Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER SIX: LAN SUI

Standing on his balcony, far above the gates, Antun Wizera could still hear the angry shouts of the people. The swarm of humanity extended a hundred meters from either side of the gates, along the fences surrounding the compound, and seemed to grow larger and noisier with each passing hour.

He'd spoken to them earlier by loudspeaker, explaining again that the shutters must remain closed to maintain heat balance in the city, that he was doing everything possible to provide them with artificial lighting giving a sense of day and night. It was not enough for them. It was not the same, even when a day was the appearance and reappearance of Lan-Sui filling the sky over two minute intervals. The planet whose atmosphere they floated in was now too cold to balance their heat losses, and he remained firm on his orders to keep the shutters closed.

Beyond the gates stood the spires of the city and ribbons of streets brightly lit in a myriad of colors to simulate those of Lan-Sui, but above them was only blackness, without stars or the turbulent bands of clouds to show them where they were. They were now a city-ship, in close orbit about a cold but lovely planet, and the people were not allowed to see it.

Antun Wizera sighed and went back into the room, closing the glass doors behind him. It was a formal dining room with a table seating twenty, now covered with embroidered linen. Large mirrors gave depth to the room, and the walls between them were papered with designs of entwined flowers. The ceiling was painted gold. Three chandeliers of delicate crystal hung from the ceiling, glowing dimly to give the room a peaceful mood.

The dining table had been cleared, Wizera's family retired for the evening, but Dorvod Tolui still sat there, sipping tea. Wizera sat down beside him and poured another cup for himself.

"What they want is such a simple thing, but I can't give it to them," he said.

"Most of the people understand that, sir. What you're hearing out there is a very vocal minority stirred up by absentee activists. You tell them the truth, but they believe the propaganda beamed at them from Gutien and Nan. It will continue until we can find those transmitters and shut them down."

Wizera sighed again. "No progress at all?"

"Sorry, sir," said his Chief of Staff. "They've gone deep, and on the moons the desire for independence is absolute. The workers are openly hostile towards Lan-Sui City, with words, but they'll do their jobs as long as Mandughai's military vessels remain here. They still think they can win her over to their side, even though she refuses communication with them."

Wizera chuckled. "Better they try it with Mandughai, and not her daughter. If Yesugen went after Kuril, his lifetime would be measured in minutes. And if this conflict drags on for many more years, it's Yesugen we'll be dealing with."

"We'll continue the search, sir. It's Kuril and the officers who fled with him who keep things stirred up."

Wizera banged his fist on the table, rattling cups on saucers. "To fit their own agendas! It continues to baffle me how such traitors could advance to the highest ranks in our police force, Dorvod. There must have been others behind them, even members of my own Council, and they're right here!"

"They all swear loyalty, sir. Our Sensitives found nothing, even with the use of drugs. The independence movement for Gutien and Nan has come from our intellectuals, sir, and they are not wealthy people. They see Gutien and Nan together as an independent, socialist state of workers, and you've given them the freedom to voice their opinions."

"So I have, and I don't regret it," said Wizera, "but what's happening now is something new, and it doesn't come from our intellectuals. My own police have become involved with the selective deportation of people from both Gutien and Nan. I had to first hear of this from Mandughai. Do you realize how humiliating that was for me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry," said Tolui, lowering his eyes.

"Now she thinks I'm a complete fool, and perhaps I am. You wanted a secret service established, and I turned you down. I've been too trusting, Dorvod. Now you can have your secret police."

"Not police, sir, but an investigative bureau focused on the independence movement. We simply don't know who's behind it. I think Kuril has masters, sir. He's gotten rid of people for them, and now they hide him on the moons. He and his people are their only military force, but it gives them something to build on."

Wizera looked sharply at Tolui. "There's something you're not saying, Dorvod. Now is not the time to hold anything back from me."

Tolui swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. I think the independence movement is being used as a cover for something larger. I think there are people right here in Lan-Sui City who seek to overthrow your government."

