ship boots, a white silk blouse which ballooned at waist and elbows,
topaz collar cinch, black demi-coat complete with slashes of Hegemony
crimson on the epaulets, and a soft gold tricorne. A section of curved
wall became a mirror and the Consul stared at the image there: a more
than middle-aged man in semi-formal evening wear, sunburned skin but
oddly pale under the sad eyes. The Consul frowned, nodded, and turned
away.
Het Masteen gestured and the Consul followed the tall, robed figure
through a dilation in the pod onto an ascending walkway which curved up
and out of sight around the massive bark wall of the treeship's trunk.
The Consul paused, moved to the edge of the walkway, and took a quick
step back. It was at least six hundred meters down- down being created
by the one-sixth standard gravity being generated by the singularities
imprisoned at the base of the tree - and there were no railings.
They resumed their silent ascent, turning off from the main trunk
walkway thirty meters and half a trunk-spiral later to cross a flimsy
suspension bridge to a five-meter-wide branch. They followed this
outward to where the riot of leaves caught the glare of Hyperion's sun.
'Has my ship been brought out of storage?" asked the Consul.
'It is fueled and ready in sphere eleven,' said Her Masteen. They
passed into the shadow of the trunk and stars became visible in the
black patches between the dark latticework of leaves. 'The other
pilgrims have agreed to ferry down in your ship if the FORCE authorities
give permission,' added the Templar.
The Consul rubbed his eyes and wished that he had been allowed more time
to retrieve his wits from the cold grip of cryonic fugue. 'You've been
in touch with the task force?"
'Oh, yes, we were challenged the moment we tunneled down from quantum
leap. A Hegemony warship is...
escorting us.. с this very moment." Het Masteen gestured toward a patch
of sky above them.
The Consul squinted upward but at that second segments of the upper
tiers of branches revolved out of the treeship's shadow and acres of
leaves ignited in sunset hues. Even in the still shadowed places,
glowbirds nestled like Japanese lanterns above lighted walkways, glowing
swingvines, and illuminated hanging bridges, while fireflies from Old
Earth and radiant gossamers from Maul-Covenant blinked and coded their
way through labyrinths of leaves, mixing with constellations
sufficiently to fool even the most starwise traveler.
Het Masteen stepped into a basket lift hanging from a whiskered-carbon
cable which disappeared into the three hundred meters of tree above
them. The Consul followed and they were borne silently upward. He
