Wandering Star: A Zodiac Novel

by Russell, Romina

  Next morning I wake up to the rustling sounds of someone in my room. I crack an eye open to find Sirna bustling around the vanity and setting out beauty supplies. There’s a white dress laid out on the hammock.

  “What’s going—?”

  Before I can finish my question, the door opens and a couple of redheads walk in, carrying baskets filled with even more cosmetic supplies. I shriek and leap across the room, pulling Lola and Leyla in for a hug. “I’ve missed you both so much!”

  “We’re so happy you’re well, Wandering Star!” says the elder sister, Lola, her big red curls framing her gleeful face. “Mother Agatha gave us leave to dress you for today’s festivities.”

  Beside her, Leyla’s sapphire gaze is as direct as always, her mind full of thoughts she doesn’t share. In all of yesterday’s excitement, I’d forgotten that before ending the Plenum session, Ambassador Crompton announced that today would be a holiday at the village.

  “Lola and Leyla will take care of you,” says Sirna, handing me a plush blue robe.

  “Thanks,” I say, pulling it on. “Would you mind if I invited Nishi, too?”

  “Not at all.”

  I sprint next door and knock. “Come in,” she calls.

  Nishi’s sitting upright on the side of the bed, facing away from me. She’s wearing her traveling space suit, and her suitcase is beside her on the floor.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  She doesn’t turn to face me, and when I walk around to look at her, I see that she’s only just stopped crying. “I’m going home, Rho.” She stares out the window as she speaks. “My parents are back from Libra, and they have no idea where I am or where I’ve been. I need to see them . . . and get away from everything here. I need to find somewhere quiet.”

  “I know,” I say, sitting down and taking her hand.

  She looks up at me. “I’ve loved him since we were twelve, Rho. I don’t know who I am without him.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you,” I say, squeezing her fingers, “but I already testified, I’m done here—I can come with you to Sagittarius. Or we can go somewhere else if you want, anywhere—”

  “No . . . you can’t.” The sudden steadiness in her stare takes me aback. “You have to stay here and finish this. Otherwise Deke died for nothing.”

  I crush my best friend—my sister—to me, and she cries onto my shoulder. She only pulls away when there’s a knock on the door.

  “It’s probably Hysan,” she says, sitting up. At the sound of his name, my heart beats harder. “He’s taking me to the spaceport. He booked me passage on a Libran ship. Will you talk to him while I wash my face?”

  She slips into the small bathroom, and my hand trembles a little as I open the door. Hysan’s green eyes flash with surprise. “My lady,” he says, bowing.

  “Nishi will be right out,” I say awkwardly.

  “You were spectacular yesterday.” The wornness of his expression makes me want to reach out and stroke his cheek, but it’d be unfair to do when I don’t know what that kind of touch would mean.

  “You left midway through,” I say. It sounds like an accusation, and I wish I hadn’t said it.

  “I’ve had a lot of work to do on Neith.”

  Everything I discussed with Neith on the ship comes flying back to me, and I swallow it back with difficulty. “Are you any closer to figuring out what happened to him?”

  Hysan shakes his head. “I think it might have been a fluke, just a temporary misfire in his wiring.” He’s speaking in a different decibel than normal, like he doesn’t believe his own words.

  “If you need help, I’m here,” I say. “Or if you just want to talk or anything . . .”

  “I always want to talk, Rho,” he says softly. “It’s you I’m still waiting on.”

  Nishi comes out just then, and Hysan brushes past me to lift her bag before she can reach for it. He carries it out into the hallway and waits for her there.

  “Wave me when you get home,” I say, wrapping Nishi in my arms. “I love you, Nish.”

  “I love you, too,” she says into my ear. “Stay safe. And tell your brother I said bye.”

  When I return to my room, Sirna’s gone, and Lola and Leyla start their work. While they wash my hair, shave my legs, and clip my nails, Lola fills me in on what they’ve been up to. I learn that they stayed on Oceon 6 after I left, and when Agatha was named the new Guardian, they were dispatched to Gemini to meet her there. When I landed on Hydragyr, I had only a moment to greet Agatha because she was embarking on a tour of the Cancrian settlements on the other Houses, so I didn’t get to see the sisters.

