Blood of the Cosmos (31 page)

Several Onthos moved silently through the forest, preoccupied with unspecified obligations to the trees. Through telink, they communed with the worldtrees, shared their stories with the verdani mind, revealed many things about their lovely home planet, now destroyed. Arita was very interested in the proposed CDF and Solar Navy mission to the Gardeners' original star system, wondering what they would find there.

As they finished breakfast and her parents prepared for Confederation meetings, a green priest appeared in the throne room, bearing a message. “Kennebar and a group of followers have flown in from the Wild. They've come to see the Gardeners.”

Arita's heart skipped a beat as she thought of Collin, her first love—the young man she had intended to make a life with after they both became green priests. But no amount of friendship or romance could bridge the gulf between them now. She wondered if Collin had come back as part of the group with Kennebar. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he wished he hadn't gone so far from civilization—or her.

Recalling the obscure message and the ethereal music weaving through the back of her dream, she wondered if her mind was receptive to some form of communication that even the green priests could not hear. If it was, maybe would Collin stop pitying her. Arita just wished their relationship could go back to the way it was before.

Her brother squeezed her hand. Reyn seemed to know what she was thinking.

Kennebar and his followers flew in on small personal flyers. They dismounted on the canopy, stretching their sore muscles after the long flight. Their leader was tall and thin, and his face bore a hard expression. He was entirely dedicated to the worldforest, and he considered politics and personal interactions a low priority. The rest of his followers stood beside their leader, serious, humorless.

She brightened when she saw Collin among them. He tried to appear just as serious as his companions, but when he noticed Arita, a smile flashed across his face, though he covered it quickly.

As the King and Queen went out to meet Kennebar's group, the nearby fronds rustled and dozens and dozens of Onthos pushed their way through the branches and leaves. Since they had scattered through the forest, Arita had not seen them all together at once. Now, there seemed to be a great many of them.

After briefly acknowledging the King and Queen, Kennebar turned his attention to Ohro. “The verdani informed us you were here.”

The gathered Onthos pressed closer to the isolationist green priests. “Yes, and the trees have told us about the Wild,” Ohro said. The other Gardeners murmured their assent.

Kennebar regarded the aliens, then turned back to Peter and Estarra. “We green priests exist to serve the worldforest. The verdani tell us these are our brothers in the trees. We want to give them sanctuary—in the Wild.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked. “They are safe here.”

Arita kept looking at Collin, but the young man tried to remain serious as he stood among his fellow green priests. None of the others spoke a word, letting their leader do the talking.

Kennebar continued, “The Wild is vast and unsettled, and our group tends the neediest trees, but the worldforest requires help. We invite the Gardeners to join us, to settle in a new home. The trees have already welcomed you, and you will belong there.”

“We do long for a new home, a place we can settle and fulfill our destiny,” said Ohro. “We have been uprooted for so many years.” The Gardeners all remained silent for a moment, as if communing, then their leader said, “Yes, we will come. The Wild needs our tending.”

In unison, the Onthos bowed to the King and Queen. “We thank you for the reception you offered us, but our calling is to go to that continent. These green priests will help us, but the worldtrees will help us more.”

Kennebar seemed pleased with himself. Collin shot a glance at Arita, but before she could smile at him, he flicked his eyes away.

*   *   *

After the decision was made, Kennebar kept tight control of his group as he arranged to transport the refugee aliens to the unsettled continent. The isolationist priests seemed to have no interest in socializing with old friends from the fungus-reef city, much to Arita's disappointment.

She never even had a chance to speak with Collin. She missed him terribly, and not just in a romantic way. He had been her
friend
. Couldn't he at least speak with her? Did Kennebar's aloof followers really need to reject all ties with their past? It saddened her.

