“The man is right,” Laud Gregor called from the entrance to the forecourt. “The High Altar cannot be tampered with. Ever. For any reason.” He sounded as angry as Sissy had been when Jeoff had told her the black paint around Discord on the mural was only days old. The rest of the mural dated back over a thousand years. And yet the oldest human bones in the caves were indeed only five hundred years old.
Contradiction piled upon contradiction upon fakery upon malice.
And the hover cam recorded it all.
With an effort, Sissy drew herself up as tall as she could stand. If all of Harmony watched her today, then she had to show them something special. She pulled all of her previous prophecies to the front of her mind. There were a few for which she couldn’t remember the exact words; others near blinded her with clarity.
She touched the altar with her fingertips for confidence. Let the world know why she had been chosen by Harmony as the High Priestess.
“I am the harbinger of change,” she said quietly. The world seemed to still around her. The hover cam focused in on her. “Better to control the trickle of change than clean up after the flood.”
Jake held his breath as Sissy spoke. Her eyes remained clear of starshine. But . . . but the moment she touched the altar, a blue glitter seemed to cover her lightly.
Electric sparks left over from the lightning on the day of her ordination, he told himself. That was all it could be.
Wasn’t it?
The hover cam backed off, changing the lens opening rapidly, trying to focus on something elusive.
A disconcerted gasp ran around the crowd of Workers, Professionals, and Temple who had gathered to watch the battle of wills.
The moment Sissy lifted her hand, he rushed to her side, ready to hold her up, carry her if necessary.
She remained standing, glaring at Laud Gregor, or was she flaying him with her eyes.
Jake placed a hand discreetly under her elbow. She slapped it away. “I am not an invalid,” she hissed at him.
He backed off. So did the camera.
Laudae Penelope stepped forward from the knot of HC members. They seemed to have pushed her. All of them together or just one of them? If only one, which one?
Her delicate perfume floated before her, something earthy and enticing. Artificial. She reminded him a lot of Pamela Marella, in her posture, her physique, and her artifice.
He suddenly lost all sense of attraction to either woman, though they were both damned beautiful. Sissy’s own natural scent of flowers and greenery filled his senses and his needs.
He wondered briefly if the watchers recognized the essential difference between the two women. Natural or artificial, confident or pompous, caring or self-centered.
Then Penelope did the totally unexpected. She melted back into the throng of the HC and pushed forward the two men who stood to either side of Lady Marissa. Noble twin sons who aided Marissa much as Guilliam worked for Gregor.
“I won’t be the puppet of the HC any longer. I won’t take the blame for their hatred,” Penelope said, just loud enough for those in the forecourt to hear, but not beyond to those at the fence.
What about the ever-present hover cam? It still focused tightly on Sissy.
Marissa’s son, no telling which one glared at Penelope, no more happy to be the mouthpiece of the HC than she was. The other kept his eyes on the ground.
Number One took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and faced the center of the forecourt squarely. “If you, Miss Sissy, can’t control and contain coming changes,” the man said, pointing accusingly at Sissy, “we will remove the Lood taint from the sacred Temple. By force if necessary.”
Not on my watch, Jake growled to himself.
How was he supposed to do that if he planned to leave Harmony?
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
SISSY FORGOT TO BREATHE.
Silence descended upon the courtyard, like a heavy blanket soaked in ice water. Sissy heard Jake loosen his sword in its sheath. No one else moved.
Finally, Laud Gregor drew in a deep breath. He turned on the entire HC with eyes blazing and fists clenched. “You are dismissed, Penelope. As are you, Bevan and Lukan.” No titles.
Sissy had the feeling something important had just happened.
“You haven’t the authority . . .” Penelope protested.
“But Laud Gregor and I combined do,” Lady Marissa said. Her sweet voice wafted over them all like a warm breeze, removing the ice in Sissy’s veins.
The hover cam zipped over to her.
