fell into the wrong hands. We all have a stake in the protection of the records, especially those of us who’ve sealed them.”
“A stake, yes, but these relics of Lumin’s past aren’t our birthright. They belong to Gerard’s family.”
“He’s gone,” Hans said softly.
“They’ll send someone to take his place,” Melia said, her voice also soft. “I know it.”
“That’s irrelevant frankly,” Hans said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his robed chest. “Aris SainClair and my uncle set Gamma Protocol in motion. It did what they envisioned. It shut down the Network, and we’ve been living off individual hearthroots and groves for twenty cycles now. The worst of the chaos is behind us. Would you really jeopardize the ministers’ sacrifice? Would you risk reversing Gamma Protocol?”
Melia sat silently, the book clutched against her chest. Its subtle warmth permeated through her robes, reassuring her that it was only sleeping and not dead.
“Individually the key and the records are powerful, but together they can reverse all the work we’ve done in Lumin’s name,” said Hans, his eyes pleading with her now.
“Even with them, they wouldn’t get into the Core. They don’t have the families on their side.”
“You don’t think Rosewater’s murderous brood wouldn’t take by force what we won’t give willingly? Gerard should be evidence enough of that.”
Melia winced and breathed deeply. “What do you propose?”
Hans gestured around them. “This Compound has depths like no other structure I’ve known. We hide them—separate them and hide them.”
“And how will the rest of the Order find them when they need them, when we’re gone?”
“Preservation, research, restoration. This is our mission. We’ll pass on knowledge of the relics only to the leaders.”
“And who decides who the leaders are?” Melia asked. “I myself wasn’t even a minister. Who gets to name the great families?”
“It is done,” said Hans. “Gamma Protocol has chosen our leaders for us.”
Melia closed her eyes, willing time to rewind back before the anguish of the past twenty cycles, back before Gamma Protocol, back to her island home of Senegast, to her happy son and daughter smiling up at her. Yet it persisted in its solemn forward march, dragging her unwillingly into decrepitude. Her children would be grown now. Perhaps they didn’t even remember her face. She thrust her arms out and placed the book in Hans’s hands.
“Here, take it. Before I change my mind.”
“And the key?”
Melia pulled the key from her robes, lifting the long chain that held it over her head and placing it solemnly on top of the book.
“Shall I hide them?” Hans asked.
“No,” she said. “Let’s do it together.”
8 The Barracks
Lumin Cycle 10152
Mia Jayne woke with the crinkly feel of Father’s letter in her hands and a terrible crick in her neck. In the dream she had opened the letter, and it was blank. The letter was a dream, but the crick was real. The dream lifted from her mind, leaving behind both relief and desolation. She wasn’t at home in her bed. She was in the Compound of the Order of Vis Firmitas on the most uncomfortable mattress she’d ever had the displeasure meeting. The lack of sunlight was disorienting. Accustomed to glancing out a window or up into the sky to determine the time, she was at a disadvantage here. The gourds along the walls and the overhead lanterns dimly lit the large room. She sat up on the mattress, her joints screaming. They apparently had just gotten used to the hard lumps of the pallet, and now it was asking too much to require movement so quickly. Mia was also parched. How long did I sleep? she wondered.
It must still have been morning. The others were busily attending to miscellany in and about their bunks. A tall blond boy, about fifteen or so, was straightening his belt. His gawky hands brushed the robes into place. One of the
“A stake, yes, but these relics of Lumin’s past aren’t our birthright. They belong to Gerard’s family.”
“He’s gone,” Hans said softly.
“They’ll send someone to take his place,” Melia said, her voice also soft. “I know it.”
“That’s irrelevant frankly,” Hans said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his robed chest. “Aris SainClair and my uncle set Gamma Protocol in motion. It did what they envisioned. It shut down the Network, and we’ve been living off individual hearthroots and groves for twenty cycles now. The worst of the chaos is behind us. Would you really jeopardize the ministers’ sacrifice? Would you risk reversing Gamma Protocol?”
Melia sat silently, the book clutched against her chest. Its subtle warmth permeated through her robes, reassuring her that it was only sleeping and not dead.
“Individually the key and the records are powerful, but together they can reverse all the work we’ve done in Lumin’s name,” said Hans, his eyes pleading with her now.
“Even with them, they wouldn’t get into the Core. They don’t have the families on their side.”
“You don’t think Rosewater’s murderous brood wouldn’t take by force what we won’t give willingly? Gerard should be evidence enough of that.”
Melia winced and breathed deeply. “What do you propose?”
Hans gestured around them. “This Compound has depths like no other structure I’ve known. We hide them—separate them and hide them.”
“And how will the rest of the Order find them when they need them, when we’re gone?”
“Preservation, research, restoration. This is our mission. We’ll pass on knowledge of the relics only to the leaders.”
“And who decides who the leaders are?” Melia asked. “I myself wasn’t even a minister. Who gets to name the great families?”
“It is done,” said Hans. “Gamma Protocol has chosen our leaders for us.”
Melia closed her eyes, willing time to rewind back before the anguish of the past twenty cycles, back before Gamma Protocol, back to her island home of Senegast, to her happy son and daughter smiling up at her. Yet it persisted in its solemn forward march, dragging her unwillingly into decrepitude. Her children would be grown now. Perhaps they didn’t even remember her face. She thrust her arms out and placed the book in Hans’s hands.
“Here, take it. Before I change my mind.”
“And the key?”
Melia pulled the key from her robes, lifting the long chain that held it over her head and placing it solemnly on top of the book.
“Shall I hide them?” Hans asked.
“No,” she said. “Let’s do it together.”
8 The Barracks
Lumin Cycle 10152
Mia Jayne woke with the crinkly feel of Father’s letter in her hands and a terrible crick in her neck. In the dream she had opened the letter, and it was blank. The letter was a dream, but the crick was real. The dream lifted from her mind, leaving behind both relief and desolation. She wasn’t at home in her bed. She was in the Compound of the Order of Vis Firmitas on the most uncomfortable mattress she’d ever had the displeasure meeting. The lack of sunlight was disorienting. Accustomed to glancing out a window or up into the sky to determine the time, she was at a disadvantage here. The gourds along the walls and the overhead lanterns dimly lit the large room. She sat up on the mattress, her joints screaming. They apparently had just gotten used to the hard lumps of the pallet, and now it was asking too much to require movement so quickly. Mia was also parched. How long did I sleep? she wondered.
It must still have been morning. The others were busily attending to miscellany in and about their bunks. A tall blond boy, about fifteen or so, was straightening his belt. His gawky hands brushed the robes into place. One of the
Similar Books
