Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [67]
On wondrous Earth, Sarein had been fed the best meals and given the finest wines. Basil had courted her, knowing that this young daughter might be a key to opening Theroc, and Sarein, realizing what he was doing, had willingly let herself be lured. She had as much to gain as did the Chairman.
She had allowed Basil to seduce her, and they became lovers for several months before her schedule forced her to return home. He had been a considerate partner, patient yet energetic, and Sarein had come to care for him beyond her initial attraction to his knowledge and power. She loved his élan, and she recognized how much he desired everything that Sarein represented. To him, she was possible leverage to receiving more green priests.
Weary of her work now, Sarein dimmed the glow lights, stripped off her clothes, and slid naked between the slick woven sheets of her bed. She felt dizzy and restless, her mind yammering with possibilities, contract language, numbers. As she drifted off to sleep, she smiled, letting herself dwell on actual memories mixed with fantasies of Basil.
Sarein began to wonder who had actually seduced whom.
31 AMBASSADOR OTEMA
As soon as the old woman returned to Theroc, the weariness of so many years of service lifted from her shoulders like condorflies taking wing. A devoted green priest, Otema relished being back home among the worldtrees.
On Earth she'd had lush quarters in the diplomatic section of the WhisperPalace, and the King's gardens held many worldtrees. Still, Otema longed to touch the soil of Theroc with her bare feet, to scale the broad trunks and feel the feather touch of interlocking fronds.
At the age of 137, she was the oldest of the green priests. After so many years of symbiosis, her skin had darkened to deepest green. Otema had maintained her health through her link with the forest and her dedication to her duties, but now she was glad to come back to rest, to study, and to pray.
The worldforest seemed uneasy, as if pondering a deep secret or gradually becoming aware of a hidden concern. None of the green priests understood it completely, but they trusted the judgment of the trees and remained on guard.
As the Theron ambassador to Earth, Otema had done her work for the trees, butting heads with the ambitious Hansa. Stern and inflexible, the old woman had earned herself the nickname "Iron Lady" by resisting Chairman Wenceslas's methods of persuasion, and stonewalling the Hanseatic League's strident demands for more green priests. Otema did not yet know who would be chosen as her successor, but she did not envy that person the job that lay ahead.
As Otema disembarked from the shuttle in the landing clearing, she moved slowly but precisely, not because she was frail but because her every movement was careful. She stood under the sunlight of Theroc, looking up to the turgid sea of treetops. She spread her green-skinned arms wide, closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath to inhale the song of the worldtrees.
Even through the undertone of hidden fear, from the forest's drowsy mind she felt a flurry of welcome, a vibration of acceptance and happiness. She heard the greetings of fellow green priests who remained here, as well as a fainter echo of the others with their own treelings scattered across the Spiral Arm.
"Ah, thank you," Otema said aloud, knowing the trees would hear, as would all the other priests. She felt revitalized, a dozen years younger.
Long before many green priests reached her age, they grew so weary of life that they allowed themselves to rejoin the forest—not dying in the usual sense, but letting themselves be absorbed into the database of trees so that their cells were incorporated in the ever-growing biological network. But Otema did not feel her work was finished yet.
Yarrod, a prominent green priest, met her at the shuttle. "We are glad to have you back with us, Otema. Father