Astonished but incredibly happy to learn that she carried his child, Nira longed to see Jora’h, needed to talk with him, but he had been exceptionally busy. Since the hydrogue attack on Qronha 3 and the alien emissary’s ultimatum against ekti production, the Mage-Imperator had been keeping his son close beside him. Such dire circumstances had forced the Prime Designate—indeed all the Designates, as well as Adar Kori’nh and the other commanders of the Solar Navy—to address the emergency.

Nira knew this was not a time for lovemaking, and comforted herself with the knowledge of her precious secret, looking forward to the time when she would be able to reveal it to Jora’h. One day, when his duties and obligations as heir to the great empire weighed too heavily upon him, she would tell him, offer him a bright spot in an otherwise troubled day. She felt sure he would consider it a miracle.

Reluctant to confide in stern Otema, though, Nira kept the information to herself and concentrated on reading the Saga to the treelings. Nira wondered whether she might have earned a place in the epic herself, by carrying the first child of an Ildiran and a human. Her baby, a hybrid with such monumental potential, might someday perform great deeds.

Soon she would have to tell Otema about the baby, if the old woman didn’t already know through the worldforest. For now, Nira justified her love for the Prime Designate, sorting out her feelings for him and speaking them aloud. Having no one else to talk to, she shared her thoughts with the nonjudgmental treelings, telling them everything.

And the always-curious worldforest absorbed the information with benevolent fascination.

105: MAGE-IMPERATOR

105MAGE-IMPERATOR

After a noticeably agitated Chairman Wenceslas raced back to mitigate the disaster on Earth, the Mage-Imperator knew it was time to launch his own plans. In the end, it did not matter how many people were hurt, because the Empire was at stake. He could no longer delay.

As the focal point of an entire race, the Mage-Imperator had no qualms about making the necessary decisions, no matter how grim and unpleasant they might be. Someday, his son Jora’h would also understand—after the Mage-Imperator was dead. The Prime Designate had no choice, and he suspected nothing.

Under bright sunlight on the rooftop of the Prism Palace, the Prime Designate and his large assigned retinue stood in traveling clothes, ornately dressed in a combination of traditional Ildiran stripes and looping scarves made from Theron cocoon fibers.

The Mage-Imperator had ordered teams of attenders to carry the chrysalis chair to the rooftop landing platform so he could bid his eldest son farewell. Getting Jora’h out of the way was the important first step, before the leader could issue his more unpleasant orders.