Red cinchona or fever tree was included in the genetic banks for two purposes: it is an economically important source of quinine, and it spreads rapidly through the rockiest soils, providing trees in formerly treeless areas. It propagates both by seed and by suckers which sprout a considerable distance away from the parent tree. In some areas, the tree has become a problem due to its dense canopy stealing light and nutrients from other plants, and its presence tends to reduce biodiversity. It is resilient to removal by uprooting (a sucker will sprout from the root mass remaining in the soil), felling (the tree will regrow from a stump), and even bark stripping (the tree is capable of healing the damaged area). The most effective method of control is to attack the trunk repeatedly with a machete and then spray a combination of lethal herbicides into the wounds (the “hack and squirt” method.) As might be imagined, such barbarism is illegal on Dolparessa. In fact, control of the invasive tree is well-nigh impossible considering that the Cu’endhari take a permissive, even protective attitude towards them. As one recently told me: “We need more neighbors who can mix a decent cocktail.”
Illustration from Theodor Zwinger, Neu-Vollkomenes Kräuter-Buch Worinnen Allerhand Erdgewächse der Bäumen, 1696.
From Tara’s perspective, the mothman burst out of my skin, hovering in all his brilliance for only a moment before he folded himself back into the madman Suibhne Ennis.
“Ailann was really upset,” he said. “Not like he ever does well with stress, not like Suibhne. But that made even Suibhne stressed out. Can we just go to bed?”
“There’s something I want to do first,” Tara decided. “Get in the hovercar.”
*****
They went to the Ipsissimal Park. Tara parked the car, and then she and Suibhne climbed up the plateau to the Atlas Tree.
“I and I,” she said, touching its bark. She turned to him. “It really is you.”
“Um, no. That’s Driscoll, actually.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant that this tree isn’t just a container. It’s a part of you – your memories, your sensory impressions. It’s like an extended nervous system. It’s been said that the mothman is the force which animates the tree, but that’s wrong. The tree is capable of survival without the mothman, but the mothman needs the tree in order to exist. It’s backwards – the tree is the force which animates the mothman.”
Suibhne shrugged. “Why do you think Patrick called his book Wooden Heart?”
Tara wore the abashed expression of one who had entirely missed the obvious. She shouldn’t have felt so badly about it – most of us had missed the point as well.
“Suibhne,” she said. “You emanated because Ailann couldn’t bear what had happened. Again.”
“It would’ve been better to be Suibhne from the start. Suibhne could’ve handled it. It was the sort of situation which could drive an emanation mad, but in Suibhne’s case, it’s already too late.”
“Oh Suibhne,” Tara sighed and embraced him. “It’s unfair that you’re always the one who has to suffer.”
“All will be well,” he replied. “It’s just the way it is. Suibhne takes the psychological damage, Callum takes the damage to the human emanation, Jamey takes the damage to the grove, and Darius takes the spiritual damage.”
“Darius?”
“Yeah – oh, here.” Suibhne handed her a trading card. “Here’s the one you were looking for.”
“Is this the new Canopus branch?”
“Um, no. There’s kind of a backlog. A backlog of branches. Like a lumberyard or something. It’s like when all that trouble went down on Eirelantra, and Lorcan had to emanate before Hurley before Dermot.”
“Darius,” Tara murmured, looking at the card. “He’s beautiful. What do you mean by spiritual damage?”
“Like Mélisande.”
“What?
“You know, in the opera.”
*****
« Perhaps this would be a good moment for a digression, » Patrick suggests. « The reader won’t know what Suibhne is talking about. Use a flashback. »
I had a flashback. I never want to have another one.
« He’s referring to the literary term, » says Cillian. « The place in the holovid where the focus goes wobbly. »
For me, that’s usually after about a decanter and a half of Scotch. I have an annoyingly high tolerance.
« Just tell the story about the opening of the Grand Opera House at Vuernaco, » Patrick says.
*****
The Skarsian Cultural Ministry decided to build an ostentatious opera house in Vuernaco, the Siderian capital. Of course this is the sort of thing which requires the Matriarch’s blessing – which Tara gave grudgingly. “Opera? The vocal style annoys me. It’s like whales using sonar to stun the plankton. Worse, all the plotlines are about punishing women for asserting themselves sexually. I suppose I should be grateful it isn’t ballet. Ballet is horrifying.”
