An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (30 page)

“He’s not religious. His only faith is in his fellow criminals and the weapons he can steal from us.”

“How do you know that?” Ari challenged indignantly as he brushed irritably at the mass of white hair which hung about his thin face.

“I’ve fought against him a dozen times. I understand the way his mind works damn near as well as I do my own. Now why don’t you tell me why he’s here?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you admit he’s here?”

“Did I?” Ari cocked his head as though he might have forgotten.

Tahn’s brow creased and he briskly rubbed the back of his neck. Yosef figured the muscles must have tensed up. “I don’t like games, Funk,” Tahn growled.

“Say,” Ari looked up at him inquiringly. “Why do
you
think he’d come to Horeb. It’s a despicably barren planet. Now that I think about it, I must admit I’m curious about his whereabouts myself. Maybe he’s—”

“You’re a liar.”

Ari blinked, looking like a demented owl. “I’m not a liar. Yosef is. But that’s only because he’s senile. He can’t help it.”

Yosef smiled at Tahn, lifting his shoulders apologetically—and silently promising himself he’d kill Ari later.

As though it had bearing on the subject, Ari pulled the can of beets from his pocket and looked at it seriously. “Did you know that beets were an ancient gift of the gods? They’re good for colds and certain types of epigluton viruses. But they’re getting very rare now and—”

“Councilman,” Tahn said through gritted teeth. “Allow me to take these two actors to my ship? If they’re truly innocent, I’ll return them.”

“Captain, surely you can see these two elderly worshipers are no threat to you or Horeb. And they know even less about Baruch than you do.” Ornias came over to stand near them. “We have many worshipers from all over the galaxy coming to Horeb. These two gentlemen’s intentions are clearly godly. Why are you persecuting them?”

A hard glint of anger flickered in Tahn’s eyes. “My purpose is to find and apprehend Jeremiel Baruch. He’s a murderer and a thief and wanted in every sector of human space for his depredations against innocent citizens of the galaxy. I follow orders, I don’t persecute!”

“Baruch is not here, Captain. I thought we’d established that?”

“I don’t believe we’ve established anything.”

“What further evidence do you need?”

“If you won’t allow me to question Funk and Calas, I’d like permission to initiate a massive search on Horeb.”

“No.”

“Why not? If you have nothing to hide?”

“Because,” Ornias said, smiling. “It’s against our planetary laws, which are founded on the Treaty of Lysomia. That treaty, I’m sure you realize, clearly states that independent Gamant planets have the right to establish and mete out systems of justice according to their own moral standards unless a state of anarchy exists, government property is endangered, or the populace is committing acts which threaten the security of the galaxy. Correct, Captain?”

“Hiding Baruch would be such an action, Councilman.”

“He’s not here.
As well, there are no government properties on Horeb and we are at peace. Therefore, our laws are in effect and they prohibit external military forces from interfering with our normal lives. So you see,” he said pleasantly, spreading his arms, “my hands are tied. I’ve already ‘bent’ the laws by allowing
you
here. We certainly cannot consider letting your forces carry out a search. However, I guarantee that if we discover Baruch is on Horeb, we will do everything in our power to apprehend him and turn him over to you.”

Tahn’s blue-violet eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh. Well, I’d like to speak with the Mashiah about the search, if you don’t mind. He’s the final decision maker on Horeb, isn’t he?”

“Yes, of course, but he’ll tell you the same—”

“I’d like to ask him myself.”

Ornias regarded the captain for a moment, then smiled pleasantly and moved to a brass gong near the double doors. Tapping it softly, he waited until a beautiful black servant woman in fine lilac faille appeared. Stroking her cheek seductively, he cooed, “Shassy, dear, please see if the Mashiah has a moment to spare? Captain Tahn from the Magisterial ship,
Hoyer,
would like to speak with him.”

She pulled back from his hand, but the movement was performed so subtly Yosef doubted anyone else had noticed. Lifting a brow, she appraised the captain as though
he
were the servant, and one deserving an exceedingly slow execution. Yosef frowned. Her demeanor shouted of royalty in captivity. She certainly didn’t consider herself a common laborer in the house of the Mashiah. Who was she? And why did she endure the role of whore to the High Councilman?