Wizera's face flushed. "A coup? How long have you thought this way, Dorvod?"

"Since the city was shuttered closed, and within a week there was a call for independence of the moons. Too coincidental, sir. The people aren't happy being closed in. It's a perfect time to nurture opposition to your government, and things are going well in that direction. I think bringing Mandughai's military here was a wise decision, sir, but the people will resent it. We have to quickly find the real leaders behind the independence movement, and neutralize them. I want to begin my investigation right here in the city."

Wizera picked up his cup, but his hand shook and he spilled tea on the fine, linen table dressing. At that instant, they were interrupted by a soft voice from the doorway.

"Father? May I have a moment? I came to say goodnight."

Wizera willed his hand to be calm, and breathed slowly, deeply, so as not to disturb his son. "Come in, Nokai. We were just finishing up, here."

Nokai seemed to glide rather than walk towards them. Slender at the shoulders, and tall for his age, he was dressed in a white sleeping robe, his coal-black hair in two pigtails hanging halfway down his back.

Wizera held out his hands, and the boy took them in his own, a gentle smile on his aquiline face, eyes dark and brooding.

"Good evening, Mister Tolui. I apologize for disturbing your conversation."

"Nice to see you again, Nokai. You've grown another inch or two, I see."

The boy smiled beautifully, and Wizera was suddenly at peace as the presence of his son washed over him. Nokai squeezed his hands warmly, and looked into his eyes.

"I heard the people shouting," he said softly. "They have no animosity towards you, Father. They only want things to be the way they were, and only a God can do that. You are not a God, you know."

"I know," said Wizera, putting his arms around the boy's waist, and hugging him, "but I thank the Gods, whoever they are, for giving my son to me."

Nokai placed a hand on his father's forehead, and smiled. "Ah, that's better. Your heart is quiet again, and now I can sleep well." He disengaged himself and bowed slightly to them.

"Good night, Mister Tolui—Father." He turned, and glided from the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Wizera leaned back in his chair, totally at peace with himself.

"An incredible boy," said Tolui. "He has the maturity of an adult, but he's only what, ten?"

"He will be eleven in four months. He is the joy in my life."

"An outstanding lad," said Tolui. "He will surely distinguish himself among the Sensitives when he's older. I feel his presence even now."

"He is never far from me, or his mother," said Wizera. "His touch is everywhere."

 

The maw of the freighter yawned wide, extending its narrow loading ramp for the crawlers. Seven machines worked second shift, hauling the frozen slabs of heavy water and canisters of pressurized gases for assembly and packaging in high orbit. The "day" on Gutien was only six hours, Lan-Sui now filling the sky, but moving rapidly west as Oghul Ghaimish worked his machine. Nearing the end of a twelve hour shift, his arms ached from jerking the heavy control bars, and his back was numb from the constant chattering of steel treads on rough terrain leading from the warehouse exit port to the freighter. The odor inside his environmental suit was now foul, and he itched in a thousand places, but there was no stopping to scratch himself once loading had begun.

The work was mechanical and repetitive: sweltering in the heat of warehouse lights while the cranes thumped icy slabs on the bed of his machine, the slow crawl to the freighter, the dangerous ascent of the steep ramp, then more hot lights. Back and forth, twelve hours of it, the horizon near and curving, heat, then cold, then heat again, all for a wage that had once been only pocket money for him.

When he finished his shift, Ghaimish turned over the machine to a man half his age who could barely comprehend the workings of a push-cart. He stripped out of his slimy suit and hung it to dry, then showered with the other drivers and laughed at their crude jokes. They ate together in the company messhall, and he endured still more of their blather, his reactions automatic, his mind somewhere else. He went back to his cubicle and locked himself in, enjoying a brief moment of quiet thought before there was a knock on his door.

"Yes?"

"It's Temur," came a voice.