Without saying any farewells, the taciturn green priests returned to their flyers and departed in a rush from the canopy, accompanied by larger transports provided by the King and Queen to take the Onthos. As they all left, Arita felt a flicker of heartache and disappointment as she saw Collin among them, studiously ignoring her. She remembered her handsome and funny young companion, who had now become a complete stranger to her. As the large group rose up from the treetops, Arita opened her mouth to call out to him, but the group flew off in a buzzing squadron of small ships.

In the last moment, Collin looked over his shoulder, met her gaze—and she was sure she saw longing there, a deep hurt. But since he had avoided her attempts at conversation, Arita thought it might just be her imagination, like those distant ethereal voices that came to her in dreams.

Understanding, her mother placed a warm consoling hand on her shoulder. Queen Estarra didn't need to say any words. A lump formed in Arita's throat, but she pulled in a deep breath, fought back the sadness. “I … I have to study some of the notes from my last specimen-collecting expedition in the Wild. I'm going back to my chambers.” She hurried away.

Before she could even spread out her notes, however, a minor Confederation functionary appeared at the doorway of her room. “Excuse me, Princess. I have a message for you. I don't exactly know why he gave it to me.” The clerk held out a piece of paper covered with handwritten words. “One of Kennebar's young green priests handed this to me and urged me to pass it on to you. He didn't seem to want the others to see.” The clerk shook his head. “He could have just used telink. I don't understand.”

Arita's heart leapt as she took the note. “I'm sure he has his reasons.” She thanked the functionary and hurried to read the message.

“I needed to send you a private letter, Arita,” Collin wrote. “If I sent it through telink, then all green priests could hear. Kennebar would know. And I wanted this just between us.” She was so surprised that she felt tears stinging her eyes.

“I have to write this quickly—the others watch me closely. I wish I had never gone with them. I wish I could have stayed with you. I miss you, Arita. I miss telling you my thoughts and listening to yours—just two people discovering each other. If I'd known we would be separated, I never would have taken the green. My heart believes we belong together, but I am trapped by duty. I'm also worried. Something is wrong in the Wild. Something's very wrong with the worldforest mind. I don't dare use telink to explain.

“Please come and see for yourself. This is important—I'm sure I'm not imagining it. But who will believe me? Come to the Wild—soon.”

The note abruptly cut off as if Collin were afraid of being caught.

Arita read and reread the note, experiencing both joy and concern. She felt the weight of worry, and she knew what she had to do.

She began making plans for another expedition to the Wild.

 

CHAPTER

48

PRINCE REYN

After Osira'h left Theroc, Prince Reynald felt different. The light in the worldforest was changed. He had drawn strength from her, and now that extra support was gone.

With Osira'h near, he had been able to resist the encroaching weakness from his disease, and maybe it was only his imagination, but now Reyn felt unsteady. He noticed more frequent neural misfires that slashed and skittered through him.

He realized just how much he had been keeping himself strong for her. He had been masking his symptoms, trying to keep himself steady so she wouldn't worry, and now the disease was making up for its enforced remission.

His tremors were bad this morning, and he took a long time to get dressed. His fingers shook so much that he could barely fasten the buttons and clips, but his mother and father were counting on him to join them in the throne chamber.

He closed his eyes, drew deep breaths, and commanded his nerves to obey. The exercise—which Osira'h had taught him—did not decrease the pain, but he was better able to endure it. He moved slowly about his room, and every sound seemed intense, like razor blades slashing through his ears. Bright lights hurt his eyes and his skin. But he was
Prince Reynald of Theroc
, and he did not have the luxury of weakness. He could not hide from his duties, even if they were mostly ceremonial.

His parents had sent out repeated calls to medical researchers, but Reyn would not be a pathetic weakling who demanded sympathy. He wanted to fight this battle himself, not that he ever expected to win it. Both Arita and Osira'h had scolded him for his pride, for hiding his symptoms. They insisted that he accept help, and he had agreed … which now made him a specimen. His samples, DNA maps, cellular scans, tissues, nervous system, and brain patterns were an open book—every tiny and private corner of his body. It felt like a violation, but he accepted it because that was what his parents needed, what his sister needed … and what Osira'h needed.

