Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  “The natural world is rejecting the evil that has reawakened here,” Onan adds.

  “Reawakened? You mean like me? The star?” I ask, making an uneasy connection.

  He shakes his head. “No. The star children have never been innately evil. But with your fulfillment of your own prophecy, other prophecies were set in motion. Before the great eclipse next summer, the world will again be decided.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  Nobody answers because nobody here really knows.

  “You will find your answers in Tartarus and Elysium,” the oldest woman says finally. “There you will find the remaining prophecies and the True Prophet who awaits your visit.”

  Lexan leans toward me. “Saloman spoke to me of the True Prophet once. He lives in Elysium.”

  I’m not sure whether to be angry about all of this information that everyone else has known and not shared with me. I feel betrayed somehow, but I also realize I’ve never asked the right questions, and I don’t always ask the right people.

  I resolve to study Firene’s journal more closely - Lexan is still keeping the secrets found in those words, and I need to know what he knows.

  Soon we finish eating, and it is time to leave. Several Tribe members bring us clothing for our traveling musicians disguise, and we trade more coins for four instruments: a guitar, a small drum, a crudely-carved flute, and a pair of gloved finger-cymbals with tiny bells sewn at each knuckle.

  They stock our food and water, and finally Chatan leads out four sand-colored desert horses, lean and muscled and ready to run.

  Just as we are strapping the last bag to the horses, a bronzed man with a long black braid runs up to us and speaks to Zarea, handing her a rolled paper. She thanks him profusely and bows, then turns to us with a grin.

  “He has drawn us a map of the inside of Tartarus - as much as he can remember.” She unrolls the paper and he speaks again, pointing out the residential sections, slave quarters, markets, quarries, and finally, the palace of Lord Hadeon.

  I thank him and all the others who have come to see us off. We have been here barely a full day, but these people have shown us the most friendliness and care of anyone - some even more than our own people of Asphodel.

  Riding the horses removes any need for conversation, and I use the time to process the information I’ve learned, and to smooth out the corners of our plan for infiltrating the city.

  The more I learn of Lord Hadeon, the more I have to fear.

  But the more I should be afraid, the more I rally for the challenges ahead.

  Stian seems to notice the change in my attitude, and as we stop later to water the horses and fill our own water skins, he pulls me to the side.

  “I hope you won’t do anything reckless when we get to Tartarus. Remember this is an undercover mission, Tre.”

  “Of course. Do you think I would just set the palace on fire and see if Hadeon notices?”

  Stian’s look tells me he has indeed thought such a thing. “I don't understand you sometimes. How did a girl with no real danger in her life grow up to be so brave?”

  I look at the water swirling around my fingers and wonder how to answer him. For me, bravery is just the other side of fear. The result. “Bravery isn't about what you've lived through, Stian. Bravery is looking fear in the face and deciding that the potential gains are worth the risks. Some things are worth it, even if the risk is your life.”

  “But isn’t life something worth protecting? You sound ready to throw yours away.”

  “I used to feel like I didn’t have a life to throw away. But now I realize I was born for a purpose. If I die fighting Hadeon - or anybody else - I won’t be throwing anything away. I’ll be trading my life for someone else’s. Hopefully for a lot of other lives.”

  “That’s not fair to you, though,” he says softly, brushing a stray curl from my neck.

  “The Maiden of Justice doesn’t ask for fairness. She doles it out.” I finish filling my water skin and stand, heading back to the horses. I’m done with this conversation.

  TWELVE

  May 11, 2067

  Charles has begun writing a book. He is fairly obsessed with the zodiac and horoscopes. The book reads like a religious text, and when I teased him about it he flew into such a rage that I had to leave him for several hours. But when he reads my horoscope, I have to admit that he is right about everything that has happened. Is it possible he could be right about the future as well? One thing I do believe - we will be together until the world ends. I just hope it ends in the icy stasis of waiting for our future heaven, instead of the fiery hell of these bombs.

