An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (60 page)

But
Adom …
Adom …

“Think of the Old Believers who still suffer on the far side of the city.” She forced her memories to call up their faces. Talo appeared, eyes gleaming with stubborn faith on the day of the holocaust; he reproached her indecision. Others appeared. Each silently asked how she could even hesitate.

“He’s not to blame!”

Retrieving her pack from the near the hearth, she slammed it on the bed and began shoving dresses and her black cloak inside. Unfastening the side pocket to stuff in socks, she saw the silver gleam of the knife she’d stolen from one of her plates days ago. She jerked her hand away involuntarily, as though from the fangs of a poisonous snake.

Heart pounding, she wiped sweaty palms on her jumpsuit.
Pick it up. Pick it up, damn you!

With quaking fingers, she pulled it from the pocket and tucked it in her black boot.

Glancing out the window, she noticed the horizon had changed to a deep purple. A mauve glow slipped between the buildings in the merchants’ section of town, dappling the red streets. In the distance, the peaks stood like lone sentinels, silently guarding the secret passageways of the Desert Fathers. A frail sense of hope rose.

Grabbing her pack she ran out of her room and down the long hall, passing the rich tapestries without looking. When she reached Adom’s door, tears pressed against her lashes.

“Adorn?”

Footsteps sounded within and he opened the door, stepping out into the hall, his pack in one hand. His ebony cloak covered most of the white jumpsuit he wore beneath. Blond hair hung over his chest, shimmering like pale gold in the morning light. He smiled affectionately, eyes going over her. “You look beautiful. I hope I didn’t rush you too much. It’s just that we have to hurry.”

“It’s all right. I’m ready.” She met and held his warm gaze. Inside, a voice shouted at her:
Now! Kill him now. You may never have another chance so perfect.
The knife blade pressed coldly against her calf, beckoning.

He turned to close his door, back to her. She stared at the place between his shoulders where the blade would be certain to puncture a lung. Sweat broke out on her brow, and her heart thundered. She dropped her hand to her boot… and froze, unable to force her fingers to touch the instrument of his death.
She couldn’t do it!

“There’s a
samael
waiting at the spaceport,” he said softly. Turning back, he clasped her hand fondly. “Ornias has arranged for a regiment of guards to escort us there.”

“A regiment?”

“Oh, at least. He’s afraid someone from the Desert Fathers might try to assassinate me before we can get to safety.” He laughed, shaking his head in genuine amusement as they walked down the hall.

“You think that’s funny?”

“Only because I’ve told the councilman several times that God promised me I wouldn’t die in Seir.”

Rachel swallowed hard. She could prove his god wrong. “He doesn’t believe Milcom?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter now.”

“Why not?”

“Because the end is almost here. If Milcom wins the war ahead, none of this will exist. So, you see, whether Ornias has faith or not is unimportant.”

They turned a corner and descended a staircase. At the bottom, Rachel saw the huge brass doors looming darkly. Over three dozen guards crowded them, gray suits and silver helmets donned. Yosef and Ari stood on the last step, waiting.

Yosef licked his lips nervously, watching the Mashiah and Rachel descend the steps. He hastily climbed to meet them. “Forgive me, Mashiah,” he said politely. “The palace is humming with the news of your departure. Would you mind if I talk with Rachel before you go?”

Adom frowned slightly, but shrugged. “Please, say your good-byes.” He squeezed Rachel’s hand affectionately, then trotted down the steps to meet Ornias, who paced nervously before the doors, whispering with the guards.

Rachel stared at Yosef. He smiled in a kindly way, seeing the shine of sweat across her beautiful face. She glanced repeatedly at Adom, pain and something else in her eyes, longing? Regret?

“What is it, Mister Calas?’

“I have a message for you.”

“From who?”

“Jeremiel Baruch.”

Her face paled, eyes widening. She put an insistent hand on his arm. “Quickly, what is it?”

“He says you are to carry out the original plan.”

