Saga of Shadows 1: The Dark Between the Stars (36 page)

“I can play his verbal message for you. He makes quite an articulate case.”

Orli frowned. “I prefer to hear the words from you.”

“I can do that.” DD repeated the exact words he had said, and she was grateful he didn’t try to simulate Matthew’s voice. “ ‘I called in a few favors, Orli, contacted a Confederation colony on Ikbir. They have two hundred settlers now, but they’re expanding and need compies of all kinds. I told them we had twenty-five available and the colony leader offered to take them all.’ ”

DD’s voice changed slightly as he returned to himself. His optical sensors glowed with excitement. “That is what our facility wants, isn’t it, Orli? All of these compies can have homes on Ikbir. I hope I get a good home.”

“You
have
a good home, DD.” Tears filled her eyes, but she brushed them away. “I’m keeping you with me, no matter what. You don’t have to worry.”

MO came in to whisk away her breakfast dishes, though Orli had barely touched her omelet. It was cold by now anyway. “I can cook you a new one if you wish,” the compy said. “But I really should start planning your lunch.”

“That’s all right, MO.” Orli sat back in her chair. Just like that, everything had changed. New choices were open to her. All of these compies would have homes, thanks to Matthew. If she kept the facility open, more refugee compies would be donated, without doubt—but was that what she wanted?

She sipped her hot klee again, and the taste reminded her of Theroc, of Rlinda Kett . . . all the wondrous places she had visited, all the ships and trade routes, the adventures, the memories.
How did I end up here, again?
Orli thought.

At the time, many of her adventures had seemed like nightmares, but now she wished she could do it all again. The Relleker compy facility had been anchoring her to a boring life—one that had been thrown into chaos by Matthew’s affair, by a biological inconvenience.

But there was more to it than that. For more than a decade Orli hadn’t allowed herself to consider what she really needed. If all these compies found good homes on a new Confederation colony, why would she stay here?

“That is good news, DD,” she said. “Let’s get in touch with the Ikbir colony leader so I can arrange the transfer of our compies and send summaries of their specialties. They should be happy.”

“Compies are happy to do whatever we’re assigned to do,” DD said.

“After that, you’ll help me with the process of shutting down this facility. We won’t be accepting any more compies here at Relleker.”

DD remained silent for a second longer than she expected. “Then what are we going to do, Orli?”

Now she let herself smile—a genuine smile. “I need time off to remember who I am after all these years, and I know who can help.”

DD stood close, his optical sensors bright. “And who is that, Orli?”

She took another sip of her klee. “You and I are going to visit Rlinda Kett.”

F
IFTY
-
ONE

S
HELUD

The isolationist green priests departed on humming personal flyers like bright condorflies rising from the worldforest. It was a beautiful sight, and the Therons came out on balconies of the fungus-reef city or stood on the forest floor to watch.

Kennebar’s people were a quiet—even somber—lot. They flew away from the bustle of Confederation activity to make their settlement in the Wild across the narrow sea, content that the worldforest would provide everything they needed.

Shelud watched the departure with a mixture of joy and sadness. As a green priest, he was uncertain about his decision to stay behind. He had much in common with Kennebar’s people, did not like the spread of the Confederation government and the dispersal of so many green priests far from Theroc. But Shelud also thought that going into the forest and hiding would accomplish little. That was not the reason he had become a green priest.

His brother Aelin stepped up next to him. “Good riddance!” Though he was a green priest too, he rolled his eyes in scorn at the departing flyers. “I’m glad you’re not going with them.”

Shelud looked at his older brother. “I almost did. I agree with parts of Kennebar’s philosophy, but I want to accomplish something more.”

Aelin said, “I think the two of us should sign aboard a trade ship, maybe a diplomatic transport, see the Spiral Arm together.”

Shelud frowned. “I don’t want to disappear into the Wild, but that doesn’t mean I’ll hire myself out to the Confederation. It’s not important enough.”

