An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (55 page)

“Avel, where are we going?”

“To a safe place.”

She clamped her jaw tight, watching three monks in brown robes approach, heading toward the surface. Harper nodded tersely to them, his halo of black hair shining in their candles as they passed.

She looked up when they were alone ajain, seeing the tight lines that etched the mahogany skin around his mouth. “Why? Why, Avel? Wasn’t I safe in the upper caves?”

“Not any more. Things aren’t going the way we’d thought. The Mashiah has forced us to change our plans.”

“Is my mom all right?” she blurted, fear stabbing her. “Has the Mashiah hurt her? Tell me!”

“Hush!”

She swallowed her next words. Avel’s dark eyes narrowed. He tugged her around a corner and stepped out so fast, she had to run to keep from stumbling. The new corridor seemed very old, the sandstone a blood red. Dust grew in velvet thick veils along the walls and floor, as though all the tramping feet in the upper caves, sent it down here where no one ever stirred it. Sybil coughed at the cloud that sprang from their headlong rush.

“Avel?” she pleaded quietly. “Is my mom—”

“She’s fine, Sybil.” Looking around surreptitiously, he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear, “Don’t worry. I’m taking you to a place I’ve had prepared for years. It’s filled with food and water and there’s even some books to read. You’ll be safe.”

Sybil shuddered.
You, not WE!
“But you’ll be there, too, won’t you?”

“Not for a while. I have business to take care of that’s very dangerous. I can’t risk having you hurt while I’m organizing—”

“But, Avel, I don’t want to be alone. Don’t leave me alone! You said you’d take care of me just like I was your own little girl!”

Brushing damp curls from her sweating forehead, she saw his lips tighten. “I am, Sybil. It just won’t seem like it for a time.”

Sybil stared wide-eyed at the next corridor, her ragged breathing sharp in her ears. She wanted to believe him, but couldn’t. The way he hurtingly hauled her down the long winding halls terrified her. Her heart longed agonizingly for her mother. Tears threatened to ooze from her eyes. She blinked them away, forcing herself to be brave.

“What’s the Mashiah done, Avel?”

“He’s mounting his forces secretly, in the caves just below the city.”

“So you’re going to attack him sooner than you’d planned?”

He took a deep breath, stopping before a descending staircase hacked into the stone. Cold air boiled up from the blackness. “I don’t know, Sybil. We may not attack at all. I have to try and fix things.”

“How would we
not
attack?
My mommy’s waiting for you to come rescue her! She can’t blow up the Mashiah’s palace until you
—”

“I know, Sybil. I’m working on it. I promise.”

“Let me help you! I watched Mommy and Jeremiel make plans. I can help!”

Lifting her to his hip, he almost ran down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, he lowered her to the frigid floor and reached for a seemingly solid block of stone. A small crawl space opened. Searching the staircase for shadows, he urged, “Hurry, Sybil. Go inside.”

Fear choking her, she hesitated. “I—I don’t want to.”

He brutally grabbed her and shoved her through the opening into black, dusty darkness. Getting on his stomach, he crawled through with the lamp. Sybil backed away from him, scrambling to a far corner stacked high with boxes. She eyed him worriedly, keeping quiet. The cave stretched only about ten by fifteen feet, with a ceiling no more than four feet high. She could stand up, but he couldn’t. Was this a safe place or a prison—like the square? Had she done something bad to deserve this punishment? Had her mommy?

“I’m sorry if I hurt or frightened you, Sybil. I just can’t waste time right now explaining everything,” he said, hurried anxiety in his voice. “Here, let me show you where things are.”

Crawling around the small cavern, he pointed. “Food is here. Petrolon bottles of water are here. Candles are here.”

“Books. You said there’d be books,” she stalled, trying to keep him with her longer. Though she feared him, she feared being alone more.

He smiled weakly, patting a box with his hand. “They’re in here.”

“Avel, why can’t you tell me what’s wrong? I’m scared and it would make me feel better to know.”