“Premma loves ballet,” Patrick noted.
“Premma isn’t winning any prizes for intelligence. Where would she be today if she hadn’t married a Cu’enashti? Look, the ingredients of a ballerina are one part anorexia, one part foot-binding, and one part antiquated sexual stereotypes. I’d be tempted to ban it, except that banning art only succeeds in publicizing it.”
The opera house went forward, and Tara was inevitably invited to opening night. A number of programs were suggested, which she immediately vetoed: Carmen (“What did I tell you?”), I Pagliacci (“More of the same”), Madame Butterfly (“Nothing goes with sexism like a good dollop of cultural imperialism”), Aida (“Are you kidding me?”) and Parsifal (“Wagner ruined Von Eschenbach’s masterpiece by turning it into a screed against sexual enjoyment.”) Finally, she agreed to Pelléas and Mélisande (“It’s as good as we’re going to get, I suppose.”)
With much pomp and circumstance, Patrick accompanied her to the opening. They sat in a lavish central box and were served with champagne and various delicacies. Tara was on surprisingly good behavior, at least attempting to conceal her boredom (although she might have consumed perhaps a tad too much champagne.) Patrick found himself alternately captivated and mystified by the performance.
“That girl, Mélisande, was she supposed to have a personality disorder? She seemed like she needed some kind of therapy.”
Tara laughed. “I highly doubt it. It’s based on a play by Maeterlinck. He was a symbolist. That means it’s all very deep and fraught with significance.”
“Did you like it?”
“It’s hard to say. It had a dreamlike quality that intrigued me. On the other hand, Mélisande’s behavior only seems attractive because of the gender stereotypes of the time. A male character would never be allowed to be that vague or that helpless.”
“I’m not sure of that. Could Parsifal be the male equivalent?”
“That’s an interesting point. But Parsifal is expected to become a hero, to accomplish something in the world. His folly is an active quality, whereas Mélisande is too passive to even resist marrying the first man who finds her. Also, her beauty is an enormous factor. If she were ugly, she’d be carted off to serve in the kitchen and beaten for her reveries.”
“Tarlach says that’s because beauty combined with vagueness becomes a projection screen for desire. I’m thinking about it differently now. I was wondering if what she really needed was a Cu’enashti, but now I’m wondering if she was a Cu’enashti. Maybe she lost her Chosen, and was just waiting for death. That might have been the symbolism of the crown she abandoned in the water.”
Tara raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s exactly what Maeterlinck had in mind.”
Dispirited, Patrick sighed. “I’ve never quite understood why it is considered witty for humans to say the opposite of what they mean.”
*****
This was the incident to which Suibhne was referring. That night, Tara dismissed it. She had a lot more on her mind than figuring out Suibhne’s cryptic utterances. Later, when Darius finally did emanate, she would realize that once again, Suibhne had been trying to tell her something important.
She took his hand. “Ash,” she said, “you’ve got to learn to trust me. All these years, you’ve been telling me to trust you, and you didn’t even think I could find you?”
“That chamber was really well-hid,” said Suibhne.
“To a Cu’enashti, maybe.”
Suibhne looked at her in surprise.
“Humans don’t rely on their molecular perceptions to gauge their surroundings. Someone physically looking for that door would’ve found it.”
Suibhne grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, Tara. Sometimes we forget that you aren’t stupid.”
Tara turned on him violently. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Uh, Suibhne didn’t say that exactly right.”
“Oh, I think you said it exactly right, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch. You’re so overconfident that you walked right into a trap so obvious a child could’ve seen it coming. Running off alone with an enemy informer – really! And not even having the sense to let someone know where you were going.”
There was a rustling noise in the boughs above them. Suibhne’s leaves were wilting.
“Ah, shit,” said Tara, running her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry, Suibhne. You didn’t do it. But then again, you did, Ash.”
“We’ll never make that mistake again. Suibhne promises.” Tears swelled in his huge blue eyes.
“All right,” she soothed. “Let’s go home and go to bed.”
*****
Suibhne slept with Tara that night. Or, to be precise, Tara slept; Suibhne occupied the same bed. He did his best to stay silent even though his impulse was always to fill the space with mad ramblings, chattering to himself because his love for Tara was so great, he could never find enough words to express it. They were never the right words either, so to him, it made little difference if he said “Your lips are like roses,” or “Look! A squirrel!” It meant exactly the same thing.
