An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (53 page)

“Adorn, that sounds suspiciously like Milcom means we need to destroy the universe.”

“That’s right.”

She laughed softly. “Surely, you’re joking. There’s a great deal of beauty and joy in the universe, too. How could he want to—”

“Beauty exists only because there’s ugliness. Goodness exists only because there’s evil. Dichotomy is the source of everything. God and not-God. Tell me? Which is more prevalent in life, happiness or suffering?”

She clenched her goblet so tightly the brandy washed the sides of the glass. “Suffering.”

An ache touched his breast. He knew where her thoughts must be lingering. “Yes. The produce cart was upset long, long ago. There hasn’t been a balance between good and evil for billions of years. And for every moment the Creation continues to exist, evil grows. Chaos spreads through the body of the universe like a malignancy.”

She smiled vaguely. “Entropy?”

“You can call it that if you like.”

“But won’t the natural culmination of entropy end the suffering?”

“No,” he breathed tiredly. It always hurt him to think about this part of Milcom’s teachings. “The ultimate dichotomy will still exist: Epagael and the Void. He’ll be able to use the emptiness to regenerate suffering whenever it pleases Him. We have to make Him
feel
the misery of the universe.”

“And we do that by returning it to Him?”

“Yes.”

She drained her brandy glass dry. “And just how do we slap Epagael in the face with our universe?”

Adom lifted his shoulders sheepishly. “Milcom’s never told me precisely, except that it has to do with the naked singularity. He says I’m not far enough along to understand.”

She contemplatively rose from her chair and strolled to the window. Standing in the tawny afternoon light, her dark wavy hair shimmered like strands of silk.

He got up, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, before uncomfortably going to stand beside her. Did she believe the teachings? Butterflies attacked his stomach. Glancing at her, he saw her face darken. She stared at a line of children moving wearily through the windblown streets.

“They’re going to the potato fields,” Adom whispered.

“I know. I’ve seen them working until midnight every night this week.” A terrible bitterness filled her eyes.

“I can’t help it, Rachel. We’re in a famine. Everyone has to work.”

“At three lirot a month? When they’re paying the adults ten?”

“The children don’t have the same strength or endurance. They produce less.”

Her eyes hardened. “Then maybe it would be better for all of us if you released half your kitchen staff and guards and sent them to the fields to replace the children. They could do three times the work. The harvest would be so much greater.”

Watching a woman lead a donkey through the streets, he considered the idea. The woman tugged her tattered skirts up and knotted them around her waist, revealing deeply tanned legs. She looked gaunt and tired. The rickety cart behind the animal lay empty to the harsh sun. Had she found no food at the market this day? But Ornias had said they’d closed the distribution center because the economy was back on its feet—the fields producing again. Worry twined through him. He breathed tightly, “I’ll reassign my staff immediately.”

From below, he heard the gruff voice of a water-seller piercing the quiet, but he closed his ears to it, letting himself sink into the dark depths of her eyes.

“And if Ornias won’t let you?”

He grimaced, clenching his fists and turning away from the window to look at the thick emerald carpet. Odd, he’d never felt a prisoner until her coming. But now he felt as though the pink marble walls weighed on his chest, suffocating him. “I’ll do it anyway.”

“Be careful, Adom. Ornias has less scruples than a Giclasian. I wouldn’t put it past him to murder you if you got too out of hand and then tell the people you were alive and in deep consultation with Milcom.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’d …”

They both jumped as an urgent rapping came at Rachel’s door. Exchanging a confused look, she asked, “Are you expecting someone?”

“No, though the servants sometimes chase me down when I’m needed.” He ran gracefully to the door and opened it. Ari and Yosef stood outside, wrinkled faces strained. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing major, Mashiah,” Yosef soothed. The little man’s round belly protruded through his white robe as though he were pregnant. “It’s just that Ari and I wanted to go to the rare books section of the library to read more of Milcom’s teachings, but we found the room is locked and guarded. We—”

“Yes, we had one stolen once,” Adom acknowledged reluctantly. He thought every bookshelf should be open to the entire populace of Horeb, but Ornias had convinced him otherwise, reprimanding, “Dear God, Adom! Don’t you want to have a single volume left for yourself?”

