Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(5)

The problem with digging so deep inside my mind without using an Astralator is there’s no way to tell apart which warnings are from the stars and which ones I’m manifesting myself.

Thebe vanishes again.

“There’s a bad omen,” I blurt. “A dangerous opposition in the stars.”

The Ephemeris shuts off, and the lights come on. Dean Lyll is scowling at me. “Nonsense. Show me your work.”

“I . . . forgot my Astralator.”

“You haven’t even done the arithmetic!” He rounds on Instructor Tidus. “Is this a joke?”

Instructor Tidus addresses me from the other end of the room. “Rho, the fact that we’re here at all right now should indicate how crucial this test is. Our most important long-term planning depends on precise star readings. How we invest, where we build, what our farms grow. I thought you would take today more seriously.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, shame spreading through me as swiftly as Maw poison.

“Your unorthodox methods are failing you, and now I expect you to do the math, the way your peers do.”

Even my toes must be red. “Could I go get my Astralator?”

Without answering, Dean Lyll opens the door and calls into the hallway, “Does anyone have an Astralator for an unprepared Acolyte to borrow?”

Even, measured footsteps approach, and a man marches into the room, something small clasped in his hands. I suppress a gasp of surprise.

“Lodestar Mathias Thais!” booms Dean Lyll, reaching out to touch fists, our traditional greeting. “Wonderful to have you back on our moon for the celebration.”

The man nods but doesn’t speak. He’s still shy. The first time I saw him was almost five years ago, when he was still a student at Zodai University. I was twelve and just starting at the Academy. I missed the singing surf of the Cancer Sea too much to get more than a couple hours’ sleep those nights, so I’d spend the rest of the time exploring the city-sized, enclosed compound we share with the university.

That’s how I discovered the solarium. It’s at the very end of the compound, on the university side, a wide room with windowed walls that curve to form a windowed ceiling. I remember walking in and watching in awe as Helios came into view. I closed my eyes and let the giant orange-red rays warm my skin—until I heard a noise behind me.

In the shadow of an elaborate moonstone sculpture, carved in the shape of our Guardian, was a guy. His eyes were closed in deep meditation, and I recognized his meditative pose instantly. He was practicing Yarrot.

I came back the next day with a book to read, and he was there again. Soon, it became a ritual. Sometimes we were alone, sometimes there were others. We never spoke, but something about being near him, or maybe just being near Yarrot again, soothed my nerves and made it easier to be so far from home.

“That’s a marvelous Astralator,” says the dean, as the Lodestar holds it out to him. “Give it to Acolyte Rho.” I swallow, hard, as he turns to me for the first time.

Surprise registers in his indigo blue eyes. He knows me. Warmth spreads through my skin, like I’m being bathed in the light of Helios again.

The Lodestar must be twenty-two now. He’s grown—his lean body has a bigger build, and his wavy black hair is trimmed short and neat, like the other male Zodai. “Don’t drop it, please,” he says in a mild baritone, a voice so musical my bones vibrate.

He passes me his mother-of-pearl Astralator, and our hands brush. The touch tingles up my arm.

So low only I can hear him, he adds, “It’s a family heirloom.”

“She will return it to you when her exam concludes—and in one piece.” Dean Lyll doesn’t look at me. “Her grade will rest on its safe return.”

Before I can say a single word in his presence, the Lodestar turns and takes off. Great—now he thinks I’m a mute.

“Again,” says the dean, impatience coming through in his clipped tone.

The Ephemeris takes over the room. Once I’m Centered and the moons have aligned, I gently hold out the cylindrical instrument and point it at the fading trajectory arcs. Cancrians have excellent memories, and mine is good even by our standards, so I don’t need to write the numbers down. When I’ve taken all the measurements I need—enough to make a prediction about tonight—the dean shuts off the Ephemeris.

I’m still making calculations when the timer goes off. When I finish, I realize the dean was right—there’s no opposition in the stars.

“The math looks good,” he says roughly. “See how much better you do when you follow instructions and use the right equipment?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, even though something is still bothering me. “Sir, what if using the Astralator is shortsighted? What if I didn’t see the omen this time because the disturbance isn’t near our moons yet—it’s still at the far edge of Space? Wouldn’t the Astralator be unable to account for a distance that far?”

The dean sighs. “More nonsense. Oh well. At least you passed.” Still shaking his head, he yanks open the door and says, “Instructor Tidus, I will meet you at the celebration.”

When we’re alone, my teacher smiles at me. “How many times must we tell you, Rho? Your clever theories and imaginative stories have no place in astrological science.”