Shelud and Aelin were close, but they often disagreed—as brothers did. Shelud was old enough to remember the Elemental War, the horrific attacks on Theroc and the burning worldtrees. He had been five at the end of the war, his brother seven. They grew up in the recovering worldforest. The two boys, being boys, were fascinated and curious, running around to explore the wilderness.

Celli and Solimar, a green priest couple dedicated to tending the wounded forest, had taken the brothers under their wing. Back then, Shelud and Aelin were excited to help, eager to become green priests themselves. Celli and Solimar taught the boys to read, because they wanted apprentices who could tell stories to the trees. The brothers spent days reciting stories, poems, any sort of documents to the voraciously curious verdani mind.

Aelin had trouble sitting still, while Shelud would read even the dullest documents, glad to know he was helping the verdani. Celli taught Shelud to play a stringed instrument and make up tunes of his own while strumming. Aelin frequently teased him about his clumsiness, but Shelud didn’t care if he was any good, as long as he was entertaining himself and the trees.

More energetic, Aelin liked to be on the move, and Solimar tried to teach him treedancing. But after only a month of practice, Aelin fell and broke his leg, which took a long time to heal—enough time to quench further dreams of treedancing.

The boys grew up and took the green at the same time. Though two years younger, Shelud had studied harder. Together, the brothers went into the deep forest, losing themselves in tantalizing thickets of underbrush where the worldforest would test them. Shelud remembered how the forest had come alive, enfolded him in a green cocoon, and made him lose himself in the wondrous cacophony of the verdani mind. Both brothers emerged with green skin, their thoughts connected to the worldtrees and all other green priests—but there they diverged.

In the early years of the Confederation, King Peter and Queen Estarra needed a way to communicate across vast distances to establish commerce and defense across the Spiral Arm. Many green priests volunteered to help. The schism between green priest factions and priorities, as exemplified by the departure of Kennebar and his followers, had been brewing for a long time.

Aelin sympathized with the green priests who wanted to venture out and see new things. Green priests could provide important services, and Aelin wanted to be there when humans explored new places and built new things. He believed green priests should use the knowledge stored in the worldforest mind to help civilization recover.

Shelud, on the other hand, felt an affinity for Kennebar’s primitivists, but he knew his brother had a valid point that a green priest should
serve
rather than just exist. He spent many nights awake, leaning against a worldtree trunk and just letting the comforting hum of verdani thoughts give him peace, if not advice. The verdani offered no opinion on the matter whatsoever.

When Olaf Reeves and his Retroamers announced their plans to depart from the Confederation, Shelud knew he had finally found his purpose.

Now, he stood next to his brother on the forest floor, watching Peter and Estarra launch a celebration to commemorate the twentieth anniversary of the Confederation’s founding. Treedancers hung colorful ribbons from the boughs of the surrounding trees, and newly hatched emerald moths took wing after being released from gossamer cages. Old Father Idriss watched the festival with clear delight, though he seemed tired.

Visitors and dignitaries from Confederation planets came for the festival, even an Ildiran entourage that bore an etched-crystal proclamation from Mage-Imperator Jora’h himself.

Aelin looked wistfully up at the trees as the lissome dancers hopped from branch to branch, and Shelud knew his brother was thinking of his aborted career as a treedancer. The people applauded the spectacle.

Then the ragtag ships from clan Reeves arrived and stole the show. Their vessels landed like a gypsy carnival in the broad meadow near the main fungus-reef city. Olaf Reeves had not chosen his timing by accident.

The bearded clan leader presented himself to the King and Queen accompanied by a crowd of cousins, friends, and other family members. Olaf acted as if he were the King’s equal, which he was, according to the strict terms of the Confederation Charter, since all Roamer clans were independent.

Olaf spoke in a deep voice loud enough for all to hear. “King Peter, Queen Estarra, my clan is tight-knit and strong. We remember our Roamer history, but human civilization has changed since the end of the Elemental War.” He raised his chin. “We’ve come to realize that the Confederation can offer us nothing. We are Roamers in our hearts and souls, and we must live by Roamer ways. A knife loses its edge unless it is sharpened. We will leave the Confederation.”

