Across the Universe (5 page)

“It must be a coincidence. A terrible one, at that.”

I open my mouth, stop myself, and then change my mind again. “There’s something else.” Nim waits, her expression expectant. “Smoke. Like the kind we turn into when we leave to watch, only black as night. I only got a brief look at it before it filtered out under the door.”

“Just a trick of the light, probably,” Nim says, but she looks worried. “One of the torches burning out, perhaps.”

I shake my head hard. “No. Oman pointed to it.”

Nim grabs me hard by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Amara. You’ve been through a lot these past few days. And this—finding Oman dying—it’s something no young Watcher should have to go through. Your mind is playing tricks on you as a consequence. It’s best to forget what you saw before someone thinks you’ve gone mad and throws you into the void.”

She lets go, smoothing the front of her dress and clearing her throat before adding, “I should go check on Oman. Get some rest, Amara. Use the time to reflect. And then return to your duties as Watcher with a fresh head.”

Nim leaves the room, her footsteps fading down the hall. I rush out after her, looking both ways down the corridor, but there’s nothing else there—no black clouds to speak of.

I recall the hooded figures I saw on Earth and the way they turned to smoke. Then the same smoke, curling under the door.

I try to tell myself I imagined it all. That my mind is playing tricks on me after the stress of seeing Dena die. But deep down in my gut, I know it’s not just a coincidence. It’s not just my imagination.

And I have a sinking feeling it’s not the last ill-fated event to come.

Chapter Eight

              There is only one place I feel safe right now, and that’s where the books are kept.

              I head to the Archives Room, praying I don’t run into Nim on the way. I manage to arrive there without any obstacles and find Elli seated behind the desk, shuffling through a mountain of parchment as she hums happily to herself.

              When she hears me enter, a huge smile alights her face. “Amara! Fancy meeting you here. What’s the latest news from your little blue planet? Have you seen a boy again?” I don’t smile back, and the grin evaporates. “What is it? What’s happened?”

              “Oman—one of the Watchers—he’s dying. His universe is being destroyed as we speak. I found him right after he fell ill,” I say.

              Elli draws a sharp intake of breath and pulls her hands away from the stacks of paper. She runs a palm through her hair, the ink caked on her fingers leaving black smudges on her near-white locks. “How can that be? Dena just got thrown into the void. The next universe to die shouldn’t come for another—”

              “—several billion years. I know,” I finish her sentence.

              “Maybe it’s just a coincidence. A horrible twist of fate.”

              “That’s what Nim said.”

              The thought of being compared to Nim makes Elli cringe. “It could also be something more sinister. You never know.”

              “That’s the reason I came here,” I reply. “I’m wondering if there’s any way to know for sure whether Oman’s universe dying is a twist of fate, or if it’s something The House should be worried about.”

              Elli raises an eyebrow. “Do you actually think The House would worry about it, even if you have proof it didn’t happen by chance?”

              My voice becomes pleading. “I have to try.”

              She sighs. “There are some ancient records we could check. A list of the prophesized end dates of all known universes that come into being, written by the Seers. But they’re not always accurate, and they’re hard to decipher. You’ll need my help.”

              I give her my best helpless expression and raise my voice several octaves. “Please?”

              Elli rolls her eyes and stands from her seat. “Fine. But don’t go telling Nim I indulged you. She’ll have my head for it.”

              As she rounds the desk, I pull a torch from the wall. I expect her to lead me down the same tunnel as before, but instead she diverts me into a grander passage. The mouth is twice as wide as the rest, and instead of books lining the walls, there are scrolls of rolled parchment. Strange symbols are etched into the shelves beneath each row.

              “What are these?” I ask.

              “The Seers of The House recite prophecies, as you know,” Elli says. “Whatever they say ends up here, stored for safekeeping. Those symbols you see are markers showing the passage of time. Only Archivers can navigate them.”

              “Then I’m glad I’m friends with an Archiver.”

              The torch flame dances over the vast array of records as we walk deeper into the tunnels. Elli diverts us many times around corners or through secret passageways in the walls. Within minutes I’m lost, struggling to keep up with her so that I don’t become stranded amongst the dimness and reclusiveness of the place.

