Favoring Nira with his hypnotic smile, the Prime Designate joined them at the entrance to the primary audience sphere. He touched Nira’s shoulder, nudging her forward. “By now you have probably grown bored with all of our marvelous sights.”

Her smile was sparkling and sincere. “How could one ever grow weary of so much energy … so much excitement? My brain aches from trying to comprehend it all, but I don’t ever want to stop.”

Jora’h laughed, a musical and heartwarming sound. “You are so refreshing, Nira.” He led them into a bustling open hall filled with courtesans and functionaries, all born of the sleek and human-looking noble kith. Slender and attractive, they wore clothes tailored to fit their lean bodies. The hairless women were painted and decorated with colorful swirling designs. Many wore shimmering electrostatic hoods projected from their collars, tuned to colors that matched their gowns and cloaks.

Enchanted, Nira stepped into the flow with Jora’h close beside her. Otema followed formally, her head held high and her expression neutral. The Iron Lady did not seem impressed by the beauty around her, but Nira was openly curious, and she expressed sufficient astonishment for both of them.

Above the central dome hung a second globe open at the bottom so that it formed an artificially enclosed sky, an enormous suspended terrarium. Matted foliage, flowers, and vines dangled through the opening. Misters sprayed into the gaps, making the leaves sparkle. Exotic alien analogues of hummingbirds and butterflies filled the dome, flitting back and forth to sample nectar or sip from tiny pools of water caught in the cupped palms of jewel-bright leaves.

“What keeps the birds and butterflies inside?” she asked. “Why don’t they fly down here?”

“A discourager field drives them back, but subtly. They don’t even know they are contained.” Jora’h stepped forward. “Come, let us meet my father. We must take care of our important business before you distract me, dear Nira, and make me want to show you even more interesting areas of the Prism Palace.”

“Prime Designate,” Otema chided, “meeting the Mage-Imperator is of greater interest than anything else you could show us.”

The two women walked forward, cradling their potted treelings. The plants drank in the delicious brilliance of the seven suns. Nira’s green skin had darkened since they had arrived here. Though at times she longed for the cool darkness of a forest night, she never felt tired or bored. She had eaten many delicacies, and her skin supplied additional nourishment, so that she needed far less rest than before.