“We’re sorry to disturb you, Mashiah, but could you sign this authorization form?” Yosef extended the crystal sheet and a laser pen.

Adom took it, his glance tugged to Ari’s face. The tall old man leered appreciatively at Rachel. In that instant, Adom remembered Milcom’s words about making sure the two liked each other. He quickly signed the sheet without so much as reading the first word, thrust it back into Yosef s hand and reached out, forcefully dragging Funk into the bedchamber. The elder looked a little surprised, but pleased.

“Rachel?” Adom called. “I want you to meet Ari Funk. He’s one of my personal aides. Yosef Calas is the other. If you ever need anything, you can call on them and they’ll see it gets done.”

She formed her hands into the sacred triangle. “Mister Funk, Mister Calas, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ari wiped sweaty palms on his gray robe and gave her a broad flashing smile, almost dashing, Adom thought with mild amusement. “You look like my type,” Ari crooned. “Want to run away with me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sure. I’m all the man you’ll ever need. I can do anything you want.”

Rachel frowned. “Uh-huh. That’s interesting.”

“Oh, I—I’m sure Ari meant that—pleasantly,” Adom intervened, feeling the tension rise.

Rachel looked the old man up and down. “Besides, you’re too skinny and I prefer blondes.” She winked at Adom. Startled, he shifted uncomfortably, embarrassment and gladness swelling in his chest. Did she mean it, or was she just embellishing her banter with Funk?

“He’s too shy,” Ari said. “You need somebody bold and brash. Like me.”

“Thanks anyway.”

“You’ll regret it. I’m in big demand around here.”

“It’s your subtle charm, I’m sure.”

Adom laughed and turned to grin at Yosef to see if he’d enjoyed the show, too. The bespectacled elder looked irritated, squinting at Funk disapprovingly.

“Ari!” Yosef hissed. “Quit bothering these people. We have
reading
to do.”

Funk scowled in confusion, then, as if a flame of memory flickered to life, he blurted, “Oh, I’d forgotten!”

“You’d forgotten,” Yosef accused indignantly. “You idiot. Come on!”

Adom patted Ari gently on the back as he passed. “Let me know if you have any more problems with the library guard?”

“We will, Mashiah,” Yosef assured, bowing slightly. When Ari got within reach, he gripped his friend’s sleeve and jerked him out the door. “Good day to both of you.”

“Good day, Yosef.”

The pudgy elder closed the door gently and Adom heard them burst into argument, snarling at each other as they walked away down the hall. He smiled in delight.

“Curious, aren’t they?” he asked, turning to Rachel.

“Funk is an old lech. Where did you find him? I’ve never seen him on Horeb.”

“They’re both from Tikkun. They came to worship Milcom. You didn’t … didn’t like Ari?”

“He might be tolerable in small doses.”

“He’s really a wonderful man. You need to get to know him better. Feel free to call on him whenever you need.”

“Adom …” A haunted look came into her eyes. She squared her shoulders. “Yosef’s last name is Calas?”

“Yes, he’s Zadok’s brother, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Her beautiful face slackened and she looked piercingly at the door where the pudgy little man had vanished. “You mean I just met the leader of Gamant civilization?”

Adom blinked. He’d never thought about it, but, of course, that would be true, if Yosef had accepted the authority. Obviously, he hadn’t, since he’d freely delivered himself to Milcom. “Legally, I suppose so. But he’s converted to the religion of Milcom, prostrating before me.”

Rachel looked up at him speculatively. “Does that mean he’s yielded to you? That
you’re
the new leader?”

