Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(102)
Even with a perfect memory, my fantasies couldn’t recreate the real feeling of kissing Hysan. His mouth is so sure of itself that I let him lead, and when his lips grow more insistent, my every limb starts to go limp.
“And one more thing,” says Hysan, after he’s pulled away. He takes some freeze-dried fruit from his pocket. “You can’t defeat Ochus on an empty stomach.”
While I eat, we walk to the ship’s forward section, and Hysan bends my ear about the skiff he’s been learning to pilot. I love seeing him so animated.
“It handles like an extension of my mind. Whatever I want it to do, it knows. I just wish I’d invented it myself,” he says ruefully, a faint wrinkle forming on his forehead. “I’m building my own when we get home.”
“Home.” I repeat the word, unsure what it means.
“The galaxy is your home now, Rho.” He squeezes my hand. “Every House will welcome your return—Libra first and foremost.”
Even though no place will ever replace Cancer, his optimism is as contagious as Mathias’s doubt. Only optimism does more to lift my spirits.
When Hysan and I enter the chartroom, we find a Piscene woman in a floor-length silver veil gazing up at what looks like an Ephemeris. I almost shriek, until I realize it’s a simple 3-D atlas of our galaxy projected from the ceiling. It reflects only telescope views and physical data, not Psynergy.
The woman turns at our approach and gives a deep bow, dropping to one knee. The veil shrouds her completely, falling in fluid silver folds that outline her willowy form.
“Disciple Psamathe?” I ask, copying her bow. “Thank you for coming.”
She has trouble getting back to her feet, so Hysan assists her. Her voice sounds elderly and weak, as if her lungs have to labor to push the air out. “The chains of fate bind us all.” She extends a palm through a hidden slit in her veil, and we touch. “I’ve long foreseen this meeting—and its outcome.”
Hysan also touches her palm. “A good outcome, I trust.”
She doesn’t answer that. She simply turns her attention back to the galactic atlas.
I circle the chart table to face her. “If you already know how this ends, madame, you can save us a lot of time.”
“Events will unfold as they must,” she says mysteriously.
Hysan and I trade round-eyed looks, and he silently mouths, “Spooky.”
Admiral Ignus sticks his head in and says, “Two more guests for your séance.”
Moira’s chief courtier shuffles through the hatch, looking much older than I remember him. His hair is the same gray and his skin dull olive, but his face has a bashed-in look, and his body is bent. Behind Talein, a small, ruddy man enters with his hands in his pockets. Chronicler Yuu of Capricorn wears a basic black robe, and around his neck hangs a heavy chain bearing a large medallion. His close-set eyes are as black as obsidian.
“Minister Talein, Chronicler Yuu, welcome.” We exchange formal hand touches all around, and Hysan offers tea, which everyone refuses. When we gather at the chart table and face each other through the twinkling atlas, I feel an ominous air settling over us.
Psamathe parts her veil to reveal a face as gray and gnarled as driftwood. She peers up into the atlas, so I follow her gaze to the tiny smudge of light beyond Pisces, just a puff of glowing dust veiled in Dark Matter. The Sufianic Clouds.
They’re so distant, they often twinkle out of sight for minutes at a time, and on Cancer our telescopes can’t see them. House Pisces, in the constellation of the Fish, orbits closer to the cloud mass. Maybe Psamathe has seen more. “Has anyone been to the Sufianic Clouds?” I ask.
Psamathe clears her throat. “Our House has sent three manned missions. None returned.”
Just what I needed to hear.
“Capricorn has sent unmanned drones,” says Yuu. “We were more practical.”
While Psamathe coughs, I ask, “What did you find?”
“Nothing of value.”
“What we really need,” I say, growing annoyed, “is a good physical sketch of the constellation. You know, the size? How many planets and moons? Do you have anything like that?”
The mystic rears up as if I’ve offended her. “Such minutiae I leave to astronomers.”
Yuu’s smile is brief and mocking. “Seems they’ve drawn a blank as well.”
Talein reaches up into the atlas and slides his finger across the Sufianic Clouds, enlarging the zone until it fills the entire area above our heads. Even at highest magnification, it’s no more distinct than before.
“Ophiuchus hides behind Dark Matter,” I say. “That’s why no other Guardians see him. Do any of you know how Dark Matter is related to Psynergy?”
“Psynergy will not be imprisoned by mere language,” says Psamathe.
Yuu’s laughter is dry. “People who speak in riddles are usually hiding ignorance.”
I want to scream, but I swallow the urge. To my surprise, something Admiral Ignus keeps saying calms me down. “Look, we have two battles ahead. One’s in the physical world, and the admirals will handle that. The other’s in the metaphysical realm, the realm of Psy. That’s where I need your help.”
I go through the story again, covering every detail about the ice man, hoping one of these experts will pick up on something new. “I need advice on manipulating Psynergy so that I can fight him back in the Psy.”