Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [65]
So, he had done his duties without any particular passion or inspiration. He had never wanted an impressive or pampered assignment in an opulent colony government house, because then people would be bothering him all the time. He found tolerable assignments by choosing history tracts and geology texts to read to the trees. But here, on Rheindic Co, the desert serenity called to him.
Now as Arcas walked away from the camp, looking at the wrinkle-backed mountains, he followed a line of boulders up an alluvial fan that narrowed into a canyon. As the rough walls rose above him, he saw the gnarled striations of geological layers that reminded him of the growth rings in a cut tree.
Arcas crunched along the loose riverbed. The echoes reflected eerily from the narrow walls. He looked around, keeping his eyes open for any discovery that might help the Colicoses' work. When he'd joined this mission, Arcas had offered more than just his services as a green priest. His passing knowledge of archaeology and geology made him a potential assistant.
As he proceeded deeper into the canyon, he realized he had never in his life been so far from the comforting touch of plants and trees. Or crowds of people. The ruddy sun angled into the canyon, and he looked up at a smooth, white section where a slab of limestone had sheared off in large, cream-colored lumps. With awe, he saw shapes and designs molded into the limestone: fossilized remains of alien creatures that had lived uncounted millennia ago, a bent frond of what looked like a fern, a bony sea creature with large jaws and sharp fins.
He removed his rock hammer and chipped away the most remarkable fossils, storing them in a pouch at his waist. Then he imaged others that were too large to excavate. These specimens had lived millions of years before the Klikiss ever set foot on Rheindic Co. As Margaret Colicos had reminded him, this was a scientific expedition, and Arcas could make discoveries of his own.
He hiked back toward the encampment, stepping over tumbled boulders that lay strewn like giant marbles. Even if the canyon had not provided such a precise route, Arcas could have opened his mind and let the treelings call him back to the camp. With worldtrees around, a green priest could never get lost.
He looked down the gentle slope of the alluvial fan. Far to the south, he saw a smear of bruised darkness across the sky where their survey satellites had shown distant volcanoes spewing ash and soot. Each day, he loved the blazing watercolor sunsets most of all.
He adored this desert world, though such feeling gave him a twinge of guilt, because it seemed like a denial of the worldtrees. But he made up for it by hurrying to the little grove, kneeling beside the treelings, and touching their trunks. Closing his eyes, he recalled the palette of his memory and described all the beautiful things he had seen.
The trees responded with wordless delight.
30 SAREIN
As the humid forest settled for the night, Sarein made sure her little sister Celli went to bed. Idriss and Alexa were not rigid parents, but Sarein insisted on following a schedule. Though the ten-year-old always tried to wheedle another hour or so of playtime, Sarein insisted that Celli abide by the rules.
"Tie down your pet condorfly," she said. "And wash up."
"He needs me to watch over him," said Celli with a pout. The colorful creature rattled its emerald-green wings inside the chamber, then clacked its long thin beak as if in search of flower petals to devour.
"He can take care of himself. He is a wild creature, you know." Sarein stood in the low doorway, brooking no argument. She knew it would be only a matter of moments before her sister heaved a sigh and did as she was told.
"He's my pet." Celli had captured this one just as it emerged from its chrysalis, still moist and weak. She kept a thin chain cuffed to one of its eight segmented legs so that it could flap and drift above her shoulder like a living kite. Sarein had always thought condorflies had