“I’ll see if Adom is free,” she stated, turning and exiting the room.

Ari leaned forward, eyes wide. “He’s our new savior, you know? He’s going to kill all you ugly Magistrate types and free us.”

Ornias cringed, closing his eyes, then opened one to glance at Tahn. The captain merely pursed his lips and exhaled violently through his nose. “I’m aware of your quaint religious beliefs, Mr. Funk.”

In a few minutes, a patter of soft steps echoed from the corridor outside and a young man with long blond hair and large blue eyes sprinted into the room, stopping abruptly when he saw Tahn’s purple uniform. He looked at the captain breathlessly. Yosef frowned. Except for his regal scarlet robe, the famed Mashiah seemed nothing more than a gangly good-looking boy.

“Captain Cole Tahn,” Ornias introduced, “this is Adom Kemar Tartarus.” He stepped protectively closer to the Mashiah.

Tahn extended a hand only to uncomfortably drop it as Tartarus formed his fingers into the sacred Gamant triangle.

“May the blessing of Milcom be with you, Captain,” the Mashiah greeted in a surprisingly beautiful voice. Almost frail, it rang with childish innocence.

Glancing at Ari, Yosef saw his friend’s bushy brows draw together inquisitively.
This
was the man who worried Jeremiel? Tartarus looked as though he’d crumble if anyone shouted “boo!” at him. But appearances often deceived. Perhaps the boy played a role of naïveté for the captain’s benefit.

“Mashiah,” Tahn said sternly. “We suspect that these two men,” he leveled a hand at Ari and Yosef, “arrived here in the company of Jeremiel Baruch. As I’m sure you’re aware, Baruch—-”

“Jeremiel Baruch?” Adom asked curiously, head tilted so that his blond hair shimmered in the sunlit dust floating through the room. “Who’s that?”

Ornias put a hand on his broad shoulder, softly explaining, “He’s a rebel.”

“A rebel?”

Tahn gritted, “A Gamant rebel. He crisscrosses the galaxy sowing discord. I have a warrant for his arrest.”

“The captain wants to initiate a
massive
search for Baruch across the face of Horeb,” Ornias supplied. “I’ve informed him that Horebian laws forbid outside military forces from—”

“But,” Adom interrupted mildly. “How do we know he’s here?”

“We know,”
Tahn stated flatly. “The ship Funk and Calas landed in reeks of him.”

“Er—crashed in,” Ornias clarified. “They demolished our food warehouse, Adom. I was there with the planetary marines distributing food to the hungry multitudes when they arrived.”

Adom whirled to stare at Yosef and Ari, brow furrowed deeply. “Are you two all right?”

They nodded in unison and Adom’s smile warmed a little. He walked over to stand in front of them. The pungent scent of sandalwood clung to his dancing scarlet robe. “Did Jeremiel Baruch come here with you?”

Ari shook his head. “No, Mashiah. We came here alone … to seek you out.”

“You’re new worshipers?”

“Yes.”

A heartwarming smile lit the youth’s face. Like a child receiving a puppy at Chanukah, Yosef thought. He watched intently as tears welled in Adom’s eyes and he bent to first pat Ari’s sprawled leg, then touch Yosef’s shoulder soothingly.
A peculiar boy. His emotions seem pure and utterly honest.

“Don’t worry,” the Mashiah assured. “You’re safe now.”

Turning back to Tahn, he said, “I’m sorry, Captain, but I’m afraid the Councilman informed you correctly. We don’t allow foreign—”

“But Mashiah!” Tahn insisted. “Baruch is a known murderer.”

“He’s not here.”

“We don’t know that! These men, in all probability, are his cohorts and are protecting him.”

Adom turned halfway round to glance trustingly at his new converts. “They say Baruch wasn’t with them. If he wasn’t with them, then he isn’t here, Captain. Or …” He blinked. “Do you suspect he might have arrived in another ship?”

Tahn shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “No.”

