Reyn adjusted his tunic, checked the schedule, and saw that Anton Colicos’s shuttle had already arrived, unexpectedly early—a regular supply transport, rather than a flashy Ildiran ship. Reyn knew he would see plenty of Ildiran architecture and vessels when he visited the alien empire. Soon.
The human scholar stood outside the shuttle holding a satchel, and Reyn recognized him from images. Anton wore loose and comfortable clothes, obviously of Ildiran manufacture. He blinked around him at the tall trees.
The historian was quite a celebrity, though he didn’t seem to know his own importance. Reyn had read some of those books during his private tutoring—most students did.
Nervousness at meeting the man made his tremors increase. Reyn clenched his fist, pushed back the pain, and smiled as he came forward. “Anton Colicos, I am Prince Reynald of Theroc, son of King Peter and Queen Estarra. My parents dispatched me here to meet you.”
With a smile, Anton held up his satchel. “I don’t need any fancy reception, just want to present my work to the green priests. The man I’m supposed to meet is named Kennebar?”
“Kennebar leads a group of green priests, and he’s very interested in your new translation, sir.”
Anton chuckled. “A genuine Prince is calling me sir? No need for that. Why don’t you just call me Anton, and I’ll call you Reynald?”
“Better yet, call me Reyn. Everyone does.” He was anxious to hear Anton talk about Ildira, since he would be visiting there soon. “How long will you be staying on Theroc?”
“Oh, just long enough to read a few hundred pages,” Anton said. “I need to get back to Mijistra. We recently uncovered a treasure trove of ancient documents that tell stories nobody has seen in thousands of years, and I’m anxious to read more.”
They made their way across the tree canopy toward the green priests sitting among the fronds. Reyn considered Kennebar a stiff man, so devoted to the trees that he himself seemed to be made of wood. The leader rose from his perch and balanced on a branch with his bare feet. His skin was a rich green, and he wore only a loincloth. His muscular body was dotted with tattoos that showed his areas of expertise. “Anton Colicos, we look forward to more of the Saga. The worldforest would find it most interesting if you read portions aloud yourself.”
Anton lifted his satchel. “I have it ready here. I’ve read aloud to audiences before, though not usually to a group of trees.”
Reyn smiled. “Well, these aren’t just normal trees.”
Anton smiled. “I know that very well.”
Several other green priests gathered around Kennebar, silent and respectful. Reyn recognized Collin, a young man who had been very close with Arita, before the worldforest accepted him as a green priest and rejected her. The rest of the acolytes were children with pale or brown skin, but they all hoped to take the green someday when they were ready.
Kennebar nodded toward his followers. “This is what green priests should be doing, not flying off to sell themselves. We were made to serve the verdani, not human ambitions.” He gave Reyn a brusque dismissal. “You may leave the historian with us. We will take care of him.”
“He just got off the ship,” Reyn said. “Maybe he’d like time to—”
Kennebar remained stern. “After a long trip, he will be pleased to energize himself out here in the open among the trees.”
Reyn left the historian with the green priests and headed back down to the fungus-reef.
Peter and Estarra had the grand throne room to themselves. It was their habit to have at least one calm hour in the afternoon alone together. The fungus-reef walls were soft and warm, the throne room welcoming, yet spectacular.
Reyn’s parents sat in ornate chairs, though they had changed out of the insect-wing and beetle-shell ornamentation that Therons expected of their leaders. (The Confederation favored more businesslike attire.)
When he joined them, Estarra stood and stretched. “We have lunch, Reyn—join us. How did you like the historian?”
“He’s an intelligent man, very interesting.” Reyn paused in front of the table where Theron fruits, nuts, and skewers of roasted insects had been laid out. He plucked one of his favorite beetles out of a buttery sauce, cracked it open, and sucked out the sweet meat.
Peter was a handsome man in his midforties with blond hair and blue eyes. Estarra was a dark-skinned beauty with lush hair wrapped in a nest of braids. Although theirs had been a political marriage of an unlikely pair, they had genuinely grown to love each other as they fought the powerful forces arrayed against them.
“We made all the travel preparations for you and arranged meetings with necessary officials on Earth,” Peter said. “Deputy Cain will be your point of contact. Don’t worry, he’s a good man.”
Estarra picked up a pair-pear, splitting it and handing the other half to Peter. “And Rlinda Kett should be back in her offices on Earth before long. You’ll probably learn more from her than from any dull meetings. She’s more enjoyable to be around than a bunch of politicians.”
Reyn was quite fond of the big trader; he remembered her booming laugh and enthusiastic hugs from when he was just a little boy. He had other reasons for going to Earth, and much of his hope hinged on what connections he could make; he knew Rlinda could help him out.
Seated in a chair off to the side, old Father Idriss coughed, grumbled, and cleared his throat as he woke from his nap. Estarra’s father scratched his big square-cut beard, which was now mostly gray instead of black. “Is it lunchtime already? I thought we were just in a meeting.”
Peter laughed. “Don’t worry I nearly fell asleep too.”
“Ah, Reynald is here!” Idriss, the former leader of Theroc, leaned forward. “You don’t remind me at all of my own son Reynald, young man, but it’s still a good name. You’ll live up to it. So, you’re off to Ildira now?”
“Earth first, Grandfather. Then Ildira.”
“Never been to Ildira.” Idriss cleared his throat again and glanced at the table as if suddenly remembering. “Oh, is it lunchtime already?”
While Estarra made her father a plate of food, the old man turned to Reyn. “I am proud of you, you know. You’ll be a good King.” He looked around. “Where’s my granddaughter?”
“Arita’s still on the Klikiss world,” Estarra reminded him.
“Ah. Don’t like the Klikiss. I thought they were all gone? Well, I’m proud of her too. Tell her that next time she comes home.”
Reyn wished he could see his sister before he departed; she knew the real reason he wanted to go to Earth. On the other hand, Arita would pester him about his symptoms and worry about him. He didn’t want that either.
Arita couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t tell anyone about his declining health, but Reyn was a private person. He preferred to listen instead of talk, and he knew there was no treatment for his disease in the standard Theron and Confederation databases.
He also knew, however, that the Spiral Arm was vast and filled with more things than he could imagine. He intended to keep searching for a cure.
SIXTEEN
ARITA
The cactus-studded desert of the empty Klikiss world was so different from the lush worldforest. The skies of Eljiid were streaked with tan from high levels of blown dust. On Theroc, Arita rarely ever saw the sky unless she climbed up to the top of the canopy. Because of her interest in studying plant species, the young woman had spent most of her life on the jungle floor collecting specimens, cataloguing, sketching, or simply enjoying the exotic flora.