"I selected you, not the worldforest," Beneto said. "You are the two most suitable, and I hope you can get a message across, something the trees need to hear." selected you, not the worldforest," Beneto said. "You are the two most suitable, and I hope you can get a message across, something the trees need to hear."

Celli looked at Solimar, whose gaze reflected his confusion. "Well," she said, "that explains everything." explains everything."

Beneto strode onward, full of purpose. She watched his wooden body move like flesh, reminded of a legendary forest spirit from the old fairy tales that novice green priests read aloud to the trees.

The three arrived at a glen that showed damage worse than in any other area Celli had seen in a long while. The golem spread his arms directly out to his sides, then splayed his fingers like the twigs at the end of a long branch. "Despite what you see around you, this glen retains some of the deep energy of the worldforest. The true power of the verdani percolates close to the surface here." He leaned closer to them, his wood-grain eyes intense. "You can help draw it out."

Solimar's brow furrowed, as if he wasn't sure what he was expected to do.

Celli was even more confused. "Can you be more specific than that? Remember, I'm not even a green priest."

"But you are human human. That is the strength we need now." Beneto lowered his arms and stepped back. "Force the trees to realize that they are not dead, that it would be folly to give up."

"They asked us to take treelings out to other planets. That's not giving up, is it?" Solimar said.

"True," Beneto said, "but the worldforest itself is resigned to defeat here on Theroc. It knows that the hydrogues may return at any time. Yet the older trees contain a deep power, and you must convince them to call it forth. Do not let them surrender."

Celli put her hands on her narrow hips. "And how are we supposed to do that?"

"By treedancing."

Solimar and Celli looked skeptically at the wooden golem. All around them, the air still smelled of smoke and dead trees. "As simple as that? Really?"

Beneto continued, "The trees sensed something in you two when you moved here before, when you danced. You can make the verdani remember remember."

Solimar asked, "Do you mean like some sort of ritual?"

"You're kidding!" Celli snapped a blackened twig from a small tree; the wood was charred through. "By dancing in the ashes?"

"No, by being alive, by demonstrating joyfulness and hope." Beneto turned his shoulders, swiveling his head to take in the ruined landscape. "I am a manifestation of the worldforest, but I am also human. My human aspect understands a determination that the verdani do not.

"Think of what they are. The interconnected worldtrees are rooted to the ground and have always accepted what came to them. They are strong and patient, but they do not remember how to fight. They resist only by attempting to withstand whatever comes against them. They are passive. Humans are not.

"When the hydrogues and the faeros were fighting, the trees believed they would all be destroyed. They surrendered here and hoped to survive elsewhere, through the treelings taking root on scattered planets."

Celli brightened as she remembered. "But Reynald wouldn't let them give up! He went to the canopy with two green priests, and he yelled at the trees until they fought back!"

Beneto nodded. "Reynald forced the verdani to reach for depths of their power that they had not previously used. The worldtrees had never considered standing up in a hopeless cause, but our brother made them take an active role in their defense. Though the battle was indeed a disastrous loss to Theroc, the hydrogues were driven off, and the worldforest is still alive here."

He touched an ash-smeared hand to the shoulders of Celli and Solimar. "You must do the same thing now. These burned and damaged trees realize the hydrogues will come back here to finish the destruction. They are content to know that their treelings have been dispersed and will survive. But you cannot let them abandon Theroc."

Celli sniffed. "Even a hopeless cause is still a cause cause. Fighting for it is better than just rolling over."

"Exactly. You two, do as Reynald did-show them human joy and drive and persistence. The verdani know these things as part of their reservoir of stored knowledge, but they do not understand understand them." them."

Solimar looked up at the burned branches. "And treedancing will do it?"

"The verdani comprehend that in a different way. Through many generations, a connection has developed between the worldforest and the Theron people-even those who are not green priests. The connection with our family, in particular, is very strong. That is why our sister Sarein was so affected by the destruction here, even though she did not think she would be. That is why our brother Reynald was able to send such a powerful message to the forest, more than through the two green priests who were with him. That is why I believe you, little sister, and you, Solimar, must help the trees now. As you dance, your delight in the worldtrees can stimulate a response, kindle their potential by coaxing sparks of latent power from the deep roots."

"Sounds like magic," Celli said.

"The power is there, believe me. The verdani fashioned their bodies into the great trees, and they would do so again, in their own good time." Beneto's hollow voice took on a more urgent note. "Inspire them. Make them see that they cannot wait for centuries to recover at their usual sedate pace. We need them now before the hydrogues return."

