Hidden Empire (12 page)
Anchoring his feet against the branches, Yarrod removed a vial from the rope at his waist. “The priests offer you our congratulations.”
Smiling, he unstoppered the tiny vial and let a dark liquid drop onto his fingertip. “You have completed the training necessary
to receive your second reader’s mark.”
He extended his fingertip, and Nira felt a rush, pleased to have achieved a new rank so quickly. She already bore the mark
of an acolyte on her forehead, and two arcs at the corners of her mouth and eyes that showed she had observed the necessary
subjects to become a first-rank reader.
Yarrod’s fingertip paused, and then he laughed. “Nira, I cannot put the marks around your mouth if you are grinning so much.”
She tried to form her face into a stoic, calm expression. He deftly smeared dark juice in a perfect curve along each side
of her mouth, broader in radius than the first set of arcs. The juice stung as it soaked into her skin, where it would alter
the chemistry of her tissues, leaving a permanent mark. It would burn for a day before she was allowed to wash it off, but
the mark would be there for all to see that she had achieved another level.
“Thank you, Yarrod. I am pleased to serve the worldforest in any capacity. Such recognition encourages me to work harder for
the next level.”
Yarrod continued to smile. “I am not finished yet, Nira. That was merely an introduction.” Nira’s heart thumped again in her
chest.
“The priests have discussed the current acolytes and studied their dedication and drive.” He looked at her with bright eyes.
Nira held her breath, but he could see right through her thoughts. “We have decided that you have earned more than just another
tattoo of learning. Your acolyte service to the worldforest has been exemplary. It could only improve if you were to become
a full-fledged green priest.”
Nira felt the trees singing around her, laughing or congratulating her, she couldn’t tell which—but soon she would. She gripped
the electronic bookplaque in her hand so hard she was afraid it might slip from between her sweaty fingertips and tumble to
the distant forest floor. She dared not let that happen.
Nira raised her chin and blinked back the tears in her eyes, looking proudly at Yarrod. Her only regret was that she had been
unable to finish reading the tale of King Arthur and his knights. That would probably be for another acolyte to do.
R
linda Kett was delighted to be back aboard the
Voracious Curiosity
. Her merchant ship was fully repaired, cleaned, and even upgraded after having been used as bait against Rand Sorengaard’s
corsairs. Now she relaxed in her custom-widened captain’s chair as the ship approached Theroc.
She came at the surprising invitation of Sarein Theron herself, the third child of Father Idriss and Mother Alexa. The daughter
had more business sense than anyone in the family, as far as Rlinda was concerned. Sarein was only twenty-one, a beautiful
and savvy woman who had already made connections with the Hansa, extending her network of favors.
Rlinda couldn’t help but respect Sarein. Certainly, it would have been politically unwise to turn down the offer to come to
Theroc to discuss “matters of interest to people such as ourselves.” From her time spent studying on Earth, Sarein had a less
provincial mind-set than either of her parents or any of her siblings.
The Therons were insular in their trade practices, keeping a tight hold on the green priests and not inclined to develop new
customers for their myriad forest products. As a trader, Rlinda had often looked with interest at Theroc, but considered the
cultural restrictions too severe for much of a trade relationship.
Sarein, though, seemed to be changing all that with her overt offer.
The Theron colony was self-sufficient and aloof from the Hanseatic League. The EDF and the Hansa had never pressed the issue,
keeping the forest inhabitants happy because they were the only source of green priests, but the Therons refused to be exploited.
Rlinda Kett did not have exploitation in mind at all, though, only mutual benefit. She always dealt fairly with her customers
and her suppliers. That was how interstellar trade should work. Still, she kept an eye open for new trade opportunities. She
would certainly listen to Sarein’s offer.
Despite her five marriages, Rlinda had no children. Instead, she operated four merchant ships, including the
Voracious Curiosity
, which was her baby. More than just the owner of her own shipping company, Rlinda was one of the best captains as well.
Each of her other captains went out to secure cargoes independently, taking risks and reaping rewards. She hadn’t yet decided
if she would try to find a replacement for the
Great Expectations
and Captain Gabriel Mesta. Though they had to buy into her franchise and pay a large fee, the captains were allowed to keep
75 percent of the profits they brought in. If a captain suffered three losses in a row, however, Rlinda’s shipping company
ousted him and opened the position for a new captain willing to sign on. She’d needed to do that only once, and the man hadn’t
even been married to her…
Descending through Theroc’s misty atmosphere, Rlinda followed the tracker beacons down into a clearing in the densely wooded
terrain, where she expertly landed the ship among the tall trees.
With a delighted smile on her broad dark face, she climbed out. Around her, the clustered worldtrees spread out in an undulating
ocean of foliage as far as the eye could see. After days aboard the merchant ship, she relished the moist, perfumed atmosphere.
She drew another breath to purge the residue of spaceship air from her lungs.
Caught in her smiling reverie, Rlinda turned and was surprised to see a slender young woman waiting. Sarein’s eyes were large
and dark, her skin a deep bronze. Her hips were narrow, her breasts small, and her dark hair cut in a short, serviceable style.
Sarein’s garments were an unusual mixture of home-dyed cocoon-fiber fabrics, natural products from Theroc, highlighted with
processed polymers and glittering jewelry from Earth.
“Rlinda Kett, thank you for coming here. Your journey was long, but I promise you the rewards will be worth the trouble.”
