Saga of Shadows 1: The Dark Between the Stars (40 page)

“We know how to survive. I’ll make sure you survive.”

Zoe looked at him for a long moment, then told him to do it.

Back at the watchstation above the lichentree forest, they packed their few belongings aboard Tom Rom’s ship and retreated to a safe distance to watch.

He triggered the fire bombs he had scattered throughout the jungle for kilometers around. Explosions erupted in orange feathers of fire that flattened a large swath and ignited the surrounding lichentrees. As the wildfire spread, it cleared a giant section of the dense forest, leaving only a smoking smear of ash.

As Zoe watched the fires, she felt a kind of satisfaction, of freedom. Even though there was nothing left, she still owned it. The fire bombing had erased all the years of her life there, all the marks her parents had made, everything Vaconda had done to them. The jungle would reclaim its own soon enough, she knew, but Zoe planned to be long gone by then.

In an irony even greater than the reward, after the smoke cleared and the ashes settled, they discovered that the wildfire had exposed an extensive vein-inclusion of prisdiamonds long buried under the jungle growth.

And those prisdiamonds were enough to make Zoe Alakis one of the wealthiest women in the Spiral Arm.

F
IFTY
-
EIGHT

K
ING
P
ETER

The funeral for Father Idriss brought visitors from across the Spiral Arm: important businessmen, representatives from Confederation planets, heads of Roamer clans, even an Ildiran delegation that included the Mage-Imperator’s green priest consort, Nira, who was pleased to be back in the original worldforest after so many years on Ildira.

Normally, Peter conducted the business of the Confederation alongside Queen Estarra, as equal partners, but after her father’s death, Estarra withdrew to mourn silently and sent her apologies to the visitors.

The throne room would have had two empty chairs, one for the Queen and one where Idriss had sat to listen (or snooze), but Peter’s children joined him. Prince Reyn had returned from Earth, accompanied by Deputy Eldred Cain and Rlinda Kett. Using the facilities of her own Theron restaurant, Rlinda would cater the food for the funeral banquet that evening.

Reyn sat with Arita, filling their roles as Prince and Princess, dressed in traditional Theron finery, beside their father. They were as close as a brother and sister could be, but they had little time to talk, caught up in the swirl of responsibilities. Peter was glad he didn’t have to face his duties alone, especially today.

They received the visitors who came to express their sympathy. Green priests gathered around, sending reports and passing messages through telink. The Roamers, through their newly elected Speaker Sam Ricks, sent a beautiful embroidered tapestry.

Deputy Cain entered the chamber wearing a business suit. The soft-spoken, responsible man had been an unexpected ally in the final days of the Hansa. He gave a polite bow. “Father Idriss was an honest and well-respected man. I present formal condolences on behalf of Earth, but on a more personal note, King Peter, I wanted to give you this. It’s from my own collection.” He lifted a rectangular object the size of a thin briefcase and removed a cloth to reveal a small framed painting that depicted a poignant sunset. “It’s one of my particular favorites done by the twenty-first-century master Dolus. The image is both majestic and sad—I felt it evoked the right feelings on this occasion.”

As Cain presented the painting, Peter felt a lump in his throat. He knew the Deputy would have found it difficult to part with one of his prized works of art. Peter, Reyn, and Arita marveled at the colors, the beauty, the majesty. It did remind him of Idriss in that indefinable way that only the best art could achieve. “We will hang it on the throne room wall to remember Father Idriss, and also to be reminded of you, Deputy Cain, and all you’ve done for us.”

The funeral gathering also served as an awkward reunion for members of Estarra’s scattered family. Her sister Celli returned with Solimar from their terrarium dome in Fireheart Station, and—an even greater surprise—their older sister Sarein returned from the Wild, where she had lived in self-imposed exile since the collapse of the Hansa.

Estarra and her older sister had a strained and scarred relationship. In the political turmoil of the Elemental War, Sarein had done many questionable things that hurt Estarra and Peter, but she had also helped them when they needed it most. By going off to the uninhabited continent, Sarein had avoided any accusations. For a social and ambitious woman who had once fought hard for Theroc to become a vibrant part of the Hansa, Sarein must have found it difficult to live as a virtual hermit. It took the death of Father Idriss to bring her back.