He had also received messages of support and understanding from countless subjects across the Confederation. Rlinda Kett had returned to her fancy restaurant of Arbor and made one of her famous sloppy cheeseburgers for him, even though it was not on the menu.

Now, he finished fastening his insect-carapace epaulets before inspecting himself in the reflecting glass. He definitely looked like a prince, a son of Theroc to sit beside Father Peter and Mother Estarra.

As ready as he could be, he took a step toward the door, swayed, then steadied himself against the soft fungus-reef wall. He took deep breaths, felt black static swirl behind his eyes before he finally sharpened his focus again—along with a fond memory of Osira'h that he held on to as an anchor—and he made his way to the throne room.

A crowd had gathered outside the chamber: green priests, Confederation traders, Theron villagers, even two retirees from the old Earth Defense Forces who had settled in the worldforest years ago. Inside, Estarra and Peter waited for him. Arita was busy preparing her own trip out to the Wild, which she had just announced to everyone's surprise. She would work on her naturalist research while the Onthos settled in the pristine wilderness.

Dredging up strength, Reyn took a seat in his chair, which was ornamented with jeweled and lacquered insect wings, beetle casings, and polished bloodwood agates. He intended to smile at the audience, but it required all of his attention to quell the tremors and to keep the pain from his expression.

Estarra said in a low voice, “You look pale, Reyn.”

“Just tired. It's been exhausting and stressful … for a very long time. Especially now that Osira'h is gone.” He slumped back in the hard, ornamented chair more heavily than he meant to.

King Peter announced to the audience in a loud, strong voice, “As always, our son's health poses a challenge for medical researchers across the Spiral Arm. Once again, we express our hope that someone will find a way to defeat this insidious malady, and in so doing find ways to help other ailing humans.”

Estarra added her own voice. “In addition to the reward we offer, our gratitude will be substantial.”

Embarrassed, Reyn took charge, as a prince was supposed to do. He called out, “Let's hear what these people have to say. They came to speak to us, not hear about my aches and pains.” He tried to give them all a reassuring smile.

The two military retirees came forward first. One had a scar on his face, while the other moved with a limp but forced his way through it. “Majesties, both of us fought in the last battle of Earth twenty years ago. We defended against the Klikiss and the turncoat Ildirans and the black robots. Lost many of our comrades—but we stayed alive. We saved a lot of people.”

The scarred man looked at his companion. “Piers and I moved here years ago, never wanted to bother you—but we did appreciate your leadership, King Peter.”

The other man added to Estarra, “And yours too, ma'am … um, Majesty.”

The first man was alarmed by his faux pas. “Well, of course, they're a set—I meant both of them.”

Piers continued, “For a long time, Rutger and I have just wanted to say thank you … but now we hear that the bugbots have returned. I don't know how much good two old relics will be, but if you need fighters again, we're willing to help.”

“That's good to know,” Peter said. “And I hope we won't need to reactivate your service. You have earned a quiet retirement.”

Reyn fought back a thrum of pain. “It's encouraging to see such devoted citizens.” He doubted he would survive long enough to take over after his parents.

The next speaker was Tristan Cove, the town leader of Shorehaven, who arrived carrying a large case. “My village has recovered from the wyvern attacks, Father Peter and Mother Estarra—thanks to the two warrior women from Ildira along with our green priest Beltrias, who became a hunter in his own right.”

Estarra nodded. “Anton Colicos told us the story. It's so outlandish I thought he must have embellished some parts, but we should probably believe what he says.”

“Believe him,” said Cove. He proudly opened the box to display a hemispherical multifaceted jewel wider than his handspan in diameter.

“What is that?” Reyn asked.

“This is one of the smaller eyes of the slain wyvern. Its head was far too enormous to bring as a trophy, and even the larger eyes are a meter across or more. But we wanted to deliver this as a reminder that there are threats right here on Theroc, as well as great threats out in the cosmos.”