The unexpected mental shout that broke through via direct telink startled Otema out of her prayerful reverie. The insistent contact had been sent by one of her colleague priests at the Whisper Palace, calling for her.

With a surge of comprehension, the old ambassador suddenly grasped the situation: the arrival of the hydrogue emissary on Earth, his demand to speak with King Frederick, and the King’s urgent need to communicate with Chairman Wenceslas, who had come to Mijistra. Otema knew full well from her time spent on Earth that the aged monarch made no decisions for himself, could not even legitimately speak for the Hansa unless the Chairman gave him permission to do so.

She sent a telink acknowledgment of the request and, grabbing up the nearest treeling, hurried out of her chambers as fast as her weary legs could carry her. As she raced down the crystalline halls, she bumped into Nira emerging from her room, wide-eyed and frightened. While reading the Saga to the worldtrees, her young assistant had also heard the emergency telink message, as had all green priests across the Spiral Arm. The news of the hydrogue arrival on Earth had spread as quickly as the worldforest learned of it.

“Come with me, Nira,” she said, cutting off the girl’s question. “I may need you to call the Prime Designate if we must interrupt a meeting between the Mage-Imperator and the Chairman.”

The two priests hurried to the skysphere audience chamber, but only a few low-level workers and court nobles were there. Otema spoke harshly to the first bureaucrat she encountered. “Where is the Mage-Imperator?”

“He must not be disturbed,” said the bureaucrat and turned away.

Otema snatched at his shimmering striped garment with an iron grip. “I have an urgent communiqué for Chairman Wenceslas from the Terran Hanseatic League. The Mage-Imperator will want to hear my news as well.”

Alarmed and disturbed, the bureaucrat hesitated. His eyes glazed over for a moment, as if the Mage-Imperator sensed something through the thism. The bureaucrat finally said, “This way.”

The two women hurried, sharing the burden of the heavy treeling. Otema continued to rest her fingers against the scaly trunk, primed to receive further news as it occurred. Her counterpart inside the Whisper Palace described each event as it unfolded, and the words were instantly transmitted to her. In her imagination, Otema saw the hydrogue emissary’s crystalline environment sphere enter King Frederick’s Throne Hall.

When she and Nira burst into the private meeting room, Basil Wenceslas was interrupted in midsentence. Turning to see Otema’s wrinkled and tattoo-marked face, he frowned with impatience.

“I have a message for both Chairman Wenceslas and the Mage-Imperator.” Without being welcomed, Otema stepped into the chamber. Nira set the potted treeling on a small table, moving aside a smooth onyx statuette.