Ghaimish opened the door to admit two men, both smaller than he, dark and swarthy, with broad shoulders. "You're early," he growled.

"They doubled up on my shift. I have to go out again in an hour," said Temur.

"Sacrifices for the cause," said Ghaimish, and he let them come in.

The space was barely large enough to accomodate them: a bunk, chair, small table, a sink in the wall next to a steel toilet. The walls were bare, the ceiling inches above their heads, a light panel glowing dimly there. On Gutien, a man's cubicle was his home, but he only slept there.

The men sat on the bunk, and Oghul Ghaimish pulled up the chair, sitting close to them to speak softly. He'd screened the cubicle for bugs, and kept an eye on the dark bulb of a receiver for the motion detector hidden in the outer door. If the bulb flashed, the topic of conversation would quickly change to something expected for men who worked cold freight for low wages.

"Any answer yet?" asked Ghaimish.

Temur nodded. "What we expected. She refuses to discuss anything with us, but guarantees our safety if we give ourselves up to her people."

Ghaimish laughed. "She's a fool to suggest it. Even if we were willing to give up everything, the best case scenario would be deportation to Meng-shi-jie, and the many people there aching to get their hands on us. No, Temur, we must remain committed to this. We have our supporters, and the military presence of Meng-shi-jie cannot last forever. It's costly, and their expansion is slowed by it. There will be pressure from their own people to withdraw, if we only wait. Our friends in Lan-Sui City are patient people; they think in the long term. We must not make a move until those military vessels are gone."

"We will be patient with you, Tokta," said Temur.

"Be careful never to call me that outside this room," said the former Gutien Division Chief of the Lan-Sui police force.

"Yes, sir," said his number two, formerly a Captain, and now a hauler and stacker in Gutien's eastern warehouse. His real name was Baktu Kets, and he was like his superior in that he was a bachelor who had no family ties left in Lan-Sui City.

The third man looked up expectantly as Tokta Kuril turned to him and asked, "Is patience a virtue you share with us, Jumdshan? Your risk is even greater than ours, with your family here. You wouldn't want them to be a target for Meng-shi-jie weapons, would you?"

The man who was now Chief Steward of the Freightworkers Union bowed his head slightly. "I follow where you lead us, Tokta. I believe firmly in the cause of the workers, and owe you a debt for arranging my position. You give me the orders, and it will be done."

Tokta smiled. "When our day comes, you can be sure that all the workers will know about your contributions in making their lives better. Have you made any progress with that pilot you mentioned, the one who was transferred to Debris Control?"

"He agrees philosophically with our cause, but now enjoys the larger salary he receives in his new position. I've pointed out that most of it is hazard pay for patrolling the debris rings, and he has no disability insurance with the job because of it. He sees the unfairness of it, and will remain in our camp. But he's only a second pilot, and it will be some time before he's in a position to make command decisions. I helped him get his new job, with a flattering recommendation. He will listen to me. That's all I have to report, now, and I've left my station to do it. I must leave right away."

Tokta reached over, and patted the man's knee. "Then go quickly, friend, and work patiently with us. Our day is coming. We will have our new state, and the exploitation of the workers will be a thing of the past. The state will be theirs to command."

They shook hands, and Jumdshan left them. Tokta held up a hand in warning, watching the motion detector receiver for any sign of movement beyond the door, then sitting down again. "He's gone," he said.

"Inspiring," said Temur, "but what was that business about the pilot?"

Tokta pushed his chair closer, and spoke even softer than before. "It's nothing now, but it could mean something later. We need to have sympathizers among the freighter pilots, and the crews that patrol the debris rings. The freighters control shipping, and the armored patrol vessels control the safety of the system. They are busy people out there; there are constant collisions of ice and rock within the rings, hurling terrible things into the freighter lanes, even into low orbit near the city. Think how terrible it would be, Temur, if a mountain-sized chunk of rock were suddenly to come crashing down on Lan-Sui City and all its helpless inhabitants, just because our debris control vessels were unable to intercept it."