He shrugged uneasily, unsure how to answer the dark question. He didn’t want to be, but maybe he was. If so, he’d simply yield to someone else. But no,
he couldn’t!
Milcom had spoken of how he
needed
to rise in the Gamant hierarchy of leadership to bring salvation to the universe.

He felt himself pale and stammered, “I—I guess so.”

CHAPTER 32

A small sound woke Jeremiel, someone setting a cup on a stone table. He kept his eyes closed, listening to learn as much as he could before revealing himself. His head throbbed so violently he felt sick. Though he knew his arms were chained over his head, he couldn’t feel them; they felt like dead meat. How long had he hung here unconscious? Hours? Days? Had his capture endangered Rachel or the Desert Fathers?

Someone shuffled papers, murmuring, “The Councilman said to inform him of the prisoner’s condition at half past the hour. Run and tell him the man’s still out, Loma.”

“Sure, El. You want me to bring you another cup of taza when I come back?”

“Bring a whole pot. I’ll stoke up the fireplace and we’ll set it in the coals.”

The patter of footsteps echoed from the walls and a door opened. The frigid gush of air made Jeremiel shiver involuntarily.

“Whoa up, Loma. I think he’s coming around. Tell the Councilman maybe he’d better come down.”

“He won’t like it. He just took Shassy into his bedchamber.”

“I don’t care! He said to tell him, so tell him!”

Jeremiel opened his eyes to see a man exit through the door. Captain Elaysin turned and frowned at him. Sweat stained his gray suit in dark patches beneath his arms. His red hair shimmered in the light from the single candle on the table near the fireplace. Only a few red coals still glowed.

“You’re awake, are you?”

“As awake as could be expected after the beating you gave me.” He struggled to get his weak legs under him, relieving some of the strain from his arms. The chains around his wrists and ankles tinkled. Groggily, he surveyed the room. Spreading about forty by twenty feet, it had none of the opulence of the marble hall he remembered. Huge gray stones formed the high walls, the floor bare except for a tiny rug beneath the table and chairs where Elaysin had been having taza. A plank bed with a straw mattress was shoved against the far wall. He stood chained to a pillar in the center of the room.

“ ’Bout time you came around. The Councilman’s been hot to talk to you. He chewed my head off the last time I told him you still weren’t awake.” Going to the fireplace, he sprinkled kindling over the coals and threw a log in on top. Blowing gently, he set the fire jumping to life, flames licking up around the tinder.

“How long have I been out?”

“Two godforsaken days. We feared for awhile we’d hit you too hard.”

“Given my headache, I’d say you did.”

“Well, you didn’t give us any choice, trying to escape like that. What else could we do? Who are you that you’d fear capture so much?”

Jeremiel tightened his legs muscles, keeping himself standing despite the fatigue and the wretched nausea that made him want to vomit. Voices chattered softly in the hall, boots clacking on bare stone. The door to his chamber opened and the Councilman stepped in. A cruel glow lit his tanned face.

“Elaysin,” he commanded. “Get out.”

“Aye, sir. I’ll wait in the hall.” The captain quickly exited, closing the door behind him.

In the warming air, Jeremiel could smell the flowery stench of the politician’s perfume as Ornias leaned against the pillar opposite him. Dressed in a frost colored robe, he seemed a ghost from the mists.

“Didn’t mean to disturb your foreplay with Shassy,” Jeremiel murmured, trying to wiggle his nerveless fingers.

The lines of sleeplessness showed clearly as the man’s face tensed. He studied Jeremiel by the ruddy glare of the fire, then a bare smile touched his lips. “She’s there whenever I call. I might even order her to service you if you cooperate to my liking.”

“Thanks, but I don’t take seconds.”

“Don’t be so cocky, Baruch! Make me too angry and I might throw you to Tahn before it’s most advantageous.”

A bitter cold stirred his soul. So Rathanial had been right. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Yes, I heard you were prostrating before him, selling out Gamant civilization.”