Starglass (34 page)

“Hmm? No. It was that redheaded man. You know the one—the librarian.”

“Van Hofstadter?” I hated saying his name.

“Yes, that’s the one. He wanted to speak to you. I suppose this has something to do with the Children of Abel.”

“I suppose it does,” I agreed. I reached for my coat again, slinging it over my shoulders. But as I turned to leave, Mara called out to me one more time.

“Terra!”

When I turned, I saw that Mara grimaced.

“You’re still involved with the Children of Abel, aren’t you?” she asked. “This didn’t end with the common foxglove.”

I hung my head. The bottle in my lab coat pocket felt suddenly very heavy, as if the glass had been blown out of ancient lead. I suppose my silence answered for me.

“Are you comfortable with your role in this?” Mara demanded, rising from the desk and walking close to me. I bit my lip, hard. Tasted blood.

“I don’t see any other way,” I said. “If I don’t kill Silvan—”

“Silvan? Everyone knows that boy is a milk-fed fool. He’s only a pawn for the Council. Is this what your engagement is about?”

Of course, that wasn’t
all
it was about. It was about kisses, too, shared under a canopy of empty branches and stars. It was about hands and heat.

But none of that mattered, not really. What mattered was the poison weighing down my pocket.

“Yes,” I said bleakly. “I’m marrying him so I can kill him.”

Mara sighed, turning away from me. When at last she spoke, it was over her shoulder. “It’s hard, on this ship. So few choices. Such claustrophobic air we must breathe.”

“You’ve made your own choices,” I protested. Somewhere deep in my heart I’d become convinced that I’d been doing the same—forging ahead on a whole new path, exacting revenge for my mother’s death. Now I didn’t feel so sure.

Mara gave a snort. I could see how her lip curled even in profile. “I
fought for every choice I made. And I’m a better mother at sixty than I ever would have been at twenty, like the other sweet young things from my clutch. I never wanted to be married. Never wanted to be a mother. But the Council saw to it that I married and had children, whether I liked it or not.”

“You could have joined the Children of Abel. Momma asked you—”

“And trade the Council’s goals for the goals of the unwashed masses? That’s the problem with picking sides, Terra. You end up fighting for someone else. But who is to say that someone else has ever been fighting for
you
?”

I pressed my lips together, unsure what to say or do to make Mara understand. She was right—I didn’t have any choices, not really. So long as I was trapped under the glass of the dome, I’d be living the life that either the Council or the Children of Abel chose for me. But I was doing my best, wasn’t I?

“You should go,” she said at last. “The librarian’s waiting.”

I gave a small, sad nod and hustled out through the laboratory door.

•  •  •

“I despise you, Terra Fineberg.”

Van glowered at me across the library’s checkout desk. His hands were making quick work through a pile of returns. In the morning
light of the library, his copper hair looked as dark and shiny as blood. I blanched, stuffing my hands down inside my pockets.

“What did I do? I’m doing—” I glanced out at the people browsing in the stacks and lowered my voice. “I’m doing what you asked of me, aren’t I? I got the poison from Mara. I’m marrying Silvan.”

“Yes. Silvan.” Van’s lips tightened. “Seems a little bird told Rafferty about my friendship with the clock keeper. Did you know that Koen refuses to speak to me now? Says he’s going to marry that Federman girl. Says he deserves a chance to be normal.”

Van’s voice changed as he spoke, revealing deep emotion. I had the sudden disarming suspicion that Van had spent most of the last few days crying.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and then I repeated it for emphasis, to show that I meant it. Because I did. Whenever I thought of what I’d done, I felt halfway ready to puke. “I’m very, truly sorry. I didn’t mean to tell Silvan. It was a mistake. Rachel—”

Van let out a sound of disgust. “I know all about Rachel,” he said. “I know the whole gruesome story. I suppose he’ll forget all of this eventually. He won’t be able to hide his true self for long. But to be honest, Terra, I find it difficult to abide the sight of you right now.”

My cheeks burned. “So why did you ask me here, then?”

“Because people are talking. About your early morning walks
to your brother’s quarters. About how you and Silvan Rafferty have been rutting in the fields.”

