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.”
FIFTY-TWO
GARRISON REEVES
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.
They also painted over the Iswander Industries logo and renamed the ship Prodigal Son. Olaf Reeves hadn’t asked Garrison for his approval, but the name did seem oddly appropriate. His father wanted him to carry the reminder with him, and Garrison embraced the Prodigal Son as his identity and as his ship.
Now he needed to find a new life for himself. For a man of his background and abilities, there were numerous options, but Garrison wanted to find a stable place and make sure he could send his son to Academ. Previously, Elisa had shut down the idea whenever Garrison suggested it, no matter how badly Seth wanted to go there. He had done his best to teach Seth what he could during their evenings off shift, while Elisa had arranged for computer tutoring on Sheol. She had thought that was enough. But their son longed to be with other Roamer children—and, of course, all the compies.
With Elisa gone and Sheol devastated, however, Garrison was starting from scratch. Aboard the Prodigal Son after Seth was asleep in his bunk, he pored over images of the Sheol disaster. The public records of the catastrophe were disjointed and uncertain, many parts censored. Even so, the images were so horrific he could barely watch. Those people had been his friends and coworkers. Fifteen hundred and forty-three workers had lost their lives.
He heard a gasp and a quick sob behind him, and realized that Seth had been watching silently over his shoulder. Garrison blanked the screen, but his son stayed where he was. “No, I want to see what happened there.”
Garrison could not shield his son from the reality of what had happened, nor could he sanitize the images. Seth had been through an ordeal, and needed to know why his father had been desperate to take him away from Sheol. Garrison muted the sound and showed some of the general images so Seth would understand…
Garrison decided to apply for a job mining and shepherding the rubble belt of Earth’s ruined Moon. When he sent his application to the Lunar Orbital Complex, the work crew supervisors saw his qualifications and hired him without hesitation. His father would have been particularly infuriated that Garrison was working for Earth. He could almost hear Olaf’s voice: “I didn’t give you skills and expertise so you could help Those People out of the problems they created for themselves.”