An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (16 page)

“No, no, it’s farther.” But her voice cracked with such doubt that Rathanial shot a worried glance at Jeremiel.

“Are you sure?” Rathanial asked softly. The lamp in his hand wobbled, throwing uncertain shadows on the brown walls.

“No. We may have …”

Jeremiel leaned a shoulder against the stone and massaged his forehead, listening absently as the two continued to quietly discuss whether they’d already missed the turn or not. The pungent scent of pine duff still clung to his jumpsuit, rising pleasantly in the confines of the quiet tunnel. They’d passed a number of workers in the halls above, but none appeared here, though tracks marred the dark brown sand.

“But, my dear Sarah, I was down this way only …”

Jeremiel closed his eyes. He felt devastatingly lonely and tired. The chasm of dread in his chest yawned wider, until it seemed a somber, frightening darkness pervaded everything like a midnight wind. Zadok’s death formed part of it. He silently wondered what the future held with that old stalwart of strength and tenderness gone. His thoughts roamed briefly over the past fifteen years. No matter how risky his ideas for antagonizing the Magistrates, Zadok had always offered support, both financial and moral. But with him dead, there’d be an internal struggle for power, upsetting the applecart for a time. Power-mongers within his own ranks would scratch to the surface and certainly the government would now consider him vulnerable. His forces could expect repeated attacks for the next few months. Maybe Rudy had been right. He should have forgotten the entire Horeb affair.

He hugged himself and frowned, watching the lamplight flicker over the cinnamon walls. He seemed to make the wrong choices so damned often lately. Syene … Syene. Her sweet name tormented him.

“Just a little farther,” Sarah was saying. “If we haven’t found it in another fifteen minutes, we’ll turn back.”

“That’s agreeable.” Rathanial nodded and shrugged apologetically to Jeremiel. He matched the shrug, smiling his understanding.

They started off again, footsteps echoing eerily down the tunnel. In only a few moments they came to a staircase carved into the rock which led downward.

“Ah, you were right, Sarah,” Rathanial said in embarrassment and patted her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have argued.”

“It’s all right. I wasn’t sure myself.” She led the way expertly now. Down, down, until finally they stepped into a small rounded room with a single table and two chairs. Jeremiel ducked his head in defense against the low ceiling, gaze roving the dusty bottles of wine sitting in the wall niche.

“What is this place?” he asked, dusting off his black pants. It smelled of old wax and dry paper.

Sarah walked shakily forward, the soft light catching in her yellow sleeve bows. “It was Papa’s Sanctum. He came here to read and study. It was the only place he believed truly s-safe.” Her voice broke and she put a trembling hand to her mouth.

Jeremiel sympathetically dropped his gaze. The double funeral in the pouring rain that morning had left all their emotions raw.

“Sarah,” Rathanial whispered. “Come and sit down. You’ll feel better.”

She smoothed her skirts and did as instructed, sinking into one of the chairs and placing the basket on the table. Jeremiel sat on the floor, stretching his long legs out and leaning back against the cold stone. A chill seeped through the wall to touch his shoulders.

Rathanial paced nervously, a hand propped beneath his white-bearded jaw, ancient eyes filled with a worry so deep it felt palpable in the still room. The ruby threads in his silver robe gleamed darkly in the candlelight.

“If you don’t mind,” Jeremiel asked, a penitent look on his face. “Before we begin this in depth, Sarah, could I trouble you for a piece of that wonderful smelling bread? You see, I haven’t—”

“Oh, of course,” she answered guiltily, thrusting the entire basket at him. “I’d forgotten I’d even brought it.”

He took a thick slice and offered the basket to Rathanial who shook his head. Setting the loaf by his side, Jeremiel took a huge bite out of his slice, gratefully sinking back against the wall. A sweet bread, it tasted of nuts and Kayan oranges.

“Well,” Rathanial sighed, “I suppose we should get down to business. None of us expected the sort of travesties we’ve witnessed in the past several days, but they certainly have a grave bearing on the future of Gamant civilization.” He looked from Jeremiel to Sarah and back again.

