A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [135]
Sensing her cue and anxious to get the routine over with, Estarra extended a small pot containing the feathery treeling she had brought as a formal gift. “This treeling is for you as Chairman of the Hanseatic League, with the wish that it may grow and thrive like the Hansa itself.”
The fact that she had been asked to give her most important present to the Chairman rather than the King provided an inkling as to the true distribution of power here.
“Why, thank you, Estarra,” Basil said, but did not move to touch the treeling. Instead, he gestured for his blond-haired attendant to take the gift; then he smiled down at her as if she were a little girl. “Let’s go see King Peter. I’m sure you’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Though she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with him, Estarra noticed that she and Peter were never allowed to really meet. In their first encounter, they ate an informal luncheon in a glass-ceilinged conservatory in one of the labyrinthine wings of the WhisperPalace. A parade of attendants forced rich pastries and sweets upon her, but Estarra wasn’t hungry.
The King sat at the far end of the polished table, wearing a trim and serviceable gray-and-blue uniform that seemed to symbolize the lean times in the Hansa. An old-model Teacher compy stood beside him like a private adviser, and Basil Wenceslas took a seat at the corner.
Other representatives and functionaries chatted loudly, the drone of their conversation forming a thicket around Estarra. It was as if this supposedly casual reception had been arranged to deny her and Peter any chance to speak more than rote pleasantries to each other.
The King was certainly handsome, she had to admit that. She had seen his image in news distributions and had always thought he appeared well-mannered. Peter had a personal magnetism with his blond hair, blue eyes, and finely formed features, but his every word in public seemed scripted and rehearsed.
Now as she sat across from him, they stole glances at each other, as if trying to communicate mentally. Peter ran his gaze over her face and her clothes, appraising Estarra just as she appraised him. She wondered if he was as wary and as baffled about her as she was about him.
Some of her stiffness flowed away as she felt sorry for the young King and realized their shared dilemma. Right now, they both seemed to be puppets to higher powers. It would be a most unpleasant marriage if they treated each other as enemies. When his eyes met hers, she gave him a soft smile. Her reaction seemed to surprise, then please him, and he smiled back at her.
The Chairman and Sarein lifted tiny cups of a fiery cinnamon tea purported to be King Peter’s favorite, though he did not seem to drink it with any more relish than Estarra did. “To the royal couple,” said Chairman Wenceslas. “May their love and this alliance make the Hansa grow stronger.”
“To the royal couple!” Sarein echoed.
Estarra and Peter raised their cups, locking eyes but unable to say anything to each other.
69
GENERAL KURT LANYAN
When the volunteer green priests arrived on Mars, General Lanyan received them as enthusiastically as if he’d been given a brand-new weapon to play with.
He waited inside the base’s large briefing room as personnel transport pods docked against the base buildings and the volunteers disembarked. He paced the floor, eager to see just how these long-awaited communicators measured up.
The green priests came in, looking disoriented and chilly—nineteen men and women of varying ages and body types. All of them had smooth green skin in a range of shades; every one was completely hairless. Each priest carried a potted plant; the thin treelings were less than a meter tall, with feathery fronds spilling downward.
Tattooed designs on the priests’ faces and arms marked ranks and specialties within their mysterious religion. Accustomed to the warm humidity of Theroc, they wore little clothing—and seemed to be regretting it here