An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (39 page)

He handed the cup to Sarah and she gratefully clutched it in stiff fingers. Cold wind blew across her face as she watched him kneel by the fire. Kowitz came silently out of the trees to join them, sitting on a rock across from her.

“Did you see anybody coming up?” Yoma asked Kowitz.

“No. She’s alone.”

“How about in the valley?”

“Nobody. She left her own people to camp down at the foot of the mountain. You know, by that big spring that sprouts from the side of the mountain and makes that little waterfall?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Sarah spoke crisply. “I came in peace to speak to men I consider brothers. Of course, I obeyed your wishes.”

“It’s a right good thing, too,” Nahor said contentiously, stabbing a crooked finger at her. “Elsewise, ye’d have found an empty camp when you arrived,
If
ye arrived.”

A dagger of anger pierced her nervousness. “I don’t take kindly to threats, Mister Nahor.”

“You don’t do ye? What are ye gonna do about it? Eh? We’ve heard all about how ye’ve been sidling up next to the Magistrates. Gonna get your buddies to bring down the wrath of God from the skies?” He clutched a fist and shook it at her. “Well, ye’d better be ready for the consequences, if ye do.”

Sarah stared coldly, taken aback by the accusation. “I’d never sell out Gamant civilization to the government. Where would you get an idea like that?”

“We hear more things than you’d guess. News comes from all over the galaxy.”

A fierce gust of wind shivered the grove’s bones. Trees clattered against each other, sending a few old pine needles whirling down over them. Yoma brushed them from his silver-flecked hair and Sarah noticed for the first time the gleaming amber earrings he wore. They sparkled as he turned his head to look inquiringly at her.

“You warm enough? We’ve got blankets in the tents.”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” She paused, noticing apprehensively that the guards had changed positions, tightening their circle of protection. One man, who earlier had been silhouetted like a black vulture on the cliff over her head now perched lower, facing toward the fire. Many of the others had disappeared, fading expertly into the darkening shadows. “Perhaps we should get down to—”

“To what?” Nahor interrupted in a thin cold voice. “If yer not here to tell us to quit fighting the damned Magistrates and their vermin soldiers, then why are ye?”

Yoma turned slightly and gave Nahor an abrasive look, before assuaging, “What he means, Sarah, is that through our efforts this past month, we’ve been able to keep the Magistrates off balance enough to take back some of the territory they usurped for their military installations. Thousands of square miles of land where we’ll be able to grow crops next year to fight the hunger that plagued us last.” He turned his cup thoughtfully in his hands and Sarah watched the firelight flicker from his silver temples. “We’ve lost some good people in those battles.” He looked up with mild defiance in his eyes. “We plan on keeping that land.”

“But I thought the riots were over my father’s death?”

“Oh, some are,” Yoma remarked and shrugged. “That’s how it all started—in revolt against Zadok’s murder. But the riots have pushed past that now.”

“We’re fighting for Kayan, missy!” Kowitz spat, leaning forward. His beady eyes gleamed. “And we’re gonna keep fighting until every last government soldier is either dead or gone.
This is our planet!
” His fist flailed in the firelit air. “You know the stories of how our ancestors fled the center of the galaxy so they could keep their own ways and beliefs. Kayan has been a sanctuary for us. We won’t give her up!”

“We should have never let the Magistrates come here at all,” Nahor agreed. “Those military installations give them a base for destroying us.”

“My father,” Sarah said tiredly, gripping her warm cup in both hands, watching the flames glint off the dark brew, “granted the Magistrates base facilities during the last Gamant Revolt in exchange for their signing of the Treaty of Lysomia. Which, as you’ll recall, gives Gamants the right to absolute jurisdiction of their own planets unless …” she paused strategically, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “Unless we break galactic laws, request intervention, or planetary anarchy threatens Magisterial property.”

“Like their installations,” Yoma acknowledged, bushy brows raised. Firelight flickered over his tightening lips.