"I see," said Temur.

 

Yesui was ten when she first saw Lan-Sui and its tiny moons. It was not a trip of pleasure, but training, and both her mother and Abagai were with her. She had learned much from them in finding her way around in the gong-shi-jie and defining the masses of stars by the colors of their vortices there, but those had been simple tasks compared to the locating of planets. The largest planets, all of them gaseous, showed up as tiny, blue dimples in the vortex of the host star. The smallest, like pebbles of metal and rock, did not show up at all. She learned to home in on a giant, then move deeper into the vortex through repeated transitions at random to search for the little ones.

How do you come to us so easily? she asked Abagai.

Ah, that's different, said her teacher. First, there were the Moshuguang, like your grandfather, and then your mother. Their minds are like beacons to guide me, and yours is the strongest of all. I go to the mind, not the place. Your presence is so strong there are times I think you're two people. 

I cannot rely on a mind to guide me. There are too few of us, said Yesui.

True, but let me give you a demonstration. Yesugen, can you spare me a moment? 

They were drifting near the vortex of Tengri-Khan, but the reply was instantaneous.

Yes, Mother. What do you want? 

Just hold me in your mind a moment. I want to show Yesui how close we can come to you. Kati is also with us, if you'd like to speak with her. 

Yes, I would. She needs to understand our situation here. 

Just hold the thought, dear. Do not make the transition before we arrive. 

I understand. 

Even Yesui could feel Yesugen's sudden presence pulling at her, but she followed her own mother and Abagai in a blur of swirling colors to the signature of Tengri-Nayon, diving into it without apparent target.

A huge planet banded in yellow, red and blue nearly filled her field of view, surrounded by several rings of debris so fine they seemed transparent. A dark moon floated nearby, its surface seemingly smooth, yet scarred with cracks and rills, and pin-points of light were there at several places. Just below them, only a few hundred meters away, was a monstrous ship of war, wedge-shaped, its surface bristling with antennae, shuttle cradles, and weapons manifolds.

It's beautiful, said Yesui, for she had never seen such a lovely planet.

Yes, it is, but alas, it is dying, growing colder by the year, and life has become hard for the people who live here. Yesugen, we're right above you. You did well. 

Thank you. I'd like to meet Kati, now. Will she join me in the gong-shi-jie? 

Certainly, said Yesui's mother, and she was gone.

Yesui again felt that flutter of fear when her mother was absent from her, but then Abagai said, I'm still here, dear. Now let me show you another marvel. Down there, in the upper atmosphere of the planet we call Lan-Sui, is a floating city with many people. We are in good position, now. You see that large, blue spot near the equator, that oblong feature like a whirlpool? 

Yes. 

The city is there. Target that feature with me. Put yourself there, in the very center of the whirlpool. Just let yourself go there, and I will follow you. We're in no hurry, dear. Relax. 

It was not difficult at all, and Yesui even felt excitement in the doing of it. She felt a kind of pulling sensation, like when she slid along a vortex in random transitions to locate the small masses, feeling her way along the decreasing spaces between the threads of the interface between real space and the gong-shi-jie. This time, there was something more; she was not conscious of the threads, but of some other, unseen force, guiding her.

For Abagai, transition was a flash, but Yesui was conscious of her own return to the gong-shi-jie, coming out in the upper wall of Nayon's vortex, a short slide, then re-entrance, coming out again with bright light everywhere.

A thing like a crystal ball filled all space beneath her when she looked down. Its surface gleamed, so close it seemed she was nearly standing on it, but inside that surface was another ball of shining metal with several seams converging to a single point. It was huge, perhaps twenty or thirty kilometers across, and she'd nearly gone into it.

Do you see the city? It is round, like a moon. 

I think I'm nearly touching it! said Yesui.

Really? Hmmm. Think of me, dear. 

Yesui did that.