  From First Leader Lakessa’s private journal

  Included in Firene’s secret papers

  The journey on horseback takes less than three days, and under the cover of night, we arrive at the outermost edge of Tartarus, still a mile from the city walls. Before we get within range of the city’s scouts, Stian suggests we simply set the horses free.

  “They’re trained to find their way back to Kedesh,” he adds.

  So, hidden within a section of scrubby trees, we change into our musician disguises. Hopefully, our outfits are a clever mismatch of color and pattern and style, representative of the poor, traveling artists we are impersonating. I use a bottle of silver paint to sketch a mask around Lexan’s eyes and cheekbones, incorporating the diamond implants that can’t quite be hidden beneath his headscarf. Zarea does the same for me, then adds tiny bits of crystal between our implants, effectively hiding the constellations. For her and Stian, I use golden paint and yellow crystals.

  As a group, we are meant to resemble day and night.

  I’m confident that it’s a convincing disguise, and perhaps different enough to be noticed by the palace’s entertainment coordinator. Stian claims that thousands of musicians and acrobats and magicians try for a spot among Hadeon’s Royal Players of the Court. But there is a great danger, as with anything in Tartarus: when Hadeon is displeased or tires of performers, he often throws them into the prisons or the arena.

  I wonder how desperate people must be to put their lives in danger like this, but then I realize we’re doing the same.

  Before leaving our hidden camp, we condense our packs as much as possible. We’ll need less food in the city and more money for bartering. Stian stashes our bows, extra clothing, and less useful possessions in a hollow tree, but I doubt I’ll ever see these things again. I pass out the new gold coins from Kedesh, making sure we have an even distribution.

  Lexan glances at me before pulling a handful of small gemstones from his pack. Mine are buried deep enough in my pack that they would be missed in a casual search.

  “Still holding out on us,” Stian says grimly, picking the stones from Lexan’s palm. He holds a pea-size ruby up to the sun, and it glints like a drop of blood. Lexan doesn’t respond.

  “These gems are probably rare. Maybe the people we’re looking for could be bought,” I say, trying not to focus on the horror of this statement. The previous night, we each memorized the faces in the drawings from Kedesh, then Stian burned the papers. Being caught with them is a sure way to be thrown into the arena, he told us.

  Zarea nods. “This could make our rescue a lot easier. Thank you for sharing.”

  I smile, a little surprised that she isn’t upset that we hid the stones. It makes me wonder what she might be hiding, as though we are still playing a risky gambling game where nobody wants to show what they truly hold dear.

  “Once we register ourselves with the gatehouse, we can split up to look for some of the captives and ask around about Hadeon’s plans. We can cover more ground that way,” Stian says.

  “If we split up, I go with Trea,” Lexan answers, not even looking at me.

  “I don’t agree. If you’re both captured, everything is over. But if Hadeon only finds one of you-” Zarea begins.

  “We would still have some bargaining power,” Stian finishes. “Besides, I can protect Tre better than
you can, Lexan. You know that.”

  Lexan just crosses his arms and stares blankly at Stian, like his brain has stopped registering communication.

  “Lexan, it’s okay. Either of you can protect me. It’ll be fine,” I say, trying to soothe the situation.

  “No,” he answers. Then he looks directly at Stian. “Where she goes, I go.”

  Then I remember these words from before - a conversation they had when they didn’t know I was listening. And I connect them with Firene’s message - Balance must never leave Justice.

  “Why are you so intent on this?” I ask him, tilting my head to the side. I want him to tell me himself.

  He just shakes his head, and his refusal to respond feeds a sharp increase in my temper - trusting in Firene’s interpretation or not, neither of them should get a voice in deciding who I go with. Maybe I should just go on my own - I’m perfectly capable.

  But then I look up into Lexan’s eyes and see something different there. I’m not sure what to call it yet, but it evaporates every trace of my resentment like hot sun on the morning dew.

  “If we split up, I’ll go with Lexan,” I hear myself say. I shift my weight slightly toward him.

