Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(52)

He returns a moment later, beaming. The official’s expression sours when she sees him squeeze my arm. “We’ve been granted an audience.”





19


CAASY STAMPS HIS FOOT. “Granted? Helios, please. When the Guardians of two Houses come calling on the same day, your man ought to damn well meet us at the front door.”

Ever the diplomat, Hysan pretends not to hear. “This way.” We follow him through clusters of murmuring courtiers. It seems they’ve just learned who we are, and they’re staring, so I cover my torn pocket.

Hysan leads us through a long gallery of decorative porcelains and blown glass. Overhead, a jewel-encrusted mural depicts our Zodiac galaxy, and I lean back to locate the Fourth House. Planet Cancer’s designed as a mosaic of tourmaline and lapis lazuli, circled by four opal moons. I wish we could linger, but Hysan’s practically at the other end of the hall.

At last we enter the last room in the passage. The place is dim and hushed, and a number of richly dressed dignitaries sit in red velvet seats facing a stage on which stands nothing but a large white cube. The cube is about five meters tall, and its walls are smooth and glossy. Maybe it’s some kind of multisided screen.

Hysan directs us to the front row, and we hear the dignitaries rustling their robes as we pass. I keep watching the cube. It’s just sitting there.

Hysan leans over me and says, “I need to file my report. I won’t be long.”

“Can you send a message to Cancer?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “You know a public message wouldn’t be safe.”

“At least try to get the latest newsfeed,” I say.

“Right. I’ll only be a minute.” He bows to the other courtiers and hurries out.

Ten minutes pass. Then another ten. I keep shifting in my seat, glancing around, wondering how soon the next attack will come. We don’t need this delay. We have to warn Virgo.

“This is outrageous,” grumbles Caasy. “What happened to the famous Libran hospitality? I expected singing birds and dancing monkeys. At the very least, a bite of fried larks!”

I’ve never met anyone who could get so moody over missing breakfast. Mathias closes his eyes to meditate—a sensible response to having to wait. I only wish I could feel that calm. The white cube is starting to bore me . . . so much that I start to hallucinate it’s moving. . . .

Until it really is.

What I took for solid white glass appears to be a trick of light. It’s roiling and marbled with iridescent color . . . and now the cube looks like a block of rippling liquid. The dignitaries stir as the house lights dissolve to darkness. The cube glows brighter, and through its fluid front pane, a regal figure steps forth in a white hooded robe.

He’s taller than anyone I’ve ever seen, and when he throws back his hood, his face has flawless golden skin and is framed with close-cropped white hair. Behind him, the cube alters from gold to violet, crimson, chrome, emerald green, and cerulean blue. The shifting light forms a prismatic halo around Lord Neith.

I have to remember to close my mouth.

“So pompous,” whispers Mathias. Caasy’s giggling with glee.

Neith lifts his hands in welcome, his face grave and his pale eyes glittering. “Honored guests, you grace us with your presence.” The deep, sonorous bass of his voice unsettles me.

Caasy’s on his feet, bobbing a bow. “Lord Neith, good to see you again.”

“You as well, Twin Caaseum. To what stars must I give thanks for this charming visit?”

While Caasy chats with Lord Neith, Mathias nudges my knee. “I think it’s all smoke and mirrors. They’re not taking us seriously.”

“I’ll see if I can touch him,” I whisper back.

When Lord Neith finally acknowledges me, I stand up and move closer, stretching out my arm for the hand touch. “Honored Guardian, I’m Rho Grace from Cancer.”

Only after a slight hesitation does he stoop to brush his fingertips against mine. His hand is warm, and blue veins run beneath his skin. When we touch, his quartz eyes soften slightly, and I wonder if I’ve connected with this foreign Guardian. “Well?” whispers Mathias when I sit back down.

“Solid flesh.”

Mathias doesn’t seem satisfied.

“Holy Mother,” booms Lord Neith, “we have watched the news of your planet with great heartache.” When he pauses, I’m startled by the degree of heartfelt compassion that comes over his face—a stark change from his severe expression. “The people of Libra grieve with you.”

I rise. “Thank you, Lord Neith.” I launch into my story, warning about the ancient leader of the Thirteenth House. The dignitaries near us shift restlessly as I describe how the Dark Matter knotted around Virgo and Gemini. “He already smashed our moons. I think he’s also behind the natural disasters of the past year, and he’s going to strike again soon. You should be prepared for the worst.”

When I finish, Lord Neith leans closer to me, and I catch a strong whiff of the scented lotions the Libran commuters all wear. It gives the skin special protection from Helios’s rays, which can be more potent here, given Libra’s heavy atmospheric gases.

“We are grateful for your concern, Mother Rho, but we have our own Zodai who have seen no cause for alarm. And now, may I offer you the hospitality of our court?”