              “They should be around here somewhere,” Elli mumbles, her fingers brushing against the shelves as she proceeds. It’s as if her hands can sense what’s written in the scrolls—like she’s going by feel rather than sight—and the idea makes me second guess the path I’ve chosen as a Watcher. Then I recall the stacks of papers on her desk, and I am relieved I chose a life of adventure rather than knowledge.

              “Maybe this tunnel,” Elli tells me after we emerge from a hidden passage into a particularly well-lit area. Maybe it’s just a trick of the torches, but the parchment here is more yellowed than the rest. I furrow my brow and peruse the contents of the shelves with my eyes. One scroll looks no different than the rest.

              Elli ascends a rolling ladder and uses her weight to slide the device back and forth across the shelves. She pulls scrolls halfway from their resting place and then puts them back; some she removes fully but after a moment of browsing discards. It goes on like this for a long time, and eventually I grow impatient.

              “Are you sure this is the right tunnel?” I ask.

Elli shoots me a withering look that rivals one of Nim’s. “Of course I’m sure. It’s my job, isn’t it?”

I turn silent and let her take the lead, bouncing from shelf to shelf and immersing herself amongst the records. Finally she pulls one out from the rest and unravels the scroll until its contents drop clear to the floor. The wooden spool clacks against the marble as her eyes scan over the text.

“Curious. Very curious,” Elli says, descending the ladder at the same time as she reads.

“What’ve you found?” I reply.

Elli drops the parchment on the ground and kicks it across the room so that the length unwinds all the way down the tunnel. The words are handwritten in symbols I can’t comprehend, and as I appraise the squiggles and lines my brow becomes furrowed.

“It’s the same language as that written on the shelves,” I say. “How is anyone supposed to understand any of this?”

Elli drops to her knees and uses one finger to direct her down the lines of text, shuffling backward with her feet as she goes. “You might not be able to understand it, but Archivers can. And from the gist of it, I’m in the right era. It talks about Oman’s universe—”

Her voice cuts off in the middle of her sentence and she leaps to her feet, blinking hard. I rush over to her and stare down at the part she was reading, but I achieve nothing more than going cross-eyed at the strange figures drawn on the page.

“What’ve you found?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“It seems to say Oman’s universe wasn’t due for destruction for another seventy billion years.”

“But that can’t be. Unless somehow the Seers were wrong, or someone managed to destroy the universe themselves.”

Elli shakes her head. “That’s impossible. No one’s ever found a way to do that before.”

The way she says it—like someone’s tried it in the past—makes me shiver, and I clench my arms around my body to steady myself. “This isn’t good. There has to be a way to save Oman.”

“Don’t go getting ideas in your head. Once his universe started dying, all hope for him was lost. And as far as the scroll goes, like I said earlier, they’re not always accurate.”

“And how often is it that they’re wrong?”

Elli hesitates before admitting the truth. “About as often as universes die.”

“So what do I do? How do I find out more about what’s going on?”

She begins to wind up the scroll, shuffling her hands back and forth over one end to reel the parchment back in. “There’s one way I know of, but it’s risky. If you’re caught, they might throw you into the void, and me as well for just telling you about it.”

“Tell me,” I say, my face set in determination.

As she climbs the ladder and sets the scroll back on its shelf she replies, “Go find a Seer. Ask them yourselves. They’re bound by the laws of The House to tell you something whenever you ask a question, though it’s not always the answer you’re looking for.”

I turn to stomp back down the tunnel, but Elli’s hand closing around my elbow stops me.

“Amara—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“Yes, I know. Be careful. Don’t get caught. I’ll do my best.”

Elli narrows her gaze. “I was about to say, don’t get lost. The best way back is to follow me.”

Then she strides ahead of me, leading me back the way we came.

I know where the Seers’ chambers are, but I’ve never actually been there. Members of The House aren’t supposed to go unless summoned to hear a prophecy—one that often pertains to the death of a universe—and that rarely happens. The halls are bustling by the time I leave the Archives Room and I weave past bodies to get there, giving my best impression of innocence whenever someone catches my eye. Once I reach the right door I wait for the opportune moment—when the crowd closes around me and I all but disappear—and then I turn the knob and slip across the threshold.

