Celli sought out the distant mind she missed so much, and Beneto broke through to her briefly.The burning trees must cut themselves off. Stop the spread of the fire before the faeros conquer all the worldforest.

Like the sound of shattering crystal in her mind, a burst of pain nearly deafened her. Traveling invisible pathways, the faeros had jumped to Beneto — and now his immense battleship body became a torch high above Theroc. too far away for her to help him, burning and burning, but not dying.

8

Queen Estarra

Huddled inside the sealed hydrogue derelict, Estarra held the baby close. In the panicked flight from the fungus reef, she hadn’t even noticed how her hands and arms were blistered and smudged from falling embers. Peter’s face was scalded, his voice raspy from inhaling so much smoke.

Outside the insulated diamond walls, the flames roared so brightly that she had to shield her eyes. The meadow was entirely ablaze, and another huge branch crashed down.

“I can still fly this vessel,” the Teacher compy offered. “Its systems are functional. I am perfectly capable of guiding it out of the fire.”

Estarra felt a surge of relief. “Of course you are, OX!”

The compy placed his polymer hands on the crystal knobs and accessed the complex etched circuitry. The hydrogue engines made no sound; there was no roar of liftoff or blast of rockets, but the small sphere heaved itself up from the ground. OX guided them higher, above the conflagration, above the torch trees.

Across the sweep of the canopy Estarra spotted other islands of fire where faeros had caught on specific trees, perhaps weak points in the telink network, or places where Yarrod’s green priests had inadvertently created a vulnerability. But most of the worldforest had not yet succumbed. It was bad, she knew, but it could have been worse.

Past the circle of fire that had trapped them, they saw many Therons running to scattered Roamer cargo craft. “Better land among them, OX,” Peter said, his eyes darting from side to side as he raced through possible options. “We might need those vessels to take people to safety.”

“Eleven large military ships have just arrived in orbit, King Peter,” the Teacher compy announced. “They belong to the Earth Defense Forces.”

Estarra felt sick inside as she jumped to the obvious conclusion. “The EDF is attacking usnow?”

Peter’s left hand unconsciously tightened. “Damn the Chairman! Send a message, OX. Tell them that we intend to vigorously resist any Hansa aggression. Don’t let them think we’re vulnerable.”

An older woman’s voice replied to the transmission in a hard drawl; Estarra recognized Admiral Willis. “King Peter, I’m not here to give you a black eye — I came to offer a helping hand. Looks like you could use it, too. My ships and I no longer serve Chairman Wenceslas.”

“That’s good news, Admiral, but as you can see, we’re in the middle of an emergency here. I don’t have time for formalities.”

“Then I’m glad we got here when we did. I’m coming down in a shuttle — if you promise not to shoot me out of the sky.”

“That’s a promise.”

OX guided the derelict into the open area among several intact worldtrees where Therons had gathered. Peter and Estarra emerged from the hatch and tried to organize all the people. Before long, an EDF command shuttle descended toward their position, alarming many of those gathered there, especially Roamers, but Peter called for calm.

When Willis disembarked, she ran an appraising eye over the royal couple. She straightened, gave a salute, then a bow, as if she wasn’t sure which gesture was expected. “I was hoping to be a bit more diplomatic about this, King Peter, but the circumstances are unusual. The eleven capital ships under my command have come to throw in our hats with the Confederation. Could you use a few battleships?”

Estarra couldn’t believe the offer, especially considering what she’d expected. “We certainly wouldn’t turn them down, Admiral — but right now we’ve got our hands full with other problems. Can you help us?”

Peter added, “I don’t suppose you have any experience with wildfires?”

Willis answered with a shrug of bravado. “How about we consider this our first assignment on your behalf?”

9

Nira

As the only green priest imprisoned on the Moon with the Ildiran captives, Nira felt cut off, unaware of what else might be happening in the Spiral Arm. The base commandant kept them separated in randomly chosen groups “for security reasons” — guard kithmen, Solar Navy soldiers, attenders, bureaucrats, even Rememberer Vao’sh and his companion Anton Colicos.

The rock walls of the lunar base were cold and dry, sealed with transparent polymer, but Nira tasted dust in every breath. The lights were painfully artificial, too bright, too white. She longed for something green and alive.

But she felt a much greater concern for the Mage-Imperator than for herself. She could see in his red, haunted eyes and jerky mannerisms that Jora’h was desperate and lost. Her heart went out to him, filled with love, fear, and indignation at what Chairman Wenceslas had done to him — and Nira’s pain could be only a whisper of the ragged agony Jora’h must be feeling through thethism. His people needed him!

The Mage-Imperator knew that Rusa’h and the faeros had unleashed an inferno in the capital city of Mijistra, driving Prime Designate Daro’h out of the Prism Palace, and destroying many warliners in Adar Zan’nh’s Solar Navy. When the fiery attack had begun, Nira had briefly received information through a treeling aboard the warliner. Through histhism connection, the Mage-Imperator had sensed the panic and death of many Ildirans. And just when the people needed their leader more than ever before, Chairman Wenceslas had seized Jora’h’s warliner and brought them all here as political prisoners.Hostages.

“I can still feel it,” Jora’h said to her. The star-sapphire glint in his eyes showed an edge of frenzy. His hands trembled, and his long braid had begun to unravel. “Ildira is wounded.”

The Chairman refused to set him free. Though he knew the faeros were attacking Ildira, he remained oblivious to the urgency — or perhaps, Nira thought, he was well aware of the situation and was using it for his own purposes.

The dozen bestial-looking guard kithmen growled and flexed their clawed fingers as they prowled the perimeter of the former mess hall where the hostages were allowed to gather. Though stripped of their crystal katanas, the hopelessly outnumbered guards were ready to tear the humans apart, given the slightest signal from their Mage-Imperator. Nira tried to calm Jora’h, and as he relaxed, so did the guard kithmen.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Jora’h turned to whoever was coming, setting his face in a hard, commanding expression. Even under these appalling circumstances he clung to a pride and dignity that Nira admired. She moved next to him, offering all her support.