Suibhne adored Tara, loved her as a man loves a woman, but more, was constantly grateful for the gentle way she treated him, her concern for his suffering, her tolerance of his childish behavior and his occasional tormented rages. Suibhne would never have forgotten to trust Tara, but he didn’t blame Ailann. Ailann had so many things to think about, and all Suibhne had to think about was Tara. Ailann had to think about things like whether or not to burn the Cu’ensali. Suibhne wouldn’t have hesitated. “Bet they burn like larches,” he muttered, then clapped his hand quickly over his mouth.
Tara stirred in her sleep. “Ash?” she murmured.
“We’re all here,” said Suibhne, stroking her hair.
Suibhne knew that Ailann wasn’t going to burn the Cu’ensali. Ailann was a compassionate god. That’s what drove him to drink. Suibhne thought sometimes about the ancient stories of Christianity. Christians were always going on about how great Jesus was because he suffered himself to be crucified for their sakes. But Suibhne was pretty sure he knew what Jesus felt when he was dying on that cross: relief. Because a little crucifixion was nothing compared to having infinite compassion for the million million million things sure to go wrong for all the people in the world. Yes, one could heal the random leper here or there, but what did it mean compared to the great mass of humanity?
Suibhne knew Ailann did the best he could.
*****
Suibhne cut me a lot more slack than I deserved. Inside of the pleroma, I was drunk and weeping. This had been the case since Suibhne had emanated. Finally, Cillian rose decisively from the couch and snatched the bottle from my hand.
« Is this an intervention? » I asked, rather sardonically.
« It’s me, telling you to stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself. »
« That’s easy for you to say. »
Whirljack joined us, kneeling on the floor in front of my chair, taking my hand between his own. « Ailann, you can’t blame yourself for this, » he said.
« It was so simple. We know what Tara is destined to become. There was no way we could’ve been permanently trapped and yet achieved that. It never even occurred to me. I lost my faith in the only thing that matters. »
« If you need to blame someone, blame the mothman, » said Dermot, « although even He is hardly to blame. »
« The mothman is a mind that uses alchemy to formulate a body. But the memory and vision which make n’aashet n’aaverti possible are here, within the grove, » said Malachi. « Ailann, it’s no wonder you lost sight of Tara’s destiny because Atlas is the one who sees. »
Evan came up behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. « It’s over now, » he said. « You don’t need to bear this alone. »
« But that was exactly the problem. I was alone. What if it happens again? »
« Then you’ll do the best that you can under the circumstances, » said Owen. « You did better than I did. You tried to survive. »
« In the long run, being alone doesn’t work, » said Lorcan. « I know. »
I laughed bitterly. I never imagined that I’d be lectured by Lorcan.
« Grove hug! » cried Cüinn.
*****
Tara was surprised to see me again in the morning. “It’s probably for the best,” she said. “Suibhne doesn’t deal well with the public. But will you be all right?”
“I’d rather be in public,” I said. “Or at least, with you.”
“Then I’ll tell Sir Kaman not to cancel. He called this morning asking if our homecoming reception was still a good idea.”
“At a time like this, it’s best to be surrounded by family and friends.”
“I was really thinking that it wasn’t a good idea to let our enemies see any sign of weakness.”
“That too.” My eyes tracked wistfully towards the bar, lingering on my favorite scotch.
“Do you want a drink?” Tara asked.
“No, I’ll pass. I don’t fancy being scolded again by Lorcan.”
“Lorcan?” Tara crossed the room to me, resting her hand against my chest. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“No,” I answered, “but I can’t allow fear to get the better of me. Tarlach was afraid the longer I stayed in the pleroma, the harder it would be for me when I had to emanate.”
“He probably has a point.”
“Just stay close to me.”
*****
We arrived fashionably late. Most of the lords and ladies of the court were already there, as well as important figures of the Forest, like Lady Miranda and Lady Claris. The Cantor and Elma were absent, but that was hardly surprising. What was surprising is that Aidenne attended. As an official consort of one of Tara’s ancestors, she had to be invited, but Tara hadn’t really expected her to come.
