Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (22 page)

“What is that?”

“Just tell him. He’ll understand.”

“Why does it matter? He has enough problems trying to figure out what to do with Horebian refugees. He can’t do anything for Tikkun.”

“Give him the chance.”

The haze danced around her. A warm womb outside of time, she let herself bask in the tingling sensations of bliss and oneness. She felt safe, beyond anyone’s harmful reach.

His patient voice echoed. “Never believe that, Rachel. We’re always in Epagael’s reach. So long as this universe exists.”

She flinched, almost waking.
“I’m not ready to give you an answer yet.”

“I know. I didn’t press, did I?”

“No, but—“

“Then don’t worry about it. Soon, when you’re more receptive, I’ll take you away from here, to a place where we can talk unfettered, and I’ll answer all the questions you want to ask me. But for now, can I teach you some things? They’re pleasant. They won’t disturb your rest and you won’t understand the equations anyway.”

“Equations? About what?”

“Redemption. They’re called the Treasures of Light. Regardless of your answer to me, someday soon you’ll need them.”

She hesitated, not certain she wanted to know, but after the attack in the corridor, fear prompted her.
“What are they?”

He paused a long moment, letting her drift on the soothing waves of nothingness. The golden haze seemed to penetrate every pore, filtering inside her to fill her so completely she could almost lose herself, almost escape the imprisonment of her own flesh and soar like the formless wind.

“Sleep, Rachel. Go deep, deeper than you’ve ever gone. Find that one place inside that always listens. Deeper, deeper. Yes. There. Good. Listen, now.
Listen very carefully, Rachel-Sophia, for this is what you have done and must do. It is what you are and are not yet. I want you to repeat these words.
…”

His voice lilted and she heard the words, but didn’t understand them. Still, she floated through the melody, whispering the strange musical sentences as he’d instructed:
“I am the riches of the Light. I walked in the depth of the Darkness, and I persevered until I attained to the middle of the prison, to the foundations of Chaos where I stood next to the white pillar of light: Jachin. On my left, stood the shadowy pillar of darkness: Boaz. Upon each sat a celestial ball of divine energy. I took one of the sapphires, a sacred stone formed of heavenly dew from the Treasury of Light, and threw it into the abyss.
…”

Sybil woke, frightened. She curled into a tight ball on her top bunk, pulling the covers over her head like a suit of armor as she listened to the strange words her mother spoke. What did they mean? She’d been in the middle of a
funny
dream before her mother’s voice startled her. Scenes still drifted in her mind. Huge ships swooped through yellow skies, flying over a city filled with tall pointed buildings. She’d been standing next to a little boy in a big lavender room with beautiful pictures on the walls. The boy’s voice had mixed with her mother’s, forming a strange scary sound in her mind.

“Aktariel… let me go,”
her mother whispered. Sybil squeezed her eyes closed so hard the lids hurt. A horrifying thought dawned. Was her mother having
funny
dreams, too? Did the wicked Aktariel have something to do with her and the little boy and the lavender room with pretty pictures? She’d always thought God sent people funny dreams. Was Epagael trying to tell her something? Her mother called to Aktariel again and Sybil felt sick.

She slid deeper under her blankets until her feet thudded against the metal rail at the bottom. Twining fists in the sheet, Sybil pulled it down over her mouth and cried softly.

Mikael woke and blinked lazily at the ceiling above him. The dim silver light gave the overhead panels an opalescent sheen like frosted glass under water. He’d been dreaming about yellow skies and those funny rocks, called the Horns of the Calf. In his dream, Metatron had come to him and they’d talked about how to win the war that raged on the plains below. It had been a funny talk, because all through it, Mikael’s head had hurt, as though Metatron’s voice did funny things to his brain. He reached up to run fingers through his black hair.