Heat rose to my face. “We have not
rutted
!” I said, but then Van lifted his fingers to his lips and let out a soft hiss of air. I guess that was fair. We
were
in a library, after all.

“We didn’t
rut
,” I went on, whispering. “It hasn’t gone that far. Besides, how am I supposed to make him believe we’re to be married if I don’t return his affections?”

Van gave a shrug. “Conduct yourself however you want. I don’t care if the two of you screw like bunnies. The only thing I care about is the Children of Abel. I need to know you’re on our side. I need your promise that your little romance with Rafferty is only an act.”

Van spoke like he thought I was some silly girl, helpless before Silvan’s charms. But the flash of anger that I felt was accompanied by a hearty side of guilt, too. My emotions had been fickle lately. Even I wasn’t sure that I could trust them.

“I promise!” I said, forcing the words.

“Good. You know, it won’t take much to set them off.” With a tilt of his head, he indicated the people who browsed through the stacks. “Once you’ve done what we’ve asked of you, there will be chaos. We’re not just a scattered band of rebels anymore. I’m talking ship-wide mutiny.”

Mutiny
. My hands went cold at the word. I balled my fists, then
thrust them down deep into the pockets of my lab coat.

“That’s what you wanted,” I began, “isn’t it? Riots? Chaos?”

“The people of the
Asherah
have been complacent for too long,” Van agreed. “As dead as the engines of this ship. Everything’s finally changing, Terra. Thanks to you.”

I looked up. There, in the shadows of the towering bookshelves, in the light that glinted down at us from the stained-glass windows, people watched. Little children grew quiet as their gazes met mine. Old men squinted up from their reading, nodding their gray heads. People touched their fingers to their chests, saluting me. As I looked, Van spoke.

“The citizens are growing restless. They’ve been waiting for something like this for a very long time. And they’ve been patient. But now, with that planet looming overhead? We know we don’t have to wait much longer. And it’s all because of you. Haven’t you seen it, the way people look at you?”

“Maybe,” I mumbled. Then I reconsidered. “I’ve been trying to ignore it. I’ve had other things on my mind.”

Van’s haughty eyes flashed, as bright as jade. “Yes. Exactly. You’ve been
distracted
.”

I scowled. When I didn’t reply, Van returned to his work, scanning in the returns one by one. I reached over to a nearby cart, idly running my finger over the rows of spines. Some of the books had water damage, the pages rumpled even as they sat wedged between other
books. Some had crumbling covers. Most had been mended over and over again, the book cloth coated with library tape. All were very old.

“Van?” I called, my hand lingering on the top of one of the books.

“What do you want?” he asked with a scowl. I didn’t flinch, not this time.

“What’s going to happen to all these books when we land?”

Van looked down at the volume in his hands.

“We’ll bring what we can to the surface. A shuttle’s worth, maybe. The most important volumes only, of course.”

“But what about the rest? And the library itself?” I gaped up at the stained glass. Planet Earth was cerulean and emerald. Golden stars winked and twinkled behind her. Those windows had always been one of my favorite things on the ship “Do we just . . . leave it here?”

“You know, I used to worry about the same thing. Oh, Benjamin tried to teach me it was a trifle. The library was included in the original manifest only because one of the first Council members insisted on bringing his books along. Argued it would help us preserve Terran culture. Really, it was a luxury our ancestors shouldn’t have been able to afford—books.” He set the book down on the counter, tapping its surface with his index finger.

“We learned of that donor’s wisdom only after the last uprising. A hundred and seventy years ago, the Council deleted our digital archives as a punishment. Within seconds, thousands
of volumes . . . gone.” He gestured expansively with his fingers how—
poof!
—all that information had just disappeared.

“Benjamin and I used to argue about it. I said we needed to bring every volume to the surface even if it took a thousand shuttle trips. We needed our legacy, I said. Then, when he told me about the Council’s plot to keep us in the dome, I told him I hoped the Children of Abel would fail. I told him I didn’t want to leave my home behind. Or the library. The pretty windows. And all these
stupid
books.”

“But not anymore?” I asked. Van’s expression was bleak.