In person, one could see a faint familial resemblance to Tara, but Aidenne’s Cu’enmerengi characteristics predominated. She had the sharp features, willowy form and almond eyes typical of them; more, her golden curls were tied back to reveal a pair of pointed ears. All Cu’enmerengi had such ears in their dryad form, but in their human forms they had been careful to suppress the trait until after the Great Reveal. Then it became a fashionable expression of ethnic identity.
“I always thought of Claris as having an exotic beauty,” Tara whispered to me, “but Aidenne has her beat.”
“It’s a political statement,” I replied. “Claris is a conservative.”
Aidenne approached us. “The gourd salad lives up to its reputation,” she said. There was something about her manner signaling me that she wanted to speak to Tara in private. It was silly – I could hear every word spoken at this garden party if I wanted. But I recalled my experience of the day previous – Cu’enmerengi really don’t have a sense of how much more acute the senses of a Cu’enashti are. Fine. I left them to chat, but my awareness never left my wife for a second.
“You know, I wasn’t going to come,” Aidenne said. “Despite the temptation to be included in such a posh gathering of the ipsissimal household, I didn’t want my old allies to think I’d taken sides. But now…”
“But now you want to distance yourself from them as swiftly as possible,” Tara said. My wife is nothing if not blunt.
“You know, people used to talk about burning, but I thought it was all, uh, inflammatory rhetoric. I never thought anyone would go that far. I was shocked by what happened, shocked. The perpetrators have to be punished.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know who they are?”
Aidenne shook her head.
“We do have some leads – eyewitness testimony paired with images from the media push. But we’d appreciate all the help we can get. The only solid thing we have is a warrant for Jaxxon’s arrest.”
Aidenne stopped in her tracks. “Jaxxon? No! You must be joking. He’d never do a thing like that.”
Tara cursed herself for slipping – she’d forgotten that the general public knew nothing of my abduction. “I can’t say any more, but we’re quite certain. If he wasn’t responsible for the burning of the Cantor Tree, he’s an accessory to it.”
“I can’t believe it.” Aidenne’s gaze fell to the ground. For a moment, she looked weary, and there was a hint of her centuries of existence around her. Then she smiled. “There’s Raoul. I promised that I’d let him sketch me.”
“Twisted his branch to do it, more like,” murmured Tara as Aidenne retreated across the lawn.
Our eyes met. She looked as though she were about to rejoin me, but her approach was intercepted. I recognized the man, Earl Titus Mac’kellr, a noble of the Dolparessan court. Every Cu’enashti knew who he was – the husband of Lady Merhna, and the first human to accept a disclosed Cu’enashti as his wife under the law of the forest. For that reason, he was held in high regard, but I could sense immediately that Tara did not like him, and was annoyed that she would have to make small talk.
“Your Eminence! I’m glad that I could catch you. It’s rare that you’re alone.”
Tara smiled puckishly. “I wouldn’t let my husband hear you say that.”
Mac’kellr turned a purplish red and blustered, “I meant nothing untoward, Eminence! Rather, I was referring to the fact that you are so often in the company of Lord Danak.”
“Aside from the Archon, Danak is my most trusted advisor. It’s only natural that I’d often be with him.”
“Yes, well, but he has no official position.” This was curious. Mac’kellr clearly had a point to make, but he was circling around it. He was afraid of offending Tara; I could smell it.
“He was my father’s closest friend.”
“Indeed, but he was born on Sideria. Nothing against him personally, but, as everyone knows, he can be teleported.”
The phrase “he can be teleported” was a euphemism. It referred to the fact that Danak was of pure human stock, with no Cu’endhari ancestors. It meant that he could be mind-controlled by the SongLuminants, and thus, under the new guidelines, he wouldn’t have passed a security check for the highest clearances in SSOps. Of course, Tara’s immediate circle was full of people who wouldn’t have passed that check, either.
Tara poked at the ice cubes in her glass of Lemonzaid. Anyone close to her knew that this was a warning, the rattle on a snake’s tail. “I don’t intend to begin discriminating against pure humans, Lord Titus.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you should. However, the position of Grand Vizier has been left unfilled for decades. I was merely suggesting that you employ that vacancy to bring a true Dolparessan into your close circle of advisors. Someone who bears the sap, or perhaps one of the Chosen. As you are both yourself, you can clearly perceive the advantages.”
