Home again. It was decided that I’m the best to handle diplomatic matters, both domestic and abroad.
By domestic, I mean with Tara.
I understand the rationale for the decision perfectly, but I hate it. I hate keeping something this important from her.
We need to trust her, Ross warns.
We’re getting dressed now, getting ready for a press conference. Tara is standing by the table, looking through the pile of trading cards. She finds mine. It’s ridiculously elaborate in design, celebrating my achievement. To my tastes, a bit gaudy.
“795,” she says. “Somebody actually updated it.”
“Did you ever doubt it?”
“We should make up a game with these,” she says. “You can be the king of hearts.”
“Difficult,” I reply, “as there could only be one queen.”
“Should we say anything to the press about what happened to me?”
“Well, disclosure is generally the best policy. On the other hand, it could turn into a media circus.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Turn into? I thought we travelled with that road show.”
“More than usual. The consensus of the branches seems to be that we should hold off until we write another book. The subject is far too complex and sensitive to be handled in a short question and answer session.”
She nods. “If there’s anything I’ve learned over the years, it’s the importance of controlling your own spin.”
*****
The main component of the presentation is a recording of the Bhavashti. There is footage of the trees as well as a short interview with Tash-Bel-Nefren-Hagol-Isvi-Teggri-Taval-Ashra and one of the others, the one who used to be a spider but is now a Bounder. He doesn’t say much. He seems to be there to wiggle his prehensile ears adorably. The Bhavashti have a latent genius for manipulating the media.
There’s very little footage of the Denolin. We discussed it with Lord Danak, and decided it was best to have some – we didn’t need accusations that we were hiding our collusion with “monsters.” On the other hand, it wasn’t something we wanted to play up. We recorded them from a distance, flickering in and out of manifestation, doing some zero-g spins and waving the occasional friendly tentacle. No need to include close-ups of the forcipules or the sucker-like mouths.
The presentation done, Lord Danak escorts out the carefully vetted cadre of reporters. Bobert Crandon stays a bit longer – as president of RR subsidiary Vega Vids, he has exclusive access.
Apparently the room is not quite cleared. “The Bhavashti are freaks,” someone announces, “but then again, the universe is full of freaks.”
The speaker is a voluptuously beautiful woman with nut-brown skin and rich chestnut hair. She reminds me of a tree-goddess from some ancient Hindu temple stepped into life, except that her enormous eyes are the startling blue of the Cu’enashti.
How did a Cu’enashti get to Eirelantra?
She addresses us. “My name is Heavensent, second emanation of Elma’ashra.”
We’re stunned. We knew that the Cantor’s blessing of the Draco project was contingent on Elma’s promise to allow her a second branch. The Cantor, however, was the most conservative of all the Cu’endhari. She was bound to her roots and strongly disapproved of the young ones with aspirations to leave Dolparessa.
Smiling, she turns to Tara. “Matriarch, I’ve come to bargain. I’m prepared to allow Ashtara to return to the Convocation of the Forest. In return, I want a seat on your High Council.”
But before Tara can answer, Heavensent turns abruptly towards the doorway. “Hey ho,” says Wyrd Elma, “that turned out well.” She advances to the Cu’enashti, brazenly caressing the emanation’s voluptuous breasts. She turns her gaze to Tara. “Looks like it turned out well for you, too, Ashtara.” Her weird laughter fills the room.
She knows. She knows what happened. I look down at the floor.
“You don’t want to know what the Cantor says about that,” Heavensent says, hooking her arm around Elma.
“I can guess,” says Tara. “It’s not like she’s ever approved of anything we’ve done.”
“She’s been angry with I and I from the day Whirljack started singing protest songs,” I say, somewhat ruefully. “But our intention was never to upset the Cantor. Far from it, the Atlas emanations always held her in the deepest respect.”
“Nevertheless, a tree’s gotta do what a tree’s gotta do,” says Elma, grinning like a felinoid in a commissary full of fried bloobird.
“What are you so satisfied about?” Heavensent snaps. It’s rather shocking – she’s got attitude. She’s far more progressive than the Cantor.
“I’ll allow Elma’ashra to have seedlings, but I’ll never take the blue amrita,” Elma says. “Once you start with that, it’s a long road down.” She thrusts her finger in Tara’s face. “I’m warning you. Watch out for him.”
Heavensent walks away.
“The blue amrita is making me evolve. You’ll never be anything more than you are now,” says Tara. “I regret nothing.”
*****
We’re back in our quarters. “We should leave for Dolparessa soon,” I tell her. “Now that we’ve returned, Driscoll wants to check up on the progress of the gala.”
Tara is rooting through the stasisstorer that accompanied us to Nightside. She pulls out a container marked “Patrick.” “You know, I’ve never tried drinking the juice of the one who’s emanated.” She takes a sip. A few seconds later, I can feel the beginning effects of the nau’gshtamine as it brings her dreams into alignment with mine. It’s not nearly as dramatic as the blue amrita, but it feels wonderful.
Tara’s expression is amused. “You have an erection,” she says. “But I think I’m starting to understand why the apples are so important to you. It’s about sex, but sex that goes beyond seeds and reproduction, or even mating with human bodies.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” I say, “because…”
No, actually, it wasn’t obvious. Tara looks at me quizzically.
I pick up the trading cards. “An accurate record of the sexual activity of the emanations,” I say. I gesture at the stasisstorer. “The products of the sexual activity of our grove. What’s missing from this picture?”
Tara covers her mouth with her hand, holding in the impulse to giggle. “The mothman,” she says. “He’s a virgin.”