He closed his eyes briefly, pursing his lips as though knowing she were right, but not wanting to say anything. His broad nostrils flared erratically. “You mustn’t ever repeat what I tell you. You understand? Not to anyone.”

She nodded hurriedly. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I know you are, Sybil. All right. There’s someone here who wants to stop the war. He—”

“And leave my mommy stuck alone in the palace?
The Mashiah will kill her!”

“Shhh, I won’t let that happen. But there are other people to consider, too. The Mashiah is holding hostages, good people. We have to try and save them, too, don’t we?”

“Yes, Avel. But—”

“Saving them won’t be easy. I have a lot to do and not much time.” His gaze fell and Sybil’s throat ached.

“You’re going away now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I’ll be back. Don’t be afraid.”

“I—I won’t,” she whispered courageously, lifting her trembling chin. “Go help my mommy, Avel.”

He leaned forward, kissing her forehead and hugging her tightly for a few seconds. She snuggled her face against his scratchy robe, smelling the spicy scent that always clung to his clothing. It comforted her some.

“When will you be back?”

He patted her shoulder tenderly. “As soon as I can. Trust me, will you?”

“Yes,” she croaked.

Releasing her abruptly, he crawled for the opening and threw her one final warm look before scrambling out on his stomach.

The stone door grated shut and a haze of red dust rose, swirling slowly back to the ground in a pattern that indicated there was some hidden opening through which air entered the chamber. Sybil coughed, staring at the flickering candle he’d left. After a few minutes, her hard breathing turned to soft cries, tears streaking her dirty face. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and blinked fearfully around. Through blurry eyes, she took in the numbers of boxes tucked all around the edges of the cave. There had to be enough supplies to last for a half a year. Had he planned on hiding here for that long?
Did he plan on leaving her here for months?

Sudden horror overcame her. She dove for the door, clawing at it unmercifully, seeing if she could dig beneath it and escape. Only cold stone met her frantic fingers, tearing her nails until sharp pain shot up her arms and blood covered her hands.

Sinking down against the gritty wall, she dropped her forehead to her knees and wept.

Cole Tahn pressed a fist to his lips as he listened. The Councilman was visible in the forward monitor, his ivory robe shimmering wildly against the brilliant background of candles.

“I have him here in my possession, Captain. When will the Magistrates be willing to barter?”

Tahn eyed him coldly. The manicured prissiness of the man irritated him beyond reason. As he thought about his answer, he studied the bridge. His officers perched on the verge of exuberant celebration, whirling in their chairs to stare at him. Everyone except Halloway. She sat stiff-backed at the navigation console, hard green eyes on the Horebian politician, calculating. He wished he could tell this conniving power-monger to take a hike while he talked to her privately. What the hell was she thinking? He knew what he was thinking, that all this “bartering” damned well made him sick to his stomach.

“When will you be willing to deliver Baruch?”

“As soon as I’ve been assured by Director Slothen that he’ll meet my demands.”

“And those are?”

Ornias smiled smugly. “There’s a small planet near Palaia Station called Grinlow.
I want it.
As well, I—”

“Don’t be presumptuous. There are five million people living on Grinlow. You can’t have it.”

A hot expression of anger creased the man’s tanned face. “I didn’t realize you had veto power over Magisterial decision, Captain? Shall we ask Slothen?”

Tahn’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll need to see Baruch before we deal.
I want to talk to him.
”

The Councilman paced leisurely. “Certainly, Captain. Once
I’ve
been assured the Magistrates are earnest about this business propostion.”

Surreptitiously, Halloway reached over and hit the audio button on Macey’s console, quelling the sound. Then, behind her hand, suggested, “He may have the goods, Captain, but we have
him.
Maybe we should jog his memory that Magisterial anger can be most unpleasant?”

Tahn lifted a brow. “I was getting to that, Lieutenant.”

“Just thought I’d remind you.” She hit the audio button again. Macey glared at her.

