“He promised he would. Let’s go talk to him.”
Hysan glances up from his screens as we approach, and his eyes glint with amusement. “You might as well know I overheard you.”
Mathias gives him a dark scowl. “Hidden microphones?”
Hysan’s centaur smile dimples his cheeks. “Truth is often overlooked for her simplicity. This cabin has excellent acoustics, and I have excellent hearing. I don’t need microphones.”
“Why did you encrypt the controls?” I ask.
“My lady, I assure you I meant nothing shady. This is my ship, and I’m captain here. I don’t like having to give your Advisor explanations.” The way he says Mathias’s title leaves little doubt he has a different word in mind.
Before Mathias can argue, I say, “But you’ll take us to Virgo, like you promised?”
Hysan steps around his screens and moves closer to me. Mathias tenses, but I see only humor in Hysan’s expression. He’s doing this to annoy Mathias. “Will you promise not to grill me about my Psy shield?”
I appreciate his directness, so I answer in the same spirit. “Not a chance.”
Hysan laughs, and his cheer is so sincere, it relaxes me. Again I feel my skin growing warmer in his presence, like he’s radiating his sunny disposition. I know it’s probably the smooth-talking Libran thing, but every time we have an interaction, I’m already looking forward to the next one.
Having skirted another battle between the guys, I head to the bathroom for an ultraviolet shower, and then I change back into the plush yellow tunic. I’m so exhausted that I sleep through dinner. When I awaken, everyone but Mathias is asleep. He’s out front, having discovered one of the ship’s secrets by accident.
It turns out Equinox’s helm has a Libran teaching crown. I’ve heard of them but never seen one before—they’re only installed on ships outfitted for long-distance travel. Librans have them for the same reason they have a Scan embedded in their eyes: They believe when you’re leaving home, the most important item you can pack and take with you is your knowledge.
Mathias found out we can access it by speaking the word tome. At the sound of that trigger, the helm projects a horizontal ring of glittering lavender light. It’s about head high and two meters in diameter, so Mathias and I can both stand inside it.
We ask it a series of questions about Psynergy, but it mostly spews back things Mathias already taught me. None of its answers help us form any theories about how the Psy attack on the ship—or moons—was possible. So after a while, I try something else.
“Tome,” I say in the crown’s ring of light, “how does a Psy shield work?”
This is the first time the crown has no answer. Its ethereal voice responds, “Insufficient data.”
“Is Hysan Dax a spy?” asks Mathias.
“Insufficient data.”
“Is the Libran censoring what you tell us?” he growls.
“Insufficient data.”
I leave the circle of light. “Mathias, turn that thing off.”
“Let’s try another neutral question,” he says. “Tome, who are the most respected experts on the Psy?”
“Good one.” I go back in and watch the answer materialize inside the lavender ring. Tome displays a miniature 3-D image of a glowing spiral ladder shaped like a double helix. On its rungs stand seven shining figures. They look like tiny celestial beings on a stairway, and nametags glow over each of their heads.
On the top rung, of course, stands Empress Moira of Virgo, our Zodiac’s preeminent Psy master. The image standing on the rung just below her is far too familiar. It’s our own Mother Origene. I bite my lip. “This list is outdated.”
When Mathias sees Origene, he sucks air through his teeth. As a member of the Royal Guard, he probably knew her better than most. On an impulse, I reach out and stroke his arm. “You miss home as much as I do,” I say, halfway between question and statement.
He glances at the ladder of scholars again. “Alerting the other Houses is the honorable thing to do . . . but every hour we travel at hyperspeed, two hours pass on Cancer.”
“I hate not knowing what’s happening there.”
“Me too.” He unzips a pocket and takes out his antique Astralator. The mother-of-pearl glimmers softly in the ghostly light. After a moment, he presses it into my hand. “I want you to have this.”
I jump back like he’s offering me a weapon. “I couldn’t. Mathias, this was your sister’s. I could never take it from you.”
“It’s tradition for a Zodai mentor to give his student a gift when she’s mastered her studies. Mastered is an understatement when it comes to you. So much was thrust on your shoulders . . . and you’ve been incredible.” He takes my hand, his eyes bright in the lavender light. “The gift is traditionally an Ephemeris, but that will have to wait until we get home. For now, it would mean a lot if you’d accept this.”