“I haven’t seen the need for a Grand Vizier,” Tara said dismissively. “It’s an imperial position. Technically, I’m still the Empress of Sideria, but my primary role is that of Matriarch.”
“Of course, but the Matriarch’s closest advisors are traditionally Archbishop Venesti and the fleet admiral – and as we all know, Admiral Whelan is a mask of the Living God, your husband. It seems clear that much of your advice comes from Lord Danak, who has no official position. And during times such as these, it would certainly be reassuring to the Convocation to know that you can hear the whispering of the leaves.”
“In my experience, Lord Titus, the leaves don’t whisper – they whine like a badly adjusted holepuncher. But I’ll think on what you said. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to rejoin my husband.”
When Tara returned to my side, I took her hand. Usually, I tried to maintain a staid dignity in public. Today I was weak, I was tired. I needed the comfort of her presence.
“You dislike him,” I said.
“I grew up knowing him. He was always cold to me because of the prophecy. But once I became Empress, he turned into a fawning toady. Just like now – he’s gunning to become Grand Vizier. It couldn’t be more obvious.”
“Are you going to give it to him?”
“Hardly. He’s insufferable. But it does get me thinking. I haven’t filled the position because I believed it unnecessary, but also, because the last Vizier, Bok Denevi, betrayed me.”
“So did Clive Rivers.”
“Clive was paying me back for taking up with you. The real mover of that plot was Denevi. Even Christolea was his pawn. My point is that in my circle of close advisors, I have you, Archbishop Venesti, and then my father and mother’s closest attendants, Lady Lorma and Lord Danak. That’s a Cu’endhari, two Skarsians and a Siderian. I don’t have an advisor from Volparnu. I was thinking of asking Ta’al Erich.”
I had to laugh. “You aren’t saying that you trust him?”
“Actually, in a way, I do trust him. I trust him to look out for his own interests. In that coup, he went along with Denevi because I was so unpopular on Volparnu at the time. But as soon as he saw Christolea was incompetent, he stole the Staff of the Matriarch and switched back to our side. I’d much rather have a man like him than Mac’kellr, whose opportunism is coated by a thin veneer of idealism. You never know what actions a man like that will rationalize. Besides, Ta’al Erich is very intelligent.”
“Why is your entire High Council filled with your ex-boyfriends?”
“Ailann! Ta’al Erich is not my…”
“He tried to seduce you when you were married to his brother. Then he proposed to you.”
“If you recall, I married Patrick instead.” She turned to me, stepping into my path. I expected her to make light of it, but instead she said, “Ailann, there’s really no need to be jealous.”
I tried to force a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Before I could finish, I knew Zosim was on his way, with bad news. I could smell him before I could see him. He was upset, clearly shaken. I didn’t want to deal with it. I tightened my grip on Tara’s hand, but when he came into sight, I nodded, and the three of us retreated towards Sir Kaman’s house.
Before we could reach the door, we were intercepted by Clive Rivers. “Tara! I have got to talk to you.”
“Excuse me, Ambassador Rivers,” said Zosim, “but we’re really in the middle of something very important.”
“Something more important than CenGov trying to provoke a war?”
“But this is an emergency,” said Zosim, clearly confused. He looked quickly from me to Rivers and back again.
“I know you, Clive,” said Tara. “You exaggerate. Zosim first. Come on.”
“Your Eminence, I don’t know if…”
“You can say whatever it is in front of Clive,” said Tara. “I trust him. I trust him because he knows that if he betrays us, someone from SSOps will strangle him in the middle of the night.”
“I’m so honored,” Rivers sneered. “Also, I sleep with a gun beneath my pillow.” This was no idle threat. For all his bluster, Rivers was the best shot Tara had ever seen, and was remarkably good at landing on his feet after extremely adverse circumstances.
I put one arm around Tara and the other around Zosim, steering them into the house. I knew the minute Rivers got involved, our purpose was in danger of being completely derailed. “Captain Zosim, please,” I said.
“Your Holiness, Your Eminence, we’ve just got word – it’s not on the push yet, but it will be, probably within minutes. There’s been another burning.”
Simultaneously, the sap in my rootlets seemed to freeze and my human stomach flipped. My first thought was to numbly grope for a decanter of rhybaa sitting on a nearby counter. Not my poison of choice, but it would have to do.
Zosim continued. “The victim’s name is Donal Hebbick.”
