An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (35 page)

“Rachel, we can’t chance it.”

With softness as excruciating as a mother’s last good-bye, she murmured, “Let me go back.”

“No! You’re not able!”

“I can do it.”

He shook his head sternly and looked away to grimace at the flickering candle on the table. It threw a pale glittering shawl over the ruddy desert apples, reflecting in the facets of the crystal goblets.

“It’s our best gamble,” Rathanial urged. “But first we’ll need to prepare her.”

“Prepare?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, we’ll have to dress you fitly for his highness. Though, lord knows where we’ll find those sort of female things around here, but we’ll manage somehow. And with your permission, dear, we’ll need to … urn … etch the letters AKT into your forehead.”

“His initials?” she asked indignantly. “Why? As a sign of ownership?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. They exist on his own forehead, you see, but he doesn’t believe they have anything to do with his name. Rather he sees them as a seal of God’s approval. Milcom apparently told him that.” Rathanial’s face darkened. “And if we go through with this, you should remember that Adom claims—and has witnesses to verify—that a Man of Flame burned them into his forehead on the day of his birth. They’re a symbol of anointing.”

“I understand. All right, if it’s necessary.”

“It’s
not
necessary,”
Jeremiel enunciated severely.

“Let me go, Jeremiel.” She touched his arm with cool, light fingers.

He shot her a wary look and saw her change. As though fleeting shadows of precious faces touched her memories, the midnight depths of her eyes took on a faraway look and a spun-silk courage hardened her features.

“Rachel, you can’t.”

“I’m going in,” she said with finality.

“No, you’re not,” he half-laughed at her sudden audacity. “I won’t work with somebody I can’t trust.”

She shoved to her feet, gritting her teeth as she glared defiantly at Rathanial. “You don’t need Jeremiel. I’ll go back to the palace if you’ll find someone else to lead this mission.”

Rathanial’s eyes widened and he blinked thoughtfully. “My dear, he’s the brains of the outfit. I hardly think—”

“Damn it, Rachel. You can’t do it alone. You’ve got to have support personnel
in the palace
to get your reports out. You’ve got to have a system of people here to receive, process, and augment plans based on information you provide. You can’t do it without me, sweetheart!” He pounded the table with a fist.

“Well?” she demanded. “Are you coming with me?”

Exasperated, he threw up his hands and wondered just how she’d managed to turn the situation around so quickly. “Rathaniel, this is your game. You called me here for advice.”

“And your advice is?”

“Don’t use Rachel.
It’s worth whatever time it takes to find someone we can depend on. Murdering the Mashiah won’t be a task for somebody queasy about—”

“About
what?”
She lunged to place a hand on his chair back, glaring down with a mixture of resentment and anger. Yet he caught a hint of pleading, too, as though she silently implored him to take a chance he knew he shouldn’t.

He clamped his jaw resentfully. “Don’t do this to me, Rachel. I’m telling you, my life depends on my ability to judge people and their abilities.
I know people.
And we’ll all regret it if you’re the linchpin to this mission.”

She stiffened, holding his gaze even though she spoke to Rathanial. “Reverend Father, who will take care of my daughter?”

“That, my dear, is why I brought Father Harper to this gathering. He has consistently refused all advancements I’ve offered him, so he can continue his research in child psychology. He has rather impressive credentials in teaching. If you find him acceptable—”

“I do.”

Rathanial heaved a sigh of relief and nodded. “Very well. I’ll send him by tomorrow to start getting acquainted with Sybil.”

“We’ll be waiting.” As though the discussion were over, Rachel turned on her heel and started for the door.

Jeremiel lurched out of his chair, grabbing her arm and swinging her around.
“You’re going to follow every order I give, is that right? No heroics, no innovations on my plans, no
—”

“Every order—to the letter.”

He noticed even through his anger and worry that her arm trembled in his grip. He blinked, realizing the terrors that must be tormenting her soul. She’d just offered herself up to the demon who’d killed her husband and hundreds of her friends. Slowly, he relaxed his grasp and let her go, then shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

In a voice cast at a pitch only he could hear, she murmured, “What you said earlier? You’ll be the one in the palace with me, won’t you?”

He nodded. “Into the dragon’s lair. You and me.”

“I’ve been there, Jeremiel. It’s more like the pit of darkness. It’ll rob both of us of our souls.”

“It always seems that way before the dawn.” He cocked his head impudently and forced a smile he didn’t feel. “But the dawn always comes.”

Behind them, a sharp gasp sounded, a chair squealing to topple to the stone floor. They both whirled, hearts in their throats. Jeremiel fell into a crouch, pulling his pistol instinctively as his eyes searched the room.

“Dear God,” Rathanial croaked, pointing a wavering finger at the dark rear of the cave. “How long has it been there?”

The huge shadow moved along the ceiling and walls, undulating over the lumpy stone to silently vanish in the ebony blackness of the far corner. Rachel let out a small cry.

Jeremiel straightened, his pulse pounding. Wiping the perspiration from his upper lip, he suggested, “Probably, long enough.”

CHAPTER 20

Adom sat at the table in his Council Chambers, legs stretched out across the floor as he read the book propped in his lap. Sunlight glared through the open windows behind him, dyeing his hair and flaxen robe saffron and catching in the gold threads of the crimson carpet to burn like flame. An enormous rose agate statue of Milcom stood between the pillars of the door, watching, Adom felt, all that happened within. Only stone could do justice to God’s chiseled features. It comforted him to see that perfect face staring down at him.

A rumble of dissenting voices and pounding steps invaded the hallway outside. He looked up from his book, frowning.

“Get away, you old fool! I’ll thank you to let me manage the affairs of Horeb.”

