“Ca’doth was the first of the Teacher-Kings,” began T’sha, keeping her attention fixed on the tapestry, as was proper. “Contemplate the object and its lesson. This is the way to learn.” Which of the parade of teachers had first told her that? “He led twenty cities in the Equatorial Calms. But he wanted to harvest eight canopy islands that were also claimed by D’anai, who was Teacher-King for the Southern Roughs. A feud began. Each king made great promises to their neighbors to join their cause. Arguments and debates lasted years. Ca’doth, who was the greatest speaker ever known, persuaded the winds and the clouds and even the birds to help him.” T’sha’s imagination showed her Ca’dom, strong and healthy, spreading his wings to the listening clouds.
“What he wanted most was that the living highlands should stop feeding his enemies,” she went on, falling into the rhythm of her recitation. The teacher hovered close beside her, encouraging her with his silence. “But no matter how long he flew around the highlands, they made no response to his great speeches.” The smallest of the monocellulars originated in the living highlands, which expelled them into the air to be the seeds for all other life in the world.
“At last, he realized he would have to fly inside the highland to make it hear him. He dived straight down the throat of the living highland, beating his wings against winds of solid lava. He passed through a chamber where the walls were pale skin, a chamber of white bone, a chamber of silver plasma, and a chamber tangled with muscle and nerve. In each he heard a riddle to which he did not know the answer.” For a moment, she thought the teacher would ask her the riddles, but he did not, and she kept going. “Finally, Ca’dom came to a chamber where the air around him shimmered golden with the pure essence of life, and he knew he floated within the soul of the living highland.
“‘Why do you feed my enemies?’ he cried. ‘They steal what I need to live. I have promised away all my present that I may gain a future for my children, and yet you feed those who would destroy them. Why?’
“The soul of the highland answered him, ‘Life cannot choose who it helps. If your enemy came to me first, should I starve you instead?’
“But Ca’doth did not listen. He argued and pleaded and threatened, until the highland said ‘Very well, I will not feed your enemy.’
“Pleased, Ca’doth passed through the chambers, and there he heard the answers to all the riddles but could not tell which answer fitted which riddle. He emerged into the clear and returned to tell his family the highland would no longer feed their rivals.
“But when he reached his birth city, the city and all within were dead, starved.
“The highland would not feed the rivals, but the highland would no longer feed Ca’doth’s people either. Ca’doth turned from his rule and his other cities and drifted on the winds for the rest of his life, trying to fit the answers to the riddles.”
The teacher dipped his muzzle approvingly. “And what is the meaning of this story?”
“All life is linked,” answered T’sha promptly. “If that is forgotten, all life will die.” Even the flies, she sighed inwardly. Even the fungus. Even I and D’seun.
T’sha deflated before the teacher and flew respectfully underneath him. She slipped around the side of the temple to the gifting nets and deposited her offering—a pouch of seeds and epiphytes that her own family had recently spread in the canopy. They were having great success in healing a breech in the growth. Hopefully, the temple’s conservators could make use of them as well.
As she sealed the gifting net up and turned, she found herself muzzle-to-muzzle with Z’eth, one of the most senior ambassadors to the Meet. T’sha pulled back reflexively, fanning her wings to get some distance.
“Good luck, Ambassador T’sha,” said Z’eth, laughing a little at how startled her junior colleague was. Z’eth was big and round. Even when she had contracted herself, she was a presence that filled rooms and demanded attention. She had only three tattoos on her pale skin—her family’s formal name, the rolling winds, indicating she was a student of life, and the ambassador’s flock of birds on her muzzle. Despite her sparse personal decoration, there was something extravagant about Z’eth. Perhaps that was only because there was no promise so rare or exotic she would not make it if it benefited her city. T’sha could not blame her for that. The city K’est had sickened when T’sha was still a child, and Z’eth’s whole existence had become dedicated to keeping her city alive.