In his sister grove on far-off Corvus Landing, old Talbun transmitted his needs. Beneto saw the images, heard the thoughts, understood the weary green priest’s plight and his desire. He listened carefully, absorbing it all. He imagined the possibilities.

In his mind Beneto experienced the small, out-of-the-way Hansa colony through Talbun’s eyes and memories. He felt the winds whistling across the plains of Corvus Landing, stirring the geometric fields planted by the settlers. He imagined the goat herds, the revelries of the settlers, the hard work, the good company. He also felt the old man’s bone weariness, understood that Talbun was dying, and that he needed to be replaced.

If only he could find someone.

Beneto broke the telink connection and stood up, surrounded by the trees and his thoughts. The whispering fronds soothed him, gave him advice, but let him make his own decisions. Beneto drew a deep breath, already filled with delight at this answer to his inner desires. For so long he had wanted something exactly like this, without even knowing it in his own heart. The forest had sent him an answer to his unspoken prayers.

Beneto had lived his life gifted with every advantage and luxury, but such things meant nothing to him. He was better suited to being a monk—a missionary, not a politician. He wanted to tend the magnificent trees and spread the forest from planet to planet. He wanted to help people, to commune with the forest, to assist the human spirit, rather than his own glory.

When Beneto had been chosen as the official communications link at Oncier, he had seen the envious look in Sarein’s eyes. Though the high profile had meant little to him, his sister considered it a great honor to stand beside Chairman Wenceslas and send messages to Old King Frederick on Earth. Beneto took the most pleasure, though, in describing the amazing test of the Klikiss Torch to the eager and curious trees.

His parents had frequently tempted him with opulent assignments to serve in extravagant tree temples on planets where satellites of the worldforest grew strong, or to operate as a highly paid diplomatic assistant to the Hansa. But Beneto didn’t want any of that. He preferred quiet contemplation.

“What shall I do?” he said aloud to the forest.

As he prayed, he received a flood of thoughts, a thousand options from the flourishing trees. But the most poignant advice was that he should focus his own desires, to make a decision commensurate with his vows to protect the worldforest, while also being true to himself, his position, and his personality.