She flinched, dropping her hand limply to her side. “Does … does he?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him, I—I … can’t.”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked back at Adom. She clearly cared for the gentle boy. Were they lovers? Yes, Yosef suspected they were. The poor girl, her heart must be breaking. After the deaths of the guards outside Jeremiel’s chamber, he knew the horror of murder. “I know it’s a terrible duty, Rachel.”

“You don’t understand. Adom’s as much a victim of Ornias’ scheming as we are!”

“Yes, I know that. And so does Jeremiel. Ari and I told him last night. He understands what the situation is here. But he said that changes nothing. You must—”

“Last night? Where is he?”

“Down there, dressed as a guard. He’ll be with you most of the way to the spaceport.”

“Where?” Desperately she searched the gray-clad men, taking a step down the staircase. “Which one?”

“On the far right, beneath the wall lamp.”

Her eyes flitted wildly across the room, recognition dawning at sight of the reddish blond beard protruding from beneath the half-closed helmet visor. Lamplight illumined the small smile that touched Jeremiel’s lips. She smiled back, tears of relief welling. “Please, Yosef, I must talk to him. I must explain that Adom isn’t to blame.”

She lurched down another step and Yosef gripped her arm tightly, jerking her back. She stared at him pleadingly, a look that made Yosef’s heart ache. “You can’t. If anyone sees you talking with him, you’ll both be compromised.”

“But I must.
I must!
There’s something he doesn’t understand!”

“He does understand, my dear,” Yosef repeated miserably. Her arm trembled in his grip. “Ari and I told him everything we know. He won’t change his mind about the plan. As Jeremiel says, the Mashiah is still the figurehead.
You have to take the heart out of his followers, or ten times more will die needlessly.
I’m so sorry.”

She swallowed, obviously struggling with the urge to cry. Bitterly, she shook off his hand and gave Jeremiel a tormented look. Yosef grimaced, watching Baruch. He seemed startled, posture stiffening. Yosef spotted Ornias peering at Rachel curiously, trying to follow her line of sight through the weave of bodies.

Yosef harshly jerked her sleeve and she dropped her gaze to her boots. “Ornias is getting suspicious. We must hurry.”

“Yes. All right.”

Yet he could tell every fiber of her being screamed at her to run to Baruch and beg mercy for Adom. Yosef pushed the spectacles up on his nose and his gray bushy brows drew together. “Is there anything you want to tell Jeremiel?”

“Yes, tell him I’m going to the northern ice cap. I don’t know where exactly. Tell him … tell him to take care of Sybil if I don’t …” Her voice faltered. “If I don’t make it back.”

“I’ll let him know. Take care of yourself, Rachel.
We need you. All of us.
” He stepped down the stairs to stand next to Ari.

Rachel stood hesitantly, shame tightening her face. Her gaze landed on Adom and he lifted a hand, urging her to hurry. Warmth and love filled his eyes. She took the steps two at a time, running to him.

Yosef looked away, unable to bear the tortured expression on her face. Wild guilt must have stormed like a beast inside her.

“I don’t know how she can do it,” he whispered miserably to Ari.

His friend’s face creased. He studied Rachel through hard gray eyes. “I just hope she
can.”

CHAPTER 37

Slowly, Jeremiel worked through the crowd of guards to get closer to Rachel. The look on her face when she’d stood on the stairs with Yosef had sent a chill down his spine. She seemed near panic. What the hell had happened? She knew the stakes. Surely she understood she couldn’t back out now? Inside, his own voice mocked,
I told you not to use Rachel. She’s too emotionally unstable to be reliable under pressure.

Trying not to call attention to himself, he stepped around a laughing circle of gray-clad men, winding toward her. As he neared, he heard Adom murmur, “Rachel, you’re trembling.” The Mashiah turned so he shielded her from prying eyes and asked softly, “Are you cold?”

“Y-Yes.”

Jeremiel gritted his teeth. He couldn’t see her face, but her voice sounded like she was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces.
Damn it, Rachel. Things are too desperate! You can’t fall apart now!