Sarah watched him through wide, pained eyes, twisting the fabric of her skirt in her fingers. “What business?”

“The business of protecting Gamant interests throughout the galaxy, my dear.”

“For example?”

“Many things,” Rathanial said, slightly irritated. “Like what to do with the Mashiah on Horeb. How to best approach the Magistrates from here on out. How we can mend broken fences among our own people.”

Jeremiel frowned. Had Zadok kept her so much in the dark about his leadership that she didn’t realize the severe challenges ahead? He wondered what that said about the old man’s confidence in his youngest daughter?

“Rathanial,” he interjected, chewing and swallowing a mouthful of bread, “before we get into ‘business,’ let’s discuss the past few days. Who was the man you killed at the spaceport?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before.”

“But you have suspicions?”

“He’s probably one of the Mashiah’s hired assassins.”

“The Mashiah you wrote me about?”

“The same.”

“Why would he want to kill Zadok?”

Rathanial waved a hand anxiously, then wiped his sweating palms on his silver robe. “I… It clears the way for him to declare himself the leader of Gamant civilization. I think that’s been his plan for months.”

“But I thought that burden fell on Zadok’s younger brother?”

“Yes, except we’ve been trying to contact Yosef for hours. He seems to have disappeared between Tikkun and here.”

“Disappeared?”

“Apparently. He left Kayan a few days ago and hasn’t been heard from since. I think we must presume he’s dead.”

Jeremiel nodded. “Given the past few days, I’d say that makes sense. So the leadership goes to Sarah now?”

“Legally, yes.”

“Only legally—not rightfully?”

Rathanial cast a glance at Sarah who gazed up timorously. She looked like a frightened child. “Yes, rightfully, too. But powerful men rarely hesitate over a few flimsy moral issues. Adom cares nothing for our tradition. He seeks to begin a new branch of Gamant civilization.”

“Then we must immediately organize a contingent of guards for Sarah.”

“Oh,” Rathanial said tightly. “Sarah will be well protected here.”

Jeremiel’s’ brows drew together. “After what just happened to Zadok and Ezarin, how you can be certain of that?”

“Oh, all right,” Rathanial conceded with obvious reluctance. “We’ll arrange for more bodyguards. How does that sound, my dear? Will it make you feel better?”

Jeremiel’s hackles rose at the vaguely resentful tone. The woman had just witnessed the deaths of two members of her family and a third had probably shared their fate.
Of course
a heavier guard would make her feel better, and she had every right to it.

“But I don’t understand,” Sarah said quietly. “If Horeb’s Mashiah knows he’s not next in line, killing Papa, Ezarin, and Uncle Yosef would serve no purpose.”

Jeremiel blinked in disbelief. “I’d suggest he plans on killing you and your son next.”

She glanced at him so fearfully, he dropped his gaze. “Papa mentioned something like that the day we found Ezarin.”

“Then again, perhaps Ezarin’s death and Zadok’s are two unconnected events. It might be that—”

‘It might be,” Rathanial said tiredly, pacing the small room, “that Zadok was killed because the Mashiah discovered I’d come to Kayan to ask him to test Adom’s authenticity.”

“Is
that why you came?” Sarah asked.

Rathanial wet his lips and his glance darted nervously around the cave, as though he feared the faraway prophet could hear. “We must be careful. There are ‘ears’ everywhere in these troubled times.”

“Are you saying that the Mashiah might have had Papa killed to keep him from doing the testing?”

“He’s a very cruel man and he fears being exposed for the fraud he is.”

“But it still doesn’t—”

“I’m not certain, Sarah. Zadok, as you well know, had a thousand enemies. It may have been a Magisterial plot, or possibly some of the energy merchants finally discovered—”

“But you believe the Mashiah did it.” She leaned forward pensively and the light played through her tangled web of black hair, stitching her round cheeks with a lacy pattern of shadow. “You said the day we found Ezarin that he was responsible.”

