Today, Mayor Hendy had declared an afternoon of celebration, with an extended banquet of their most wholesome, if not precisely sumptuous, foods: goat stew, feta cheese, heavy breads. The children had run around the dusty Colony Town streets, and the farmers had come in from their fields wearing clean clothes. Laughing, the settlers reminisced about kindnesses Talbun had shown them, sending birthday greetings or congratulatory poems to family members on distant Hansa worlds.

Beneto listened to their amusing recollections of how Talbun had once huddled among his treelings during a rough storm just so he could communicate human impressions of the local bad weather to the worldforest. They said their awkward farewells as best they knew how.

As the darkness deepened on Corvus Landing, the winds picked up; brisk breezes rattled across the grain fields and swept over the aerodynamic houses in Colony Town. “Looks like a storm approaching,” Beneto said, walking with the ancient green priest toward the door of their dwelling.

Talbun smiled. “Not a bad storm. Just enough wind to make the trees talk.”

Now outside, Beneto could hear the worldtree fronds scraping together like whispering voices, laughing at shared conversations. Talbun looked out into the darkness.

“Let me embrace you before you go,” Beneto said, his voice quiet.

The old man wrapped his wiry arms around the younger priest. Beneto thanked him for sharing his knowledge, for showing him everything he needed to know.

“You were a natural student, Beneto. You already understood anything I could have taught you. I just helped speed the process. I have no qualms about leaving you here. My people and my trees are in good hands.”

Then Talbun turned, his eyes alight with serene confidence, and left the dwelling. He moved with a remarkable spring in his step as he hurried toward the dark grove of worldtrees he had planted years before. As Beneto watched, the old man shed his lightweight robe and dropped it onto the ground, then proceeded naked and barefoot into the darkness.

Talbun savored the touch of a breeze against his skin, the crunching ground beneath his feet, and the soft strands of the hairy matted groundcover. He walked into the grove—by himself, but not alone, as the worldforest encompassed him.

The treelings had rapidly matured into a tall stand, spreading to become a verdant anchor on this faraway planet. He glided between the whispering trunks, touching fingertips against the soft, scaly bark. He greeted each tree individually, even the new treeling Beneto had brought from Theroc, though they were all connected, all part of the same immense mind.

Returning to the center of the grove, Talbun lay down on the soft ground. He leaned back and rested his bony shoulders against the nearest trunk. He looked up to see patches of the sky speckled with stars, crisscrossed by waving fronds that moved as if applauding him … or beckoning.