  Stian glares and Zarea just shrugs, ready to move. Lexan fights back a smile.

  “Fine,” Stian bites out. “But you two will absolutely not go near the prostitution houses. Zarea and I can take those.”

  “What are you saying?” Zarea bristles. “They wouldn’t try to keep me, but they would keep her?”

  Stian gives her a tired look. “You know they would try to keep both of you, but you have a better shot of escaping.”

  “I’m sure there are plenty of old, hairy men willing to pay gold for you,” Lexan adds, giving her a full grin. I huff and cross my arms. Zarea is gorgeous, but they don’t need to be rubbing it in my face.

  “Relax, princess,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m a better fighter than you are, even if you’re younger and prettier.”

  I open my mouth to argue, then close it again in shock as her words sink in. She thinks I’m prettier?

  “So where are we each going again?” Lexan shifts the topic, and I breathe in deeply, forcing the air into every crevice of my lungs, trying to calm my strumming nerves and the frustrated fire burning between my ribs.

  Zarea spreads the map out again, and although I have a miniature, rough copy in my pocket, I’m grateful for one final look at the original. I’ve memorized so much in the last few days. I’m terrified I’ll go the wrong direction or be staring straight at a captive from Kedesh and not remember their face.

  Zarea’s voice cuts through my obsessing. “Here. Stian and I will go left, toward the prostitution houses and markets. You two go right, through the slums first, then into the nicer residences. We’ll meet by nightfall in the middle, at the base of the palace. Don’t forget to ask about the festivals, too, to keep our musician cover going. That’s our only shot at getting into the palace.”

  “Unless we’re captured,” Stian adds.

  “Which seems to happen a lot,” Lexan laughs, but quickly snaps his mouth shut as I smack at his arm. He bites his lower lip to keep from smirking.

  Stian glares. “Being captured in Tartarus would be the last thing you ever did.”

  “But if one of us does get captured, or we fail to meet at the palace tonight, anyone left will keep trying. We have a mission, and with four of us, surely that mission can be completed promptly. Remember - this first day is only for gathering information.” Zarea sounds detached, like a warrior protector should.

  I wish I had her confidence. I don’t feel fear - my bravery will push me through these gates in a very few minutes. But in no way do I believe that we will succeed in the many facets of our mission.

  We’re all quiet while Zarea stashes her map away. And then we’re moving - into the open, into the unknown, toward the high gray wall of stone that surrounds Tartarus.

  There is one gatehouse at the southern wall, and one on the western side. We enter from the south, as do all from the Tribes. The gatehouse is an imposing size and design, but shabby, as though the fight has gone out of it with age. The guards, too, seem tired and uninterested.

  I notice that, although a great many are entering, nobody is leaving through these gates. The guards check us quickly and without questions, and I step through the open iron gates, a shiver passing through me despite how warm it is.

  Tartarus is not beautiful. Nor is it comprehensible.

  But I cannot look away.

  There is a wide main street dividing the sectors, but beyond that, organization falls away into piles of rubble, half-rebuilt buildings with mismatched materials, and a few new structures of stone blocks. There are a few small shrubs and spiky desert plants, but very little green. Only brown and tan and dust that covers everything.

  People mill about everywhere - more people than I’ve ever seen in one place. Most of them look very poor - even compared to our traveling musician costumes. The soldiers are easy to find, with their glinting metal weapons that look like a version of Madna’s rifle. A few people lead horses, and an occasional two-seater vehicle tears past, balanced on three wheels and pedaled by sweating young men.

  Stian kisses my forehead and squeezes my hand one final time, and he and Zarea disappear into the crowds. Lexan and I share an anxious look before heading for the nearest grouping of houses. The farther we get from the gate, the noisier the crowds become, as though there is too little open space here for the sound to scatter.

  At first, it is easy to gain information. We walk slowly behind groups of women leaving to do their weekly shopping, eavesdropping while we pretend to shuffle toward the market as well. Several times we loop back around and follow different people.

