Summoning Light (8 page)

Galen removed his hand from the soft silver surface, took a step back, then another. The hatred welled up in him, no longer willing to be buried or contained. Energy bloomed through him. Fire raced along the lines of the tech. Heat spilled out from his skin. He visualized the equation.

A fireball appeared in the air before him, coruscating with light. He formed an equation of motion, hurled the fireball at the chrysalis. Fire splashed across the silver form and the interface pane. The chrysalis made a slight, squirming movement.

He formed a second fireball in the air. Shot it at the chrysalis. A third ball. Slammed it into the fiery recess.

The wormlike form was black, engulfed in flame. It moved no more.

Smoke billowed out of the wall, and with the sizzle and pop of melting machinery, the smell of charred meat carried on the air. He recognized the smell from when he'd burned Elizar's arm. It was the smell of his old friend's flesh.

If only he had killed Elizar then. If only he had burned Elizar to a handful of ash.

Galen's hands had tightened into quivering fists. He realized with surprise that he was crying, wiped impatiently at his eyes with the back of his fist. Smoke was filling the interior. He knew he should leave. Yet the fire that raced through him would consume him if he did not release it. These small conjuries had only increased its pressure.

He thought of letting it all come out, of making the ship into an inferno, destroying it from the inside out, with him still inside.

But that would kill Elric.

He had to leave. He had to leave before he lost all control. He stumbled to the air lock.

He would get into his ship. He would retreat to a safe distance. He would fire at Elizar's ship, destroying it. And he would bury these thoughts of destruction once again. He would not feel. He would not remember.

But he would remain vigilant. He could not allow himself to retreat completely to that place deep inside, to fade into transparency, to haunt the living like a ghost. It was too dangerous. For in the blaze of fire, he had revealed himself. He was no insubstantial ghost, but a monster, one who would kill in a moment if he did not hold tightly to the tech.

So he would maintain his focus. He would stay in control. He would go with the techno-mages to their hiding place. And he would hide.

C
HAPTER 4

Galen entered the squat, rectangular structure through an air lock marked with the rune signifying solidarity. He had brought his valise and staff from the ship, leaving the rest of his possessions behind. As he waited for the air lock to pressurize, he dreaded facing the others, feeling the self-consciousness that inevitably arose when he was with anyone other than Elric. People, particularly mages, always gave him the uncomfortable sensation that they saw in him things he did not wish to reveal, things that, in some cases, he did not even know existed. And with all that had happened, he feared what they would now see in him, and what they would say. Whatever they said, he would keep the memories, and the emotions they carried, buried. He could not face them again.

He composed his face. The inner door opened, and he slipped the breather off, stepped into a vast hangar filled with crates and supplies.

Fed stood beside the air lock, a crooked smile on his face.

"Federico," Galen said, feeling awkward. "Good to see you." His tone sounded more distant than he intended.

"Nice work on Elizar's ship," Fed said. "I think you got it the first time."

"I felt thoroughness was warranted," Galen replied.

"Oh, absolutely. You don't want to leave the job half done." Though many mages scoured their scalps regularly in honor of the Code, as did Galen, it appeared that Fed had not undergone scouring since their initiation in November. His bushy beard and short, wiry hair were quickly regaining their old wild-man look. That Fed forwent the scouring of the scalp was not surprising; his former teacher, Herazade, did the same.

Fed exuded the sharp smell of cologne, and he'd discarded the plain black robe he'd worn as an apprentice in favor of a short yellow jacket and pants covered with elaborate embroidery. For some reason, he looked like a pirate. Galen could imagine Elizar saying something very clever and cutting about Fed's appearance. But Elizar was across the galaxy, torturing and killing people.

"I'm supposed to brief you on our luxurious accommodations," Fed said.

Galen found he had received a message from Fed with several files attached-maps, schedules, plans.

"They have some rules. Everyone is required to help with the preparations, and work assignments are being coordinated by Herazade. Don't complain about your assignment, or you'll be assigned to something less pleasant." Galen got the impression Fed was speaking from experience. "You're staying in Room 244, with me. We're roommates. Your lifetime dream, I'm sure. My stuff's a little messy right now. Just ignore it; I'll clean it up later.

