"And now she's dead."

He looked stung. "Yes."

Though Osira'h already knew everything about her mother, unfiltered and uncensored from Nira's own mind, she decided to test her father. Curious to see how closely he would adhere to the truth, she let Jora'h explain himself, in his own way.

Chapter 44-NIRA.

After escaping from the isolated island where Designate Udru'h had stranded her, Nira was still alone. Unlike Ildirans, however, she did not view such solitude with mortal terror. The company she had been forced to endure in recent years had been nightmarish.

On her endless walk across the uninhabited landscape, Nira's emerald skin provided her through photosynthesis with all the sustenance she needed. She could survive; she was a green priest. But the pounding silence all around her and inside her throbbing head weighed upon her. Though she had healed long ago, her head still ached from where the guards had clubbed her after they'd dragged her away from Osira'h...her daughter, her princess.

She walked on and on, seeing no one as she crossed the vast landscape of the empty continent. Dobro was a very sparsely settled Ildiran world. Perhaps to keep others from seeing the horrific breeding work? Grasses and weeds whispered into the silence around her, speaking with leaves and stalks and blossoms, but she could not comprehend the language. Unlike the worldtrees back on her beloved Theroc...

What Nira longed for most was Jora'h, her lover from the bright and colorful Prism Palace. But he did not know she was alive. She wondered if he had forgotten about her; as Prime Designate, Jora'h had had so many lovers. On his last visit to her isolated island, the Dobro Designate had told her the fat and scheming old leader was dead, and that Jora'h had taken his place. He was now the Mage-Imperator.

Surely he would have come for me by now, if he'd wanted to.

After floating across the broad inland sea, Nira had abandoned her makeshift raft on the shore and continued her trek across the southern continent. In spite of sore feet and tired muscles, she forced herself to keep moving through wind and rain and bright sunlight. Though she had no map and did not know where to go, she tended generally northward.

Her fear and her goal were the same: Up there, somewhere far away, lay the Dobro breeding camps and the other human prisoners. Nira shuddered at the prospect of going there again, but the Ildiran settlement, the one inhabited place on Dobro, had the only ships that could take her away. And Osira'h.

Nira could either hide forever, or she could try to get away...to go home. Back to the worldforest.

The Designate had kept her hostage to use her as a bargaining chip against Jora'h. She did not want to be a pawn; neither did she want to be a danger to Jora'h. She would rather die out here alone than let that happen. Alone and in silence.

Even as a novice, Nira had communed with worldtrees. She had read stories aloud to them, telling the sentient forest of human history. Then, when she'd been chosen to become a priest, the forest had accepted her, changed her, given her access to a new universe of thoughts and experiences.

Once she'd taken the green, she had always been able to feel the great trees speaking to her. Whenever she touched the scaly bark of even the smallest treeling, she could connect through telink and interact with the whole forest. Coming to Ildira, she and old Otema had brought potted treelings to maintain contact with the worldforest-treelings that had been destroyed by the evil Mage-Imperator's guards. Otema had been slain, without the chance to let her memories be absorbed into the trees, and Nira had been brutalized...taken here, away from the worldtrees.

Her emerald hand clenched around the gnarled stem of a woody weed as thick as her forearm. She squeezed, but heard nothing from the plant, no echo of the immense worldforest mind.

Were these plants truly silent, or had her brain been damaged in the assault that nearly killed her?

She released the thick stem with a jerk, as if it had caught fire. She didn't want to consider that she might now be deaf to telink. Was it the injury, or had the awful camps beaten it out of her? Surely there must be a single treeling on this entire planet! Somewhere...

Before the Ildiran guards had driven her away, she had managed to impart her knowledge and memories to Osira'h. At least the little girl now understood what Designate Udru'h planned for her and how he had cruelly distorted the truth about Nira and the other breeding slaves. Osira'h knew everything, and her mother could only hope that the knowledge would help her in some way.

In the shade of a tall, reddish rock, Nira squatted to rest, leaning her bare back against the warm stone. In this terrain she saw only scrubby desert weeds and hardy shrubs. No trees. A tall green forest-any forest-would be so soothing right now. Even if she couldn't communicate with it.

Nira closed her eyes and let her thoughts flow, drifting into the open skies of Dobro. With all her psychic strength, she drew upon her memories of the welcoming presence of the vast worldforest, and sent her silent cry like a shout into the void. She directed the message toward her daughter. Osira'h must be out there, and she had heard her mother before. Her princess should still be near the breeding camps, even if they were half a planet away. Only once, on that single fateful night, had Nira been able to connect with her daughter, yet that briefest of sharings had been enough to express a lifetime of memories and desires.