“Yes, but I may very well be wrong. My own perceptions are limited these days. I see Adom as responsible for everything evil.”

“From your letters,” Jeremiel said and took a deep breath, “I’d say that response is natural.” He took another bite of the flavorful bread and chewed it while contemplating the toes of his black boots.

“Yes, but it terrifies me.”

“Then someone must test him,” Sarah said.

Rathanial blinked. “Do you know how?”

She reached into her skirt pocket and drew out the
Mea Shearim,
holding it by the chain at arm’s length. A quaver came into her voice. “Papa died before he could tell me.”

“I suspected as much. That means the way to the Veil is lost forever. We must figure out other—”

“Maybe.”

The old man turned sharply, fixing her with a breathless look. “What do you mean? I thought Zadok was the only one who knew the—”

“He was. But he always said anyone could find out if they searched the ancient books long enough.”

“Which ancient books?”

Her thin black brows drew together over her nose and she opened her mouth as though to speak, then hesitated. Jeremiel’s eyes went from her to Rathanial. It seemed to him as though neither wanted the other to know—as though they doubted each other’s trustworthiness. That provided food for thought. What did Sarah see in Rathanial that left her dubious? And vice versa?

“Sarah!” Rathanial snapped. “Tell me!”

“He—he never specified,” she said, but shifted her eyes in such a way that Jeremiel found it as hard to believe as Rathanial apparently did. A cold mask dropped over the old man’s features.

“I see. Well, we’ll have to put our scholars to work immediately.” He paced, drumming his fingers on his forearms.

Watching the two of them, a sapping feeling of hopelessness dragged at Jeremiel, as though the hard stone beneath him might turn to quicksand at any moment. Gamants suspicious of Gamants—when all they had left in the galaxy was each other. A soft clink sounded from the corridor outside. Jeremiel pushed back against the wall, straightening, ears instinctively trained on the silence.

“What is it?” Rathanial asked, horror sparkling in his eyes. He took a step forward. “Did you hear—”

“Just a … No, nothing. I’m … just tired, I guess.” He forced a smile, but the sense of danger persisted.

Rathanial’s eyes examined the doorway steadily, then he turned to Zadok’s daughter. “It was very kind of you to show us the way here, Sarah. But could you, that is, would you mind if I spoke alone with Jeremiel for a time?”

“Not at all,” she said as though relieved. She got to her feet in a rustle of skirts. “I’ll meet you in the main gallery when you’ve finished discussing … when you’ve finished.”

“Yes, that’s fine. We won’t be long. Perhaps an hour.”

“Good, I’ll see you there.” She smiled feebly and rushed toward the stairs.

“Uh … dear,” Rathanial called softly, “would you mind leaving the
Mea Shearim?
We promise to take good care of it.”

She glanced at the blue ball on the end of the chain, then clutched it to her ample breasts. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“Please, Sarah, I don’t know how to use it anyway. We both know that. I want it only because Jeremiel is knowledgeable on the ancient texts and I’m hoping that with it here in
his
hands, he might able to remember some passages from the magical papyri. It is, after all, a possession of all Gamants, isn’t it?”

Her dark gaze sought Jeremiel’s and she held it for a long moment, probing. He shifted uneasily, feeling a keen mind behind those black orbs, keen and fearful. Finally, she handed it to him reluctantly, whispering, “You mustn’t touch the globe. Hold it only by the chain.”

He took the object, surprised by how warm the gold felt in his fingers. “I will.”

She cast a quick glance at Rathanial, then darted into the hallway. The white-haired elder stood for what seemed an eternity, listening until her footsteps faded to nothingness.

“Dear Lord,” he finally whispered, slumping into one of the chairs. “What’s happening to us? She doesn’t trust me,
me\
with the secrets of Gamant civilization.”

Jeremiel lifted his brows, nodding. “That was rather obvious. And what’s this about my being ‘knowledgeable’? You know I haven’t studied the texts since I was a boy. I haven’t had the time.”