The Seeing Room is cast not in torchlight but in a thin blue glow that seeps from cracks in the walls. The room is empty but for a marble throne jutting from the center of the circular space. The Seer on duty sits there, wearing long white robes that caress the floor as her chest falls up and down in tandem with her breaths.

She sees me and scowls. “You’re not supposed to be here. I didn’t call on you.”

“I know,” I say, “but I need your guidance. Something is going terribly wrong. Watchers and universes are dying.”

“That’s part of nature’s plan. We’re cast into the void and new members of The House come to be. Hasn’t your mentor taught you that?”

“Of course. But this time it’s different. In the past few days, two universes have died. Dena’s, and now Oman’s.”

The Seer frowns, shifts in her throne. “I don’t stay up to date on the goings on around me. My head’s already full of too much of the future. The present can’t fit inside.”

“Well, then, you might be able to tell me what’s going on, can’t you?” I needle.

She purses her lips together, mulling over the idea for several moments before beckoning me forward. “Come, dear. Give me your hand.”

I shuffle over to the throne and hold out my palm. She wraps her cold fingers around mine and I feel a shock course through my body. It isn’t the same kind I felt when Noah touched me. This one is painful and makes my bones shake; my hands and feet go numb and I topple back onto the floor, slipping from the Seer’s grasp. She herself crumbles onto the throne, breathing hard.

“This—this can’t be,” she gasps.

“What is it? What did you see?” I ask, staggering to my feet.

She rolls her eyes upon me and they are haunting, fearful. “I saw you, Amara, Watcher of The House. I saw the future that surrounds you.”

“Tell me. I need to know.”

The Seer takes in a gulp of air before answering. “You’re right. There is something wrong with the order of things. They’ve been disturbed. And it’s you who must put this place back the way it was, or remove the pieces until The House falls apart.”

Her reply is cryptic at best and I’m about to ply her for more information when a booming knock echoes from the other side of the door.

“Come out this instant, Amara! I know you’re in there!” Nim’s muffled shout roars.

I can’t decide what to do as my gaze switches back and forth between the exit and the Seer—between the lies of The House and the truth—but Nim decides for me when she bursts through the door and drags me out by the arm.

Once we’re in the hall she resumes her yelling again. “You think no one would find out? Someone saw you slip into the Seeing Room and alerted me at once. Just what do you think you were doing in there?”

“I was asking her about Dena and Oman, about why universes are suddenly being destroyed all at once. And I was right to. She told me—”

Nim holds up a finger to silence me. “Don’t you dare repeat a word of what the Seer said. Whatever they utter is bonded to the individual who hears it. To repeat a prophecy to others is sacrilege.”

“But I—”

“This is a rule of The House, Amara. To defy it means automatic casting into the void.”

I clench my jaw and glare at Nim with all the condemnation I can muster, but she dwarfs it with a look of disappointment she reserves only for me. Finally I relent, letting my shoulders bend in and my head fall. Nim grasps me hard by the arm, her nails digging into my skin as she leads me back to my bedchamber.

“Two days locked in your room,” she says. “No watching in the meantime. And no visiting Elli.” I look at her with mutiny and she adds, “That’s right, you heard me. You shouldn’t be spending time in the Archives Room as it is. Maybe the next several hours will give you time to learn how to obey the rules for once.”

I let her voice drown out into a dull murmur while I think of more important matters. My mind is focused the image of Oman lying sick on the floor of the Watch Room, and the words of the Seer. Her prophecy repeats over and over in my ears.

It’s you who must put this place back the way it was, or remove the pieces until The House falls apart.

I don’t want to be the one responsible for the future of The House, but if the Seer said it, then it must be true. My heart flutters nervously against my chest as I realize Oman’s universe dying isn’t the end of the destruction that has been slowly infiltrating the walls of my home.

It’s just the beginning, and now I have two days stuck in my room to wait for more chaos to unfold.