But the brutal guards had given her a concussion so severe that it had almost killed her. Although she had recovered, Nira still suffered from powerful headaches, pounding pains inside her head...and now she found she was unable to establish even a tenuous connection with the little girl. Either Osira'h was too far away, or Nira no longer had that special ability.

By now her daughter must certainly believe her to be dead, making the task of communication more impossible than before.

The breeze picked up, and the thick, dry weeds whispered again with a sound like laughter.

Years ago, when Nira and other breeding prisoners had been sent out to fight a raging brush fire, she had tried to escape. Chased by her captors, Nira had thrown herself into a thorny thicket, trying to force a telink contact to any tree or bush. Though she'd called out in every way she knew, she had heard no response...and the guards had taken her again.

Now it was the same: no response from the trees, nothing from her daughter. Would the silence ever end?

Nira continued sending her mental beacon until her head split with the pain. Darkness fell, and stars sparkled across an ebony backdrop. And still she heard no answer to her call.

Osira'h simply wasn't there anymore.

Chapter 45-BENETO.

The night on Theroc was silent, but filled with the voices of the forest. Because of his dual nature, Beneto's mind could mingle and become one with the worldtrees, or he could withdraw and be himself. In truth, he was neither, trapped somewhere between the two.

The wooden golem sat alone in the ring of five burned stumps that stood like a temple to the wounded forest. Glowing lamps shone like bright eyes from the restored settlements where Theron survivors now lived. The makeshift homes were full of light, warmth, and amenities thanks to the Roamers who had helped them rebuild. Phosphorescent night insects floated about in faint streaks of bluish-white light, like a blizzard of fallen stars.

Sarein came quietly up to him in the shadows. Sensing his eldest sister's approach, Beneto realized she had lost all of her natural feeling for the worldforest. She carried no lamp, not because she was trying to sneak up on her brother, merely to make sure that no one else noticed she had joined him.

"Beneto, I need to talk to you. I need to understand."

"Yes, Sarein. You do."

For days, he had been surrounded by former friends and amazed well-wishers. Now that he had issued the worldforest's call, instructed them to disperse treelings as widely as possible, the exhausted people worked even harder, green priests volunteered to take treelings to other Hansa colonies, and everyone watched the skies for the return of the dreaded hydrogues.

Sarein had promised to assist by calling for Hansa ships-it was her obvious duty, and she understood how to accomplish that-but she had remained curiously apart from him him. As if reluctant to believe his fantastic story, she watched the wooden image of her dead brother. She had spent too much time on Earth among businessmen and scientists, studying instead of accepting.

Now, at last, Sarein appeared before him ready to ask questions. He could feel that she was torn between two worlds: Born of Theroc, she longed to be on Earth, yet returned to her disaster-struck home, obligated to help.

With wood-grain eyes, he saw her perfectly well despite the darkness. Since he'd last seen her, when she'd departed for Earth, Sarein's face had grown leaner, her expression harder. The responsibilities and stresses had been unkind to her, compared to the nurturing wilderness of Theroc. Beneto wondered if she regretted her bold choice to leave, to cut ties with her heritage. Perhaps she herself didn't see the toll it had taken.

Now she looked at him, fighting an awe that was tinged with intimidation. "What are you? Really."

"What do you see?"

"I see something that looks like my brother, but we have already grieved for his death. We lost Reynald, as well. Why did you come back?"

His limbs creaked and popped as he stood. "I am a son of Theroc. The worldforest that I so loved in life chose me, called me, recreated me so that I could be a clear voice for the verdani and, if necessary, a general in our war." Beneto stepped closer to his sister. "The reason for my return is easily explained, Sarein. Yours, however, is not. You came back to Theroc, but the worldforest can see your feelings. We know that in your heart, you do not wish to be here. I, and the worldforest, can sense it in your soul."

Sarein was flustered and confused. She had always been a no-nonsense person, and his mystical rebirth was out of her control. She crossed her arms over her breasts. "Coming back to Theroc seemed the right thing to do. I am the oldest surviving child of the ruling family. It is my responsibility."

"You have been told to feel that way. You yourself do not believe it."

She arched her eyebrows. "I see. Do you intend to take over as the next ruler here?"

"I have no interest in that." Beneto paused just a moment before adding, "And neither do you."

Sarein responded with an indignant expression, but they both knew it was an act. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know you don't belong here. Your heart and mind lie elsewhere. It has always been so."

"I've discussed my obligations at great length with Chairman Wenceslas."

"The people of Theroc deserve someone whose roots go deep here. But you, Sarein, are a leaf in the wind, not an anchored tree."