Tahn exhaled through his nostrils. “Councilman, the Magistrates have more important things to worry about than you and your offers. There will be no more discussion on this topic until you let me personally speak to Baruch so that
we
may verify
your
earnest intentions. And …” He lifted a brow, glaring piercingly. “I shouldn’t think it would be necessary after the recent debacle on Pitbon, but may I remind you that the government acts speedily and harshly when it comes to foul-dealing.”

Ornias straightened indignantly. “I don’t take well to threats, Captain.”

“Nor do I. Make it fast, Councilman. I won’t have Baruch enduring any more waiting than is absolutely necessary. He knows what’s ahead.” Rising from his chair before Ornias could respond, he ordered, “Cut the tran, Macey.”

The screen went dead and a brief instant of absolute silence hung before a whoop of exultation and flying pens undulated across the bridge. People ran to hug each other. He watched curiously, feeling Halloway’s penetrating eyes on him. He ignored her. They’d been after Baruch for a long time. Too many loyal friends had died because of his genius, his tricks….
So why do I feel nothing but damned cursed sadness
—
like what awaits him is less than he deserves?

Tahn shoved his hands deep in his pockets and quietly walked off the bridge, leaving the sounds of triumph behind.

Ornias strolled toward Adom’s private council chamber, idly fingering the lacy sleeves of his turquoise robe. Kayan sapphires studded the hem and the v-shaped neckline. His light brown hair had been freshly washed and scented with sandalwood, his beard braided neatly.

Turning the corner, his eyes lingered on the broad expanse of glass overlooking Horeb. Dusk fell in smoky veils, shadows dying the peaks indigo. The last remnants of sunset, dark purple clouds, drifted lazily eastward. Such a beautiful night, he hated to waste it on Adom, especially since he expected Tahn to be placing an urgent call to him any moment—apologizing, making counter offers. Oh, he loved the games! As well, Adom had been pestering him for days. Pestering him so badly, he’d more than once ordered the irritating messengers locked up so Adom couldn’t send them back again.

He felt nearly invincible now. It wouldn’t be long until he could culminate his deal with the Magistrates and leave the barren wasteland of Horeb forever—in style.

He slapped the face of a saint as he swept by the statue, going to stand before the council chamber door. Knocking lightly, he called, “Mashiah? It’s Ornias.”

“Come in.”

The stiff tone of voice instantly set him on edge. What had gotten into Adom? Eloel’s influence? The woman had been there only a few days. Had she already used her feminine wiles to seduce the poor innocent Mashiah into favoring her rebel cause? He’d been apprehensive that would happen, but Eloel had been essential to his plans.
A tool too good to waste, given Baruch’s vulnerabilites.
Besides, he’d have no problem undermining whatever influence she’d gained. He’d been dealing with Adom for far longer than she. While her attempts at coercion had to be experimental, his were expert. He knew all of Adom’s weaknesses.

Opening the door, Ornias stepped into the softly lit room. His face hardened at the sight that met his eyes. Standing before the fireplace in a golden brocaded robe, Adom had his arms folded, a look of utter fright on his childish face. Close beside him, Rachel sat, a glass of cognac before her. Dressed in a sage-colored gown with a high neckline, her flowing hair draped in glistening waves over her swelling breasts.

Ornias smiled. How clever of Adom to pull something like this. But no, it couldn’t have been the guileless madman’s idea. Eloel must have convinced him. He toyed for a moment with
how
she might have done that, then dismissed the idea. Adom was too naive to know what to do if she had made advances.

“Rachel, what a pleasure to see you. I’d been informed of your presence here. I hope you’ve been treated well?”

She met his gaze with such a hate-filled look it nearly made him laugh out loud. Instead, he averted his gaze and moved across the plush red and gold rugs to take the chair opposite her. “What did you want to see me about, Adom?”

The Mashiah swallowed hard and frowned at the floor. “Ornias, Rachel has brought it to my attention that you’ve been tormenting the Old Believers.”