Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(93)

Many of them are young, student-aged. Surely that’s Nishi’s doing. Lord Neith stands at center stage, holding the speaker’s staff and scrolling Sirna’s data on four large holographic screens that float through the sphere, proving beyond a doubt that the cosmic ray story was a deliberate lie. Cameras alight on his arms, and he ignores them.

We haven’t unveiled yet, but Neith sees us at once and motions us forward. Hysan gestures for me to go first, and this time, instead of hanging back and guarding the door, Mathias comes with me.

The three of us mount the stage, but Hysan whispers that we shouldn’t unveil. “Wait till they beg for you, Rho.”

“Beg for me?”

With a mischievous look, he nods toward the audience, then leans to whisper in my ear. “Someone sent Ambassador Sirna’s data to news stations across the galaxy. I can’t imagine who. And by the way, that’s your second birthday gift, my lady.”

I stare at him with wide eyes, not believing what I’m hearing. “Are you still going to tell the other Houses about Psy shields?”

He flashes his crooked smile. “Patience. That’s number three.”

I’m about to hug him when Charon shoots to his feet and tries to take the staff from Neith. We watch him struggle, but Neith wins easily. “I will not yield the floor to you, sir.”

The students pelt Charon with wadded scraps of food and trash until he’s forced to take a seat. Members of the Scorpio Royal Guard remove him from the proceedings, and cheers break out among the audience.

“I think you’ll yield to me, Lord Neith.” Solemn little Rubidum rises to her feet. “My brother’s been vaporized. That gives me all the grounds I need to address this gathering.”

Under our veils, the three of us trade somber looks. Caasy’s gone.

I think back to his warning that I’m being deceived. Was he seeing Charon’s actions? Or was he foreshadowing his own theft of my black opal just to mess with me?

“Rubi, Rubi, Rubi!”

Rubidum smiles, though tears streak her opalescent face paint. “Let her speak,” I whisper, and Hysan nods at Neith.

Neith bows and gestures for her to take the floor. She climbs onstage, passing close by us without noticing. The speaker’s staff is too long for her to hold upright, so she grips its head and lets the tail end rest at an angle on the floor.

“Fellow Guardians, you know me. For three hundred years, my brother and I have seen plagues, floods, famines, disasters of every kind. The Taurian mudslides, the Piscene drought, the Leonine fires—we watched them with troubled hearts. Yet until today, we assumed these events were normal, cyclical, beyond anyone’s control.”

She pauses to dab a tear, and the audience murmurs.

“But now, friends, we’ve seen atrocities without equal. Three Houses laid to waste in one month. Three Guardians struck down. Origene’s dead, Moira’s a vegetable, and my brother . . .” She sniffles and wipes another tear.

Then she aims her staff at the audience with a look of blood thirst. “We have to stop denying the truth. Someone’s orchestrating this. Whose House will be next? Yours? Yours?”

People shrink back in their seats as she points. “Not one of us is safe while the monster lives. We know his name. What is it?”

“Ophiuchus!” the Geminin group yells. And just like that, the people of Gemini are believers.

“Yes, Ophiuchus!” Rubidum moves across the stage like a tragic actor, dragging the end of the staff. “Behold his work.”

Near the front of the crowd, a Geminin stands and beams images from the Tattoo on his palm to the virtual screens: gruesome videos from Argyr’s burn wards of the injured and the dying. Their agony silences everyone.

Rubidum lifts her head. “Mother Rhoma Grace warned my brother and me about Ophiuchus. I was a fool not to listen then, but now I say this butcher must die.”

“Kill the butcher! Kill the butcher!”

The chant echoes through the Geminin group. Then, to my amazement, it spreads like fire through the entire crowd.

I can’t believe how fast terror can turn the tide of public opinion. Suddenly everyone believes in the boogeyman.

“He can strike anywhere, anytime!” Rubidum shouts above the noise. “He’ll destroy us all unless we act. We cannot sit still.”

When the frenzy reaches a crescendo, Rubidum drops the staff with a clatter and raises both hands to the sky. “Friends, we were wrong to ban Rho Grace from this Plenum. She was the only one who foresaw this foe. We need her on our side.”

The students begin to chant my name, and to my shock, over half the audience joins in. Overhead, the holograms echo the chant like crashing cymbals.

“Rho! Rho! Rho!”

I was willing to sacrifice my life just to convince the Zodiac of Ophiuchus’s existence. Now that they believe, I should be thrilled . . . only I’m not. Something about this feels wrong.

Reason hasn’t converted them—the fervor of the room has.

Albor Echus begs for order, swinging his robes of fur, and Neith pounds the lectern with his fist. “Shall we call back Mother Rho?”

“Yes!” the people thunder. “Call her back! Bring back Mother Rho!”

“Now,” whispers Hysan. “Unveil.”

All three of us switch off our collars, and when we pop into view, the audience’s reaction makes me lightheaded.