiped at public Bull Feeds to get news or award Star-Stock.

I try meeting Hysan’s gaze, but he’s projecting out a golden hologram from his Scan, tinkering with an unintelligible code. Arcadia leads us into the woods, and soon Helios’s light is blocked out by the canopy of green arcing above us. Insects buzz by, and birdsongs echo through the tree trunks.

At first it’s nice to walk and stretch my legs, but eventually I start to feel as if the forest will never end. Then, to my relief, a couple of Promisaries materialize from the greenery, their suits camouflaged to match the foliage. “Thumbs out, please,” one of them says, holding a sensor to scan our identities.

Once we’ve been approved, the horizon of never-ending trees disappears and is replaced by a familiar sight: the International Village.

I turn around to see that only part of the forest—the stretch behind us—is real. The stretch in front of us is a hologram designed to conceal the embassies. We follow Arcadia through the alley between Aquarius and Pisces, until we’re standing in the heart of the village. It looks almost exactly as it did on Aries, and I stare longingly at the four bungalows of House Cancer, anxious to get there already.

Instead of the inter-House market from Aries, a big building bearing all twelve symbols of the Zodiac sits at the center of the village. “The Plenum meets in here,” explains Arcadia as we hustle toward the front doors. We cut across a rhombus-shaped lobby decked out in rustic wooden furniture with gleaming stone surfaces and feathery accent pillows.

Arcardia parades us past the security desk and into a large hall where the Plenum meeting is being held. Unlike the velvety black box where the Plenum meets on Aries, the room that we enter is bright, with a clear view of Helios shining through a glass-domed ceiling. The twelve ambassadors sit at a long table at the head of the hall, facing the audience. There must be at least a thousand people here.

Between the long table and the audience is an open space where Ambassador Sirna stands, addressing the other representatives. “Excellencies, we all agree the Marad is dangerous and must be stopped—let us at least be united on that. As for whether or not Ophiuchus exists, new evidence has surfaced. Yesterday we voted seven to five to lift the ban on Rhoma Grace, former Guardian of the Fourth House, from addressing this Plenum.”

Sirna turns to look at our group, and so does everyone else. “I now call forth Rhoma Grace to testify.”

I FEEL EVERY PAIR OF
eyes taking me in as I walk toward Sirna. Most of the faces staring at me are young, like the crews who came out to Sagittarius. They’re here to make sure tomorrow will be better than today.

Wending my way toward the Plenum stage, I recall the walks that came before this one, and I pity the Rho I was on Aries, the young girl who had no idea what she was embarking on. I’m not that person anymore. There aren’t many surprises left for those in power to throw at me, because I’ve seen the worst and best of them. Sage Ferez said our failures aren’t an end in and of themselves; rather, they’re the scrambled secrets of success. I’m finally starting to understand what he meant.

When I reach the front of the room, the sight of Sirna’s warm ebony face relaxes me. She’s about to speak when the blade-faced ambassador of Scorpio rises from his seat and announces, “I will interview the witness myself.”

Charon’s words produce the kind of stillness that sucks even silence from the room, creating a vacuum of air. Since he’s more senior, Sirna must step
down, but she still spares him a cold look as she hands him the speaker’s staff and sweeps back to her seat.

“My dear Rhoma,” says Charon in his familiar, greasy voice. “It’s good to see you alive and well after your ordeal. I only hope, for your sake, that this time you have come to us with actual proof of your boogeyman.”

“I have, Ambassador.” I adopt the unflinching focus of a Taurian to show him his jabs lack their usual sting. “Ophiuchus appeared in my Ephemeris when I was on House Capricorn. He told me he had been working for the same master who leads the Marad, but was ready to denounce him and switch sides. To prove it, he warned me the army would strike Capricorn and not Sagittarius. As you can imagine, given recent events, distrust led me to dismiss his warning. I only realized my error once it was too late.”

Charon keeps a mask over his face, just like I’m doing, but now his facade breaks into a sharp smile. “Do you really expect us to believe you knew of the attack on Capricorn ahead of time?” His voice projects into every corner of the sunny hall. “
Anyone
could claim to have known
anything
after it’s already happened. Once again, you offer us facts with no proof.”

“
I’m
proof.” I look out at the audience toward the new speaker. Standing in the front row is Guardian Brynda, wearing her Archer coronet. “Rho was in my office when she told us Capricorn was the true target. I sent Sage Ferez a message from my Tracker moments before the attack.”

Midway through the room, a row of yellow-uniformed students rises. “We were present as well,” shouts Numen proudly.

“As were we,” says one of the emerald-green-suited students standing beside the Librans. They’re Virgos, members of Twain’s crew.

My heart’s pounding so mightily I feel like it must be shaking the stage. Then the Capricorn ambassador rises from his seat at the head table. “House Capricorn can confirm that Guardian Brynda sent us warning before we were attacked. I have personally spoken with the Capricorn students who were in the room, and they relayed the same information to me. And, I
might add,” he says, turning his deep black eyes to me, “they were very taken with you.”

“Very well,” says Charon roughly, the smugness gone from his tone. “Let’s move on—we can’t spend all day on this testimony. Even if you knew of the attack ahead of time, how do we know it was this Thirteenth Guardian who alerted you?”

“I met with Ophiuchus again after the attack.”

“And . . . ? What did he say?”

