A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [225]
“Out there, Osira’h, the hydrogues continue to make war, and they don’t understand which of us are their enemies and which are allies. They don’t understand exactly who we are, how we think. No longer are the hydrogues content to remain within their gas giants. But the hydrogues themselves don’t understand their targets.”
He tightened his grip on Osira’h‘s shoulder, then self-consciously withdrew. “I just received a report that warglobes have devastated a wilderness world within Ildiran territory. Dularix. It’s a place that neither humans nor Ildirans had ever colonized. No one was there, and yet the hydrogues simply destroyed it.”
“But why?” Osira’h said. “Why don’t they leave us alone?”
“That is what you must ask them, Osira’h, when you are ready. You can bridge the gap between our species and create an understanding, forge an alliance to save all Ildirans. The Klikiss robots achieved that for us long ago, but they have failed this time. So the Empire must turn to you, Osira’h. Your mind can send out that message, along with the potent emotions we need to convey. It may be the only way the hydrogues can truly comprehend us.”
Osira’h pressed her lips together, not sure whether she should tell the Designate…but she had never kept any secrets from him. “Two days ago, I felt a calling in my mind, like a shout, a cry for help. I didn’t know what it was, but I think I’ve felt it before.”
The Designate looked startled, stern again. “Who was it? How did you hear this telepathic message?”
Osira’h shrugged. “It was during the time of the fires. I felt a connection. Someone…a woman? She was calling out, very desperate and very sad. She seemed close to me.”
“Close? You mean nearby?” The Designate turned away from the window to look into Osira’h‘s eyes.
Her fluffy pale brown hair twitched of its own accord. “It was here on Dobro…but also close to my mind, like someone I should know well.”
Deeply disturbed, Udru’h ushered the girl away from the window. “Don’t trouble yourself. It is nothing, irrelevant to what we must concentrate on.”
“Of course.” Osira’h was vastly wise beyond her years due to her special parentage, mental abilities, and challenging upbringing, but sometimes the Designate still treated her like a toddler.
“We have much work to do, and little time.”
The girl followed him to where the trainers would drill her for hours, deep into Dobro’s night, until the sun rose again and washed the sky with nourishing light. But the girl longed to look toward the breeding camp again, wondering who had called out to her. That mysterious woman had sounded so hopeless.
Osira’h felt it was something she should know. One day, perhaps, she would find out.
117
MAGE-IMPERATOR
Bearing dire news, Bron’n entered the Mage-Imperator’s presence. Through the thism, ailing Cyroc’h could sense his guard’s urgency. Already, he knew that the worst was about to happen, despite his many days of trying to keep Jora’h under tight control.
The great leader rested in his chrysalis chair under the skysphere, where he had held court for hours, clinging to the adulation of his subjects, drawing the soul-threads of light from them and regaining a trickle of strength. Though he was in intense pain from the growths in his brain and spine, the Mage-Imperator refused to hide from the pilgrims and petitioners. Not anymore.
With his crystal-bladed katana, Bron’n nudged aside two swimmers who had been praising the ruler for several minutes. The guard lowered his voice. “The Prime Designate has found a ship, Liege. He intends to leave imminently.”
The Mage-Imperator’s watery eyes stung. “Yes, Bron’n, I felt it. Jora’h cannot hide from me. He knows I see everything he does—yet still he intends to go.” Raising a pudgy hand, Cyroc’h waved the swimmers away. Awed, they stepped back toward the edge of the reception hall.
“His ship will leave for Dobro within an hour, Liege,” Bron’n said in a rough, urgent voice. “Shall I call out other guards? I can stop him forcibly.”
“No,