“Seventy-seven years ago,” she starts, sitting upright in her body-massaging pillow, “our Mother Origene’s predecessor, Mother Crae, saw a disturbing omen in the vicinity of the Sufianic Clouds. Although Crae didn’t describe it in detail, she did appoint a panel of our leading Zodai to reexamine the folklore. In the process, a scholar named Yosme traveled to House Aries to study the earliest version of the myth. Yosme unearthed another scroll written in an older, more archaic language. He translated it as The Chronicles of Hebitsukai-Za, the Serpent Bearer.”
“So does that mean . . . Za and Ophiuchus are the same person?” I ask, nestling into my clump of fluffy, oversized cushions.
“The two legends were too similar to be coincidence. The Hebitsukai-Za scroll was a major scientific find.”
“Why has no one heard of this Hebitsukai-Za before?” asks Mathias. He’s lying on his back on the hard marble floor. He says the firmness helps for Yarrot.
“The report was buried,” says Sirna, cradling her teacup. Hysan, who’s in a nook of the room reviewing holographic books, now turns to her with rapt attention.
“Mother Crae feared that certain new details in the Za account were too alarming to make public. So Yosme’s report was sent into deep archive, and after Mother Crae’s death, it was forgotten. We only found it by scouring the history files and searching for the extra-encrypted documents, the ones that don’t appear on a search unless you know exactly what you’re looking for. We had to break into our own security system to access the master list, and that’s where we found this report.”
“What are the alarming new details?” I ask, hugging my knees.
“They have to do with time.” Sirna Waves Yosme’s book of the myth of Hebitsukai-Za over our heads, and the four of us lie on our backs and look up, reading the text and reviewing its images.
The first picture shows travelers from another universe passing through a time warp to settle our Zodiac Galaxy. Hebitsukai-Za was the last in the group to traverse the time warp, and when he emerged, his body was entwined in the ropey coils of an enormous worm that was biting its own tail, simultaneously devouring itself and growing longer. This worm was Time.
Passing through the time warp had altered the laws of physics and created an unstable leak between the old universe and our own. The two universes were in imminent danger of sliding together and collapsing. So the terrified travelers sealed off the time warp, but only after Za had brought the time-worm through.
The book’s images mesmerize me. They show how the worm could turn its head both forward and back, thus ruling the direction of time. Recognizing what chaos this might cause, the travelers tried to kill the worm, and by accident, they bludgeoned Za to death. But the worm needed a host, so it reversed time and resurrected Za.
When the book ends, a new image rotates in the air. “This is the glyph of the mythical House Ophiuchus,” says Sirna.
I study the familiar staff entwined by two serpents, the emblem we call the Caduceus, or healer’s wand.
“Now look at this one,” she says. A second emblem materializes next to the first. This one shows a stylized outline of a man trapped in the coils of a single giant worm biting its own tail. When Sirna overlays the two images, the resemblance is too strong to miss.
“Myths speak to us through metaphor,” says Hysan.
“I don’t know what it adds up to,” says Sirna, shutting off the holograms. “It’s only legend.”
“Maybe nothing,” says Mathias.
“Or maybe everything,” I mutter, my inner sense foaming with possibilities.
On a sudden impulse, I sit up and say, “Sirna, could you call up ‘Beware Ochus’?” When the holographic poem hovers above us, I read it out loud and linger on the line A wound even time could not mend. All these references to time . . . are they just coincidence, or could they be clues?
Before Sirna leaves, I find an excuse to pull her into the privacy of a bedroom. As soon as we enter, she lowers her gaze, and I realize she knows what I’m going to ask.
And I already know her answer.
32
“WE DON’T KNOW WITH ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY. . . .”
“But you’re pretty sure,” I whisper, dropping onto the bed and clutching my chest. She doesn’t say anything, so I look up. From the expression on her face, I know Dad’s gone.
I turn away, staring at the floor but not seeing it.
I don’t feel pain.
I don’t feel anything.
Yet.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been rude to you,” says Sirna, her voice constricted. “I’ve misjudged you, Guardian.” She draws something small and shiny from her pocket.
“Mother Origene gave me this. . . . Now I’d like it to be yours. Please wear it always to honor our House.” She opens her hand and a thin gold chain dangles out. On it hangs a simple pendant holding a single rose-colored nar-clam pearl.
Like the ones on the necklace Mom made me . . . the one I lost on Elara.