“Get that damned thing out of my face,” Lady Marissa screamed. She flung her arms out. Her right fist punched the vulnerable lens and smacked the device into one of the crystal columns.
It connected with a loud crack that sent shivers through Sissy. Then the camera flopped to the ground. The lens fell out and shattered.
The column looked undamaged.
Lady Marissa relaxed her face from ugly viciousness to calm grace.
“But . . . but . . . I’ve refused to be their mouthpiece any more,” Penelope spluttered. She looked anxiously toward Marissa’s twin sons for support. All three were victims of someone else’s prejudice and ambition.
Fully recovered from her temper tantrum, Lady Marissa smiled sweetly. “Best retire with dignity while you can, girl.” She patted Penelope’s hand as if she were a child and not a fully grown and mature woman old enough to be Sissy’s mother. Marissa jerked her head at her two tall sons to follow their cousin.
“Good advice,” Jake whispered into Sissy’s ear. “This discussion should be conducted in private.”
“No, it shouldn’t be kept private,” Bevan, one of Marissa’s twins, announced to the crowd. “The world needs to know that High Priest Gregor prefers a Lood as his High Priestess to a woman who was born to the Temple, raised and educated to the Temple, and who has achieved a sacred seven times seven years.”
“My Laudae,” Guilliam stepped up behind Penelope. His proprietary hand on her waist suggested a long intimacy that surprised Sissy. “My Laudae, if confidence in the Temple is shaken by this encounter, then a major alteration has occurred. She will truly be the harbinger of change. Of chaos. She will have won and you lost. Irrevocably.”
Penelope stood for a long moment her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
Sissy breathed deeply. She had never doubted that Guilliam ran the day-to-day events of the Temple. Now, she realized he was much more. He was the anchor around which that life in the Temple revolved. He maintained a solid column of stability and whispered wisdom where it was needed, when it was needed. The rest of them merely reacted to his prodding.
She found humor there. For all of Penelope’s and Gregor’s pretensions, Guilliam was the true power here.
If Guilliam knew so much, then he probably could open the High Altar without construction tools or damaging the crystal. What else did he know and keep secret?
She should have gone to him first.
Penelope whirled about and stalked back through the tunnel toward the Temple interior with Lukan and Bevan following in her wake.
“We will discuss this in Council Chamber,” Bevan called from the archway that framed his tall figure majestically.
“Now is the time to speak to the HC,” Jake whispered.
Sissy almost laughed. As Guilliam advised and manipulated Gregor and Penelope, so Jake did the same for her. And Marissa’s sons advised their mother.
“Must I remind the High Council that our meetings are private, and outsiders are forbidden to speak?” Sissy said. She fixed Laud Gregor and Lady Marissa with a fierce gaze. “Laudae Penelope and Lady Marissa’s sons are not members of the High Council.”
“Neither is your bodyguard.” Lady Marissa looked at Jake as if she feared him. Her right eye twitched and she drew her right hand into a tight fist.
Murmurs of discontent whisked through the crowd beyond the fence like a whirlwind. A handheld camera flashed again and again.
“My bodyguard does not speak in Council. He enters the chamber only to ensure my safety. If you will guarantee with your life that no harm comes to me during the meetings, he will remain outside the doors.” Sissy tried hard to keep her chin from trembling in fear. Jake had reminded her often that only a Noble could afford a large, dark blue car and throw an illegal concussion grenade from it.
The crowd pressed closer to the fence. Ghoulish gawkers feeding on the negative emotions, or concerned onlookers ready to defend her?
“My Lords and Ladies, Lauds and Laudaes, this is not the time or place—” Gregor insisted. With a gesture he began herding them all back toward the tunnel. Guilliam became his sheepdog standing behind the various factions and pressing them in the correct direction.
“Harmony bless you, Laudae Sissy!” someone shouted from the depths of the crowd.
“Keep her safe, Military, or answer to us!”
Shouts of agreement rose and echoed against the crystal columns. “Sissy! Our Sissy!” The noise filled the courtyard more completely than a dozen glass wands chiming against the altar crystals.
