The Dark Between The Stars

FORTY-SIX
ARITA

When she arrived back at Theroc after her unsettling expedition to Eljiid, Arita drank in the sight of the green, tree-covered planet. Home. But by now Reyn was likely on Earth.

Bristling verdani battleships orbited the world like a crown of thorns, huge sentient trees that had burst free of their roots, transformed into mighty guardians. Integrated into each treeship was a green priest pilot, a body and mind combined with the heartwood to watch over the worldforest. Friendly vessels considered the verdani battleships majestic and awe inspiring, while enemies feared the enormous orbiting trees.

As her shuttle passed among them, Arita could feel nothing from the giant treeships beyond a distant and haunting echo, a tantalizing whisper of what she should have been able to hear. The worldtrees had altered her before rejecting her. She had been prepared for all the changes associated with taking the green, but none of that had happened. The failure itself was not unusual, supposedly not a humiliation, but no one had ever heard of a candidate being changed in any other way. Once again, Arita didn’t understand.

Back home again, she bounded off beneath the canopy, listening to the constant stir of fronds overhead as well as the movement of people, the buzz of winged vehicles flitting among the thick trees, shuttles landing and taking off.

More than a dozen lifts ran up to the primary fungus-reef. Arita worked her way through levels of offices and reception halls, passing guards and protocol officers who recognized her. She found her parents in the main throne room. Although they ruled the whole Confederation, each afternoon Peter and Estarra served as Father and Mother of Theroc. Wearing traditional robes and headdresses made of insect wings and beetle carapaces, they listened to the concerns of their people.

Arita entered in time to hear a complaint that a wyvern had been terrorizing a village on the coast. The large carnivorous creatures were rare, but this one had already devoured four people, and the villagers asked for assistance. King Peter ordered a team of hunters to go slay the monster.

When the villagers left, Estarra rose from her throne, smiling. “Arita! You didn’t let us know you were home!” She and King Peter came down to greet their daughter.

Old Father Idriss sat in his chair of honor. Though retired, Idriss liked to feel he was still an important leader. His wife had died when Arita was thirteen, and he had little else to do, so he sat in on many sessions. Lately, Arita had seen Idriss snooze through the discussions (despite his insistence that he was paying close attention). Now, the old man stirred himself awake. “Ah, Arita is back—about time!” His gray brows drew together. “Where did you go again? I’ve forgotten. Earth?”

“Reynald went to Earth,” Peter said. “Arita went to Eljiid.”

“Never heard of it. Is it an Ildiran world?”

“Klikiss world,” Arita said. “Lots of ruins.”

The old man grimaced and levered himself out of the chair. “I kept this chair warm for you, Granddaughter. You’ll have to take my place. Watch closely, listen closely. There are important matters afoot.”

“Important matters?” Arita asked. “What’s happening?”

Father Idriss shook his head. “I don’t know—ask your mother. I’m going to go lie down.”

After he made his slow way out of the throne room, Arita settled into the secondary throne, as instructed, while King Peter called for the next petitioners.

Ten green priests entered, led by tall, humorless Kennebar. Arita’s friend Collin was with them, and her heart skipped a beat; she caught his eyes, and he turned away but not before she saw a confused patchwork of emotions in his eyes: embarrassment, guilt, and worst of all, pity for her.

Arita felt disappointed in how her childhood friend seemed to be giving her a cold shoulder. They had been so close, had cared so much for each other. Did Collin believe the trees might think less of him if he maintained his friendship with her? Now he spent most of his time with Kennebar’s increasingly isolated green priests.

As children, she and Collin had been equally fascinated with bugs and plants. Neither of them had imagined the verdani would accept one of them and abandon the other. Even if he no longer saw her as a proper partner, romantic or otherwise, Arita missed his friendship. It wasn’t unheard of for a green priest and a normal person to fall in love…

Now Kennebar presented himself to her parents. “Mother Estarra, Father Peter, my people and I have reached a decision.”

That sounded ominous, Arita thought.

Estarra said, “You’ve served Theroc well. How can we help you?”

“We intend to become examples of what it means to be true green priests. Unlike so many other priests who have scattered themselves to far worlds, we serve the trees, not any human government. My group will leave here and go into the Wild.” Even after generations of settlement, huge parts of Theroc’s other main continent, the Wild, remained unexplored and undocumented. Kennebar glanced at his followers, at Collin. “Two hundred of us will travel across the sea to where the worldforest is pristine and uninhabited. By living all alone with the trees, we can do our real work without distractions.”

Arita gazed at Collin, wishing she could accompany the green priests, but she didn’t belong among them.

“Did someone offend you here?” King Peter asked, clearly troubled. “Have we hurt you in some way?”

Kennebar shook his head. “Too many green priests have become part of the Confederation and have forgotten that they belong to the worldforest. My people and I don’t wish to be exploited. Our work is sacred. We should serve the trees—not outsiders.”

Queen Estarra said with a sigh, “I cannot give you instructions if the trees tell you otherwise. We hope you find what you’re looking for in the Wild.”

Kennebar gave a brusque farewell, and his group of green priests followed him out. Arita tried to hide her pain and disappointment when Collin didn’t even turn to give her a glance…

That evening, Arita attended a banquet that was thrown for her. Many Therons welcomed her back home, asking questions about the desert planet and the whispering cacti. She was weary, she missed Reyn, and she felt sad that Kennebar’s green priests were departing.

Late at night, when she entered her room, she sensed that something was different. The soft round window in the fungus-reef let in a night breeze, as well as the buzz of jungle insects. On the shelf near the window, some of her keepsakes had been nudged aside, and she found a note on the gossamer sheets of her bed—just a small scrap of leaf paper. It was from Collin.

The young green priest must have climbed the outer walls of the fungus-reef, knowing exactly which window was hers. Had he been too embarrassed to send a message through the trees knowing that all green priests could hear what he said? His handwritten message had a single word, “Sorry.”

Arita picked it up, felt the texture of the scrap, and held it close for a long while.