“Who?” asked Tara.
“He’s a farmworker. He was doing maintenance on his hovertractor when he fell to the ground screaming that he was on fire. His young son ran up to him, thinking that he’d had an accident. It took his family a moment to realize that he was talking about his nau’gsh. Fortunately, his tree was nearby, on the farm. His wife and children went to put out the blaze, but they couldn’t.”
“The same chemicals as yesterday?”
“No chemicals at all – alchemy.”
I couldn’t make sense of it. “How can that be? No Cu’enmerengi has enough strength to set fire to a tree, especially one that can fight back.”
“It wasn’t Cu’enmerengi this time,” Zosim answered. “It was around two dozen Cu’ensali, apparently too many for Hebbick to fight off. He isn’t a big tree. But his mother-in-law came out with a shotgun and drove off the sprites with ecoshot. He’s alive, but one of his trunks took pretty bad damage.”
“Send Sir Kaman to attend to him,” Tara ordered. “And get Lord Danak. We’ve got to think this through.”
“Excuse me,” said Rivers, “but a random attack on a farmworker is hardly as important as…”
“You don’t understand!” I snapped.
“…as the IndWorld Alliance splitting at the instigation of the CenGovernment in exile.”
“What?!?” said Lord Danak, entering the room. “We’d better call an emergency High Council meeting.”
“That isn’t what this is about,” said Tara, “although we’d probably better deal with it. But I’m guessing that there’s nothing we can do about the IndWorlds at this exact moment. Let’s deal with the burning first, politics second.”
I was very glad that Tara had taken control over the situation, especially since the rhybaa was kicking in, and I could barely follow what they were saying. CenGov? But they had fallen. Tellick was in control of Earth. And another tree had burned. I should be doing something. The IndWorlds broken?
« Ailann, » Cillian hissed, « get sober, NOW, or I’m taking over. »
I took a deep breath, then another, while a part of me insisted that I didn’t want to feel this, not any of it. Then I forced the alcohol in my system to change into water.
I hate the abrupt return to sobriety. It’s like being plunged into a sea of ice.
“Ailann?” Tara said, touching me lightly on the arm.
I assumed my most dignified, authoritative pose. After all, I was supposed to be God. What a joke. “Zosim,” I instructed, “We’ve got to control the media spin on the burning. This could start a panic.”
“It might be too late,” he said. “The neighbors heard the shots and saw the fire. They called for emergency responders. Once it’s clear that it wasn’t an accident, it will be the top of the media push. It might be already.”
As if cued, there was a scream outside. “Oh my god!” someone shouted.
Aidenne came running into the room. “We didn’t do this!” she yelled. “Cu’enmerengi didn’t…”
“We know,” I said. “We have to make sure that message is clear.”
“It’s horrible,” she muttered, slumping into a chair. “I don’t understand it at all.”
“Neither do I,” said Tara. “Judging from what you said earlier, most of the Cu’enmerengi are appalled at what happened to the Cantor Tree. Now the Cu’ensali have randomly attacked an innocent of seemingly no importance – there’s no way the Cu’enmerengi will support them now. They’ve sabotaged their own cause.”
“I’ve a message from Kaman,” said Raoul, sticking his head through the door.
“So much for keeping it quiet,” said Lord Danak.
“You can’t expect a tree to not know where his Chosen is at all times,” I said. “And Raoul is family. Go on, boy.”
“Kaman says that both of Hebbick’s emanations are alive, but that the unemanated one sustained damage. He says he can save the branch, but that there is bound to be memory loss.”
“Zosim, I assume the police are talking to the family,” said Tara. “We need to get SSOps out there as soon as possible. But don’t push. They’re probably in shock.”
“They’re on it,” said Zosim. “I’m expecting a complete report soon.”
“It’s going to be impossible to identify the perpetrators,” I said. “We’ve never paid any attention to Cu’ensali. We have no means of tracking them.”
“Are you finished?” said Rivers. “Because I think you’d really better know…”
“We’ve got a problem,” said Lilith, entering the room.
“Another one?” said Tara. “How big of a problem, rated on a scale from one to ten?”
“Two hundred,” said Lilith. “The Outer Vent Defense Guild is proposing to erase half of humanity.”
I reached for the rhybaa.