Now, the three sisters shared grief over the loss of their father. Their brothers, Reynald and Beneto, had both been killed years ago in the Elemental War, and the sisters clung to what they had left.

After Peter, Reyn, and Arita finished receiving the visitors, a staff member informed them that the green priests had finished preparing Father Idriss for the ceremony. Wearing dark cocoonweave garments adorned with moth wings and segmented beetle shells, Estarra and her sisters came to meet Peter.

The Queen clasped his hand. “I wish we could just do this privately with the family.”

“The rest of the Confederation needs the spectacle,” Sarein said in a cool voice. “Peter was trained properly. He understands.” She had once been beautiful, but now looked weathered and hard.

“I understand it too.” Estarra straightened, looking regal. “I’m just saying what I wish.”

All the dignitaries and visitors had already gathered on the forest floor. Peter held Estarra’s hand, and they wound their way along an open path through the thick worldtrees, a trail that Peter was sure hadn’t been there before. Somehow, the forest had created a wide avenue for the procession.

The mourners entered an open glade spangled with small white flowers and fleshy green vines. Father Idriss’s body lay on the ground in the meadow, draped in a pristine white cocoonweave shroud. When Estarra saw the wrapped body, she paused, suddenly uncertain.

Since Celli had taken the green, she and Solimar led the worldforest in the actual funeral. The two green priests knelt among the vines, touching the white cloth. Celli had tears in her eyes. Solimar turned to the crowds that had gathered at the edges of the meadow. “Father Idriss was not a green priest, but he had a special connection to the forest. He was
Theroc
for all of us, Father of our people, and the father of my wife.”

Celli looked up. “And now he joins the worldforest.”

Together, they lifted the pale vines and draped them over the shrouded figure. The vines stirred, followed by other vines, until all the strands covered the body like an additional blanket. Leaves sprouted, tightening the green embrace that grew at an astonishing speed until buds appeared, rose higher, and unfolded to display dozens of creamy white orchids. A sweet, pervasive perfume filled the air, like scented applause for a life well lived.

Around the edge of the meadow, the observers murmured sounds of approval and wonderment. Estarra and her sisters hugged one another.

Grim business intruded as soon as night fell.

The numerous visitors took part in a large outdoor feast, which Rlinda Kett’s chefs had prepared to perfection. Peter listened to quiet conversations, Confederation representatives making deals, discussing politics. Representing the Roamer clans, Sam Ricks didn’t seem to know what to do at all, didn’t even know most of the guests. He stood with his hands in his pockets, offering condolences but to the wrong people; without the other clans around him, he seemed out of his element.

A ship arrived with unexpected visitors—Del Kellum, the former Speaker of the clans, as well as his daughter Zhett and their entire family. They looked haggard and distraught. Kellum barged into the funeral banquet, as if he didn’t care what was going on. “I need to see the King, by damn! This is a crisis—he’s got to know.”

Deputy Cain rose to his feet. Sam Ricks blinked and merely managed to look confused. Peter and Estarra both went forward to meet Kellum, while Ricks deferred.

All conversation stopped as the bearded man announced, “Our skymine on Golgen was destroyed. The hydrogues are back!” He cut off an outburst of conversation. “But
they
didn’t attack us, by damn. It was something else—a blight, a black stain that infected the drogues and destroyed their warglobes. A shadow arose from inside the planet itself—and one of the damned drogues even came up to warn us! Told us to get away, and all our skyminers barely got out in time. The whole damn planet was vomiting black when we flew away.”

Patrick Fitzpatrick uploaded and displayed horrific images of the inky stain welling up from the cloud banks. Peter had never seen anything like it, yet for some reason it reminded him of another strange occurrence—the report General Keah had sent via green priest not long ago about how her battle group had flushed out a hidden infestation of Klikiss robots, which had escaped into a mysterious shadow cloud. He frowned. Those two events couldn’t be related. . . .

