“Yes … Otema.” Gathering her courage, Nira said, “I’m surprised to see you here. Are you looking for someone?”

“Yes, and I’ve found her.” It seemed an awkward tableau, the two women standing on a narrow branch in the treetops. “Yarrod said I might find you up here, though it wasn’t your assigned day to read to the trees.”

Clutching the datapad defensively in her hand, Nira said, “We each serve according to our abilities and our interests.” She touched the dark lines around her mouth. “I am an accomplished reader, and I like being up here.”

“You enjoy history, then? Adventures, legends, and myths?” Nira tried to detect criticism in the old woman’s voice, but found none. She simply nodded.

“Interesting,” Otema said. “I have studied your family, and I wonder where you discovered your interest in legends. Did your mother tell you stories when you were a little girl?”

“Not at all. In fact, that is one of the reasons I was glad to be joined with the worldforest, because it opened a new universe for me, one that I never could have found at home.”

The eldest of eight children, Nira Khali had come from a relatively poor family that lived in one of the oldest worm-hive dwellings. A set of chambers that had once been quite comfortable for her parents became a crowded encampment for their growing family. When Nira had entered the priesthood as an acolyte, her family had been sad to see her go, but they had also appreciated the extra breathing space.

Nira had always been a thinker and a reader, while her parents and siblings were content to work in the gardens or fruit orchards. Her parents spent their free time on amusements and games, joining in festivals and talking with friends. Nira, though, would rather be reading.

“I am looking for someone who enjoys stories,” Otema said. “Such a person would be of great benefit to my next assignment.” Nira’s heart jumped, curious about what the ambassador had in mind.

Nira remembered many times when she had read to herself, crouched against a curved wall of the worm hive for a few moments of solitude. Though Nira loved her family, they did not understand her. She wondered if she was like a cuckoo that had hatched in the wrong nest. Nira wanted to ask a thousand questions, but she held her silence, politely waiting, though her eyes shone with fire and curiosity.

Otema continued, “Reynald has returned from his peregrination. He has seen many worlds, talked with great leaders, and observed unusual cultures.”

“I’ve listened to all his reports with great eagerness,” Nira said. Did Otema want her to speak with Reynald, to act as some kind of historian and compile his experiences to be stored in the worldforest database?

“When Reynald spoke with the Ildiran Prime Designate Jora’h, he requested a remarkable boon. You have heard of the Saga of Seven Suns?”