A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [11]
Following the performance, Estarra let Reynald talk business with the villagers while she happily accepted an invitation to splash in the warm water with a few local girls. She loved the sensation of floating and swimming, though she had the opportunity to do so only a few times a year.
Treading water in the LookingGlassLake, Estarra gazed up into the night, marveling at the sight of open sky from ground level. In her own city, the forest canopy was so thick she had to climb to the top just to see constellations. Now, floating in the open, she was dazzled by the view overhead, with billions of gleaming lights, a veritable forest of stars in the vault of space, full of people, worlds, possibilities.
When she returned to the brightly lit worm hives, dripping and invigorated, she found her brother speaking with a young priest named Almari. The woman’s eyes were bright with intelligence and curiosity; Almari had spent years as an acolyte singing to the trees, adding to the musical knowledge stored in the botanical database. Like all green priests, she was hairless, her head smooth, her face adorned with tattoos denoting various accomplishments.
Reynald was gracious and polite, leaving his options open. “You are beautiful and clever, Almari. No one can deny that. I’m certain you would make a fine wife.”
Estarra knew the discussion, for she had seen it several times already on this brief peregrination.
Almari spoke quickly, as if to cut him off before he could turn her down. “Especially in these difficult times, is it not appropriate that the next Mother of Theroc be a green priest?”
Reynald reached out to touch the delicate green skin on Almari’s wrist. “I can’t argue with that, but I see no need to rush.”
Noticing Estarra, Almari got up and took her leave, looking embarrassed.
Grinning impishly, Estarra gave her brother a playful punch in the shoulder. “She was pretty.”
“She was the third one tonight.”
“Better to have too many choices than none at all,” Estarra said.
He groaned. “Then again, there’s something to be said for having a clear-cut decision.”
“Poor, poor Reynald.”
He gave his sister a playful punch in return. “At least I’m not the Ildiran Prime Designate. He’s required to have thousands of lovers and as many children as he can possibly breed.”
“Ah, the terrible responsibilities of leadership.” Estarra flung her wet hair to splash him. “Since I’m merely the fourth child, my only worry is when I’ll have a chance to go swimming again. How about now?”
Giggling, she ran off, and Reynald looked after her with envy.
4
PRIME DESIGNATE JORA’H
As the eldest noble-born son of the Mage-Imperator, Prime Designate Jora’h filled his days with dutiful distractions. Fertile women from across the spectrum of Ildiran kiths applied for mating privileges, and the lists grew long with more female volunteers than he could possibly service.
The Prime Designate’s next assigned lover was named Sai’f. Whip-thin and alert, she was from the scientist kith, an expert in biology and genetics. Sai’f was interested in botany, developing new crop strains for diverse splinter colonies.
She came to Jora’h in his contemplation chamber in the PrismPalace, where constant daylight shone through gem-colored crystal panels. Her brow was high, her head large, and her eyes sharp and attentive, as if she were capturing every detail for later study.
Jora’h stood before her, tall and handsome, his face defining the Ildiran ideal of beauty. Golden hair drifted in a nimbus around his head like a halo, knotted into ten thousand fine strands. “Thank you for asking to be with me, Sai’f,” he said, meaning it—as he always did. “May our shared gift today produce a gift for the entire Ildiran Empire.”
In nimble hands, Sai’f held a ceramic pot that contained a twisted, woody-stemmed shrub. Its thorned branches were bent, constrained, massaged into an unnatural shape. Shyly, she extended the pot. “For you, Prime Designate.”
“How poignant and fascinating.