  “We were visiting Libra when this emergency session was called,” concludes Lola.

  “What’s it like on each settlement?”

  “Hard,” she admits. “On every House, Cancrians are trying to re-create Cancer . . . but they can’t. That’s why Gemini is so popular. People can still see their home and loved ones in the Imaginariums.”

  I grow quiet as I picture what it would be like to see Dad again. Or Mom. I’m so lost in my own Imaginarium that by the time I focus on my reflection again, my hair is glossy and wavy like it was for my swearing-in ceremony. Sirna chose a single-shoulder dress for me to wear, its pure white color also reminding me of that night. The airy material gently hugs my figure, and I look a little like the warrior Rho from the Ophiuchus glyph. Except that one of my arms is still fully bandaged.

  Lola paints my face with subtle, natural makeup suitable for daytime, and my lips are a glossy pink that shines and sparkles. When Lola leaves to help Agatha get ready, Leyla stays with me longer to add a final touch to my hair. She braids the two front sections and pulls them back so that the style resembles a coronet. “You look older,” she says, only venturing to speak now that we’re alone. “Like someone who’s grown too much in too short a time—but only on the inside.”

  Immediately I’m reminded of what Jewel said about Stanton the morning Mom abandoned us. “Leyla . . . have you ever thought about becoming a Lodestar?”

  She shares with me a rare smile. “Mother Agatha secured me a place in the Geminin Academy. I start next year.”

  “That’s great! And Lola?”

  “Serving our Holy Mother has always been her dream. She’s going to stay with Agatha.”

  After she’s packed up her supplies and is about to go, I tell her, “You and Lola mean a lot to me.” I’ve never blessed someone before, but something compels me to touch her forehead, the way Agatha touched mine the night I was made Guardian.

  “May your sight always be this clear, may your soul always be this pure, and may your heart always lead you to happiness.”

  Leyla bows deeply, for the first time seeming moved. “Thank you, Wandering Star.”

  There’s a sudden hammering on the door. “Your escorts, Rho!”

  Leyla opens it to reveal Stanton and Aryll, who are sporting matching baby blue silk suits they must have purchased at the stores in the Taurian embassy. “It was Aryll’s idea,” says Stanton, seeing the smirk that must be on my face.

  “Liar!” shouts Aryll, shoving my brother.

  Leyla turns to me and says, “I should help Lola.” As she’s shutting the door, I notice a funny look come over her features, as if she’s seen something troubling.

  I look to the guys. Aryll is trying to spray Stanton’s curls with my glossing spray. “Let’s go!” I reach for the Wave on my bed, all the while wondering what was wrong with Leyla, but my fingers stop just shy of the golden clamshell. Tonight, for the first time in forever, I want to disconnect—if only for a few hours.

  So I follow the guys out of the room and try to leave everything else behind.

  When we cross the plank into the village, the three of us exchange looks of awe. The place has been completely transformed.

  Representativ
es from the Houses have constructed simulation games, food stands, cultural booths, and gift stores on the front lawns of each embassy. The doors to every single building are open, and citizens of every House are visiting each other. Holographic wildlife from every constellation roams the village streets, the animals so lifelike that people in their paths are dodging out of their way. Above the embassies float the House glyphs, and the center of the sky reads ZODIAC.

  “Look,” says Stanton, pointing to the Plenum building in the middle of the village. “The Thirteenth House.”

  Stanton leads the way toward a makeshift spot for House Ophiuchus that someone has cobbled together. Groups of people cluster the area, trading Ophiuchus stories, superstitions, and suspicions, as well as fictions and facts from their own Houses. Holographic screens depict the Ophiuchus myths from each world, and the new glyph that shows me wrangling the Snake is projected throughout.

  At the very back of the improvised embassy, a panel of five people takes questions from a growing crowd. The panelists are all from different Houses, but they’re each dressed in identical white suits that make me think of the Marad. A hologram hovering by their heads reveals them to be representatives of the group 13.