How long had the shot made him sleep? He remembered that his grandfather had come to him and told him he had to sleep longer than Captain Tahn had wanted—that it was important or a lot of people would die. So he’d played with his grandfather for hours on the floor of his chamber on Kayan, listening to story after story about Jekutiel and the
Mea
and ships coming out of whirlwinds to destroy bad people. He’d crawled through the rain-drenched forests, smelling the earth and pine, making forts behind fallen logs. Being home again had made him happy …

… and now he was back on the
Hoyer.

Tears hurt his throat. He lifted the corner of his sheet to wipe his eyes. Then, violently, he threw the gray blanket off, kicking it to the foot of his bed.

Rolling to his side, he froze.

A man in a gray uniform sat sleeping in a chair by the table. Mikael’s eyes went suddenly over the cabin. Groggily, he sat up. The bed was in a different place and his bathroom door opened on the opposite side. When had they moved him?

Yawning, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and looked at the sleeping guard. He had a square face with a long black beard and mustache.

“Excuse me?” he whispered softly. “Sir?”

The man stirred, shifting to a different position in the chair.

A bit louder Mikael called, “Mister? I’m awake now. Are we at Palaia Station yet?”

The guard opened his eyes and heaved a sleep-worn sigh. “I certainly hope not.”

“But I need to get to Palaia Station to talk to Magistrate Slothen. Captain Tahn promised he’d take me.” A small shiver of fear prickled at the back of his neck. Something was wrong.

The guard got to his feet. “I’m Nikos Kilom, son—a doctor, of sorts—if you count a day’s worth of training. How are you feeling. A little hazy, I’ll bet.”

“Yes, sir. A little. My head hurts.”

“It should. That was some dose of sedative they gave you to keep you out for two days straight.”

Mikael blinked and dug his fingers into his sheet. He licked his lips anxiously. Mister Kilom said that like it was bad. “The captain wanted me to sleep. I have nightmares sometimes.”

“Well, a lot has happened since you closed your eyes, Mikael Calas. A lot, indeed.”

The doctor stood and stretched his arms over his head, then went to a black metal pack on the table and opened it, taking out several instruments that looked cold. Mikael braced himself for their touch.

“What are those?”

“Hmm? Oh, I need to check your heart and lungs and some other things.”

“You don’t want my blood, do you? I gave Doctor Iona a river full.”

“I won’t take near that much.”

Mikael’s heart sank. He squirmed while he waited. Why did doctors always sound so glad to be hurting kids? Kilom smiled as he brought the pack and opened it on Mikael’s bed, then sat down beside him. First, he took a gray box with lights and dials and pressed it against Mikael’s chest for a moment. The boy bit his lip to keep from flinching when the icy metal touched him.

Kilom took the box awav and squinted at the dials, writing something in a book he’d laid open on Mikael’s blanket. “Well, that looks pretty good.”

“What did it say?” He tried to read the book but couldn’t get a good enough view. He struggled, peeking around every way he could.

“Oh, it said your heart’s still a little slow, but your lungs sound clear.”

“Is that okay?”

“I think so. For now.” Kilom reached into his pack again and drew out a needle and Mikael winced, groaning. The doctor patted his cheek hard. “I’ll get it over fast. Why don’t you roll up your sleeve.”

“Yes, sir.”

He pushed up the wrinkled brown fabric and gritted his teeth as the doctor laid the needle against his flesh. A soft swish sounded and the needle went away filled with his blood. It only hurt a little. He rubbed his arm vigorously to get Wood back into the empty spot.

“What happened while I was asleep, sir? How far are we from Palaia Station?”

Kilom studied the readings on the analyzer where he’d dumped Mikael’s blood. “Oh, it’s a long story. Let me just tell you you’re among friends now. A Gamant crew is running this ship and we have most of the Magisterial officers locked up on level seven.”

“I thought I was on seven?”

“Not anymore. Now you’re on level nineteen. Jeremiel insisted we put you in the safest place possible.”

Mikael stopped breathing, eyes widening as excitement flooded through him. “Jeremiel…
Baruch?”