His sister looked away, clearly unsettled. "But...how can I not not help Theroc? These are my people too." help Theroc? These are my people too."

Beneto rested a warm wood-grained hand on her arm. "I mean no insult when I tell you this, Sarein. You are our ambassador to Earth. Truly, you will accomplish more for Theroc if you return to the Hansa and work at what you do best. This is not for you."

Sarein's breathing grew faster, harder. Beneto sensed that she was near tears. "But...but look at what the hydrogues did to Theroc. And those faeros creatures! Our people need protection."

"The hydrogues will return, and you can do nothing about it. But you can can help us spread the treelings from ship to ship and world to world, starting with the Hansa colonies." Beneto showed his perfectly carved wooden teeth in a smile. "Don't worry, Sarein. A call went out beyond the Spiral Arm more than a year ago, when the hydrogues obliterated the first worldtree grove on Corvus Landing. Even before the hydrogues found Theroc, our reinforcements were under way, voyaging at top speed across impossible distances." help us spread the treelings from ship to ship and world to world, starting with the Hansa colonies." Beneto showed his perfectly carved wooden teeth in a smile. "Don't worry, Sarein. A call went out beyond the Spiral Arm more than a year ago, when the hydrogues obliterated the first worldtree grove on Corvus Landing. Even before the hydrogues found Theroc, our reinforcements were under way, voyaging at top speed across impossible distances."

He turned his head toward her. "Next time, if we can hold off the enemy for long enough, the forest will no longer fight alone. Allies are on their way."

Chapter 46-BASIL WENCESLAS.

The smell of medicines and the hum of diagnostic machinery always made the Chairman uneasy. He hated these regular rejuvenation treatments, but he knew the necessity of free-radical-expunging geriatric baths and fine-toxin filtering from his tissues and bloodstream. Very few people could afford such extraordinary measures to retain their youthful vitality, but Basil was a man with more responsibilities and pressures than anyone else in the Spiral Arm. It was imperative that he maintain his stamina.

Meticulous Hansa doctors watched him diligently for any deviation from normal health, aggressively dealing with the slightest anomaly. He simply could not afford to waste away. Accepting graceful retirement like Maureen Fitzpatrick had never been-and never would be-an option. He wasn't ready to retire...and certainly no one was ready to replace him.

His heir apparent, Eldred Cain, had never disappointed him, but neither had he ever surprised Basil. Yes, Cain understood the Hansa Charter and the law; he was intimately familiar with the workings of politics and the Earth Defense Forces; he grasped everything that was necessary for running the Hanseatic League. But would it be sufficient? Was the quiet and pallid deputy shrewd enough and determined enough to become the next Chairman?

As the doctors tended Basil, injecting him with vitamins and wrapping his skin with fixative films and moisturizers, he looked up to see his expediter Franz Pellidor enter the room, bypassing the guards without so much as a word. Pellidor had neatly trimmed short blond hair, a square jaw, and a nose too perfect to be anything but the result of cosmetic modification. Broad-shouldered and muscular, he usually chose suits that were slightly undersized to enhance his imposing appearance.

"I know these procedures are necessary, but I resent the waste of hours of my time here," Basil said to him. "I wish these doctors would consider how much my time is worth. I have so many more important things to do."

The technicians looked at him with uncertain expressions, but did not respond. Pellidor answered calmly, "Even your time is probably not worth as much as these treatments cost, Mr. Chairman."

"I have an inflated sense of my own importance?"

"Mr. Chairman, you are more than worth your weight in ekti." Pellidor stopped where Basil lay prone on the table. "And speaking of ekti, I have the report you requested. Our modular skymine at Qronha 3 continues to produce acceptable amounts of stardrive fuel, in spite of the recent territorial unpleasantness with the Ildirans. Sullivan Gold assures us that their work proceeds without interference. Both groups are staying out of each other's way."

"After our recent visit to Mage-Imperator Jora'h, I'm not convinced the Ildirans have much to offer us, at the moment." Though the Ildiran leader had said nothing, the Chairman had quickly picked up hints that the ancient empire was having internal problems. "Even so, we have to keep them as allies. The Hansa certainly can't afford a conflict on yet another front."

Lying back on his medical table, Basil scanned Pellidor's report, noting the production numbers and the anticipated deliveries of stardrive fuel from the Qronha 3 cloud harvester. He hoped the expensive, rushed facility would survive long enough to pay for itself. It seemed to be a good investment so far, but the hydrogues could return at any time, without warning. At least Sullivan Gold had his own green priest aboard, so they would know immediately if hydrogues threatened the skymine.

He winced as a doctor prodded him with another needle. Pellidor waited to see whether the Chairman would snap at the medical attendant or if he would pretend to be invulnerable to pain.

