Treasure of Light (The Light Trilogy) (24 page)

She anxiously milled around the cabin, waiting for Jeremiel. He’d arranged to have dinner with her, but was already forty minutes late. Stewards had brought their food almost an hour ago. It sat in a pile of covered dishes on the table, the sweet scents of curried lamb and Halosian wild rice strong in her nostrils—special treats now that the food system labored under the number of refugees.

Rachel slowly walked her cabin, concentrating on how she’d tell him the things she needed to. Would he think she’d gone crazy? Probably. Why shouldn’t he? She wasn’t convinced of her sanity herself.

Thank God, Ari had come by a half hour ago and taken Sybil to the 3-D library to teach her how to do quick-draws. He seemed genuinely fond of her daughter. And Sybil needed friends, especially now when the entire world might crumble at any moment and she herself was little use as a comforter.

A buzzing sounded and Jeremiel’s deep voice penetrated the room. “Rachel? It’s Jeremiel. Sorry I’m late.”

She ran to the door, pounding the entry patch. When the door snicked back, she saw him standing tall and broad-shouldered in a gray shirt and white pants. He looked so tired he could crumple at her feet at any moment. Four guards surrounded him. His perfectly chiseled face and blond hair seemed relics from another life.

She smiled. “Jeremiel, it’s so good to see you. Come in.”

He stepped into her cabin, giving curt instructions for his guards to wait. In the soft light, his smile seemed an ethereal beacon. “You’re still beautiful. How are you?”

He opened his arms wide and she hurried into them, twining her fingers in the soft folds of his shirt. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat acted as a salve to her fears. His strong hand stroked her hair tenderly.

“Are you all right?” he murmured.

“Yes, better now. How are you?”

“As well as can be expected. Come, let’s sit down and eat before the food gets stone cold. I’m afraid I haven’t much time.”

“Avel prepared me for that. He said you’d spent all day trying and condemning the men who attacked me.”

“Attacked you and several others. The murder rate has been mounting for the past two days. The leader of the assassins was Rumon Kaufa. I ordered him and all his cronies jettisoned from the ship.” As though they’d been discussing the poor weather, he lifted a hand toward the food. “Shall we?”

They went to the table and dropped into chairs. Jeremiel began uncovering the dishes, piling the lids, one inside the other, at the rear of the table. Obviously in a rush, he lifted the serving ladle for the curry.

“May I fill your plate?”

“Yes, I’m starving. I figured if you didn’t get here soon I’d eat without you.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. Besides, you’re going to need your strength.”

“Really? Good. What do you have in mind?”

He filled both their plates and poured the alizarin wine into crystal goblets. Lifting his fork, he smiled wryly. “Let’s get the eating over, all right? That way my tortured stomach will be eased and I’ll be able to concentrate.”

“Sounds good to me.” She reached for her fork. Barely warm, the curry tasted a little pasty, but spicy and good.

Jeremiel ate heartily, smiling at her whenever she looked up. She’d forgotten how good it was to be close to him. He always radiated an inner strength that infected everyone around him. And never more so than now when she desperately needed someone strong to talk to.

When she’d finished, she laid down her fork and picked up her wine, watching him scrape his plate to get the last spoonful of rice.

He looked up, noticing she’d finished. “You’re a fast eater.”

“I’m just not as thorough as you. You eat like this might be your last meal.”

“You’ve always been too observant.” He threw her a bare-soul look of worry, then quickly scooped up the last grain of rice. Getting up from the table, he dragged his chair closer to hers and sat down again.

She studied him, seeing the leaden smudges of exhaustion below his eyes. From this range, she could see lots of things she hadn’t before. Tiny lines around his mouth pinched tightly. Already a pale stain of sweat darkened the collar of his gray shirt. Had he been caught in a strategy session on his way here? Is that why he’d been late and why he had so little time to spend with her?

“Forgive me for noticing,” she said, “but you look a little ragged around the edges. I know some of what’s going on, why don’t you fill me in on the rest?”

He crossed his legs and took a long drink of his wine. “I’m in trouble.”

“You’re never in trouble.”

“I knew you’d say that. That’s why I’ve been so anxious to see you, for moral support.”

She cocked her head. “I’ll bet. What’s going on?”

His face went deadly serious. The rich scent of curry still lingered sweetly in the air, like a fragrant shawl of golden spices cast about their heads.

“To begin with,” he said through a long exhale, “we’ve stolen a C-J class battle cruiser and as soon as the Magistrates discover that fact, I suspect they’ll be a bit dismayed.”

“So we’ve got to find some place to run, right?”

“Right. After we finish loading the refugees, which shouldn’t take more than another day or two.”

“Why do we have to collect everyone from the planet? Can’t some people stay where they are?”

“That would make things a great deal easier, but we can’t. A scorch attack sets off a series of chain reactions, even as brief a one as Horeb experienced. A fire storm flashes over the surface engulfing nearly every thread of vegetation, then the clouds set in and the rains come, drowning everyone and everything, washing away top-soil. But, more importantly, we can’t leave anyone because the Magistrates will be back to finish the job someday soon. I cut their little show of force off in mid-swing. They won’t be happy about that.”

“I suppose we’re hoping the Magistrates don’t catch on before we collect our people and get away safely. Do you have any information which suggests they might be on their way here?”

He heaved a tense breath. “No, but it doesn’t pay to underestimate the devil. I haven’t had time to fully research it, but I think the Magistrates have initiated some sort of silence program regarding the Lysomian system, particularly Tikkun. It terrifies me.”

Rachel’s throat constricted suddenly, blood rushing in her ears. Aktariel’s words whispered in her memory. She fumbled unsteadily with her wine glass, spilling some on the black tabletop. She retrieved a napkin with a shaking hand and sopped it up.

