Inside her personal chamber, Sarein brewed a pot of potent clee. Her room was high in the fungus reef, where the mushroom flesh was young and the walls remained soft. She liked this chamber because it received more sun than other levels farther down in the reef encrustation. On a low table Sarein set out one cup of the stimulating beverage for herself and another for Otema.

As she waited for her visitor, Sarein checked her appearance and practiced her smile. She adjusted the ambassadorial robe Otema had presented to her, then rubbed the Terran bracelets Basil had given her as a token of his esteem for the Theron people, and as a lover’s parting gift.

On schedule, Otema entered, moving with silent footsteps, and Sarein rose to greet her. The woman looked so old! Her skin was a deep green like night at the bottom of the forest, and it had a dry hardness about it, like wood. She wore only the most minimal garb of a green priest and no ornamentation.

Noting the ambassadorial robe Sarein wore, Otema appeared troubled. The status lines and achievement marks stained into her face furrowed, like dotted lines indicating where wrinkles would go. Sarein wondered if the former ambassador already missed the amenities and culture on Earth.

Sarein pretended not to notice her predecessor’s pensive mood. “You have been gone for so many years, Otema, that we never got to know each other well.” She poured clee for the old woman, who accepted the cup. “Before I depart for my new duties on Earth, I thought we should have a brief talk.” Sarein smiled, not meaning her words but required to say them nevertheless. “With all your experience, you must have much advice for me in dealing with the Hansa?”

“I will share my thoughts with you,” Otema said stiffly and slowly, “though I am not convinced you are willing to hear.”

Sarein tried not to frown at the rebuff, drinking her hot beverage. “Surely you are not disappointed to return to the worldforest, Otema? You have earned it after your years of service.”

“The worldforest is always a balm to human weariness, regardless of what brewing troubles the trees may see that we do not. No, I am not disappointed to be back on Theroc. I am disappointed in you, Ambassador Sarein.” She used the title like an insult, and finally sat down with great reluctance. “And I am afraid of what damage you will cause.”

Sarein chuckled lightly, treating it as a joke. “You should give me a chance to prove myself, Otema. I have studied on Earth, and I am familiar with their cultures and practices. In fact, I probably understand the politics and commerce of the Hansa as well as you.” If not better, she thought to herself.