“The same.”

Mikael let out a small cry and lurched off the bed, running barefoot across the cool carpet for the door.
“Where is he? Where is he?I have to see him! I have to tell him something very important! The Antimashiah is here right now! We have to …
” he stopped suddenly, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to tell anybody but Mister Baruch.

Kilom got to his feet and threw out a calming hand. “I don’t know where he is right now, Mikael. Come and sit back down and let me call him for you. He’s been by twice to see you while you were asleep. I’m sure, if he’s not busy, he’ll come again.”

Mikael punched his door patch again and again, tears of frustration stinging his eyes. “No! I have to see him now.
Right NOW!
My grandfather told me something to tell him. Why won’t my door open?”

“It’s locked, son. Here, come and sit down with me. Let’s talk. It’s locked to keep you safe. As the new leader of Gamant civilization, your life is very precious to all of us.”

Mikael wiped his running nose on his sleeve. “But… but I have to see Mister Baruch
now?”

Kilom came slowly across the room. In the dim light, his black hair and beard looked like a dark tangle of brush. He put a gentle hand on Mikael’s shoulder and guided him to one of the chairs by the table. He went, but not willingly. He shuffled his feet as much as he could.

“Why can’t I see Mister Baruch? My grandfather told me something that I have to tell him.
Please!”

He looked up into those dark, disbelieving eyes and suppressed the tears that shook his chest. He crawled into the chair and fiddled with his fingers.

Kilom went to the dispenser and came back with a steaming cup, setting it on the table beside Mikael.

“What’s that?”

“It’s hot cocoa, son. You need to drink something before we start giving you solid food. It’ll make you feel better.”

He frowned, looking curiously at the cup. Wreaths of steam rose like smoke, twisting toward the ceiling.

Kilom leaned across the table to pat his shoulder. His gray jumpsuit rustled loudly. The sound reminded Mikael of the autumn forests on Kayan and his heart ached. He felt all the more desperate to see Mister Baruch.

“Mikael, you drink this first and then I’ll call Jeremiel for you, all right? Once you have something in your stomach, then you can talk to him.”

He didn’t really feel like drinking hot cocoa. He felt like running down the halls screaming until he found Jeremiel Baruch, but this doctor didn’t look like he’d let him. Reluctantly, Mikael picked up his cup and sipped it. It tasted good, making a warm spot in his stomach.

Kilom smiled. “There, see? Isn’t that better? Now, what’s so important that you have to tell Jeremiel immediately? He’s very busy.”

He frowned into his cup, watching the bubbles on top of the brown liquid stretch and die. “I can’t tell you. My grandfather said I could only tell Mister Baruch.”

“I see,” the doctor smiled indulgently, like he thought Mikael was only four instead of almost eight. “Well, you finish your cocoa and I’ll contact Avel Harper. He’s running interference for Jeremiel.”

“Yes, sir, if I have to.”

Kilom smiled, cocking his head slightly. “There’s also someone else who’s been waiting for a long time to see you. He kept coming in while you were asleep just to look at you and make sure you were still all right.”

“Who?”

“Yosef Calas. Your uncle.”

Mikael’s mouth dropped open. He licked the mustache of cocoa from his upper lip and set his glass down. “I thought he was dead.”

“He looked pretty alive to me.”

Mikael lifted his brows in amazement. After his grandfather’s murder on Kayan, his mother had searched and searched for his uncle but hadn’t ever been able to find him. Idly, Mikael wondered where he’d been. He’d have to ask him.

“Where is he?”

Doctor Kilom smiled and his mustache wiggled. “Want me to call him?”

“Maybe we could call Mister Baruch first? Then Uncle Yosef?”

“Business before family? You’ll make an excellent leader for our People, Mikael. All right, Baruch first, but don’t be disappointed if he can’t see you for awhile. The last I heard, he was in an important meeting.”