“No trouble,” the merchant said, patting the hull of her ship. “Glad to have the opportunity to see this place with my own
eyes. I’ve heard many intriguing things about Theroc.”
Sarein gave a brief surprised frown, which she covered with a welcoming smile. “Intriguing, truly? Maybe I’ve missed something.”
Sarein led her toward the fungus-reef city where hundreds of families lived. The massive communal dwelling was a whitish gray
growth fossilized in the junctures of several large worldtrees. The fungus reef was a giant swelling built up from thousands
of generations of hard, shelflike mushrooms. The huge fungus continued to spread as it sprayed layers of spores on top of
itself, hardening as it grew older like a fungal coral reef.
“It looks like bubbly whipped cream,” Rlinda said.
Sarein smiled at the reference. “I loved whipped cream when I was on Earth. But this is hard and filled with gaps and holes—enough
to build an entire city.”
Sarein escorted her through the marvelous organic monument. “The first colonists from the
Caillié
abandoned their prefabricated shelters early on and moved into these fungus reefs.” She rapped her knuckles on the spongy
yet sturdy wall. “Then they augmented, decorated, and added to the city. Plumbing, lighting strips, coolant systems, power
conduits, and communication nodes.”
“It’s not exactly primitive.” Rlinda’s eyes brightened. “Still, seems to me there could be a market here for a few new amenities.”
Sarein flashed a glance at the large merchant woman, smiling in agreement, though she didn’t say it out loud.
“Tell me, though,” Rlinda said. “How is it that I’m the one who came to your attention? The Hansa has hundreds of merchants
who would love to make their pitch.”
“I thought of
you
, Rlinda Kett, because you applied for licenses to explore the marketability of certain food items and jungle fabrics. Everyone
else who pokes around on Theroc is only interested in the green priests. You seem different.” She lowered her voice. “A few
test cargoes may well be the wedge that we need with my parents. You could be our first intermediary.”
Rlinda was barely able to believe her good fortune. “If that’s my duty, I’m happy to serve.”
Sarein wore a dreamy look. “Chairman Wenceslas is also very supportive of any venture that brings my world into the larger
fold of galactic commerce. He told me so himself.”
They entered a large chamber that opened to a breathtaking view of the tree-strewn forest levels. Sarein gestured for Rlinda
to sit at a long table of iron-hard wood spread with a hundred colorful delicacies. Rlinda gaped hungrily at the selection
of trays and goblets, decanters of juices and fermented drinks, steaming hot beverages and chilled ices swirled with colored
sugars and glistening edible seeds.
“Before we can properly discuss the market potential of Theron products, I’ve arranged for you to sample our best. I hope
you don’t mind.”
“Not at all! A merchant is required to personally vouch for the quality and desirability of all food products.” Rlinda patted
her large stomach and wide thighs. “As you can see, I enjoy my work a great deal.”
Sarein began sliding platters toward her, rattling off the names and derivations of each dish. She pointed to one after another
after another. “Rindberries, splurts, puckers… hmmm, seedberries—you have to be
very
hungry or very patient to put up with these things.” She pushed the plate aside without even letting Rlinda taste one.
“Jigglefruit, sweet and gelatinous, but it makes a big mess. Dangoes. Napples—very crunchy, but you might get sleepy if you
eat too many. These white things are pair-pears, because they grow double on the branches. We’ve also got eight kinds of our
best nectar, and urns of pollen used for spices, spreads, even as candy.”
The plump merchant valiantly tried to keep up with tasting each item Sarein offered, bowl after bowl of varieties of nuts.
“Perrin seeds, saltnuts, crackles. Here, these spreadnuts have a very creamy interior. The
Caillié
colonists named everything in a rush during their first years of sampling the foods on Theroc. Later on, they figured out
the detailed scientific taxonomy… but who really needs it?”
Since Theroc had no native mammals, the people ate caterpillar fillets, insect steaks, lightly browned and covered with a
tart sauce made from fermented fruits. Rlinda hesitated at the thought of eating insects, then shrugged and fell to her meal
with gusto. One delicacy, equivalent to the richest veal, was sliced cutlets from a pupating condorfly larva.
“I’m glad you’ve done all the experimentation for me already.” Rlinda smacked her lips and closed her eyes to savor the taste
as she chewed.
She removed an electronic pad and began to detail her favorite selections, itemizing the fruits, nuts, and spiced beverages
according to her estimation of potential markets. The cloths and meats, mushrooms, scented oils and botanical perfumes would
find customers. In her own mind, since she was such a well-versed gourmand herself, she imagined how some of these exotic
flavors would combine with other cuisines and ingredients from far-flung planets on her trade route.
Finally, Rlinda sat back, enormously satisfied. The drowsy effect of the food was counteracted by the stimulants she had consumed.
Dizzy with the possibilities, she heaved a long sigh and reached a beefy hand to pat Sarein’s wrist.
“I can’t wait to meet with Father Idriss and Mother Alexa so we can discuss trade. I think Theroc has a lot to offer Hansa
customers.”
Content but ambitious herself, Sarein nodded. “Chairman Wenceslas and I understand each other very well. I’m certain
I can make the necessary arrangements, for both of us. Just
leave everything to me.”
W
hen Chairman Wenceslas met with representatives of a dozen colony planets in the Terran Hanseatic League, he eschewed boardrooms
and formal reception chambers. More often than not, he brought the representatives to his private suite that covered the top
floor of the Hansa headquarters building, where he could better conduct business.