"I'll second that." Curious, Celli went to a large charcoal-scarred tree. "Here goes."

With her knuckles she cracked a layer of burned bark, peeling away the scorched material until she could touch solid wood. Through her fingers, and even through her bare feet on the ground, Celli sensed the flow of sap, the blood of the earth. The roots went deep, interconnected in a network of forest that extended across the continents. Was this what green priests felt all the time?

Beneto remained as still as a tree, his carved feet pushed hard against the soil. His chest swelled as he took a deep, unnecessary breath, as if squeezing energy from the forest mind up into the surrounding dirt and burned wood.

"Since the hydrogue attack, the worldforest has withdrawn far into the soil, holding its reservoirs safe and sheltered," the tree golem said. "Even so, they responded to the joyful treedancing that you two did where you thought no one could witness it. Draw out that response again, while I am here to guide it. I will use my human awareness to help my verdani heart understand what it needs to know."

Though she stood in the burnt section, Celli could feel the rustle of freshly unfolded leaves drinking in sunlight and nutrients, sensations transmitted from other living sections of the worldforest, oases of vegetation that had survived the onslaught. But those verdant sensations came from far away, isolated patches of surviving wilderness. And in between...just numb shock, as if the wounded verdani had fallen into something like a coma.

"It's alive, but it needs to be shaken hard to wake up. Come on, Solimar."

Celli studied the charred debris field, trying to judge which branches and trees would support their weight and where hazards might be hiding. She smiled at Solimar, then took a preparatory breath, ready to go. "I'll start with the Condorfly Mating Dance, then move into Butterfly Pursuit."

Solimar's eyes sparkled. "I'll be right behind you."

They sprang together, doing handstands and graceful leaps until they caught low branches. Swinging himself around, Solimar swept her into his muscular arms and gave her a boost to a higher level.

Celli bounded with a graceful leap like a gazelle. She ricocheted off a thick branch and pushed herself sideways to another blackened trunk, from which she kicked off and spun a triple somersault in the air. She had forgotten how much fun this was. She landed on the ash-encrusted ground again before springing into a second move. Immediately behind her, Solimar continued with his own routine.

Tilting his sculpted chin toward the bright sky, Beneto spread his arms rigidly at his sides, his feet and legs together. "I will demand that they witness." As if turning back into a tree and taking root, he let his feet sink into the soil. "The worldtrees must be made to use their own deep power of rejuvenation and cellular synthesis."

Each time she touched a branch or trunk, Celli felt a spark, like a release of electrical energy, as if she was giving a jolt to the comatose forest. Behind them, Beneto thrust one of his arms into into a thick tree, fusing to the trunk up past his elbow. His expression was no longer wooden, but straining, yearning. He seemed to be forcing the verdani to watch them. a thick tree, fusing to the trunk up past his elbow. His expression was no longer wooden, but straining, yearning. He seemed to be forcing the verdani to watch them.

She kept dancing. Originally, treedance moves had been crafted to evoke parts of the forest: swaying fronds, flying insects, blossoming flowers. Some of the routines were symbolic of the pollination of epiphytes by beetles, the simultaneous hatching of huge numbers of purple butterfly analogs, the flight of a wyvern. The whole cycle of life in the vast Theron worldforest.

As their exercise reached a dramatic crescendo, Celli watched an amazing thing happen. On the ground where her bare foot had lightly brushed against an exposed worldtree root-where Beneto said the concentrated verdani power lay hidden-a sudden flash of green appeared. As if germinated by the creative power of her movements, a bright new leaf emerged, spun out of dead cells and air. The newborn plant stretched upward.

Solimar caught another branch and swung himself up. He recentered his balance, coiling strength in his thigh muscles, and jumped. Immediately after he leapt, the branch behind him swelled, flaking off black ash and bark until it straightened like an unfurling fist. Reservoirs of energy pumped up from the deep roots into the once-towering tree. Fresh pale green fronds burst from previously unseen buds at the ends of the bough.

On the ground, Beneto "waded" through the soil to a different tree now. He pressed both wooden hands against the black scab of dead bark, then pushed his arms into the core of the thick trunk.

As Celli and Solimar continued to pirouette through the scorched ruins, wherever their feet and hands touched, the wounded worldforest found the energy to reconstruct part of itself. Every place they touched was like a foot splashing into a puddle, spraying life life instead of water droplets. instead of water droplets.

The two of them ran and dove in a Theron combination of ballet and gymnastics, picking up speed. Wherever they passed, their physical movement and their enthusiasm began to heal the worldforest and reawaken life from the scorched death around them. Celli laughed in delight.