  Once dismissed as conspiracy theorists, their knowledge is now in high demand by even the Chroniclers in the audience, and hands are shooting up with questions from the continuously expanding crowd. The Zodiac believes in Ophiuchus at last—right when I have to convince them that Ochus is not the master, that a far more elusive, intelligent, and dangerous threat exists, about whom we know nothing.

  A teenage panelist abruptly abandons his seat at the table. “Rho!” he calls with familiarity in his voice. I squint, wondering how I might know him.

  He smiles widely as he approaches, revealing two rows of perfect, sharp teeth. He’s a Leo—I can tell by the broad face, multiple eyebrow piercings, and striped sideburns. “I was hoping you’d come. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long. I’m Traxon Harwing, but friends call me Trax.”

  We trade the hand touch. His skin is rough and calloused, most definitely from the adventuring life on Leo. His eyes travel down to my dress, and he smiles even wider. “You’re wearing his color, too.”

  “Whose?”

  “Ophiuchus—white was the Thirteenth House’s color. It’s the hue that contains all others. There’s a ton of lore I’d love to share with you whenever you have time. In exchange, maybe you could address some of our members—you know, tell us what it was like facing him?”

  “Right now the Marad and the master are more pressing.”

  I bite back my annoyance by reminding myself that of course people are more interested in a new House—a whole new constellation—that’s been hidden from us for ages. Of course they want to learn as much as possible about that lost world and its people. Of course they’re more concerned with an immortal, invincible Guardian who can crush planets with Dark Matter than some unknown master who couldn’t possibly be scarier than a children’s book monster come to life.

  “Ophiuchus warned you before the last attack,” says Traxon. I’m not sure, but it almost sounds as if he’s defending the butcher. “If you give him a chance, he could lead you right to the Marad.”

  “I did give him a chance. And he did lead me to them, and two of my friends got killed,” I snap. “He can’t help us. Ophiuchus is violent and unfeeling. His ways aren’t ours.”

  “All the more reason you should learn as much as you can about him,” argues Trax, his tan face flushed with red. “He might know how to defeat the army—”

  “We defeat the master and the Marad by bringing the Houses together and forming a unified plan,” I cut in. Even if this Leo has a point, I don’t like his pushiness or his unwavering fascination with Ophiuchus. “Ophiuchus is a murderer. He destroyed my House.”

  “But you can’t shut him out, Rho!” he says almost pleadingly, pronouncing my name as if saying it is an old habit. “He’s chosen you to be his connection to our world. You have a responsibility—”

  “I don’t need you to tell me about responsibility—”

  “I think you do, actually—”

  “Excuse us,” says Stanton, clapping his hand on my shoulder and pulling me back from a red-faced and disappointed Traxon. “We’re late for an appointment.”

  When we’ve walked far enough away, Stanton lets go of me, and he and Aryll burst into barks of laughter.

  “You should’ve seen your face, Rho!” says Stanton. “I didn’t think anyone could make you that angry, but I should have known getting a Leo on your back would do the trick—”

  “‘I don’t need you to tell me about responsibility!’” says Aryll in an unflattering caricature.

  “I am not that shrill!” I protest. Once the guys have calmed down, we make our way past the Ophiuchus crowds and emerge near the Aquarian embassy, a majestic royal palace with turrets shooting high into the air. It’s the tallest structure in the village.

  Stanton goes straight to the simulation games. He and Aryll line up to try an aural tonic, a small vial of highly concentrated Abyssthe that wears off almost instantly, but the moment its hits your system, it projects a glimpse of your soul. The glimpse—a mix of images and words, like a freeze-frame of your brain in a single moment in time—is fleeting, and it appears on a huge wallscreen hanging over the stand.

  While we’re in line, Gyzer and Ezra come up to greet us. “Hey, Aryll!” says Ezra, trading the hand touch with him.

  “Ezra, this is Stanton. Rho’s brother.” She looks from Aryll to Stan and trades the hand touch with him, too. When she finally turns to me, she nods a subtle greeting but keeps her distance. Either she hasn’t forgiven me, or she’s not sure how to make amends.

