An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (64 page)

She grimaced, remembering the frightening holos they’d showed in history courses at Academy. “I know you lived through the Carina invasion, if that’s what you mean.”

“Do you know that I watched my parents die? I was six.”

She lowered her gaze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Carinans have a curious custom of cutting open their captives and ripping out their internal organs to demonstrate conquest. I hid in the bushes and listened to my mother’s screams. A week later, when the Magisterial battle cruisers came in and drove the Carinans out, they found a half-mad little boy still clinging to his parents’ corpses.” He ran a hand through his hair and stared grimly at the floor. “Captain Moreno of the
Quillon
talked softly to me for two hours to convince me they were dead. I still fought like a tiger when he dragged me away.”

He paused and glanced uncomfortably at her. She’d seen that same look once before, the morning they stepped out of the shuttle to examine what remained of the planet Jumes after their attack. Shocked bewilderment—the bewilderment of a man who’s certain he knows himself completely, yet is suddenly overwhelmed by raw emotions he didn’t realize he was capable of—and scorns the revelation.

“You regret telling me that?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s just that not many know and I’d rather keep it that way.”

“I’m trustworthy.” She studied her scotch for a moment, watching beads of moisture form on the glass, then turned back to the conversation. “So you joined the Service because you wanted to be like Moreno? To save—”

“No, I joined because I wanted to kill Carinans. Fortunately, I grew out of it.”

“Did you?”

He gave her a faint grin. “Mostly.”

Their gazes held and both their smiles vanished like dust in the wind. “Cole … isn’t there some way we could—”

“Don’t say it, Carey.
There’s not a damn thing I can do about the orders and you know it.” He stood tiredly and carried his glass back to the bottle of Scotch, refilling it. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Can I get you another?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” He studied her pensively over the rim of his glass as he took another sip.

She got to her feet and stiffly stood at attention, fixing him with a cool glare. “Captain Tahn, according to manual 7118, it is my duty as your second in command to inform you of any and all conditions which have arisen that might adversely affect my ability to carry out—”

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded distastefully. “Stop that! If you’ve got something to say—”

“Then hear me out, damn it!”

“Carey, I know what’s bothering you. But I can’t … What do you
want
me to do?”

“I don’t know!” She threw up her hands and paced his cabin. “I just feel like we’re doing the same thing to Gamant planets that the Carinans did to Delphinus. And the Magistrates are to blame!
I’ve got the terrible feeling that all humans may be at risk under the current administration.”

His dark brows drew together and he eyed her severely for a moment. “I don’t like Slothen either, Carey. But let’s not exaggerate. The Magistrates have been protecting humans and all other species for centuries.”

“Going blind in your old age?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe you should try finding your objectivity. You lost it somewhere.”

“Oh, I see,” she sighed, feeling her heart thud hollowly. “Well, since I can tell you’re on the verge of righteously preaching government policy to me, I’ll leave. Thanks for the drink.”

She stood and started for the door. He lunged for her hand, gripping it tightly. She stopped and looked up at him. Fear creased his handsome face.

“Carey, be careful. You know what being ‘corrected’ does to the human brain.
You don’t want to end up like Garold, do you?
”

For a moment she concentrated on the warm feel of his fingers twined with hers, letting herself drown in his eyes.

“Did it ever occur to you, Cole, that the populace of Delphinus may have been better off dead?”

The color drained from his handsome face and his grip relaxed. She hit the exit button, leaving quickly.

CHAPTER 40

A frigid gust of polar wind shoved at Rachel. She leaned into the gale to steady herself, watching Adom and the pilot of the
samael
unload supplies, setting them in a storage room inside the polar chambers. Though they’d slipped into thick weather-suits and helmets before landing, tendrils of the eighty-below-zero temperatures penetrated her suit like frosty fingers. She shivered, squinting out across the dark wilderness. Stars twinkled overhead, their light throwing deep blue shadows across massive snowdrifts.

“Rachel?” Adom shouted against the hurricane roar. “Please, go inside. I don’t want you out here in this.”

She stared feebly into his tender eyes, heart aching. He cocked his head curiously at her silence and set down the crate he’d been lifting to come to her. Putting gentle hands on her shoulders, he smiled, searching her face. Wind whipped the frozen ends of his blond hair up around his silver helmet.

“Don’t be afraid. I know this seems very forbidding, but it’ll only be for a short time. We’ll be back in Seir soon.”

“I’m sorry, Adom,” she shouted wearily. “This is all so strange.”

He smiled, a glimpse of sunshine in the glacial landscape. “I know. Come, let me help you inside.” Wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders, he guided her through the entry and down the steps into the harsh white light of a small anteroom. Doors lined the walls, all storage compartments, she guessed.

“We’ll be on the eleventh level down,” he said. “The captain already delivered our packs there. If you want to go inspect our living quarters, just call up the vator and punch in the number.” Hugging her affectionately, he trotted back up the steps and outside into the dark expanse of ice and wind.

She milled aimlessly for a few minutes, gazing at the antique lustreglobes and low ceiling. Finally anxious frustration overtook her. She went to the vator and placed her hand over the key-patch. When it opened, she climbed inside the narrow chamber and punched the right button. The lights dimmed, a soft whir marring the silence. A bitter flush went through her—as though her descent led to the fabled reaches of the pit of darkness. She smiled to herself, recalling Adom’s words that Milcom preached we were already in the pit, that the universe contained more dark than light. She believed. Yes, there could be no hell worse than the suffocating guilt and despair she endured.