Fresh leaves and fronds curled forth. Treelings sprang out of the ground, trembling with the explosive growth. The air smelled moist, spicy, fresh.

Beneto extricated himself from the shuddering tree like a surgeon withdrawing from a deep wound. He called to the dancers. "Life is movement and exhilaration. Through your treedance, you spread that essence of life. Continue! Show the weary trees the meaning of existence again."

At the moment, Celli didn't care about green priest philosophy or explanations. She was enjoying herself too much. All she needed to know was that it was working-for the worldforest, for herself, for Solimar, for Beneto.

She and Solimar danced for hours, heedless of the time passing, barely feeling their own weariness. Finally, as the colors of dusk brushed the Theron sky, the two dancers fell together to the ground in absolute exhaustion, surrounded by miraculous new foliage. Sweaty and soot-smeared, Celli had never felt so deeply satisfied in her life. Solimar put his arm around her and drew her close, then they kissed quickly and surprisingly, a gesture of joy as much as romance.

"You two have done a great thing today." Still knee-deep in the soil, Beneto stopped in front of them. "I hope you will be willing to do it again."

Celli looked around, filled with wonder. To her, it seemed as if the worldforest had taken a deep breath and regained its power. They had thrown a splash of cold water into the weary worldforest's face. She rested her shoulders against Solimar's strong chest. "We could manage that."

Beneto spread his hands out, connecting to the worldforest through telink. He seemed entirely pleased. "Now we are much stronger. The verdani keeps calling, calling, though the message went out long ago. Before long, our help will arrive."

Chapter 80-BASIL WENCESLAS.

The Chairman didn't take pleasure in such a spectacle, but dammit, Prince Daniel deserved what he was about to face. This behavior had to be nipped in the bud. Immediately. And Peter needed to understand the consequences of his actions even more than his shameful heir apparent did.

Pretending to be supportive, Basil wore his finest slick-fabric suit; his steel-gray hair was perfectly styled and arranged. He wished Sarein could be here at his side right now. She had sent a message that she would soon return. Had she accomplished her mission yet, or had even Sarein let him down? Was there a single person in the Spiral Arm-besides him-who did not drop the ball? Couldn't anybody do the straightforward tasks required of them? No wonder the human race was faltering in this war!

Fighting back his simmering anger, he watched as a very contrite and frightened-looking Daniel faced the crowds and media cameras for the first time. The Prince had obviously been through an ordeal. Even the best makeup could not hide the shadows under his eyes. At last the brat had been broken, whipped into cooperation, though now it was effectively too late. Basil had decided to wash his hands of Daniel, but the Prince could still serve a purpose. His fate could be an effective threat against the too-independent Peter.

The King and Queen, pretending to be well behaved-so smug in their secret about Estarra's pregnancy!-stood in the background, dressed in colorful raiment. They kept glancing at each other in confusion and concern.

"People of the Hansa!" Daniel's voice was watery, shaky. OX had coached the boy over and over again; he should have done better. "I...I feel it's time for me to explain."

Basil had hoped their surrogate Prince would shine in his last moment in the limelight. How could I have made such a grave error in choosing this person? How could I have made such a grave error in choosing this person? When they'd been forced to pick a potential replacement for Peter, Basil had been under a great deal of stress. He'd moved too precipitously, and now the Chairman had to backpedal just to implement damage control. When they'd been forced to pick a potential replacement for Peter, Basil had been under a great deal of stress. He'd moved too precipitously, and now the Chairman had to backpedal just to implement damage control.

Daniel gathered momentum as his stage fright dissipated. "I choose to remain out of public view so as not to diminish the importance of my dear brother King Peter. He is your leader. Your hopes and prayers ride with him, not me."

Basil flicked his gray eyes to see the surprised expression on Peter's face. Quietly and discreetly, the King squeezed Estarra's hand, as if he honestly thought he could protect her from what the Chairman would have to do.

Daniel continued, "However, some people have taken advantage of the fact that my face is not overly familiar to you. You may have seen news reports of an impostor pretending to be your Prince. That poor deluded young man has been apprehended and will be given the treatment he needs." Daniel fidgeted; makeup hid any evidence of whether or not his face grew pale.

Though Eldred Cain had suggested a toned-down reaction, Basil had dismissed the deputy from his offices and written the speech himself.

"The true King has the vision and leadership to guide the human race through these dark times. He has my support, and I know he has yours." Daniel bowed, presumably thinking it was all over.

The people in the Royal Plaza applauded politely. Peter and Estarra moved up beside the Prince in a show of mutual respect. Cautiously, Basil retreated a few steps to let the "royal family" have all the attention. Images of the well-staged moment would be widely distributed across the Hansa.