Nira watched the images with a drawn expression. “Another terrible shadow engulfed an Ildiran exploration ship far outside the Spiral Arm. I think it took my son. Some Ildirans believe it’s the return of the Shana Rei.” She looked around. “And that strikes great fear into their entire race. Adar Zan’nh is investigating now. Of course, we’ll share with you whatever he discovers.”

“It was awfully strange, by damn,” Del Kellum said. “Unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“General Keah’s battle group just returned to CDF headquarters at Earth,” Peter said. “We will need to compare Del Kellum’s report with images of the shadow cloud they encountered.” He frowned. “I thought it was bad enough news that some of the Klikiss robots were still around.”

Estarra stood close to him, and as they watched the images of the blackness bleeding into the gas giant’s clouds, Peter felt his skin crawl.

Deputy Cain showed increasing concern. “It took us too long to realize the hydrogue threat when they first appeared, Sire. I suggest we study this with proper urgency, factor in General Keah’s report, and add whatever information the Ildirans can provide on the Shana Rei.”

“If there is proof,” Nira said. “We still don’t know. The historical accounts of the Shana Rei are sketchy in the Saga of Seven Suns, but I’ll return to Ildira immediately with the Mage-Imperator’s entourage. If the Saga has any information that we can use, I’ll communicate it via telink.”

Deputy Cain nodded to the King. “Even if we don’t know exactly what we’re up against, we should start full-scale ramp-up and escalation of the CDF. Just in case. With your permission, Sire?”

With the safety of the Confederation at stake, the King and Queen had to put aside their grief to avert a possible greater tragedy. Peter gave his permission, issuing orders to dispatch scouts and follow-up teams, widespread inquiries, full reports on all the ships in the CDF, strategic ekti reserves.

They didn’t even know the enemy yet, but once again Peter had to prepare for war.

F
IFTY
-
NINE

R
LINDA
K
ETT

Rlinda had named her finest and favorite restaurant Arbor, for obvious reasons. It was a sheltered overhang on the Theron canopy with numerous finger decks and open balconies that could be enclosed during occasional inclement weather.

Colorful insects flitted about, some of them nuisances, some of them delicious. A stream of customers came and went, and Rlinda liked to think that some of them made excuses for business trips here to Theroc just so they could eat dinner at Arbor. She had commanded her chefs to be absolutely impressive.

During her years of travel as the Confederation’s trade minister, Rlinda always kept her eyes open for new delicacies and recipes. She did her work, while running her trading company, but she really wanted to run the perfect restaurant. Now she had three: one on Relleker, one on Earth, one here.

She had insisted on providing the food for Father Idriss’s funeral banquet, telling the King and Queen not to concern themselves. Rlinda instructed her chefs to give the meal understated elegance. The meal had been perfect—except for the disastrous news of the Golgen skymine and the ominous shadow clouds.

In the following days, while the Confederation buzzed with the reappearance of hydrogues and black robots, and possibly the Shana Rei, Rlinda reminded herself that she was done with all that. No longer her concern. Instead, she met with her “culinary explorers,” who constantly sampled the bounty of the Theron forest, while teams of chefs concocted new recipes and preparation methods with all the dedication of scientific researchers. Now
that
was important.

They created various dishes of insect meat, succulent grubs, sweet or tart berries, herbs with indescribable flavors, stems, leaves, roots, bulbs, tubers. Yes, she loved this restaurant, and her chefs went out of their way to show off their favorite new creations, indulging her, overstuffing her—exactly as she liked.

Sitting at her own canopy table on her own finger deck, she ate only small servings in order to save room for more entrees. She didn’t want to eat too much, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. The chefs and servers brought out sample plates, one after another. For months, they had been experimenting with new concoctions, but each menu item needed her approval, and Rlinda had very high standards.

She glanced at tables on the other decks, where offworlders as well as some adventurous Therons—even a few green priests—were expanding their gourmet tastes. With so much bounty in the worldforest, Theron natives rarely bothered to sample outside delicacies. When she noticed a green priest couple trying several dishes from the “offworld menu,” as opposed to the “Theron specialties” pages, she watched as they tasted, shared, and exchanged opinions.