She tried to duck as the man slashed with his dagger. He caught one of the fragile condorfly wings on her back, shattering the sapphire membrane. Someone screamed. Two attenders lost their hold on the chrysalis chair, and Jora’h’s palanquin lurched.
Nira tore herself free and spun to face her attacker. The man raised his dagger to come at her again.
His mouth spewed blood as Yazra’h thrust her crystal-tipped katana through his back. Yanking her ceremonial spear free, she stabbed him again and drove the man to the ground, where he gurgled and died. Yazra’h held up her bloody weapon, her eyes flashing, taking one step closer to Nira in an instinctive protective move.
Nira gasped. “Why—?”
A howling woman from the artist kith bounded forward holding a cutting tool and a sharp-ended cudgel. She flailed both, trying to reach Nira as she screamed, “You corrupt the thism!”
Yazra’h stood to defend Nira, but Muree’n lunged forward to intercept the artist. Without hesitation, she swept her katana sideways and neatly decapitated the second would-be assassin.
A third person, a burly worker kithman, charged forward like a bull. He held a metal-tipped mallet, which he swung from side to side. The mallet struck Muree’n hard on the shoulder, though her armor protected her from serious injury. She recoiled briefly from the pain, recovered herself in a flash. She and Yazra’h used their weapons to drive the worker kithman back from the procession, and then Yazra’h ran him through.
Muree’n looked around at the bodies, at the spilled blood, then up at Yazra’h. “That was my first kill.”
Yazra’h stood close to her, raising her weapon again. “It may not be your last one today. We need to get the Mage-Imperator out of danger. All of you—back to the Prism Palace!”
Jora’h sprang out of his chrysalis chair and landed beside Prime Designate Daro’h. He was outraged. “Why are they trying to kill Nira? I felt an uneasiness in the thism, but nothing from those Ildirans.”
The crowd was churning now, people gasping and screaming, some trying to flee—yet there also seemed to be an undertone of anger.
Though terrified, Nira grabbed Jora’h’s arm. “Understand this later—we have to get to safety now.”
Yazra’h and Muree’n began to herd Jora’h, Daro’h, and Nira away, leaving the toppled chrysalis chair behind in the road. Though disoriented, Gale’nh straightened. Helping their brother, Osira’h and Rod’h followed the group at a brisk trot as they retreated toward the path that led up to the Prism Palace.
Nira’s heart pounded, but she couldn’t ask questions now. Jora’h was already growling, “I will order an investigation. What caused this?”
As they hurried away, Nira looked back at the Ildirans who had been cheering them only moments before; they now appeared sinister, and she feared that another assassin would spring after them.
EIGHTY-THREE
ARITA
King Peter and Queen Estarra made brief formal farewell speeches before Reyn’s much-anticipated trip. Arita made a point of looking cheerful and excited, to show good optimism for his sake. Reyn’s glance met hers, and they both understood. She silently, but fervently, wished him luck, and she held their farewell hug for an extra few seconds.
Queen Estarra gave her son a warm embrace, as did King Peter, and Reyn climbed aboard the Ildiran cutter accompanied by several Solar Navy officers and noble kithmen who had been dispatched by the Mage-Imperator to escort him. An entourage of Confederation ministers, traders, and protocol advisers also went along, supposedly to watch over the Prince, though he said he didn’t need them. Arita shaded her eyes and watched as the colorful alien ship launched up through the open forest canopy.
After her brother was gone, Arita returned to her quarters and began gathering the equipment, supplies, and clothing she would need. Her own expedition would be much closer to home, but she was excited nevertheless. Thankfully, she didn’t need a large crowd with her. She had so much to explore, so much to see and learn—by herself, in the distant, sparsely inhabited continent of the Wild.
Unlike Reyn, Arita managed to depart without ceremony. She took a small flyer and raced across the undulating canopy, rising high enough to dodge cumulus clouds, and then passing over the narrow sea to the shores of the Wild.
Being on the wilderness continent would fulfill a deep need within her, a mission she wished she could have undertaken as a green priest, but she would do it anyway…
While she continued her studies in the Wild, she could survive on whatever the worldforest provided: berries, fruits, nuts, fungi, and edible insects. She could take care of herself. Water would be no problem. Shelter was everywhere.
Though she wanted to be alone for her studies, Arita chose an area not far from where Kennebar and his isolationist green priests had gone. Just in case. She was also interested in finding her reclusive aunt Sarein, whom she suspected was a kindred spirit.
Arita circled until she found a meadow broad enough to land. Everything around her was lush and unexplored, much like when the first colonists had landed from the generation ship Caillié, more than two hundred years ago. She had brought hundreds of sample cases, five types of imagers and DNA modelers, so she could keep accurate biological records of new species she catalogued. She might be a Princess, but in her heart she had always wanted to be a naturalist.
She could study fascinating flowers on one day, beetles another day, or maybe worms that tunneled in the deep forest mulch. She kept journals of climbing berry-vines, and leather-jawed predatory plants that could crunch through the thickest insect armor. Theroc was amazing, and she wondered if even the green priests felt the same sense of wonder as she did. To her, the Wild was like a huge, open book just waiting to be read.
After setting up camp, she was eager to start her project. She ventured into the forest, doing reconnaissance of her surroundings. The tapestry of surging life in the Wild seemed to intensify the force of the verdani. Her head ached, and she could hear echoes and whispers of thoughts that were not her own. They seemed to emanate from the millennia of the worldforest’s experiences. But her sensitivity to the trees was just a mocking leftover from when the verdani had tested, rejected, and altered her without making her one of them. Arita stopped and listened. The voices remained just out of her mind’s reach, just out of hearing.
Choosing the nearest worldtree, she pressed her body against the golden-scaled bark. She wrapped her slender arms around the immense trunk and closed her eyes, willing the trees to reconsider, begging them to let her in now, to accept her as a green priest after all.
But she only heard the sounds of ghosts. She went back to gathering specimens, now feeling a sadness instead of joy…
The following day, while gathering interesting plants and insects, Arita sought out Kennebar’s settlement. The green priests lived in the trees, and she heard them gathered up in the high fronds, reading to the worldforest, singing together.
Kennebar was the first to notice her. The others acknowledged her presence, but did not climb down to welcome her. “If you needed to speak with us,” Kennebar called down, “you could have sent a message through any green priest.”
Arita knew she sounded defensive. “I’m here for my own purposes, compiling an exhaustive catalog of species.”
“Oh,” Kennebar said. “The worldforest is aware of all species. Any green priest can access that information. Is there something in particular you need to know?” He seemed to think that if he answered her questions, she would leave.