A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [178]
She watched the fires race over the tinder grass and consume the thorny trees. Nira thought again achingly of the worldforest, sympathizing with the silent agony that even this alien cluster of scrubby trees was enduring. Fire is the worst nightmare, worse even than rape…
One of the Ildiran guards handed her a spadelike tool, and she moved out with the other workers, desperate to stop the conflagration. At last, perhaps she could do some good here, protect some living trees, even if they were only vanishingly distant cousins of the worldforest. It was a purpose she could grasp.
The recruits dug trenches, scooping the tinder grass clear, setting controlled backfires to erase all fuel in the path of the blaze. Nira watched the blaze sweep down into a sheltered valley full of dark, low trees. Though her communion with the worldforest had been severed, she almost thought she could hear a tremor of terror and despair as the flames engulfed that small patch of forest.
On the fire-fighting crews, she saw younger workers, small children, many of them obviously half-breeds with strange body shapes and odd clusters of muscles. Without fear, they scampered forward to the very edge of the flames and added fire-retardant sprays.
Nira watched the mixed-blood children, trying to guess their ages. Soot-flecked tears streamed out of her large eyes, not entirely from irritation by the smoke. The Dobro Designate was pitiless, and he used everyone as he saw fit. Some of those children could even be Nira’s own babies, but she would never know. And it would never have made a difference to the Designate.
Nira felt sorry for the others and wished she could help them somehow. But she could not fight everything. She had to take one tangible battle at a time.
With the fires burning through the Dobro hills, Nira lost all sense of the hours passing as she continued her unending fight.
93
ESTARRA
Inside a private open-air classroom on one of the WhisperPalace’s rooftops, an invisible threadscreen covered the roof, and swarms of colorful butterflies flew free, alighting on any surface. According to the Teacher compy OX, this was one of Peter’s favorite places to receive instruction…but the butterflies kept settling on Estarra’s arms and in her hair, and she found it difficult to concentrate on the lessons.
The Teacher compy instructed her in manners, protocol, and diplomacy, in social expectations and how to address official representatives. Back on Theroc, she’d learned her own world’s history, but now OX insisted on giving her a full briefing on the Terran Hanseatic League. Even while the Osquivel offensive continued and all the Hansa waited for news, she still had to attend her classes.
Today, with Chairman Wenceslas still gone, King Peter had joined the instruction session, apparently as an excuse to have more time in Estarra’s company. He smiled at her attempts to focus while the colorful butterflies flitted around inside the netted enclosure. Estarra fought down her laughter, struggling to concentrate. Peter tried to hide his delight, but he knew it showed on his face.
When the Teacher compy had to repeat his question twice, startling Estarra out of her fascination with a large iridescent blue morpho, the King said, “OX doesn’t believe in boring schoolrooms. He also doesn’t understand just how distractible a student can be. When I was younger, he thought I could keep my mind on studies while I was swimming in a dolphin pool.”
Estarra’s eyes lit up. “I love swimming. What are dolphins?”
“I’ll show you one day,” he said. “I promise.”
“Another time,” OX said. “We have more to accomplish here, and it requires concentration.”
Before OX could finish the lesson, though, Chairman Wenceslas strode into the butterfly lecture hall, newly returned from Mars. He was obviously agitated. “It’s a damn good thing the guards keep track of your whereabouts, Peter. I don’t have