Adom spread his ebony cloak so that it enclosed both of them and hugged her tenderly. “Is that better?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yes, Adom. Hurry, let’s go.”

The Mashiah nodded to Ornias and the councilman opened the huge brass doors. The fires of sunrise splashed into the palace, bands of lavender streaking the coral arches.

“Form up!” the captain of the guards shouted, motioning. Men milled for a moment, pulling visors down, shoving each other to get to their proper places. Jeremiel fell in line at the end, wanting to be as far from Ornias as possible. When the troop marched, he marched with them, methodically descending the pink fan stairs to stand in the garden. Dead grass crackled beneath his boots.

“How come Neelam’s in charge today?” the black-haired man in front of him whispered to his blond friend.

“The councilman said Elaysin’s been assigned more important duties.”

“More important than protecting the Mashiah? What could—”

“I don’t know, Jonqui, but I’ve heard rumors we’re going to be attacked. Maybe El’s coordinating forces.”

“Attacked?
By who? I thought we’d shoved the rebels into the dirt? All their leaders are dead. By Milcom, we made sure of that! And we’re continuing to punish anyone who so much as mentions Epagael’s name. Who could possibly—”

“There’s that battle cruiser,” the blond murmured, motioning at the sky with his head. “Don’t forget them.”

The black-haired guard swallowed hard, nodding. “Aye.”

Jeremiel’s heart pounded. When Tahn found he’d slipped through Ornias’ fingers, and battle had broken loose on Horeb, he’d have every legal right to descend on the planet with massive forces. Instinctively, his hand dropped to the pistol hanging from his belt. Ari had “loaned” it to him. A gesture of support for the Underground, he’d explained.
Tahn.
If only he hadn’t forced Rudy away, he’d have had someone here he could depend upon. But now, every key person in the scenario seemed as stable as quicksilver.

Jeremiel forced his thoughts back to the next few minutes. He had to find a moment when everyone’s attention was elsewhere so that he could get away unnoticed. Perhaps somewhere along the route? He concentrated on the dust devils that wound across the desert in the distance, swirling to touch the turquoise sky. A few feathery clouds drifted over the red peaks.

Near the portcullis, Ornias shouted something unintelligible and the guards reformed in an awkward circle around Rachel and the Mashiah. Searing wind blasted them, whipping sand into their eyes as they flooded into the street. Jeremiel worked around until he stood closer than anyone else, no more than fifteen feet from Rachel. Maybe if he could catch her attention he could at least bolster her courage by his presence.

“You!” the captain of the guards shouted and casually Jeremiel turned. The dark-haired man waved at him. “Who are you? Move farther back! We need more in the rear.”

Nodding obediently, Jeremiel quickly retreated, pulse racing. If they found him out now, it would truly be over. He could only kill so many before they overpowered him.

Tall buildings lined the streets, apartments for the most part. People pressed eagerly against thin panes, waving at the Mashiah as he passed. Jeremiel frowned at the love in their trusting eyes. Did none of them care what his lackeys did to their cousins across town? A flame of anger flickered to life. Jonqui had said the Old Believers still endured punishment. How many more had died since Rachel fled the capital city? And these adoring fans didn’t care?

It took almost no time to walk the seven blocks through the herringbone streets to the spaceport. Black
samaels
lined the fenced pad in neat rows. All but one. It sat in the center, gangplank down, pilot standing in the entryway. Behind his ship, a red and gray ridge twisted like a serpentine chain across the desert.

As Ornias unlocked the gate to the fenced area, Adom stopped and turned, waving affectionately at the guards and the people who stared from the surrounding buildings. A cheer went up, people waving back, shouting good wishes, promising to take care of the city for him. Rachel stood painfully stiff at his side, eyes darting through the crowd, as though searching for Jeremiel. The raging anxiety on her pale face made his belly ache. Despair lay in every feature of her posture, the hunched shoulders, the clenched fists. And when she looked at Adom, an intense warmth and sorrow filled her eyes.
God damn … does she care about him? Can she still carry out her duty?
Desperation pushed him to lift a hand.