“He told me the only way to get close to the master was by attracting the Marad’s attention. So I took a small crew where he instructed me, to the asteroid belt between the Eighth and Ninth Houses. That’s where the soldiers attacked us.”

“That’s a fascinating tale, but again, I’m not seeing any
proof
—”

“It’s right here,” calls Hysan. He’s standing at the back of the room, beaming the unintelligible hologram he’d been tinkering with from his Scan. One of the Geminin students in the back row duplicates the image with her Tattoo and beams it forward, a Taurian sitting closer up copies it with her Blotter and projects it, and so on, until copies of the hologram hover all over the hall.

The image shows a series of strange symbols that shift into letters as we watch them. It’s the message Ophiuchus sent us through
Equinox
’s screens. The code must prove the message originated in the Psy and not a physical device.

The master’s minions are here. They will board your ship by force. If you want to meet the master, you must face them . . .
but remember what I told you. Death’s hand will reveal your true enemy—and Death is what you are inviting on board.

Everyone studies the text silently, and I study Hysan, who shuts off his Scan now that the information is out. Then, he barely looks at me as he
slips out of the Plenum and into the village. It’s the first jab on this stage I can’t shake off.

A rumble of discussion spreads through the hall and grows loud enough to reach me. Everyone is marveling at the proof Hysan just shared, and explanations of what the codes mean are being repeated from neighbor to neighbor.

The last time we showed proof of a Psy weapon, Charon dismissed it with his more compelling evidence of cosmic rays from the Sufianic Clouds—but he can’t explain away this. For the first time, Ochus left a permanent mark. Not with violence, which fades as people heal, but with words that linger.

I hear the new Aquarian ambassador, Crompton, say to his neighbor, “A purely metaphysical being—how fascinating!”

“We will have to verify this data,” says Charon, trying to tamp down the excitement in the room. “What happened when the soldiers boarded your transport?”

I recount how the Marad threatened and subdued us, how we fought back and two of our crew members lost their lives, and how, just as the broadcast began, Lord Neith and Hysan rescued us. Everyone is silent throughout my account, and before Charon can ask another question, I say, “What’s happening to the soldiers who attacked us?”

“We are not releasing that information at this time,” he says haughtily. “Let’s continue with your tale. You then boarded their ship and found hostages, did you not? Where are they?”

I smile at him. “We are not releasing that information at this time.”

Charon’s face looks more than ever like a rapier, but before he can slice into me, Ambassador Crompton rises. He’s nearly as tall as Neith, and his silver hair is so long that he’s swept it into a neat ponytail. “House Aquarius has been convinced.”

He may be the newest Plenum member, but there’s power in Crompton’s presence. His voice emanates a warm kind of strength, the sort of sound
that seems as much from the heart as the mind. “We believe Rhoma Grace’s account of Ophiuchus, and we are committed to helping her defeat him and his army.”

Cheering breaks out among more than half the room’s occupants, making it hard to hear the Taurian ambassador when he springs up and shouts, “House Taurus has also been convinced!” He’s followed by the representatives from Leo and Aries, until the only House left in the dissenting faction is Scorpio.

“Scor-pi-o! Scor-pi-o! Scor-pi-o!” The audience chants at Charon, and at last he raises the speaker’s staff to hush them.

“House Scorpio will need to examine the evidence firsthand,” he says, once the room is silent. “If the proof is indeed legitimate, we will reconsider this tale.”

It’s not exactly a guarantee, but it’s as close to an agreement as proud Charon is likely to give, and from their reaction, the audience knows it. The whole room is on its feet—the Zodiac has united. They believe in the Thirteenth House. They believe in me.

“Thank you,” I say to the whole hall as Charon returns to his place at the long table to confer with the other ambassadors. I don’t know if I’ve been given the floor to speak or if I’m expected to wait while the ambassadors finish their discussion, but since I have something to say, I seize the chance.

“Ophiuchus must be dealt with, yes, but he is not the priority. The Marad has a leader, and he is not it. We need to focus on finding the army’s hiding place and stopping it from further destruction. Ophiuchus will have his turn, but he’s not the immediate threat. The master is.”

“Thank you,” says Crompton, rising again and taking the speaker’s staff. He and the rest of the ambassadors are now all smiles. They don’t seem to have heard what I just said . . . in fact, it appears as if the whole room tuned out as soon as the Houses united. They don’t want to hear more omens and warnings. They want to hold on to hope.

“We now have an announcement,” says Crompton, his pink sunset eyes warmly sweeping across my face. “Rhoma Grace, this Plenum wants to apologize for our treatment of you on House Aries. You are a rare and gifted seer, one of the best in our galaxy, and we want to honor you with a title that hasn’t been used in centuries.”

The crowd cheers, and Crompton holds up the staff to quiet them. “Before the Trinary Axis, when the Guardians ruled the Zodiac together, there was a thirteenth place at their table, which they held open in cases where a tie-breaker was needed to help sway a vote. As the role was a lifetime appointment, the Guardians chose a Zodai who was beloved among the Houses—a great seer, and most importantly, someone who rose above House affiliations to be a citizen of the Zodiac. As the Houses are now autonomous, this position no longer exists in an official capacity. But we would like to bestow on you the honorary title.”

He gives me a low bow.

“Welcome back, Rhoma Grace, our Zodiac’s Wandering Star.”