When the door opened, she stepped out into a long white corridor. Lustreglobes lined the ceiling, casting a brilliant white glow over the white walls. Almost blinding, she thought as she ambled down the hall, past dozens of numbered doors. Separate passageways jutted off from the main one she followed, seemingly extending into infinity.

“A honeycomb,” she murmured to herself. The control panel in the vator had indicated forty floors. “There must be thousands of rooms.”

Picking room number six hundred and thirteen, she jarred open the door, coughing at the dust that plumed out into the hall. Waving it away, she pushed harder, until she could look inside. A velvet-thick layer of dust covered everything: the collapsed couch to her left, the sagging bookcase on her right, the tiny black table and chair shoved against the far wall. Stacks of precariously piled ancient paper books encircled the table.

“Are all the chambers like this? A treasure trove of antiquities?”

Interest pricked, she started inside, but Adom’s soft voice stopped her. “Our chambers are down this passageway.”

She turned, struggling to close the door. “Good, this room isn’t fit for man or beast.”

He laughed, eyes sparkling. “Ornias didn’t have time to prepare the entire level as he’d originally planned. I’m afraid we’ll have to make do with ten rooms.” He lifted a map, pointing to the location amidst the blue lines. “Come on, we’ll find them together.”

“All right.”

He extended a hand and she reached out to meet it. Tipping the map so she could see it, too, he said, “I think we’re supposed to walk down this hall to get there. Is that what it looks like to you?”

“Yes.”

They opened the door to the first room on the right. Rachel’s mouth gaped. A large room spreading about thirty by forty feet, delicately embroidered tapestries covered the walls, colors of jade and rose dominating the forest scenes. Strange animals pranced across the weaves.

Adom smiled at the awestruck look on her face. “Apparently King Edom wanted to make up for the lack of windows. Ornias said this chamber was particularly beautiful. The maids left it exactly as it was, just cleaning and straightening.”

She released his hand and stepped into the room, studying the ornately carved high-backed chairs made of ruby red wood that were pushed back against the wall to her left. Straight ahead sat a bed made of the same wood. Its pink velvet canopy gleamed in the harsh lustreglobe light, the curtains pulled back to reveal intricately designed pillows and quilts.

“Edom had a passion for red and pink, it would seem. Just like in the palace.”

Rachel nodded, inhaling deeply of the sandalwood scented air. Obviously the maids had thought of everything. She walked to one of the tapestries, studying the horselike creature that leaped over the fence in the autumn forest. “What do you suppose this is?”

Adom came to stand beside her. “I don’t know. Ornias said something about finding some old books that talked of Horeb looking like this at one time. A paradise, they said, filled with an abundance of animals and trees.”

She frowned, her heart beginning to thump for no apparent reason. “I wonder how long ago and what happened to turn the planet into a barren desert?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Something terrible, I’d imagine.”

“Yes. I wonder what other surprises await us?”

“We need to find the communications room soon. I have to tell Ornias we’re here safe and sound and ask what’s happening in Seir. The Desert Fathers may have begun their attack.”

A dark dread coursed through her, Jeremiel’s orders echoing like distant cannon fire in her mind:
The instant we strike, you are to kill him. The announcement of his death will take the fight out of his followers. Horeb will lose far fewer lives.

Her knees trembled suddenly as she met Adom’s kind blue eyes. “Yes, let’s find out what’s happening.”

They stepped out of the room and he looked at his map again, pointing as they strode down the hall. “It’s the second door ahead on the left.”

Pushing it open, a huge screen greeted them. Towering to the ceiling, it curved two-thirds of the way around the room. Adom went ahead of her, studying the control panel before pushing a particular button. The screen sprang to life, a cold-eyed young corporal swinging around in his chair. His gray uniform hung in wrinkled patterns, as though he’d been manning the communications center all night. He ran a hand abruptly through his sandy hair.

“Good afternoon, Mashiah.”

“Hello, Corporal Sanders. How are you?” Adom said. “How’s your new baby son?”

“We’re all fine, sir. Councilman Ornias said to patch you through to him as soon as you called. Please hold on.”

“Holding.”

Adom smiled at her, whispering conspiratorially. “I hate them to think I don’t want to talk to them. They’re just as important to me as Ornias is.”

“I know.”

As though in a daze, she realized her flesh felt hot. Unfastening her weather-suit, she stepped out of it, draping it over a chair. Then she opened her white jumpsuit to the middle of her chest and nervously stroked her sweating throat. The weight of the knife in her boot pressed heavily against her calf—an iron shackle to purpose.
Will this torture never pass?

She clenched her fists as Ornias’ image filled the screen. The councilman was dressed in a regal purple robe. He stood in a cave, the trappings of wealth cluttering the red walls: paintings, rose agate statues. “Adom, I see you made it all right. Good.”

“Yes, how are things going there?”

“Interesting. I’ve moved underground, to the chambers beneath the palace.”

“Into the gardens? With the flowers?”

Ornias gave the Mashiah a disgusted look. “I had the flowers removed. However, yes, that same location. The most important news I have for you is that Tahn’s ship sailed out of orbit only an hour ago, heading for God knows where, but at least he’s out of our hair for a few days.”

“And the Desert Fathers?”

“We’ve already endured the first wave of attacks, but we’re retaliating—pushing them back.”

“Casualties?”

“Around three hundred.”

Rachel’s soul screamed in agony.
Now! Jeremiel is depending on you. You must do it now!

Adom stared forlornly at the white tile floor. Rachel noticed his hands were clenched into tight fists. “Tell … tell the people not to worry. Milcom watches over all of us. He’ll protect them.”

“I’ll tell them, Adorn,” Ornias replied blandly. “You just stay warm. I’ll contact you as soon as it’s necessary.”