A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [192]
“Monsters that live out of the sunlight and thrive on shadows. Creatures that are anathema to the Lightsource. Everyone fears them.”
“Ah, you mean the bogeyman.”
One of the nervous thrill seekers interrupted. “Can we just see the city and then get back to Prime? I have…much work to do.”
Anton raised his eyebrows skeptically. “On a vacation world?”
They had arrived at the main entrance of the uncompleted grand dome. Beetlelike black robots moved about on high scaffolds assembling thick girders, installing plates of transparent polymers. Under the garish lights, Anton saw piled materials, the residential warrens and stores, incomplete amusement complexes. Inside the dome, dwelling complexes and recreation structures stood empty beside restaurants and craft buildings, waiting to be inhabited as soon as daylight came to this side of Maratha.
The volunteer robots seemed to be making great progress on the project. Construction sounds throbbed through Anton’s headset. “How do you convince them to work so diligently? It’s not like the city will belong to them when they’re finished.”
“No Ildiran commands the Klikiss robots, Rememberer Anton. We do not enslave them or program them. They do this by their own choice.”
“I am glad they rigged up the blazers for us,” said another vacationer.
The tourists were more relaxed now in the bustle of activity and the full illumination of the main dome, though heavy shadows from girders and supports dropped like spiderwebs across the ground.
Anton stepped deeper into the domed city, listening to echoes of construction, watching the numerous robots. He had never seen so many of the alien machines together.
“Klikiss robots are particularly suited to working in the dark,” Vao’sh explained.
Anton nodded, marveling. “And they sure have been busy.”
100
KING PETER
The royal wedding was designed to be even more spectacular than King Peter’s coronation. Humbled by the battle at Osquivel, all of humanity was hungry for reassuring pageantry. The citizens set aside their anger over Peter’s birth-restriction proclamation and banded together, reinforcing each other’s optimism as if to prove they would not be beaten by the tragedy.
According to Basil Wenceslas, the wedding was just what everyone needed to keep their spirits up. And the closer relationship between Theroc and the Hansa would also give them hope.
Glad to do something positive for a change, Peter cooperated with and even encouraged enhancements to the wedding ceremony and festivities for Estarra’s sake. He cared more about making this perfect for her than for the news media. He’d begun to grow fond of the young woman from their brief times together; eventually, she might become his only ally.
Estarra had enjoyed seeing her parents and Celli again, and Sarein had seemed pleased for her sister, even a bit smug. Through the Palace green priest, she had sent and received messages on the morning of the wedding, hearing from both of her brothers, Reynald on Theroc and Beneto on Corvus Landing.
The whole Palace District had been scrubbed clean in preparation for the ceremony, all the stones oiled and buffed until they gleamed in the light. The fountains were cleaned and refilled with tinted water. Lights and banners dangled from the high points in the city. A million green ribbons were tied on the cables and crossbars of the suspension bridge that crossed the RoyalCanal. At his first glimpse of the decorations, Peter’s breath caught in his throat, and then he smiled.
Fresh flowers and trees were planted in every visible cranny to give the WhisperPalace and its grounds a verdant and supposedly “Theron” flavor, while nightly fusillades of glitter and confetti symbolized the riches of the Hanseatic League, in defiance of the ever-present hydrogue threat.
Brought out for the show, the grandfatherly head of the official religion Unison wore golden robes and carried a flashing scepter that projected a halo from its end. Though he had never actually met the King and Queen, the Archfather had been