"All the rooms are claustrophobia traps, so don't get your hopes up. If we keep to schedule, we should be out of here in two weeks. Any disputes should be brought immediately to a member of the Circle. I have to say that, because there have already been so many fights, things are getting pretty crazy. It's air-lock fever; it's the tension." Fed shrugged. "It's us."

"Where is Elric?"

Fed jerked a thumb toward the far end of the hangar. "If you go out that door, you'll find him in Room 288, down the hall to the right. The Circle has gathered there." He added, hesitantly, "I think they're examining Kell's body."

Galen started down through the tall rows of supplies, his staff and breather in his right hand, valise in his left.

Fed followed. "Is it true that Elizar and Razeel killed Kell?" His voice had grown softer.

"Yes," Galen said.

"You saw Kell?"

"Yes."

Fed bowed his head, uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Kell helped me once. With some trouble I was having. It was nothing major. It was pretty stupid, actually. But he took the time to talk to me." Fed was silent for a few seconds. Galen didn't think he'd ever seen Fed quiet, except when someone else was speaking. "When I saw Elric come out of that ship with a body, I felt – outrage, I guess is what it was. How could they do that?"

Galen kept his voice neutral. "The same way they killed before."

"Elizar always seemed to take that mage arrogance thing a little too seriously. And Razeel, she was just plain creepy."

Galen wondered how Fed would categorize him.

"How could they have overpowered Kell? And how could they have found out where we are? Kell resigned the Circle before those decisions were even made," Fed said.

"I don't know."

"A traitor?"

Galen did not answer. They didn't have enough information.

"We're going to have to move, aren't we? If they know we're gathering here, they could follow us to the hiding place."

"I expect so." They had reached the far side of the hangar, and Galen stopped, hoping that perhaps Fed would return to his post.

Fed glanced into the plain beige hall and seemed to force the crooked smile back onto his face. "I'm lobbying for someplace warmer and more comfortable for our next gathering place. A nice resort with a beach. A bunch of pale-skinned techno-mages in black robes would fit right in."

Down the hall to the right, a large group of mages blocked the passage. Carvin stood out in her colorful Centauri silks, her head buried in her hands as she sobbed. Alwyn stood beside his former student, an arm over her shoulders, his jaw tight with anger. After Elric, they were the two mages he felt closest to. But Galen did not want to join them in their mourning.

"Word travels pretty fast around here." Fed shrugged.

Galen had no doubt Fed had been the one to start the news spreading. He had always been a conduit of gossip. Secrecy seemed to be a part of the Code with which he was unacquainted. "Which way is our room?"

Fed nodded down the hall in the same direction as the crowd. "No way around them." Fed tilted his head. "Have you noticed, Galen? I can never get more than a sentence out of you."

"I haven't much to say."

"But I've never known someone more full of things to say." Fed's eyes were narrowed in humor, though they remained fixed on him, revealing a more serious intent. Perhaps Fed wanted more gossip to spread. Or perhaps Fed simply wanted to be his friend, to encourage him to unburden himself. Fed had always behaved as if they were good friends, though Galen felt they barely knew each other. He certainly didn't understand Fed. He didn't know how someone could become a mage with minimal discipline, no sense of mage history, and little respect for the Code. In any case, Galen had no desire to speak, about anything, to anyone.

"If I feel the urge to talk, I'll make sure to let you know."

He left Fed behind and walked toward the mages gathered in the passage. Perhaps fifty or a hundred of them blocked the way, crowding outside the closed door to Room 288, where the Circle now studied Kell's remains.

Galen composed a message to Elric.
I have destroyed Elizar's ship. Do you have need of me?

Gowen stood in the center of a large group who seemed to be bombarding him with questions. They would want to know what he'd seen aboard Elizar's ship. Gowen's round cheeks were drawn up in dismay, his hands clenched together in white-knuckle prayer. He caught sight of Galen, fixed on him as if seeing a specter. Circe and Maskelyne, standing beside Gowen, stopped their questioning, and they too looked toward Galen. They would know that he had been with Elric, that he had seen Kell's body.