“Then—”

“If you refuse me the right to search, Mashiah, at least let me take these men back to my ship for further interrogation. We have a small neurophysiology section on the
Hoyer
that—”

Yosef sucked in a sudden breath, heart pounding. Everyone turned in his direction. “Mashiah,” he softly pleaded. “We want only to experience the peace of … Milcom. If it is your wish, we’ll go with Captain Tahn, but I assure you, we know nothing of this Baruch.”

“I believe you,” Adom said, eyes welling with concern. Like a mother cat protecting her litter, he lunged at Tahn, speaking as sharply as Yosef guessed he ever did. “Captain, please leave us now. Baruch is not on Horeb and these men are under our jurisdiction. As a result, I see no further need to waste your time or that of the Magistrates.”

“I’ll go,” Tahn replied begrudgingly. “But be aware the Magistrates are growing tired of your insolent and uncooperative attitudes. We already have an uprising on Kayan to subdue after Calas’ death, I won’t have one starting here. The
Hoyer
will remain in Horebian space until we have convinced
ourselves
that Baruch is not here.” Bowing stiffly, he stalked out the doors.

His bootsteps echoed stabbingly down the marble halls.

Ornias gave the Mashiah an oily smile. “Very good, Adom. Though I suspect we haven’t seen the last of him. He’s rather persistent.”

“It doesn’t matter. The Magistrates are always …” His voice drifted off as his eyes went suddenly vacant. He cocked his head as though listening and Yosef stared unabashedly. The youth seemed swept away in some ecstasy.

“Adorn?” Ornias called softly, glancing nervously at Yosef and Ari. ‘“Adom!”

A black shadow descended, creeping up the walls. The windows banged as a chilling wind whistled through the room. Yosef whirled at the sound. A bank of clouds blocked the sun, dark and roiling.

“Or … Ornias,” Adom managed at last. “Milcom calls me. Please see to the needs of our guests.” Without further farewell he hastily turned and left.

Ari lifted his brows expressively and mouthed the word, “addled,” to Yosef.

The councilman glared at the last place Adom had stood. “Uh … as you can see,” he patiently explained, “God overtakes him without warning sometimes. Please, Mister Funk and Mister Calas, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the Hall of Converts. It’s on the far end of the palace.”

They rose, bumping each other in their hurry to follow the white-robed leader down the towering coral halls.

“Mr. Calas,” the councilman crooned as he led them around a corner. “Please accept our deepest regrets at the death of your brother. We had sincerely hoped Zadok would come here soon to test Adom.”

“Test him?” Ari asked.

“Yes, to assure his authenticity as the true Mashiah promised in scripture.” Halting abruptly, Ornias smiled. “Mr. Calas … Yosef … do you perchance know what happened to the
Mea Shearim?
Surely your brother had it when he died. Did he give it to someone else, or—”

“Mea?
What’s that?” Ari interrupted rudely, looking from one man to the other.

“You don’t know?” Ornias inquired.

They both shook their aged heads.

“Forget I mentioned it, then. It isn’t important anyway.” Ornias laughed softly and began striding down the hall so quickly Yosef had to run to keep up.

As they rounded another corner and entered a long rectangular room filled with fountains and rose agate statues of the saints, Yosef slowed his pace, falling behind. The sound of his steps were muffled in the black and gold tufted carpets. One entire wall opened onto a vista of the distant mountains. Jagged red peaks thrust up to pierce the turquoise sky.

What,
he wondered as he walked,
would a councilman on Horeb want with the sacred gate to a god he did not even worship?
And what trouble had arisen on Kayan after Zadok’s death?

Zadok leaned wearily against the rapier arch of the first heaven, glaring at Sedriel who floated in the azure sky, wings lazily stroking the air. The despicable angel had a cocky smile on his face.

“Well?” Zadok asked gruffly.

“That’s not seven hundred and twenty-two.”

“You don’t know how to add, you blasted imbecile!”

“Don’t taunt me, Calas. Shall I cast you back to the Void?”

“Do you know
any
of these names, Sedriel? Or did someone just tell you how many fingers to put down?”