Jeremiel watched her intently. “Want to tell me about it?”

“Let’s finish discussing our predicament here first. Tell me more about the refugee problems? I tried to walk the—”

“Don’t…
” he almost shouted, eyes gleaming suddenly. Catching himself, he lowered his voice. “Rachel, please, don’t do that. Call Janowitz or me if you want out. We’ll assign you an escort.”

“I’m armed. I can take care of myself.”

“In a fair fight, yes. But these boys don’t play by our honorable rules.”

“I thought you’d captured them all?”

“We may have, but I’m not sure. Until I am, I don’t want you taking any unnecessary chances.”

She looked away, despair and futility taunting her. Adom’s death weighed more heavily with each living breath she took. “I have more enemies than just Kaufa?”

He pressed his lips tightly together for a moment. “You’re a hero in my eyes, Rachel, but not everyone from Horeb is as broadminded as I am. As well, not everyone knows the facts like I do. We’ve necessarily thrown together both sides of the civil war and tensions are extreme. There were two more murders this morning.”

“More?”

“Yes. Inside the hospital. Somebody made an error. They unknowingly placed an Old Believer’s bed next to a New Believer’s.”

She closed her eyes, fighting the horrifying images that rocked her soul. Memories of the square flashed … night birds tugging relentlessly at mangled corpses … the whimpers of suffocating children buried beneath a massive mountain of dead. “Jeremiel, I’ll do almost anything you need, but if you came here to ask me to mediate—”

“No, I didn’t. Though I’ll admit that I thought about having you coordinate the Old Believers just as you’d done on Horeb, but too many people saw the city-wide broadcast of you killing Tartarus. I’m afraid your presence among the refugees would only polarize the people, fanning the flames—one side hating you, the other considering you a savior. Besides, I have a more critical problem I need you for.”

“I’m relieved,” she said, letting out a slow breath. “But where can you put me where I won’t be amongst Horebians?”

He thoughtfully swirled his wine, watching the silver light flash through the liquid. “I need someone I can trust to join the security team on level four.”

“What’s on level four?”

“Two enraged Magisterial soldiers who can’t wait to get their fingers around the throats of the first Gamant who walks by. I’ve confined Captain Cole Tahn and his second in command, First Lieutenant Carey Halloway, on four. The rest of the crew is on level seven.”

“I’m getting nervous.”

“You won’t be alone for even a second until we’ve thoroughly secured the upper levels. I have ten—”

“I know nothing about security, particularly not technical systems like the sort this magical ship possesses.”

He had a hard glint in his eye. “What you do know, Rachel, is the
cost
of poor security. You’ve seen firsthand what happens when somebody, anybody, gets lazy or overconfident. I can assign Harper to teach you the basics of security in a day, then set you up for accessing the tech manuals in the ship’s library. Your fellow security officers have already been trained—by the best, I might add.”

“Meaning you, I hope.”

He smiled and caressed his reddish-blond beard. “Somebody better.”

“There is nobody better.”

“The soldiers in the last Gamant Revolt might argue with you. They’d think Zadok Calas a far superior—”

“Zadok?”

“Quite. Every security officer on level four is a former member of Harper’s clandestine group on Horeb, all men originally handpicked by Zadok himself. They’re loyal to a fault, and most are Old Believers who’ve followed your path for years, watching while you organized Seir’s populace against Ornias, cheering you on, praying for you to win. They know you’re a hero. Having you in their ranks will unquestionably bolster their spirits.”

A tingle of dread went through her, but she suppressed it. “Well, I have to do something fast or I’ll go mad. When do I start?”

“Immediately.” In a fluid movement, he got to his feet and stood over her, smiling down regretfully. “And now, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

She stood up beside him. “Give me another two minutes. I want to talk to you on a more personal level.”

He nodded apologetically. “Go on. I’m sorry. It’s just that I have a strategy session in Engineering in five. But I can be a little late.”

“I won’t keep you longer than that. I know things are frantic here.” She gave him a grateful smile and walked to the other side of the room, thinking how to start. She’d planned for hours how to approach him with the subject. Obviously, she wasn’t going to have the time to break it gently.

“Jeremiel, when I was on Horeb, at the pole, I—I had some very strange nightmares.”

“For example?”

“Well… I dreamed that Aktariel came to me.”

He paused, then said, “Really? I hope you told him we could use some of his power to kill every Magisterial soldier alive.”

“Don’t joke. I’m still terrified.”

“I wasn’t joking. That’s some nightmare. What did he have to say?”

“He told me Epagael enjoys our suffering. That… that God withdrew a part of Himself in order to spawn the Void of creation and that now He’s flexing his muscles around the perimeter to throw galaxies into one another, to increase the chaos he loves and, thereby, our torment.”

Jeremiel crossed his arms as though in defense. “Misery is on the increase, you mean? I’ll admit it certainly feels that way.”

“Aktariel told me he’s trying to save us.”

“Hmm…. Well, if I recall the old lessons, he’s been telling people that for centuries, hasn’t he? That’s why our legends call him the Deceiver.”

“Yes, but—”

“Rachel? Let’s be straightforward. You were frightened and enduring great emotional stress down there, weren’t you? I remember the horrified look on your face when you got into the
samael
with Adom to head for the pole.”

“Yes, Jeremiel.
But I thought
… I thought I really
saw
Aktariel. That he appeared before me, touched me, talked to me.”

He cocked his head, appraising her curiously. “And?”

She threw up her hands. “What do you mean
and?
Isn’t that enough?”

“You sound worried about it.”

“Of course, I’m worried! Wouldn’t you be?”

He lifted both brows and thought for a second, then shook his head. “No. I’d use any help I could get right now. I’d only worry about Aktariel if he told me to sell out all of Gamant civilization. Did he tell you to do that?”