Now I have your viewpoint. Your accuracy was most extraordinary. My re-entrance point was hundreds of kilometers from here. How did you come so close? 

I don't know, said Yesui. It just happened that way. 

Well, here we are. Another time, we'll go inside it, but you see the clear shield that used to be the sky for the city when Lan-Sui was radiant and warm. Now the planet is cold, and the city is closed within a ball of metal and insulating material to retain heat and conserve power for other uses. The people live inside it, and cannot see this beautiful view. They are like travelers in a space-ship, traveling forever. 

Why don't they go where it's warm? asked Yesui.

They want to, but nearby there is only my own planet, Meng-shi-jie, and we cannot accomodate them. There has been trouble because of this. That's why Yesugen is here with her warships. I'm sorry to say that the people who live here must remain here, forever. 

Yesui had a sudden thought that seemed to bubble up from her unconscious mind without invitation.

If the planet is cold, why don't the people heat it up again? It's only a big ball of gas. 

I can't imagine heating up something so large, dear, said Abagai, amused by the suggestion.

Why? You and mother both tell me there's infinite power in the gong-shi-jie. Use the purple light! 

This time, there was hesitation before Abagai answered. My understanding is that the problem is inadequate mass. When a mass of gas is compressed, it gives off heat, and if the mass is large enough, certain gases turn into liquid, and give off even more heat. This was true for Lan-Sui for millions of years, but now the compression has slowed so much that the planet is rapidly cooling. Lan-Sui doesn't have enough mass to speed up the compression, dear. You might ask your father to explain it to you better than I can. Now, let me show you the little, frozen moons, where many more people are living. Follow me, this time. I don't want to lose you again as I just did. 

So Yesui followed her, and saw the moons Gutien and Nan, where working-class people lived underground in crowded towns owned by people in Lan-Sui city. They lived in company housing and purchased their goods in company stores, explained Abagai. Tengri-Nayon was just a brilliant star in their sky, and the gravity was quite low. Their children were all pale and fragile. It was no wonder the people were not satisfied, now that the heat was gone from the planet that had warmed them.

A persistent thought now kept popping up in Yesui's mind. If Lan-Sui needed more mass to become warm again, then why not give it that mass? Dust and gas were being continuously blown away by the fierce winds of Tengri-Nayon, and much of it now resided in a thick, spherical shell just beyond Lan-Sui. Also, there was Tengri-Nayon itself. Obviously it had much more than enough mass to sustain itself, for it was very hot. Why not transfer mass to the interior of Lan-Sui, and give the planet what it needed to be warm again?

It seemed like such a simple idea, and when they returned to the gong-shi-jie she waited until Yesugen had left before making her suggestion. Abagai and her mother were discussing the conversation with Yesugen when she boldly interrupted them to say, I can make Lan-Sui warm again. 

The women stopped in mid-sentence, and looked at her with some annoyance for the interruption.

Abagai says Lan-Sui needs more mass to be warm. I can bring mass through the gong-shi-jie and put it into Lan-Sui until it's as hot as the people want it to be. 

There was a long silence, the women staring at her, but Yesui knew that what she'd just said was being considered. Finally, her mother spoke.

You have confidence I never had when I was your age, darling, and your abilities are indeed beyond my own. But you've only begun to practice the moving of mass in the place of creation. Moving dust and gas from a star to empty space is one thing, but moving it to the interior of a planet is another. I think your idea is a good one, in principle, and should be considered. It's something that never occured to us, she said, looking at Abagai, who smiled and nodded in agreement.

I could begin right now, said Yesui, suddenly enthused.

Not so quickly, dear, said Abagai. First, we must consider all the details of your idea, and consult with others. The balance of forces within a planet is a delicate thing, and you can't simply dump energy or mass into it. The planet could be terribly disturbed, and there's a city of many people floating in the atmosphere of Lan-Sui. You wouldn't want to hurt them, would you? 