“Yes.”

“So, you think they’re going to call down the might of the military against us?”

“I spoke with Colonel Silbersay three weeks ago. He
guaranteed
me that’s exactly what would happen.”

Yoma stood to pace before the fire, a hand beneath his clean-shaven chin. “They’ve already declared military law, what more could they do?”

“They could call in the nearest battle cruiser and initiate a scorch attack,” she said mildly and was rewarded when every man jerked his head up to stare aghast. Fear sparkled in their eyes.

“They wouldn’t—”

“They would, and have every legal right to. According to the Treaty, they may take whatever action is necessary to protect themselves and their belongings.”

“But …” Yoma glared at her. “A scorch attack would kill every living person. Surely that’s unnecessary brutality? We’re not animals!”

“Zeb, despite what Mister Nahor said earlier, I take it you’re not as familiar with galactic news as we are here at the capital. Are you aware that Pitbon is gone?”

“Gone?”

“Completely destroyed.”

Gasps sounded around the circle, each man looking anxiously at the other. Sarah knew none of them were aware of that news since she’d heard it only a week before and from confidential Underground sources. She studied their faces. Could they now see beyond their foolish male pride to grasp the gravity of the situation?

Yoma shifted uncomfortably. When he looked down, his eyes sparked like flint struck against granite. “Why?”

She sipped her taza, letting the rich flavor soak through her tired limbs. “Pitbon refused to allow the building of a Magisterial Right School, after agreeing to it in treaty several years earlier in exchange for energy assistance. You know Pitbon has no natural energy reserves; it’s a wasteland nearly as barren as Horeb.”

“They accepted the assistance and then broke the treaty?”

“Yes.”

Nahor snorted, “The imbeciles. Why didn’t they gather their forces before they announced they were breaking the treaty? We’d have gone to help them fight!”

“That, Mister Nahor, is precisely what the Magistrates expected, and why they attacked without warning. The government refuses to take chances that we’ll unite into another full-scale Gamant Revolt. That would be disastrous for their ‘redistribution’ and ‘education’ programs. Their control of the far edges of space is teetering already.

“Redistribution,” Yoma growled, pacing vigorously. “Food in exchange for freedom! They want us all dependent on them so they can—”

“Make us dance to their tune,” Nahor finished. “Well they’ll be hard put to get me and mine to knuckle under.”

“None of us should knuckle under,” Sarah said simply, ending what looked to be a tirade on Gamant rights. “My point is that the Magistrates
do
consider us animals. Animals to be tamed or killed. The slightest provocation, the smallest disobedience calls forth the maximum punishment.”

“Then,” Kowitz charged disbelievingly, “why haven’t they already scorched Kayan? We’ve been hitting them pretty near as hard as we can.”

“Silbersay doesn’t want to kill us. Though why, I don’t know. It would certainly be the easiest answer to his problems. He told me a few days ago, that he’s been shelving reports on our violence. But he can’t keep it up much longer. His soldiers are dying. Deaths must be reported.”

“It’s a trick!” Nahor roared and lurched to his feet to stand like a thin shadow against the black of the trees and rocks. “Lies! She’s setting us up for something. If they was gonna scorch us, they’d have already done it!”

Stars poked through the ebony blanket of the sky, casting a cold light over the peaks, and a hollowness abruptly invaded Sarah’s stomach. Her focus of attention jerked from the circle of the fire to the darkness swelling beyond; it seemed to waver like a black velvet blanket in the wind. The glacial touch of terror halted her breathing. She couldn’t speak.

“Well, missy!
What’s yer answer for why they haven’t done it yet?”

With her eyes, she frantically searched the darkness. A familiarity haunted it. Familiarity?
Was
he
there?
She felt the presence, like a feathery touch of dust against her face.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered and tried to divert the conversation to minor topics. “Mister Kowitz, how many do your forces number?”

