The children stood, one by one. Still singing, they would take a bit of edible plant still growing on Arabel’s walls and tables. They delivered it to Lina. When Lina’s arms were full, they elected some of the taller and stronger among them to help. And when Arabel’s apartment was stripped bare of every piece of edible fruit and vegetable, the circle of children gathered around Lina and Arabel, pricked up their ears, and followed the hum to the palace.
The youngest of the children flocked to Arabel and held on to any arm, finger or hand that they could reach. Their voices rose and fell together as they sang their cheerful tune, its notes echoing throughout the tunnels before them. As they came closer to the palace, Lina began to feel the two melodies—that from the children—and that from the group surrounding the Great Tree. The melodies combined, harmonizing at times, joining together in perfect union at others. And with the music came scents wafting on the air. Scents of joy and hope, gratitude and reverence.
As the children entered the palace grounds, the larger adult diploids circling the Great Tree parted hands to let the children file in. Food from Arabel’s apartment was passed all around, and some of the singing gave way to chewing, but the sound never stopped. The entire palace grounds echoed with a joyful noise, rivaling that of Queen An Ming’s celebration. The sound echoed and grew to the point of almost being too loud for Lina to bear. And together with all of the other trials she had been through, Lina began to feel a little nauseous.
There was a flash of light from somewhere beyond the gaping hole in the roof, from where Lina did not see, perhaps a shooting star, but it was enough to make her look up. And when she did, a single leaf from the colony’s Great Tree, quite possibly the last one still clinging on to a branch, came spiraling down to land on Lina’s nose. And mixed in with the singing, Lina swore she heard the voice of the wrinkled old woman with no scent glands. “Do you hear them, my child?” she said. “I do.”
Lina smiled, and afterward the singing seemed to echo less inside her own skull as it did all around her. And it was truly a joyful sound. A song of hope.
Chapter 11: Coronation Day
The Great Tree is, was, and forever shall be. And wherever humanity may roam, we shall be under the protection of its branches, for all children are children of the Great Tree. Whether we choose to acknowledge this love and protection is entirely in our hands. But know this: if you should chance to stray from the path of righteousness, look into your heart, and listen for a voice. This voice shall be your guide, and unite you once again with family.
—Addendum to The Book of the Origin by High Priestess Arabel (Bella) Aurelius Nobilis
* * * *
In the beginning of Queen Lina’s rule there were lean times that seemed like they might never end. Mentors found what they could for the children in their care, and Arabel taught the skills of indoor gardening to anyone who would listen, but still bellies rumbled. And as the damp lower levels were slowly being converted to hydroponic oases of green, Lina formed a merchant fleet, employing members of the colony’s security forces and any cloud worthy skimmers that could be found. Lessons were given by members of the older generation who had knowledge of sailing, and soon trade routes were established, bringing lychee and other foodstuffs from the nearby Island of the Drones in exchange for baskets, ships and sailing lessons.
One of the first to sail from the Island of the Drones to Lina’s island was I. And never far from I’s side was Yasmin, the young medicine woman, and now the chief shaman of I’s colony. While I was passing the knowledge of planting and caring for lychee trees to the younger generation, Yasmin was busy instructing mentors, and anyone else who would listen, in the making of liniments and tinctures for a number of common ailments.
The Great Tree of Lina’s colony, that had once lived locked away behind palace walls, now stood devoid of life in an open field. Ironically, it was the same rebel bombing that cleared away the walls of its cage that had also disturbed its already fragile root system to the point where the Tree finally gave up on life. But even in death, the Great Tree bestowed its charity upon the people.
The gift of fallen leaves had been gathered up under Arabel’s direction and mulched to fertilize the new gardens being built. The gifts of branches were largely used to build long-distance cloud skimmers, to expand trade routes to An Ming’s colony in the East. But a few of the Tree’s branches, those not wide enough for skimmers, had been set aside to be hollowed and carved into musical instruments for festive gatherings.
These instruments were being arrayed on a newly constructed stage that was built just for the occasion. Those in the colony who had set aside time to practice with the pipes and the drums began to assemble. As the sun began to sink toward the horizon, the first, low droning note was struck, calling people to the unique performance space—a space that had been born of the violence of a rebel bombing that reduced much of the palace wall to rubble.
The palace grounds were now open on three sides and the palace itself appeared to be more of a cliff dwelling, with three levels of apartments occupying the side that remained. In the center near the top is where Lina and Arabel lived together. Arabel’s original apartment had long since been converted to a garden classroom for the teaching of all things that are green and growing. And Arabel herself had been known to