No, but if I transfered just a tiny mass, it shouldn't hurt anything, and we could see what happens, she said impatiently.

This is not playtime, said her mother sternly. We do not play with people's lives, Yesui. There are many details to consider: how much mass is needed, where to put it, even its composition. 

The composition of Tengri-Nayon and Lan-Sui is the same. That part is simple, said Yesui, and she was shocked by her own remark. Why had she said that, when she knew nothing about the compositions of stars or planets?

Have you been helping your brother with his lessons? asked her mother.

I have done some reading, she said quickly.

Well, you must do more of it, and consult with your father. He knows much about these things, and there are Moshuguang scientists who know even more. We must proceed slowly, Yesui, if what you propose is to happen. You must learn to measure the mass you move. You must learn to target the interior of a planet and navigate there, and these are things Abagai and I have never done. We will have to learn it with you. 

They wanted to talk, consult, theorize, and wait, while Yesui felt compelled to experiment, starting at that moment. She felt some frustration, but her enthusiasm remained, for it was clear her idea was being taken seriously, and that pleased her.

Could we go inside Lan-Sui right now? See what it's like in there? 

Not now, said her mother. Abagai and I still have things to discuss, and I don't want you going alone. 

It made her angry. Can I at least look at it again before we leave? It's so beautiful. 

Her mother raised an eyebrow. Yes, you can look, but if you do anything else, I will know it. Promise me, Yesui. Come back when I call you. 

I promise. 

Yesui went to the blue dimple in the vortex of Tengri-Nayon, and entered quickly there, coming out in real space at great distance from Lan-Sui, the planet now the size of a kick-ball held at arm's length. She was shocked by the distance, reminded of the delicacy of targeting even a large planet. This time she'd hurried, and Yesugen had not been there to guide her entrance, and so the error was large. This observation was sobering, and her confidence was shaken by it.

A plot had begun to take shape in her mind, but now she felt caution about pursuing it. Yesugen could not be there for her, but when Yesui had thought of the blue whirlpool that was a storm, she'd gone straight to the city without conscious focus, as if another mind had been there to guide her. If she could do it again, get close enough to see the storm, then the hop to the city, the tiniest slide would take her into the depths of Lan-Sui. But once she was there, could she bring the mass to her? Or would she have to drag it with her through all those steps in transition? The more she thought about it, the more her confidence seemed to weaken, but then her mother called to her.

Yesui, it's time to return. Come back, dear. 

She returned instantly, followed her mother and Abagai back to the vortex of her home star, the wisp of spinning, purple mist that was the entrance to herself. The women were still talking when she left them.

She opened her eyes, lying on her bed. Mengjai was sitting before his learning machine, and turned to look at her.

"There's something here you should see," he said somberly.

He stood up so she could use his chair. She sat down, and peered at the screen of the machine. There she saw a theoretical model for the structure, composition and dynamics of all giant, gaseous planets that had been born with insuficient mass to become a star.

"I think it's a good model for Lan-Sui," said Mengjai, from behind her. "You must learn all of it before you try to move mass, and I will help you."

Yesui jerked around to look up at her brother standing there close to her shoulder. His eyes twinkled with amusement at her reaction.

"How do I know?" he asked.

"Yes," whispered Yesui.

Mengjai leaned close, and softly said, "Where you go, I go, sister, even in the gong-shi-jie. And you didn't even know I was there."

He was chuckling to himself as he left her room, and Yesui was still sitting there, unable to speak.

 

Yang-Xifeng was waiting for them at the edge of the pool in the hanging gardens just below the palace. She was robed in yellow and sat on a carpet of moss, eyes closed and face upturned to catch the warmth of Tengri-Khan. An open book lay in her lap.

Mengmoshu held Mengjai's hand as they went down the winding path of stone steps leading to the pool, and it seemed that the boy hesitated, pulling back on his grandfather. Mengmoshu found this strange, for Mengjai enjoyed his times with Yang-Xifeng: the quiet talks, gentle hugs, slender fingers smoothing the boy's hair, the little gestures of affection Mengmoshu wished his own daughter would show more often for her son.

