Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(81)

I blink. “Summons?”

“Yes. Very inconvenient. I’ve been traveling for days. This carnival had better be worth it.” She nudges against me with a wry smile. “Your song has quite the following on Gemini. I didn’t know you were a drummer! We should start an intergalactic band—I hear Lord Neith has perfect pitch!”

Sirna takes my elbow and hustles me forward. “It’s time.” Mathias falls in line behind us.

As we pass the ambassadors’ throne-like seats, I see Morscerta whispering with his aides, and again I wonder if he’s a hologram. So I seize the moment to brush against his sleeve.

The touch gives me a slight static shock, and he must feel it, too, because he turns with a scowl of indignation, which quickly transforms into a gracious smile. “My lady Rhoma.”

“Sorry, sir. This place is quite crowded,” I say, hurrying on.

He’s no hologram. His dark aura must be some sort of energy field. For personal protection or to mask his appearance, I don’t know.

I glance around the audience, wondering how many other visitors are really who they seem.

Again, I climb the short run of stairs and stand alone on the half-moon stage, facing my inquisitors. Only this time, the arena is filled to capacity. My heart’s beating shakes my whole frame, like it’s the hiccups.

I bat the flying cameras away and try to clear my throat. Others have joined the ambassadors on the main floor, and more gilded seats have been added. One newcomer is radiant little Rubidum. Another new arrival leaves me thunderstruck: Lord Neith.

Even sitting, his regal figure towers over everyone. He wears a golden court suit, and perched on his short white hair is a high-church miter bearing the Libran glyph, the Scales of Justice. His quartz-white eyes are sharp and amazingly human. Hysan sits directly behind him, and when I give him a questioning look, he merely quirks his eyebrows and shakes his head.

Ambassador Charon is whispering to an old man wearing a massive holographic crown that looks incredibly real and is engraved with a Scorpion. In fact, all six newcomers wear headdresses adorned with royal glyphs. I see Sagittarius’s Archer, Leo’s Lion, Pisces’s Fish. Why are so many of the other Guardians at the Plenum today?

They would have to have started their trips many days ago to cover such vast distances, and no one knew I would address the Plenum before yesterday. Right?

The crowd quiets down, and someone’s standing to speak. It’s Morscerta. Next to him sits a dull-eyed boy of five or six, wearing a royal Aquarian crown twice the size of his head. Morscerta pats the child Guardian with fondness (though whether it’s genuine or for show, I can’t tell), then speaks in his strange, lilting voice.

“Greetings, Honored Rhoma. May I ask why my young Supreme Guardian has been summoned into your presence?”

A horrid dread makes me stagger . . . as suddenly, I realize why we’re all here.

I catch hold of the lectern, and without thinking, I shout, “It’s an ambush!”

The crowd erupts in angry hollering, and for the first time, I notice many of the seats are packed with wiry Scorps in dark glasses. They look surlier than everyone else, and suddenly I’m reminded of their conflict on Sagittarius.

I look around to see who else is in the audience. None of the students are here, and I can’t spot a single one of the Cancrians I saw in the lobby. Someone has rigged this.

I try to speak above the noise. “There are too many Guardians gathered in one place. We’re a sitting target. We have to separate ourselves and scatter!”

Beside me, Charon lifts the speaking staff and bangs its long rod on the floor. Every voice falls silent, and he lets the tension gather. It’s clear he knows how to control a crowd. For such a secular House, the Scorps seem to be carrying on a lot like zealots these days.

When he turns to me, he’s smiling, but his face looks more than ever like a rapier. “Guardian, you agreed to submit to more questioning. Are you afraid we’ll expose your hoax?”

I pound the lectern, knocking my coronet askew. “You have to listen. This same thing happened on Cancer. Ophiuchus struck us when nearly all our Zodai Guards were together in one place.”

“Enough fantasy, child.” Charon brandishes his staff. “Now. First question. Is it true you left your House in the middle of the night without informing your Matriarchs?”

I’m shaking with frustration. “Yes, but—”

“A simple yes or no is sufficient.” Charon beams his greasy smile at the spectators, then rounds on me. “Is it true you and your lover stole a ship belonging to another House?”

I stare, openmouthed and mortified, but Hysan shoots to his feet and says, “I offered the lady a ride. She’s no thief.”

Charon wheels around and points his staff at Hysan. “Guards, escort this heckler from the Plenum.”

“Wait a minute,” starts Hysan—but four soldiers materialize from the crowd and Taser him. My horrified scream is drowned by the hooting and clapping from the Scorps in the audience.

“Stop!” I yell as the soldiers bundle Hysan’s limp body toward the exit. I look to Sirna for help, but her seat is empty. Mathias seems to have vanished, too, and Lord Neith sits so completely motionless, I wonder if he’s been switched off. Sirna was right—the ambassadors blindsided us. I led us right into a trap.

Charon reads from a screen floating in front of him. “Admiral Crius informed your people that you were raising disaster relief funds. Did you raise one single coin to aid your House?”