“You balloon brain! What do you know about spying anyway?” an elderly voice asked. Funk? “You need somebody to help you. Just like those plans for the light shield. Sheesh! You could …”

Boots scuffled against the carpets, a muffled voice slurring unintelligible words, as though a rough hand prevented the speaker from enunciating.

A few moments later, Ornias swept imperiously into the room, face contorted with rage. Dressed in a form-fitting sable robe that accentuated his broad shoulders, his beard hung unbraided, a light brown rounded mantle over his chin. Sweat beaded on his tanned brow.

“Adom! Have you taken leave of your senses?” he demanded as he strode haughtily to slam a sheet of paper down on the table and glare. “I thought using them was a temporary whim of yours, but this is too much!”

Adom blinked, lowering his eyes to the report bearing his signature. “It’s necessary, Ornias.”

“They’re bumbling idiots! How could you make them your
personal aides?
Dear God, I shudder to think what will happen the first time you give them an emergency message to carry to me. We’re liable to become our own greatest enemies.”

“They’re not as naive as they seem,” he defended softly, mouthing Milcom’s words as he folded his hands tightly over the book in his lap. He hated it when Ornias shouted at him. It made him feel stupid. The councilman knew nothing of the ways of Milcom. A prophet couldn’t disobey the orders of his God.

“What?”

“If you’ll give them a chance, you’ll find they’re very bright.”

“Bright?
They’re both senile!”

Adom pursed his mouth and stared at the hem of his flaxen robe. “You don’t understand. They’re just simple souls.”

“Do you know what Funk did yesterday? Has anyone told you?”

He shook his head.

Ornias put hands on his hips and paced irritably to stare out across the jagged wilderness of Horeb. He pressed his mouth into a disgusted pout. Dust swirled in the golden sunlight, throwing a hazy veil over him.

“I gave the fool a confidential message to carry to Engineer Lumon. Five hours later, I found Funk tasting the soup in the kitchen—and the message had vanished! I had to search out Lumon to make sure it hadn’t been delivered, then I had to retrace every step with Funk to find the message before it fell into the wrong hands.”

“Did you find it?”

Ornias’ lime green eyes narrowed. He nodded severely, giving Adom an evil look. “Yes, your ‘simple soul’ had left it
in
the bath when he departed the women’s servants quarters. I had to fish it out!”

A soft smile curled Adom’s lips. “Was he … in the bath. I mean, with—”

“Oh, the women denied it, but I’m not so sure. I think the old coot is a lech.”

Mirth bubbled up Adom’s throat. Ornias’ expression grew colder by the second, eyes icing over.

“You think it’s amusing now,” the councilman said and glowered, “but just wait until the Magistrates are attacking the planet and you send me a message through one of those old fools to muster forces.”

“The Magistrates have no reason to attack us.”

“Don’t be foolish. Tahn is still sailing around up there in his battle cruiser. I’m sure if the Magistrates can find a reason they’ll use it. And if Funk or Calas is needed to—”

“You think we’ll find them tasting the soup in the kitchen after Horeb is a cinder?”

“It’s quite likely.”

Adom smiled at the irony, then gently laid his book on the table and got to his feet to stroll across the plush carpet. A hot wind penetrated between the red drapes to flood the room, tousling his blond hair. “You must understand, Councilman, Yosef Calas can be a great asset in our journey through the Gamant hierarchy of power. His name alone carries the influence of generations of leaders.”

“Adom,” Ornias murmured skeptically. “Have you been reading or something? Who did you steal that from? It’s very astute. I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of it myself.” His eyes widened as they always did when Adom began speaking in deft terms of political realities. It irritated the Mashiah a little. Did the councilman think him a complete idiot?

“So you see, we—”

“But still, we could put him in some innocuous position, not a critical one like your aide.”

“I like him as my aide. I can treat him especially well there, give him my personal attention.”

Ornias scoffed, “I hardly think he’s deserving.”

“I like him.”

“Yes, well …” He threw up his arms. “All right. How do you plan on utilizing Calas to our benefit?”

“I’d assumed we’d work that out as we went along.”

“You mean use him as the need arises?”

Unsure of Milcom’s plans, Adom paled a little, shuffling his feet nervously as he gazed at the rose agate statue. “Something like that.”

Ornias scrutinized his insecure posture. “Well, at any rate, I think you’re right. Calas is worth cultivating.”

“And he’s a good man.”

“He’s a clumsy fool. He forgets things the instant you tell him or repeats confidential information to the wrong people. But …
but,
you’re right about the possibilities.”

Adom held his tongue, folding his arms tensely and regarding Ornias from beneath golden lashes. He strongly suspected the councilman considered everyone a clumsy fool, except himself.

“Adorn,” Ornias spoke soothingly and smiled deprecatingly, moving closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Forgive my bluntness. I know you like Funk and Calas. It’s just that you’re such a gentle forgiving person, I feel it’s my duty to explain fully my own feelings on such matters—harsh though they may be. It provides perspective for your decisions.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt. You know I’ve always done my best to take care of you.”

“I know.” The sickly-sweet paternal tone grated on Adom’s nerves. The only person who had ever truly fought to protect him was Milcom. He pressed his lips tightly together and looked away. What Ornias really did was to shield him from the truth, spoon-feed him lies. He knew. God had revealed the councilman’s partial truths time and again, advising him merely take note, but do nothing about the deceits. “Let God do God’s work,” Milcom said. “Justice will be meted out at the appropriate time.”

Ornias ran a hand through his brown hair and gave Adom a searching look as though reading his mind. “What is it? You look anxious.”

“I was just thinking of how we might utilize Yosef.”

“I have some ideas on that.”

“What are they?”