“Wait a minute,” said Tara. “I thought that compared to the Champions of the Skylight Spin, the OVDG was a bunch of kinder, gentler* SongLuminants?”
“They are,” I muttered. “They only want to erase half.”
“Since I’m the Nuncio to Humanity,” said Tara, “I think they might have consulted me first.”
“They’re not erasing your half,” said Thoughtful 45, from the datapad hanging around Lilith’s neck.
“That’s reassuring,” sneered Rivers.
“They’re proposing to erase the half that does not recognize the authority of the Skarsian Matriarchy as the representatives of humanity to the Combine of Sentients,” Thoughtful 45 continued. “The newly formed Alliance of Mankind.”
“Wonderful!” said Rivers, clapping his hands. “That will solve our problem.”
“What?” sputtered Lord Danak.
“As I have been trying to explain, the IndWorld Alliance held a secret emergency meeting at the prompting of the CenGovernment in exile. President Gweseki argued that the IndWorlds needed to issue a formal refutation of Combine membership, and that they did not recognize the authority of the Skarsian Matriarchy to become the de facto leaders of humanity. That’s a sentiment that was circulating widely amongst the IndWorlds anyway, but about two-thirds of them refused to go along with it. The opposition argument, led by the Governor of Cybae, was that it was best not to get on the bad side of the Combine, and that in practice, the primacy of the Matriarchy meant nothing. The Matriarchy had never shown any expansionist tendencies, and hadn’t used its influence with the Combine to interfere with the IndWorlds.”
“We can’t,” said Lord Danak. “The Archon’s power doesn’t extend outside his grove.”
“You forget that with the coming of Canopus, the grove is portable,” said Tara. “But the IndWorlds don’t know that.”
“Gweseki argued that it was merely a matter of time before those things happened, and that Cybae was blinded by its dependence on trade with the Floatfish. Of course, the official government of Earth sided with Skarsia. We’re not in any position to go looking for trouble – and we have historic ties of close friendship with the Matriarchy.”
I was not too drunk to understand Clive’s true meaning: My unprecedented access to the Matriarch means that I have become an enormous hoohah in Earth politics.
“In the end, they couldn’t reach an agreement, and about a third of the worlds withdrew from the IndWorld Alliance to form the Alliance of Mankind. They chose that name, by the way, to be particularly inflammatory to the Matriarchy.”
“The SongLuminants were all over it like whornets on a slutty snapdragon,” said Lilith. “The Outer Vent Defense Guild can’t wait to flex its bubbles.”
“Interesting,” said Lord Danak. “It’s a way to reassert their influence over us while claiming to assist us. In politics, one’s powerful friends are often as much of a danger as one’s enemies. You’ve had the most contact with the SongLuminants, your Holiness. How do you think we should respond?”
“What?” I muttered.
“Ailann is quite upset over the burning,” Tara injected quickly. “You must understand that although it may seem insignificant in scale, it’s enormously disturbing to the Cu’endhari, and could turn out to be a bigger source of trouble in the long run.”
« AILANN, » shouted Cillian. « She fucking covered for you. Get your mulch back on your roots! »
I dropped my brain into the ice a second time.
“You said that the OVDG proposed erasing them,” I said. “Does that mean they haven’t decided?”
“The Southern Coriolis Directorate is opposing it,” replied Thoughtful. “It’s to be decided by the Panoply of the Ancient Foam. But according to the new Combine charter, the SongLuminants couldn’t act on their own. The entire Combine would have to vote to go to war.”
“That means we have some time,” I said. “We should send an emissary to the Alliance of Mankind. Try to normalize relations.”
“Not a diplomat,” said Lilith. “I think we need to make it clear what kind of beast they are baiting. If they don’t take it seriously enough, they’re liable to provoke doomsday.”
I nodded. “Let’s send a K’ntasari.”
“A non-human?” said Clive. “That’s inflammatory.”
“Exactly. They have to be confronted with it. The universe has changed. If they imagine that humanity can go on with its business, not taking into account that the universe is filled with beings of a more advanced nature, they’re headed for destruction.”
“We’ve got a problem,” said Zosim, glancing up from his datapad.
“This is getting a little redundant,” said Tara.
“I just got word that there’s been a retaliatory strike.”
“I’m lost,” said Tara. “Who retaliated on whom?”