  Gyzer trades the hand touch with me. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he says in his mournful tone.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you still believe you’re not ready to lead?” he asks, and I think I spy a smile in his deep eyes.

  “I don’t think anyone ever is.” I think of Vecily and Hysan and Brynda and so many other young leaders like us who weren’t expecting the stars’ call. “I think the most any of us can do is try,” I add, shrugging. “What have you and Ezra been up to?”

  “A Stargazer discovered one of Ezra’s inventions, and next thing we knew, we were guests on Guardian Brynda’s ship to the Plenum session. Ezra’s device helped track part of the signal of the Marad’s universal transmission. It might be the key to breaking the code the army is hiding behind and capturing them.”

  We all look at her, and I can’t help but be impressed. Aryll asks, “How did you do it?”

  “Sometimes, when you get too clever, you overlook the simple stuff,” says Ezra, shrugging so casually it’s as if she’s unaware that she’s a Hysan-level genius. “The Marad is so technologically advanced, I thought there was a good chance its soldiers had forgotten the old ways. So I started looking at old wartime strategies in history texts. I read up on this ancient spy language that used basic sound waves to ping a location, which gave me the idea for a more primitive kind of Tracker.”

  “Brilliant,” I say.

  Ezra tilts her chin up. “Thank you.”

  The line moves up, and Stanton and Aryll go with it, while Gyzer trails away a little, leaving us girls alone. I’m not sure what to say, since I don’t want to take all the blame for our argument in Starry City when I think Ezra was also in the wrong, but before my brain can analyze the words, my mouth blurts out a question.

  “Are you still mad at me?”

  Ezra’s proud expression melts into an impish smile. “Not what I was expecting you to say.” She laughs a little. “You know, I think Sagittarius rubbed off on you.”

  “I’m glad,” I say, smiling back. “I’m also glad you found your own way to fight the Marad. I have a feeling you’re going to be a force.” I hold out my hand, and
at last, she gives me a fist bump.

  “Not so weak yourself,” she says to me, her wide eyes traveling down my bandaged arm. “I’m sorry for stepping out of line before. But I’m not sorry for fighting for my chance to fight. If that makes sense.”

  “It does. I respect that.”

  “Rho, I’m up!” shouts Stanton. I look over and realize he and Aryll have reached the head of the line. I say bye to Ezra and join my brother as he eagerly downs his aural tonic. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed with focus, and soon an image pops onto the wallscreen.

  Four faces smile at me from the fog of time—Mom, Dad, Stanton, and me, at least ten years ago. There’s also a jumble of words, but only a few of them are legible. Cancer. Rho. Jewel. Like a true Cancrian, Stanton thinks of his home and loved ones to Center himself.

  My brother grins at the sight of the projection, then looks at me. When our eyes meet, his smile grows sad, and I know we’re both thinking of home, in the days when it still was a home. The image dissolves.

  Stanton steps aside and grabs another vial for Aryll. “Nah, I hate the way that stuff tastes. Let’s check out holographic wrestling in the Aries tent instead.”

  “Oh, come on, we’re already here,” says Stanton. “It doesn’t taste that bad, and it only takes a second.”

  Aryll seems on the verge of arguing, but when his eye lands on mine, a change comes over his expression. “Fine,” he says, as if he’s doing Stan a favor. “But I’ve told you before I have a hard time Centering.”

  He sounds more embarrassed than annoyed, and then he throws his head back and takes the aural tonic. He stares at the ground in a pose of great concentration for several moments, but nothing happens on the wallscreen.

  “It’s okay, sometimes we end up with weak batches,” says the white-haired Aquarian running the stand. “Here, try this one.” He hands Aryll another vial. The line grows longer behind us, and Aryll tosses back the new aural tonic. As his face grows redder with renewed effort, I start to feel bad that Stanton pressured him into this—if there’s anything Cancrians don’t like, it’s the spotlight. Stanton seems to be thinking the same thing, because his face creases with concern, and he seems about to speak, when an image flashes out.