Reynald took the rejection with good grace and a wry smile. “Basil Wenceslas would fall all over himself to have more priests, but we have turned him down. Your reaction is quite different from my experience with the Terran Hanseatic League.”

“Roamer society is very different from that of other humans.”

Reynald slid a glance over at the beautiful Cesca, obviously flirting. “We might consider a different sort of alliance then, a marriage perhaps—”

But Cesca raised her hand, looking first at her delicate fingers and then meeting his eyes. “Such a joining would indeed be a valuable political alliance. But I must inform you that I am already betrothed to the chief of a large and profitable skymine.” And I am in love with his brother.

Reynald looked away with an embarrassed expression that made him seem much younger. “Then he is a very lucky man.”

Cesca felt sorry for him, even mildly attracted to him, but her impending marriage with Ross Tamblyn was unbreakable, despite her secret feelings for Jess. Adding Reynald to the equation would make the already complicated situation intolerable.

Still, though nothing had been resolved, Reynald seemed generally happy with the discussions. He bowed again. “Before I return to Theroc after this long peregrination, allow me to extend a most heartfelt invitation to you, or any other Roamer you choose as your representative, to visit our spectacular worldforest. Sooner or later, you must get tired of empty space.”

“Space is never empty, if you know what you are looking for.” Cesca clasped his hand warmly. “Still, I look forward to seeing it someday.”

15NIRA KHALI

Perched at the top of the world, Nira Khali curled her toes around the frond and stood balanced, without a care and unafraid, even so high up in the sky. She had not yet taken the green, had not felt the worldtree song pulsing through her blood or seen the green tinge darken in her skin. Nevertheless, she trusted the worldforest with all her soul.

Her skin was dusky brown, but soon she would bear the photosynthetic pigmentation that would show everyone that she had been accepted by the magnificent trees. An acolyte for most of her young life, she understood the way of the forest, communed with the enigmatic interconnected mind even though the trees couldn’t hear her directly. Not yet.

For her day’s assignment, Nira read aloud in a rich, dramatic voice, engrossed in the stories from ancient literature that the Caillié colonists had brought with them. She sensed that the trees liked these stories of King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table. She had read several different versions of Le Morte d’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, as well as myriad retellings by Howard Pyle, John Steinbeck, and a succession of others. There were many inconsistencies among the legends, but Nira didn’t think the trees were confused. The forest mind actually enjoyed contradictions and discrepancies, and occupied a portion of its slow semiwaking consciousness pondering the implications.