Then a new shout erupted from the front of the crowd. “Show us the tablets!”
Jake paced nervously before the entrance to the HC Chamber. Penelope sat in a thronelike chair three meters down the corridor. She twitched and fidgeted as if lasers pricked her butt. Was she in trouble for working with the HC against Sissy? Or for refusing to do so any longer? And what had changed her mind?
He didn’t even know if he was supposed to address her as Laudae anymore. Not that he dared not use the title if he spoke to her.
She’d tried to enter the chamber with the rest of the HC. A single glare from Gregor to Guilliam and the assistant had gently touched her arm and her waist to escort her to the throne.
Then Guilliam had disappeared down a side corridor shortly thereafter.
Lady Marissa’s sons were nowhere in sight. So were they banished or not in trouble at all?
For that matter, why did any of the HC need assistants to speak for them? Probably so no one of them would take the blame if their plots backfired.
Too many players. Not enough intel.
The intimacy of Guilliam’s touch upon Penelope had not escaped Jake.
Right now, he was more concerned with Sissy than the convoluted relationships. He heard murmurs and shouts through the thick doors. All undecipherable. At least the High Priestess had donned her elaborate crystal headdress before making a grand entrance into the chamber. She needed to assert her authority with these martinets.
If only he had a simple handheld computer, he’d sensitize the internal receivers and listen remotely.
Penelope looked impatiently down the side passage Guilliam had taken. Hmmm.
Guilliam knew of back tunnels and secret rooms.
He might very well have sophisticated listening devices planted in every room. Including the HC Chamber.
If Gregor had access to the listening post in space that intercepted messages through the CSS, then it stood to reason that his assistant had access to similar ground-based equipment.
The continuation of calm murmurs assured him that the discussion inside wasn’t about to explode into violence. He decided to explore a bit and find Guilliam.
He lengthened his route of pacing. No sense in alerting Penelope of his intent.
“You won’t find him,” she said bitterly as he made his third pass. One more and he’d include the side corridor as a natural extension of his path.
“I beg your pardon, Laudae?” He opened his eyes wide, like Sissy did, trying to appear innocent.
“We’ve all tried to follow Gil, looking for his observation post. He just disappears.” She shrugged and went back to her fidgeting.
“Secret passages?” Jake asked, again trying for innocence. He knew damn well how to find at least one of them. Maybe others.
“Probably. The place is a weasel’s nest.”
“Intriguing.” Jake sauntered down the old hallway. Now he knew what to look for. He’d find Guilliam come vacuum or radiation. Or both.
The corridor narrowed as it skirted behind the HC Chamber. The electric light panels became more widely spaced. The light wood paneling, pervasive in the rest of the Temple, gave way to dark stones. Massive stones mortared together. They looked a lot more ancient than five or even seven hundred years. Like maybe the original colonists had usurped an older building after they slaughtered the inhabitants.
Jake felt as if the walls closed in around him. The dim light took on weight and texture. His breathing became strained. He kept his left hand on the wall that should be the back side of the chamber. His right hand he wanted free to pull his sword.
About halfway to where the hallway ended in a sharp corner, he pressed his ear against the stones on his left. A quiet susurration of sound; the murmur of voices. The HC continuing their discussion or the memories of an ancient people trapped in stone?
He shook off the superstitious nonsense and proceeded to the end. To his left, he found another of the ubiquitous small alcoves with a neglected altar. Cobwebs connected every surface to the stones. It reminded him of holovids of ancient castles back on Earth.
Guilliam had used a similar one to access the basement tunnels.
Jake turned back to the altar.
Strange. He’d seen a lot of dust, lots of insects. But no spiders. Whatever made these cobwebs seemed unique to this particular spot. Was the atavistic fear of arachnids so ingrained in racial memory that Harmonites shied away from cobwebs even though they knew nothing of spiders?
