Quiet Invasion(17)
The only entrance to the trees was a long tunnel that was so narrow that only one person at a time could fly its length. Pink and gold papillae tasted the air around each entrant, making sure that he or she was a free citizen of Ca’aed. If the entrant was a stranger to the city or an indenture, it made sure he or she had received permission from the city or a speaker to come. If not, the ends of the tunnel would seal and Ca’aed would call for the district’s speaker.
Entering the trees was like flying straight into the canopy. It was a jungle of leaves, stems, branches, and trunks, all grown into one another. They spread from the center of the room to the carapace. They climbed the walls, until patterns of intertwining stems and roots covered the carapace’s grainy hide. All the colors of growing life shone there in a delicate riot. It all appeared extremely fragile, but the slightest root was many times stronger than the thickest metal wire T’sha had ever touched. It was as beautiful to T’sha as any temple.
Inside the trees’ veins flowed the DNA records of every registered promise of the world of Home. Not all promises were registered. Promises passed every day between friends and family that had no need to be here, but promises between businesses, between cities and villages, between ambassadors and any person or any city needed to be recorded. Their fine tendrils of implication needed to be tracked. In here were promises of marriage, merger, birth, inheritance, indenture, trade, service, and sale.
None of this luxuriant growth was necessary, of course. All of the promise registries could have been contained in a set of cortex boxes, and in a younger city it might have been, but the beauty and elaboration of Ca’aed was one of the aspects of it that T’sha had always loved about her city.
T’deu, T’sha’s older brother, hovered near the top of the chamber, away from the other trackers and registrants who dotted the chamber. T’deu was an archiver, trained in the reading and tracking of promises. T’sha wove her way through the maze of stems and branches until the air of her passage brushed against him. Her brother turned on his wingtip and leaned forward, rubbing his muzzle joyfully against hers.
“Ambassador Sister!” he said, softly but happily. She and T’deu shared the same birth mother. His father had entered the marriage because of a political promise, and hers had been promised in to help his family when their city fell into trouble. She and T’deu had been raised together and never lost their friendship, even after they were both declared adults and sent out to make their own lives. “It is good to have you here, no matter what the circumstances.”
“Thank you, Archiver Brother.” T’sha pulled away just a little. “You heard about Gaith.”
He dipped his muzzle. “Ca’aed spread the word to the speakers, and the speakers have not been silent.”
T’sha’s bones bunched as she winced, but she smoothed them out. “Brother, we need to redirect this wind. It is going to be used to rush us into an untenable situation.”
T’deu peered up at her, as if he could see into her mind and touch her thoughts. “If you tell me so,” he said, but he did not sound certain.
T’sha accepted his words and dismissed his tone. “I want us to bring Gaith’s body here.”
Her brother deflated in a long, slow motion. “That’s dangerous, T’sha—”
“No, listen, there are advantages here. If we give Gaith’s engineers the resources to regenerate and resurrect the city and they give us the knowledge and experience they gain from the task, we will be able to turn around and make our own promises with that information, should this strain of disease spread.”
“It will mean bringing in a potential contagion, though,” T’deu reminded her. “You’ll have to take a vote on that.”
“I’ll get the votes. Can you design me a promise that will do the job?”
“I can design anything you like.” T’deu waved one wing at the maze of stems and branches around them. “I could grow you a tree that would outline ownership of the clouds above us. Implementing it—”
“Is my job,” said T’sha, cutting him off. “Make sure you graft P’kan’s engineers into its branches. They hold several promises against the city. This will help close those down.”
“Of course, Ambassador,” T’deu said, deflating with mock servility. “Anything else?”
“Should fresh thoughts sprout, I’ll share them with you.”
T’deu moved even closer, making sure his words reached only her. “Why are you really doing this, Ambassador Sister? It is not only for the profit of the city, or even for the good of Gaith.”