Basil concentrated on his work, mulling over a million problems and many more possible solutions. Thinking of the green priest aboard the skymine only reminded him of how many others had left Hansa service and returned to their damaged world. Perhaps Basil had made an error in not sending the EDF to assist in the forest reconstruction. The Roamers had, and now the Therons felt indebted to the clans. He hated a missed opportunity.

Basil heaved a sigh. "Roamers and Therons both have such a narrow perspective. The entire Spiral Arm has been in a state of emergency for more than seven years, and it's increasingly difficult for me to run the Hansa without effective communication. Ah, maybe Sarein will come through for us."

Unbidden, an image of lovely, intelligent, and ambitious Sarein came to him. Perhaps it was the drugs and the treatment, but Basil felt a pang of longing for her. He had sent her to Theroc with instructions to work her way into governmental decisions, proposing herself as the next Mother. Even in the back of his mind, he didn't want to admit how much he missed her sweet young body and-more erotic still-the electric heat of her ruthless determination. He had never realized how much energy her very presence gave him.

Basil tried to sit up, but the medical attendants surrounded him like a group of busy hens. "You still have at least an hour to go, Mr. Chairman. We will lose all progress if we stop now."

He clenched his jaw and lay back, looking up at the expediter as he felt-but tried hard not to show-the weight of the universe on his shoulders. "I used to revel in the challenges, Mr. Pellidor. Roamers, hydrogues, green priests, Klikiss worlds, ekti, even King Peter. I swear I will not let them defeat me now."

Chapter 47-KING PETER.

When the first shipload of unexpected refugees arrived from Crenna, Hansa protocol operations rushed to prepare a showy reception for them. Davlin Lotze, piloting a ship he'd commandeered from Relleker, communicated directly with Basil Wenceslas over private channels. In response, the Chairman called for King Peter to put on his colorful fall robes for an impromptu welcome as soon as the ship landed. "Showing an unexpected compassionate side, Basil? Or is there something else I need to know?"

"I tell you everything you need to know. And nothing more." Basil paced outside the door of the royal quarters as attendants surrounded Queen Estarra and dressed her in a fine gown spattered with jewels and pearls. "But the news greatly disturbs me. Hydrogues and faeros actively destroying suns, obliterating habitable planets like Crenna. Lotze suspects there'll be more to come. We've been lucky so far."

"I doubt the Crenna refugees consider themselves very lucky."

"They're lucky to be alive," Basil said. "Since these people were saved from certain death, we can put a positive spin on this."

With crews working overtime, a ribbon-decked reviewing stand was erected and pushed into place by the time Lotze's vessel landed in the Palace District. There hadn't been time to arrange for a formal crowd, but the court protocol ministers and ever-present media representatives rushed to their places to watch the King and Queen welcome these brave escapees from a hydrogue-destroyed star system.

As usual, a royal honor guard marched briskly in front of them, leading the way. Breaking from his usual reticence, Basil accompanied them, along with Eldred Cain and four other Hansa officials. Why not bring Prince Daniel as well? Why not bring Prince Daniel as well? Peter thought. Peter thought. To show that the Hansa is one big happy family. To show that the Hansa is one big happy family.

Ever since their return from Ildira a few days ago, Peter had detected a different attitude from the Chairman, a more careful scrutiny and veiled suspicions. Estarra sensed it too. He could see it in the tension in her stance, but her expression remained perfectly clear. Had something about her pregnancy slipped? They both feared the Chairman's reaction once he learned of the baby.

Basil had grown volatile and edgy in recent months, and Peter didn't expect the formerly cool and cautious man to react rationally now. Basil hated any unexpected turn of events.

Peter held the Queen's hand as they climbed the steps of the reviewing stand. Although he had received much formal instruction in etiquette from his Teacher compy OX, in truth Peter had learned manners long ago from his hardworking mother-his real real mother, Rita Aguerra. mother, Rita Aguerra.

At the thought of his mother, who had never failed her boys despite a lack of almost everything she needed, Peter felt a deep sadness. He looked over at Estarra, his eyes briefly stinging. He would never have the joy of introducing his beloved Queen to his mother. In the political schemes to cover Peter's true background, the Hansa-no, Basil himself Basil himself-had arranged for the destruction of their dwelling complex, incinerating Peter's mother and young brothers. Someday, Basil would pay for that.

Though a veritable hurricane of emotion passed through his heart and mind, the King allowed none of it to show. Estarra glanced at him with concern when his hand clenched, but he forced a smile. Never would he let Basil know what really took place in his head. He knew better than to let the Chairman suspect. It was too dangerous.