  We learn that even fewer performers are being hired for the festivals. We learn that Lord Hadeon has been in an especially gleeful mood recently, resulting in even more executions at the arena. We learn that anything can be bought or sold in the markets, if the price is fair or the item is needed.

  But once this basic information has been gleaned from overheard conversations, nothing new presents itself.

  “We’ll need to talk directly with someone,” I whisper as we cut back into a side alley, stepping around a group of ragged children playing a game with white rocks.

  “Perhaps if we stop and drink something, we can talk with a server,” Lexan says, gesturing toward a café tucked between the ramshackle houses. So we enter and order cups of weak, bitter tea. Lexan tries to question the server, but she is too busy.

  A few others around us watch us suspiciously, which I’ve found is fairly common in Tartarus. Nobody seems to trust anyone, especially strangers - as we obviously are.

  We learn nothing of value and we waste precious time and coins.

  Leaving the slums, we head into the wealthier sections of the city. The streets are cleared of trash and debris, but the houses are no better kept. Everything here is a puzzle with missing pieces or a tapestry with threads pulled loose.

  The people on these streets won’t even allow us to follow closely enough to eavesdrop: they hurry their steps when they feel us close to their backs, and their hushed words disappear altogether.

  “This is ridiculous,” I say. “We might have better luck trying to find the auditions.”

  Eventually our wanderings lead us to the outer walls of the palace. I see guards spaced evenly against the wall, armed with a variety of weapons. All of them are dressed in long tan coats and black pants, looking incredibly hot in the desert sun.

  I wonder if their service is voluntary or paid, or if they are enslaved in some way.

  Before Lexan can stop me, I walk just close enough to one that I can ask him a polite question.

  “Excuse me,” I say, looking up - he is taller than Stian and probably three times my breadth. “Can you tell me what time the auditions start for the court musicians?”

  He brushes dust from his uniform and glances down at me,
then away again, as if he can’t be bothered to answer. I put my hands on my hips and open my mouth again, but just then a second guard ambles nearer, a grin on his stubbly face.

  “Musicians, eh? It’ll be a tough sell this year. More auditions than ever before. Got to have something extra special.” His watery eyes roam my body, presumably searching for that special extra. Lexan makes a low noise and the guard chuckles.

  “You two look a little well-kept for traveling musicians. I bet you’d do well at Lord Hadeon’s private balls!” Chuckles gives his friend a quick glance and laughs again, fingering the black buttons on his uniform. I’m beginning to think we are in the wrong place, and I feel my nerves start to twist like ropes around my legs.

  I really need to learn when to keep my mouth shut.

  The first guard looks us up and down again - now slowly, measuring. He finally says, “And how pretty you look, in your sparklies and paint. I’ll take one of these crystals here for my own lady. A right treasure, you are!”

  He reaches out to tweak the diamond closest to Lexan’s nose. Just before his fingers can grasp the implant, I smack his hand away.

  “If you touch him, your life will be gone,” I say in a low voice, although each word carries a dart of fury and each one reaches its listener. The man startles, then blinks at me again, as if adjusting his vision. He shakes his head and blinks again, as Chuckles continues to laugh under his breath. Lexan throws me a sideways glare, but I don’t care if that was the wrong thing to say or not: it is the truth.

  “And what do you think you could do about it, little girl?” The guard moves closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to see his face. My hand would barely cover his cheek.

  “I apologize, sir,” Lexan shifts in front of me. “My sister has quite a mouth on her.”

  “If that’s your sister, then this is my daughter,” the guard growls, gesturing toward Chuckles, who guffaws at the idea. “I’ll see that you’re both taken to see the Royal Guard Commander immediately to apologize for your insolence.” He leans even closer, and I can smell his foul breath. “And between us, if that were my sister, I’d smack the mouth right off of her before it got her pretty bottom in the whore houses, and yours in the stables, where they ride the stable hands harder than the horses.”