They had met like this for three years, though Mengmoshu was always there to watch them, for he knew that beneath Yang-Xifeng's serene appearance was a lingering bitterness against Kati for the loss of Shan-lan, an only son. Her conversations with the boy did not reflect this, Mengjai could not see the darkness of her thoughts, and their times together seemed to momentarily soften her heart. Thus it was that Mengmoshu had allowed the visits to continue.

"Come sit with me, dear," said Yang-Xifeng sweetly, when she saw them.

Mengjai went to her, sat down, leaned against her as she hugged him, but his face was dark and brooding. Mengmoshu tried to penetrate his mind, but could not. In the past year, Mengjai's mask had become a thing of stone, and he seemed to know when his grandfather was scanning him.

Yang-Xifeng's thoughts were clear enough. Dear heart, you fill the void within me, a void left there by your mother's use of my son. In return, I will give you the love she holds back from you. I will treat you as if you were my own. 

They talked about little things: the carp in the pool, the book of poetry she'd been reading, then Mengjai's new studies with his learning machine. Mengjai's face softened, and he seemed to relax. Mengmoshu sat down nearby and pretended to watch the colorful fish, but he felt a tension that caused him to look often at his grandson, and he was looking at him when another dark thought came from Yang-Xifeng.

You are my little boy, now, not hers. I will love you and teach you, and as you grow older you will begin to see how evil she really is, how she uses people to— 

Something passed through Mengmoshu's mind like white heat as he heard Yang-Xifeng gasp. She clutched at her chest, and Mengjai stood up, looking down at her. She looked back at him, mouth open, eyes wide with terror, and her body began to shake. The boy just stood there as she fell over on her side, legs kicking, chest heaving with uncontrolled spasms.

Mengmoshu jumped to his feet. "Mengjai!" he cried, but the boy didn't move, only looked down at the woman clawing at the moss beneath him. Mengmoshu ran to him, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook hard. The boy looked up at him, and there was no color in his eyes, only cold blackness there. Mengmoshu shook him again.

"Mengjai, release her. My grandson is not a murderer," he said softly.

A tiny tear issued forth from an eye as Mengjai whispered, "I do not want to see this woman again."

"Then it will be so," said Mengmoshu, "but now you must release her. She is ill, Mengjai. She's not responsible for her tortured thoughts."

Yang-Xifeng's spasms ceased in an instant, and now she lay prostrate, hands covering her face, sobbing uncontrollably. Mengjai walked away from her without looking back, and a guard appeared at the top of the steps, attracted there by the commotion at the pool.

"Take Yang-Xifeng back to her room, and call a physician immediately," instructed Mengmoshu. "I will be there to advise him within the hour."

The guard was helping the stricken woman to her feet as Mengmoshu hurried up the steps and along the curving stone path winding along the south wall of the palace, puffing heavily as he caught up to Mengjai and walked behind him.

They rode the elevator in silence to second level, and went straight to Mengjai's rooms. At the door, Mengmoshu grasped the boy's shoulders, turned him around, crouched down to look straight at his face. Mengjai's eyes were now brimming with tears.

"When you're ready to tell me, I will listen," said Mengmoshu softly. "What you have done, I have done to others. I will understand."

Mengjai's arms went around him, cheek against his in a fierce hug. "Thank you, Grandfather," murmured the boy, and then he released him and opened the door to enter his room.

During the brief instant the door was open, Mengmoshu saw Yesui inside the room, sitting at the learning machine, her mouth open with surprise, and then the door was closed again.

Oh, Mengjai. This is a complication we don't need now. 

It was Yesui, but then her mask was in place again.

Mengmoshu sighed, and hurried away to advise Yang-Xifeng's physician.

 

Back | Next
Contents
Framed