Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(42)
It was the eraser.
For the Librans, the villain in the story is O because he judged without knowing all the facts. From this tale, students are supposed to list all the things O did wrong as a judge. They can say he didn’t canvass broadly enough for suspects, or that he didn’t widen his worldview to account for all possibilities, or anything else that comes to mind.
The point isn’t the answer—it’s for Libran children to brainstorm as many potential factors in a given situation, in the hopes of broadening their outlook and instilling objectivity as an early value.
“O . . . for Ophiuchus,” says Hysan, shutting down the hologram. “I wonder why he’s been biding his time, and why he’s coming out of hiding now.”
I know I should be relieved Hysan trusts me—and I am—but there’s something strange about how easily he’s accepted my story when compared to everyone else’s reactions. “How did you get to be a diplomatic envoy at such a young age?” I ask.
“That’s funny.” But for the first time, he’s not smiling. “I didn’t peg you as someone who would ask that question.”
His eyes seem to darken during moments when he’s most present, but when his mind clouds over with other thoughts, like now, the green fades until his irises become as elusive as air. We’re quiet again, and I realize he’s touchier about his age than I am.
“You’ve been to Gemini before?” I ask, determined to keep the tone lighter from now on. There’s enough tension on this ship already.
“Unfortunately,” he says, his eyes still distant.
“Can you tell me about its Guardians?”
He nods. “’Nox, show us the Twins.” A small holo-map of the Double constellation spins in the air above the helm. “Gemini’s two Guardians are brother Caaseum and sister Rubidum, and they’re at least three centuries old—but when you see them, you’ll think they’re twelve-year-olds. They use appalling procedures to maintain their youth.”
“Three centuries? How can anyone live that long?” My mother told me about the Twins, and we touched on them at the Academy, but only very peripherally. Like every House, Gemini guards its secrets jealously, so they don’t share all the details of their major discoveries.
“In the early days, Gemini led the Zodiac in scientific and humanitarian achievements,” says Hysan. “They imagined solutions for every problem, and they brought a lot of those solutions to life. Then their House discovered cell regeneration, and holding on to youth became a Geminin obsession. Lots of aristocrats do it, but few take it to the Twins’s extreme. The cost is beyond imagining, and so is the pain.”
“How long can they live that way?”
“The longest anyone’s lasted is about three hundred and fifty years. The Geminin Guardians are probably reaching their end.”
Goosebumps ripple up my arms. The thought of living long enough to watch my family and friends die around me is depressing and lonely in a way that no other companionship could fix.
Hysan scans the blinking messages on the Shielding from Shadows screen. As he clicks through the entries, I ask, “How did you design a shield that repels Psynergy?”
He keeps studying the controls, looking preoccupied. Another screen blinks new data, and he speaks quietly to his ship. To me, he says, “We’re about to land. Better alert your watchdog.”
“He’s my Advisor,” I say defensively.
He hands me two metallic devices. “Take these collars. There’s one for each of you.”
“What do they do?”
“They’re cloaking veils that project a mirage of invisibility. We should all wear them when we disembark until we’re sure it’s safe.”
Before I can ask more questions, he turns and starts a long conversation with his ship, so I wend my way forward to reach the front tip of the nose. Ahead of us, the smaller Geminin planet, Argyr, shines like a green melon. When we get there, I’ll have to explain my theory about Ophiuchus again, the theory Mathias still won’t accept.
I peer through the glass, and the cold black eternity of Space makes me sad. I miss the Blue Planet. “Every world is beautiful from a distance,” says Mathias, coming up beside me.
The sound of his musical voice still jostles my heart, though I’m not sure how I feel about him anymore. If he could be the guy with the soft eyes all the time, it’d be different. But I can’t reconcile the person who swore his loyalty to me on his Mother’s life—who risked his own life setting out on this mission—with the Mathias who distrusts me.
“What are those?” he asks, pointing to the thin metal collars.
After I explain, we put them on. “All this stealth technology,” he whispers. “I suspect your Libran may be involved in espionage.”
“Espionage?”
“Every House engages in it,” he says, still whispering like Hysan can hear us. “Even Cancer has a secret service.”
“We do?” It’s hard to imagine Cancrian spies. We’re not very good liars. “Well, aren’t you glad this ship is veiled?” The question comes out like a challenge, and I realize I’m being as defensive of Hysan as I was of Mathias earlier.
“Of course,” he says, forgetting to keep his voice down. “If it hadn’t—if the shield hadn’t shut down the Psy attack . . .”