He released his stiletto from his arm sheath and gingerly touched the stringy mass with the tip. It remained intact, like a synthetic fiber. He swapped the stiletto for an edged boot knife. That blade sliced through the sticky web easily and wrapped around the knife like a bandage. Hmmmm. Shredded bandage fiber with its self-stick adhesive still ingrained.
A few moments later Jake had cleared away all of the web. Tufts of it clung to his uniform, his hair, the backs of his hands. Along with a lot of dust. Great piles of the stuff. Artificial piles of it meant to deter a finicky investigator, like Penelope. A lot of Temple folk, mostly the ordained clergy, seemed deathly afraid of getting their hands dirty.
Once clear of debris, Jake spent several minutes moving the crystals atop the altar, feeling under the lip of the top piece, shoving at the plinth and the main column of the structure. Then he stepped back and frowned.
Guilliam would want quick and easy access to anything behind the altar. He wouldn’t want to disturb his camouflage. So . . . Jake shifted his attention to the walls surrounding the altar. Was that just a crack in the mortar or the outline of a low door?
Jake squeezed between the altar and the wall. Guilliam was about his own height, but bulkier of build. He’d be hard-pressed to push his middle-aged belly through here. Jake just barely fit in the space. No one would suspect Guilliam could slide in here.
This place must be important.
A little pressure on the wall beside the crack and it swung inward on well-oiled hinges.
“Eureka!” Jake almost shouted. Then he remembered his need for stealth. He slipped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the brighter light that flashed on the moment the door swung shut behind him.
He found himself in a small room, not much bigger than the altar alcove. Three walls were covered with the flickering lights of monitor screens. Twelve in all. Each showed the activity in a different room. Including the HC Chamber.
No Guilliam. No room for another exit. This must be only one of many observation posts.
A quick glance showed Sissy standing at the long Council table. The crystals on her veil clanked together as she moved her head right and left. The crystals chimed louder than her words. Guilliam needed a better microphone.
“How can we know our entire faith is not based on a lie if we do not have the original tablets to consult?” she asked.
“We have copies in the archives,�
� Gregor said mildly. His face had a studied blank look that Jake knew meant he was lying.
“How do we know the copies are true and accurate?” Sissy insisted. She placed her clenched hands on the table and leaned forward.
“You doubt the integrity of our people!” Gregor shouted. He stood up, trying to convey outrage. But his shoulders were too relaxed.
“Give me a reason to have as much faith in them as I do in all seven of our gods.” Sissy stared him down. “Show me the copies. Bring them forth for all the people to read and inspect. Do it every Holy Day. If you hide them, then you have a reason to keep them secret.”
“Perhaps so you can change the rules as you deem necessary?” Lady Marissa cocked one eyebrow at the High Priest.
“The copies are old. Fragile. Exposure to the air will damage them irrevocably,” Gregor protested.
“Then why aren’t there copies of the copies?” Lady Marissa continued. She sounded as if this were just a mild discussion of what flowers to put in the centerpiece at dinner.
“Wonder why we never thought we needed to read the Covenant before?” Lord Nathaniel asked.
No one listened to him. The others kept their rapt attention on the three leaders at the head of the table.
“I am going to the archives now. Your clerks do not have the authority to hide anything from me. I will see these copies. All of them. New and old. I shall compare them for discrepancies.” Sissy marched toward the door.
“Good on you, My Laudae,” Jake murmured.
Oops, he’d better hurry back, sticky web, dirt and all. He needed to be beside Sissy every step of the way. Make sure she understood what she read. And keep Laud Gregor from slipping in a forgery.
Or slipping a knife between her ribs.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
SISSY TAPPED HER FOOT impatiently. “And you wonder why I distrust your archivist?” she said quietly to Laud Gregor.
Dust filled her nose and threatened her breathing. Books and piles of paper littered every surface, piled haphazardly, teetering on the brink of falling. Even ancient rolls tied with bits of fraying ribbon had been tossed carelessly into the jumble. The archivist and his method for finding anything were apparently absent.
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