Peter shot a glance at the Chairman, his blue eyes narrowed. Basil was sure his puppet King would understand the need for a tighter grip on power, closer observation.

Cain and Pellidor waited in the shadows. The pallid deputy watched in silence, clearly disapproving. Basil decided to ignore him. No one but the Chairman knew what was in the best interests of the human race.

He turned to his expediter. "Now that Daniel has publicly covered his ill-advised stunt, he probably thinks he is forgiven, but our dear Prince couldn't be further from the truth. We can't risk a repeat of this circus. Mr. Pellidor, you know what to do."

Cain looked at him in alarm, but Pellidor gave a crisp nod. "I have already made preparations, Mr. Chairman."

At last, Basil allowed himself a calming smile and reminded himself of pleasant thoughts. Sarein would be back in another day or so...

Chapter 81-ORLI COVITZ.

After three days of cooling her heels in the EDF base, Orli was already tired of the Moon. Admiral Stromo was due to return later today with his analysis of the Corribus attack-not that there would be any surprises.

General Lanyan was through with her and Hud Steinman, and the EDF was preparing to send them back to Earth, where they assumed the two wanted to be. Despite extensive database searches, no one had been able to find her mother. Orli didn't know where she would go now or what would happen to her, but she would figure out something. She always did.

In the weeks since the massacre, she had grieved for her father, but at the moment she mostly felt empty and stunned. It would take a long time for her to absorb everything she had lived through. She played music in her borrowed quarters, losing herself for hours in the melodies that flowed from her fingers.

When an EDF soldier led her to the shuttle bay, Steinman was already there waiting. He looked disheveled and dusty, though he'd had ample opportunity to clean himself, shave, and put on fresh clothes. Orli suspected he was just one of those men who always looked rumpled, no matter what he wore or how well he groomed himself.

The old man brightened upon seeing her. "Hey, kid. Somebody on Earth thinks all colonists and refugees are interchangeable. They're throwing us together with those Crenna folks and sending us off to another Klikiss world."

"My dad always told me to appreciate any chance for a fresh start."

"Corribus was the cream of the crop, though." Steinman shook his head. "You can bet the new place won't be as fine."

Orli sat next to him, leaning against the wall. "As long as they send us someplace that doesn't get destroyed again." She put her chin in her hands and heaved a deep sigh. Inside her head, she heard her father's voice chiding her: "Keep your spirits up, girl. Bounce from one place to another. You can't see the stars when you're staring down at your feet."

One time, Jan Covitz had traced her lips with his finger. "See this? When you smile it makes a curve upward, like a cup. You can catch good luck that way. But when you frown"-he tugged her lips downward-"then all the good fortune just slides off and runs down your chin."

Beside her, Steinman continued to chatter. "After all the efforts I've made to get away from big groups of people, my plan backfired on me."

"A lot of things backfired on us. And for Captain Roberts, too. He tried to help us, and look at all the trouble he's gotten into." Orli glanced at the transport that would take them down to Earth. "How long until we leave?"

"We're on a military schedule," Steinman said with a shrug. "We go when they tell us to go, and we wait the rest of the time."

"I need to say goodbye to Captain Roberts." She trotted over to one of the EDF soldiers working in the launch bay and asked to see her friend.

"He's in the brig, uh, ma'am," the soldier said. "I don't believe he's allowed visitors. His military tribunal starts in a few hours."

"It would be just for a minute. Can you check? I'm sure General Lanyan will make an exception." Orli pestered the guard until he submitted a request, which was forwarded to someone else and then a third person before she was finally escorted down to the brig level.

"You only have ten minutes," the guard said gruffly.

"I know. My shuttle leaves soon."

A miserable-looking Captain Roberts sat on his bunk, while a large woman paced the room like a thundercloud on legs. Orli recognized Rlinda Kett, who had flown the Voracious Curiosity, Voracious Curiosity, taking Orli and her father from Dremen to the transportal hub. taking Orli and her father from Dremen to the transportal hub.

"Of course I remember who you are, young lady," Captain Kett said, returning Orli's greeting with a chuckle. "Considering how things turned out, I wish I hadn't taken you passengers to Rheindic Co. You'd have been better off staying on Dremen."

Orli looked at Roberts's hangdog face, his unkempt frizz of gray hair. "I'm sorry for getting you into so much trouble, Captain."

"Nothing we can do about it, missy." His voice sounded heavy and tired. "And I wouldn't have changed my actions anyway. You'd think they'd show a little gratitude."