The Verse:
The spring awakens a wonder:
The blueblack flower, the bruised heart spreading its petals.
The Vision:
A strange and simple dream – the nau’gsh I had planted, my seed of destiny – grows a lovely flower, deep blue, almost indigo, tinged with black, next to its usual flowers of opalescent blue. The sight makes me irrationally happy.
Commentary by Archbishop Co’oal Venesti:
A miracle, indicating that eternal change is the nature of God.
Commentary by Elma, High Prophetess of Skarsia:
Heheheheee. Heheheheh.
Commentary by Archbishop Seth:
It’s none of my business.
Commentary by Sir Kaman Rafmin, Royal Arborist and personal physician to His Holiness the Archon:
The first thing I do every morning, without fail, is go up to the Imperial Park on Starbright Point and check the health of the Atlas Tree. I do this even on the weekends – I distinctly remember that this took place on a Beachday in early Windwhippit of 3610. Lwrence was planning a garden party later that afternoon, and Raoul was fussing because his sister was bringing her husband, and would a synthetic intelligence really enjoy a good gourd salad? But I digress.
I was inspecting the Atlas Tree to see if it was in need of pruning, when I noticed something highly unusual, or should I say reasonably common for Earth flora, but previously unknown in Dolparessan horticulture: a sport.
For those unfamiliar with plant biology, a sport is a somatic mutation, often manifesting in trees as a branch producing different flowers. Unlike somatic mutations in animals, plant mutations are easily passed on to their offspring because the flowers contain the innovative germ cells. These variations can be deliberately cultivated if they have desirable traits. This is why our garden centers always have so many delightful new varieties on offer.
The sport on the Atlas Tree was producing flowers of a coloration previously unseen in any nau’gsh species – a rich blue center edged with black at the tips of the petals. It was striking, and in my gardener’s eyes, well-worth preserving. But as a physician, I had to wonder about the well-being of my most illustrious client. What did this flower portend for the Archon?
I rushed to the palace, my thoughts racing. What was I going to say? I didn’t want to upset Her Eminence, and in a normal tree, such a flower was hardly a cause for concern. On the other hand, the blossom could have ramifications far beyond mere botany. It might be a sign, something miraculous for the Archonist religion. It could indicate a change, or, gods forbid, a problem with the Archon psychologically. It was most certainly of scientific interest as the first documented incident of a sport in Dolparessan flora. In any case, I’d best be extremely careful of my wording so as not to cause any offense to the ipsissimal household.
I immediately sought an audience. I was directed into the Matriarch’s private suite and told to wait in the anteroom. After a few moments, Her Eminence appeared, wearing a lushly textured red bathrobe embroidered with gold wire. She yawned and scratched her head. “What is it, Sir Kaman? It’s Beachday, and it isn’t even hour 11 yet.” Through the doorway behind her, I could see the figure of young Prince Daniel, hastily pulling a shirt over his head.
“I have momentous news,” I said. I suddenly realized that Her Eminence was, in fact, the galaxy’s foremost expert on the nau’gsh. This made everything easy – she would understand all of the implications of the simple truth. “The Atlas Tree has produced a sport.”
“Well,” she said. “How strange. Daniel, do you know anything about this?” The prince wandered into the anteroom and shrugged.
“It has magnificent deep blue flowers, edged with black, a splendid new cultivar.”
“I saw that flower,” Her Eminence murmured.
I was surprised. “Last night? It wasn’t there yesterday.”
“No. In a Gyre vision, when I was twenty-five years old.”
“Oh,” I said, taken aback. This is not how we normally do horticulture.
“What branch is it growing from?” she asked. I should clarify the nomenclature used herein: while it is common parlance to refer to the various emanations of the Cu’enashti as “branches,” technically they are part of a system of multiple trunks, and the term sub-trunk is more accurately used to distinguish the full emanations from the numerous smaller branches that grow from them.
“It’s on Prince Lugh’s sub-trunk,” I replied.
Suddenly, both Her Eminence and His Highness burst into laughter. “A pervert flower,” Prince Daniel gasped.
“Leave it, Sir Kaman,” Her Eminence instructed. “The only person who touches those flowers is Owen.”