“I was a child then,” he said. “What did I know about anything? I hadn’t even been in love.”

The frown that creased the corner of his mouth was deep. I felt a lump tighten my throat at the thought of it—of  Van falling in love with Koen and then losing him because of me. But I swallowed that thought. “Now how do you feel?”

He laughed. Desperate, hollow laughter. “I don’t care about books. I don’t care about buildings. Freedom. That’s what matters. So I can love whomever I please.”

In the darkness of the airless library, Van’s gaze searched mine. He was looking for promises. Vows. My throat grew even tighter. I looked up at the light that passed, green and blue, through the stained glass Earth. Then I looked away.

T
he day arrived when we were to have our bloodlines read. This time Silvan met me at
my
house—or Ronen’s house, at least. There was no way I was going wandering through the dome in search of him, not after what had happened with Koen.

He arrived early, while I was still brushing the postwork snarls from my hair. Ronen appeared at my bedroom door, jiggling Alyana in his arms.

“Your intended is here,” he said. His smile surprised me. I hadn’t
expected any kindness from Ronen, though things
had
been going better between us lately.

“Thank you.” I set my hairbrush down. Shifting Alyana from one arm to the other, Ronen’s smile grew.

“You know, Abba would be so proud of you. How you’ve risen. The captain’s wife!”

I fought the urge to grimace. I didn’t want to think about Abba or what he might have thought of my match. But Ronen didn’t mean the words to be an insult. So I kissed his cheek as I passed.

“Thanks, Ro,” I said. I hadn’t called him that in years, since we’d both been kids. My brother just grunted in embarrassment.

I headed downstairs, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door and tossing it over my shoulders. I ignored the familiar weight in the pocket—the little bottle of poison, waiting for the day it would be used. Well, it would have to wait a little longer. It wouldn’t be used today.

Silvan stood straight, grinning at me, looking beautiful. He wore a long tunic. At first glance it looked simply white. But when I came closer, I saw that it was embroidered with tiny flowers in threads of violet and gold. It matched his rank cord perfectly. It was a beautiful, fine outfit—and it must have cost a fortune. Seeing how I regarded him, he flicked his curls off his shoulder, preening.

“Do you like it?”

“You look nice,” I admitted, not really quite sure what else to say.

“I wanted to wear something special,” he said. “Since you and Abba won’t let me wear what I want on our wedding day.”

We stepped out into the cold together. It was almost suppertime. The districts were crowded as people went from the butcher, to the baker, to the greengrocer, collecting their rations. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought their voices seemed to ebb as we passed. Each citizen lifted two fingers to his or her heart. Silvan looked smug, his posture firm and straight. He thought they were saluting him. I let him think that. In a way, I would have preferred it too. It would have been simpler if we were just the rising captain and his intended, going to seal our engagement.

But of course I knew the truth. As they touched the pads of their fingers to their chests, all eyes were on me.

Every day we neared the surface brought me one step closer to executing the terrible task. To killing Silvan. He viewed the passing days eagerly: Soon we’d be on Zehava, and I’d be fat with his babies. But I didn’t have the pleasure of that fantasy. I knew the truth.

We stood in the gleaming record room as the archivist read down the list of names. She was a better liar than I was, giving no indication that she knew that soon Silvan would be dead. I stood stone-still underneath the weight of his arm. He clutched me to him, a broad grin plastered across his face.

At the end of it she gave us a pen and made us sign on a dotted line at the bottom of the page. Our signatures were our pact, our promise to each other that we would be wed. My name was writ small, in cramped letters that hardly took up any space at all. But Silvan wrote his own name in huge, loopy script.

If only he’d known what he was signing up for.

•  •  •

After it was all over, we gathered in Silvan’s quarters for wine. My intended had orchestrated the whole gathering especially on my behalf. His older sister and her husband stood there, bored, rolling their eyes at everything Silvan said. His mother’s mouth was tight with disapproval. Silvan didn’t pay them any mind, though, hustling about to fetch glasses and pour drinks. Only Silvan’s father looked at all pleased with the idea. When Silvan went to fill my glass, Mazdin stopped him.