Queen Estarra looked surprised. “Where will you go?”

“Out in deep space we’ve found an abandoned city that will serve as the site for a new colony. We will live as Roamers have lived for centuries. We don’t know who built it, but we’ll make our home there.” Olaf Reeves showed no particular curiosity.

Estarra looked at Peter. “If it’s an ancient alien city, scholars will want to study it. We could send xeno-archaeologists to document the structure, help you understand.”

The bearded clan leader shook his head. “No, our home will not be a scientific expedition. It’s nobody’s business.” His voice was implacable. “We are not required to share what we learn.”

His son Dale looked more conciliatory. “After we get settled, we may send records with a trade ship, but we won’t welcome research teams for the time being. We’re not hiding, but we do want our independence and privacy.”

King Peter pondered a long moment. “That is your decision, and if you need help, you have only to ask.”

“Roamers have always survived, Sire.” Olaf Reeves seemed grudging in his formality. “We bear the Confederation no ill will, but we are doing what Roamers do—making a home where others might not want to go.”

Watching the so-called Retroamers, Shelud noticed that Olaf’s son seemed nervous about abandoning civilization, heading out all alone. Over the centuries, Roamers had suffered many losses and tragedies because they lived in inhospitable places like Sheol. And if clan Reeves intended to go far beyond the reach of the Confederation, they would be entirely cut off.

The idea occurred to him like a seedpod bursting, spreading possibilities in his mind. Shelud knew what he had to do. “I’ll go with you!” His words sent a surprised murmur through the audience. “A green priest can share archaeological information without any intrusive research teams. And I can help you stay in touch, if you need it.”

His brother elbowed him and whispered, “What are you thinking?”

“We won’t need a green priest,” Olaf said. “We want to be left alone.”

Young Shelud continued in a loud voice, “Many Roamer clans have perished from some disaster or other. If you’re going into the unknown, there’s no need to exile yourselves completely—accept my help.”

Olaf scowled at the interruption. “We’ve made arrangements with Kett Shipping in the event of an emergency, but otherwise we will rely on our own skills and resources.”

Shelud’s heart was pounding, but he had made up his mind. “You could still use a green priest. If I bring a treeling, I have access to all the knowledge of the worldforest, if you need it. And if not . . .” He shrugged his bare green shoulders. “I’d still be happy to pitch in and help you make your new home.”

Shelud was surprised when Aelin offered his support for the idea. “Green priests
should
go out, explore the Spiral Arm, share new information with the verdani. That is our reason for existence.”

Olaf’s brow furrowed. “But we don’t want our location known. If you come with us, then all the green priests will know where we are and what we’re doing. We don’t need a spy among us.”

“A spy?” Shelud shook his head. “A green priest gives to the worldforest only what he wishes to give. If green priests weren’t trusted to keep information in confidence, who would ever hire our services?”

Dale Reeves whispered something in his father’s ear, and the bearded man gave a grudging nod. He said in a warning voice, “You have other skills as well?”

“And all the knowledge contained in the worldforest. Anything you might need, access to any expert. Do you have that on your ships?”

Olaf huffed, looked around the lush forest. “It’ll be a very different life from your forest here, green priest. A hard life, but a satisfying one.”

“I am a green priest, but my
name
is Shelud. With a treeling, I am with the worldforest, no matter where I am. And I would rather have a satisfying life than an easy one.” The bearded clan leader grudgingly agreed.

Aelin embraced his brother and shook his head. “I never thought
you
would be the first of us to leave Theroc!”

With a start, Father Idriss sat up in his observation chair, looking around. “Has the festival begun yet?” He blinked. “Or is it over?” With great effort, he rose. “I need to rest.”

F
IFTY
-
TWO

G
ARRISON
R
EEVES

Taking Seth with him in his repaired ship, Garrison left Rendezvous and his sour memories behind. The clan engineers had completed the overhaul on the battered Iswander vessel, repaired the engines, fixed the hull, and provided a fresh alloy coating.