He looked at her as though she’d committed the unforgivable sin of evading a critical tactical question on the very eve of battle. “What’s that got to do—”

“How many?”

“About two thousand,” he responded grudgingly.

“And you, Mister Nahor?”

“Four, maybe five if you count all the injured and sick.”

Yoma folded his arms tightly across his breast and said, “I’ve got about ten organized, but another five are waging their own efforts out across the deserts. I think I can convince them to fight with me.”

All eyes riveted on her and she felt a qualm of nervous dread. They expected guidance now, a put up or shut up routine. She took a long drink of her taza, eyes flitting around the still rippling black. Couldn’t they see it? She scanned the taut hostile faces. No one noticed the black curtain that flapped like wings around them.

“Sarah.” Yoma folded his hands behind his back, large hard hands, and looked at her inquiringly. His earrings glinted like liquid amber beneath a noonday sun. “We’re listening.”

“I… I want your advice,” she stammered. “What should we do?” That wasn’t at all what she’d planned on saying, but just at that moment her heart thundered so terribly she couldn’t think straight. The darkness seemed to be closing in around her, the ripples growing wider. Was something coming through the darkness, or leaving … or was
he
the darkness itself? Memories of the night in the caves after her father died rolled over her. Terror made her flinch as though touched by a cold dead hand.

“Oh, what’s the use?” Nahor demanded, running a hand over his perspiring bald head. “She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“No … I—I—”

“She’s no leader, for God’s sake!
We’ve given her her chance, Yoma. That’s all ye asked and she’s left us high and dry. She didn’t come offering salvation, she came asking
us
for it.”

Kowitz leaned back on his rock and held up a hand. “I told you it would be a waste of our time. We should—”

“We should align with that new Mashiah on Horeb. He’s got power, by God.” Nahor fixed a blistering gaze on her.

“Who?” Yoma asked.

“Haven’t you heard about Adom Kemar Tartarus?” Kowitz said disbelievingly. “I thought everybody had by now. He’s performing miracles, making bread fall out of the sky and doing healings. Folks are saying he’s the real leader of Gamant civilization, that old Yosef Galas yielded the leadership to Tartarus before he died. Only last week, we got a messenger from the Mashiah, bringing us news that He’s willing to unite to attack the Magistrates.”

“He
deliberately
sent you a courier?”

“Sure. Some fellow named Lumon. He says they’re already working on some high-tech gizmos that’ll give us the edge over the government if we’re willing to join them.”

“High-tech? You mean illegal weapons?”

“So he claims. Says they’ll make us damn near invincible.”

Yoma frowned suspiciously. “That kind of information is buried under a million tons of dirt and guarded by a trillion soldiers.”

“Yeah,” Nahor demanded gruffly. “Even Baruch has to steal his stuff because
he
can’t—”

“Well,” Kowitz said, staring at Sarah with hard, gleaming eyes. “He says the Mashiah gets scientific information from that God of his: Milcom.”

Yoma grunted and waved a harsh hand. “You’re a fool if you believe that. I’m as religious as the next man, but Epagael has never given any of our ancestors such advantages.”

“Maybe Epagael isn’t as powerful as Milcom.”

Kowitz hushed and let the statement hang in the air like the sword of Jekutiel. Men stared contemplatively at the flames, but Sarah didn’t notice. A dim blue glow shone in the blackness, wavering like a man carrying a lantern through a sea of rough water.

“I don’t know. I’ve always trusted Epagael to lead us in the right direction before. Going to a new—”

“It won’t really be like converting. Tartarus is a Gamant, too. He just calls God by a different name. If God is God, then there’s only one of Him.”

“I suppose.”

“That brings up another thing,” Nahor blurted, pointing a finger at Sarah. “Tell us what happened to your sister.”

Kowitz turned halfway round to stare and fear glinted in his eyes. “Yes, tell us.”

“She died,” Sarah whispered absently. The blue glow grew. Waves of white eddied across its surface, like whitecaps on an azure sea.