At times, the Iron Lady was disappointed with Nira, who spent as much time with Prime Designate Jora’h as she did reading from the Saga. Every day now, Nira attended jousting tournaments, visited museums, or watched sky parades. But then, her assistant was young and easily impressed by new and novel things. Yet Nira was experiencing Ildiran culture in much greater depth than the old green priest could, and the girl always made a point of sharing her impressions with the treelings. Thus, the worldforest increased its knowledge in that way as well.

Otema, unable to shed her ambassadorial sensibilities, remained concerned about the political future of Theroc and the disposition of green priests throughout the Hansa. When, after endless hours, she found herself weary from reading aloud, Otema would relax, touch the treelings, and engage her telink to ask the forest for news.

She attempted to follow Sarein’s activities as the new Hansa ambassador, the treaties the young woman offered and the documents she signed. So far, Sarein had effected few major changes … but this did not put Otema at ease. Sarein could well be working her schemes behind closed doors, away from the network of green priest communicators.

Oh, the damage she could cause!

Otema had passed her concerns through the worldforest, and the other priests would maintain watch, especially those stationed on Earth. But the worldforest seemed preoccupied with a brooding uneasiness of its own—something much worse than mere Terran politics, something that no green priest could yet understand.

She and many of her counterparts had tried to learn more about the troubling mystery, but the trees had yet to reveal a single warning, hint, or prophecy. And Otema’s reading of the Saga of Seven Suns had fascinated—and agitated—the world-forest even more.

Now she picked up another portion of the document and began to relate a new story from the Ildiran epic to the listening trees.

Two potted treelings also remained in Nira’s quarters, while the rest of the small trees had been lovingly planted in the vine-studded walls of the skysphere, the huge terrarium that hovered over the Mage-Imperator’s reception hall.

She heard footsteps stop at her chamber, but refused to acknowledge her visitor until she had finished the legend of a deaf singer whose music was so achingly powerful it could stop the hearts of his listeners, though the singer never heard the melodies himself. Sadly, the Mage-Imperator at the time had been forced to order the singer’s execution after he, with his sheer power to evoke melancholy, had caused the grief-stricken deaths of two noble listeners.

With a sigh, Otema set the document aside and turned to welcome Rememberer Vao’sh. The historian stood in the doorway, his arms burdened with scrolls and written documents. “I doubt you are ready for more of the Saga, Ambassador Otema, but I have selected these particularly interesting stories. You will enjoy them.”