“Cillian is not happy,” I said. “Cillian says that he’s the only one who orders retaliatory strikes. Well, that isn’t verbatim, but I trust you can imagine the string of obscenities on your own.”
“Apparently a group of mothmen flew into Grand Nebula Forest and literally blew four Cu’ensali nau’gsh out of the ground.”
Aidenne rose, her thin hands flying to her mouth. “It’s war,” she said, her breath coming in heaving gasps. “Tree against tree.”
“Who knows about this?” Danak asked.
“So far, only us. PLOT-Twist reported it. It was too far out in the forest for there to be any microcams. We should have a satellite scan in a few minutes.”
“That’s for the best,” said Danak. “We’ve got to keep this quiet.”
“Quiet?” Tara asked. “But we’ve always disclosed everything we could. It’s our policy and it’s served us well.”
“The people have the right to know,” said Raoul.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Rivers. “The real reason for disclosure is that if you always tell the truth, your enemies have no ammunition for blackmail, and you can never be caught in a lie. That being said, selective disinformation is occasionally useful.”
“If this gets out, the situation will escalate,” said Lord Danak. “It’s likely there will be copycat attempts. We should at least keep it secret for now.”
“He’s right,” I said, reaching for the rhybaa. “The peace and security of the Domha’vei is built on the idea that trees don’t kill. Everybody knows that I have, but they consider that an exception – I’m God, after all. But in two days’ time, we’ve had five deaths and a severe injury. If humans start thinking of the trees as dangerous…”
“We’ve had it,” wailed Aidenne. “They’ll raze the forests.”
“That would be unfortunate,” said Thoughtful 45. “Humans and Nau’gsh are both members of the Combine. For two member species to turn on each other is unprecedented. Possibly the SongLuminants would use it as an excuse to meddle in Skarsian politics as well. Possibly, they would use it as grounds to eject humanity from the Combine.”
“Everybody keep calm!” Tara yelled.
The decanter was empty. I filled it. With scotch. Because if I’m going to create ex nihilo, I might as well make something I like.
“It’s probably not that bad,” said Tara. “Provided that the violence is confined to the Cu’endhari, I don’t think the average citizen will care. If you haven’t grown up on Dolparessa, the trees don’t mean much to you. But locally, there could be a complete panic. Dolparessans view the forest as sacred. It’s the kind of thing which could upset their entire world-view.”
“It’s already starting,” said Zosim. “The media push is reporting that people are standing guard outside their family groves.”
“The Archon has to make a statement,” said Danak.
But I couldn’t. What could I possibly say?
“Your Holiness,” said Zosim. “You have to see this.” He sat his datapad on the table and flipped it into holographic mode. An image solidified, a pert, blond woman with a steely attitude. It was Sara Howe-Dumfaller, top pundit of GalMedi, the Archon’s most vocal – and intelligent – critic.
“Again, we’ve just received a report from a group called the Mothman Protection Posse. They claim to take responsibility for the spate of burnings in Dolparessa’s Grand Nebula Forest. ‘We will avenge our own fourfold.’ It’s unclear as to whether they are also responsible for the burnings in the Forest of Shadow…”
“What burnings in the Forest of Shadow?” said Tara. In the background, I could hear Aidenne sobbing. Trees burning. Would it be a final death, or would they return from whence they had come, the prison of cold rock and silence, eternal loneliness…
“Your Holiness!” said Danak.
I took a step forward. The room spun. I stumbled; then I felt my arms jerked above my head, my body burning in the cold, blue light.
“It’s time to move out the tanks!” roared Cillian. “I want satellite monitoring of the major forests, troops stationed on the borders – if anyone makes a hostile move, Cu’enashti or Cu’ensali, I want to know about it. Raoul, get the Cantor and call a meeting of the Convocation. Clive, we’re gonna send Juliet to the Alliance of Dickwads. You brief her, and make sure she knows that the point is to keep them from being erased, and that she should tell them to shove their sexism up their manholes. I want every emergency responder on standby, firefighting protocol. Danak, notify the High Council. We’ll have an emergency meeting in the Cathedral of War – if they’re on Dolparessa, they should get their asses over there, if not, get ‘em on holo. Let’s go, people!”
*The term in Galactic Standard translates directly as “asteroid fluff” and was used to refer to a CenGov policy of alleviating poverty by euthanizing the poor – trans.