Jora’h leaned back in his chair. “Entertain us, Vao’sh. What story will you tell today?”

“The tale of our discovery of the humans is most appropriate,” Vao’sh said, widening his expressive eyes. He proceeded to speak in a captivating voice, in a rhythm that was more than poetry yet less than song.

Vao’sh summarized the familiar events of how the deteriorating Earth civilization had sent out eleven enormous generation ships that flew blindly toward nearby stars, each vessel filled with pioneers. Reynald was amazed at the tone of the historian’s voice and at how his lobes flushed and changed color to display a palette of emotions.

“Such glorious desperation! Such hope, optimism—or foolishness. Yet the Ildiran Solar Navy found you.” Vao’sh folded his hands.

When Vao’sh finished the tale of the humans’ rescue, Reynald applauded loudly. Jora’h, delighting in the strange custom, clapped his hands as well. Soon all of the courtesans and functionaries in the banquet hall slapped their hands together, making a deafening noise. Vao’sh’s face colored, as if he didn’t know how to react.

“I told you he was a Master Rememberer,” the Prime Designate said.

Reynald gave a wry smile. “How ironic that Ildiran rememberers are the best ones to tell our story.”

11ADAR KORI’NH

Though he commanded all the ships in the Ildiran Solar Navy, Adar Kori’nh still felt his chest grow cold with awe whenever he stepped into the presence of Mage-Imperator Cyroc’h. The deified ruler saw everything, knew everything, touching each Ildiran through his tendrils of telepathic thism.

And still he wanted to see Adar Kori’nh.

The ceremonial septa of warliners had returned from Oncier after having observed the astonishing Klikiss Torch. He had already transmitted images and reports, but now the Mage-Imperator wanted the words directly from his lips. Kori’nh could not refuse the command.

Bron’n, the Mage-Imperator’s hulking personal bodyguard, moved behind the Adar. Since he was a member of the warrior kith, Bron’n’s features were more bestial than those of other Ildirans. His hands sported claws, his mouth showed long, sharp teeth, and his large eyes could detect any movement, any threat to his revered leader. Adar Kori’nh, of course, posed no threat, but the chief bodyguard was incapable of lowering his state of alert.

The Mage-Imperator’s private antechamber was hidden behind opaque walls at the rear of the skysphere, the nucleus for the Prism Palace’s many spires, domes, and spheres. Kori’nh stepped into the lambent illumination of blazers where the enormous Mage-Imperator waited for him, reclined in his chrysalis chair. Bron’n sealed the doors. Despite his impressive rank, the Adar had rarely spoken alone to the Mage-Imperator without an audience of advisers, attenders, bodyguards, and nobles.

Mage-Imperator Cyroc’h was like a male queen bee, a single being who could direct and experience his whole civilization from within the Prism Palace. He was the focal point and recipient of the thism, which made him the heart and soul of all Ildirans. But often, as now, the leader needed more precise details and eyewitness analyses.