Elric's response arrived.
No. I am occupied with the Circle. You did well in getting us here. You should rest.

A few feet away, Alwyn followed the gaze of the others to Galen. His tight jaw relinquished a smile. Alwyn looked the same as he had last month, at the convocation. He wore his favorite loud, multicolored robe, a long black cape over it. His receding silvery hair, the bags beneath his eyes, his generous girth – all suggested a softness that Alwyn often displayed, yet one that could vanish instantly when his anger was aroused. Galen didn't see any new weakness in Alwyn, though he too must have destroyed his place of power.

Carvin seemed to sense that something had changed. She raised her face, wet with tears. "Galen!" she cried. She ran to him, seizing him with a rustle of her Centauri silks, and enveloped him in her sobs.

Galen's body went rigid. As always, close contact made him uncomfortable. He did not like to be touched. And he did not want to be the dumping ground for her pain. Let her keep it to herself. He did not want to feel it. He refused to feel it.

Her whisper ran down the side of his face. "It is one death after another."

The words ripped the memory from him, the image of Carvin's face wet with tears, watching as magical fire consumed Isabelle's lifeless body. She had cried for Isabelle, cried when Galen could not.

Alwyn came to stand beside her, and he rubbed her back in a circular motion. Carvin had never withheld her emotions. During Alwyn's visits to Soom, Galen and Carvin had often studied together. To Galen, she had always seemed strangely fearless – passionate, outgoing, open. She did not hide from life, but lived it. It was an existence foreign to him.

At last she released him, and he let out a breath, trying to relax his muscles.

Carvin wiped at her eyes. Her spell language was the language of her body. When she performed an elaborate conjury, she directed her power with strong, graceful movements. Galen remembered the perfect illusion she had created in the training hall on Soom with Alwyn's boots, the intricate patterns traced by her body. Now her shoulders were curled inward, her back hunched.

Alwyn embraced him. "It's good to see you well."

"And you," Galen said, wondering how he would ever get through the entire group of mages. But he could not pass without talking to Alwyn and Carvin. He set his valise down, rested the end of his staff against the floor.

"Was it Elizar?" Carvin asked.

Galen's throat was tight. He nodded.

"We have to stop him," she said.

Anger stirred inside Galen. Didn't she understand how hard it had been to put to rest? "That is up to the Circle," he said.

"You don't know all that's happened," Alwyn said. "Djadjamonkh and Regana are missing. They should have arrived here last week. And as Carvin and I traveled here from Regula 4, we were attacked by an unmarked ship of great power. We barely escaped from it. The Shadows are determined to stop us."

Galen didn't need Alwyn to tell him of the Shadows. It was their hand behind all that had happened, their hand that had brought so much pain. They sought to consume the galaxy in chaos. But he would not be consumed.

Circe inserted herself into their conversation. "Djadjamonkh and Regana may have fallen ill after destroying their places of power. Or perhaps they joined with the Shadows." Her voice now sounded almost like an outsider's, weak, lacking resonance. And beneath the shadow of her tall, pointed hat, her face showed signs of change as well. The lines on either side of her mouth had deepened, along with the tiny lines above her lip. She, like so many of them, had destroyed her place.

"They would not have joined the Shadows," Alwyn said. "And if ill, they would have contacted us. Do you believe Kell, too, fell ill?"

"You speak as if you've made up your mind what we must do."

Alwyn gave her a hard stare. "I know what's right, without waiting for the Circle to issue a proclamation."

Circe frowned. "We must all follow the Circle. We are sworn to solidarity. Besides, they may well have information we do not."

"Of that I've no doubt. They may know who killed every Earth president from Santiago back to Kennedy. They may know the number of angels that can dance on the head of a pin. They may even know the meaning of the universe. But it doesn't change what I know."

"And what is that?"

"That we must fight the Shadows," Alwyn said.

Galen looked anxiously down the hall toward his room. He didn't want to be drawn into this debate.