Three days later, they boarded a shuttle for Jensi City, and for the first time in her life, Kati was happy to be flying. Four days of travel by mag-rail, van and then horsecart was enough for her. Most of what she'd seen was at least familiar, though changed by improvements, but the city would be a brand new experience for her.
The factory complex north of Wanchou was as she remembered, but the high-rises for workers were now well equipped with electrical appliances. They also included air-conditioning, and some workers now owned their own apartments. Employment was full, the foundries and mills operating three shifts per day to keep up with the demands of Meng-shi-jie and Jensi City for building materials.
But the town itself was still drab and unkempt looking, and there were none of the privately owned shops she'd seen in Wanchou. The people, both men and women, worked long, hard hours in the factories and seemed to have little energy left for anything else, but when she talked to some of them it gave her hope, for she heard their dreams. The people worked hard and spent little, putting most of their earnings into special accounts for the purchase of land and single-family dwellings in the rolling hills north and east of the company town, and a few had already accomplished their dreams. The hills were dotted with little stone houses topped by peaked roofs of polished wood, like little pagodas, and surrounded by gardens with stands of adolescent Tysk, and again there were the little bubble-canopied vehicles she'd seen in Wanchou.
The countryside had changed even less, and they left the mag-rail station in horsecarts sent by the village Kati had visited twenty-four years before, to meet the young man whose life she'd saved there. The fields were the same, waving green and stinking of human excrement, but there were no longer storage bins full of rotting produce, everything now quickly transported by mag-rail to Wanchou and the surrounding communities.
The people were unchanged. They met her quietly, politely and reverently, placing her on a saddle-throne among the elders within a circle of earthen huts to eat a simple meal of boiled grains with strips of beef and lamb, and home-brewed ayrog. They asked her to bless their shrine, which she did by igniting candles and incense with a gesture, and then they brought the boy to her. He was now a man, and his name was Wan-lin. He was tall and straight, bronzed by sunlight, a man of high esteem in the village, for it was said that the hands of First Mother had been placed upon him to save his life, and now She returned to see the results of Her work.
Kati was uncomfortable with all of it, but Mengmoshu would not allow her to protest.
These are simple people who require little of you. Let them have their faith in First Mother, and show that you care about their lives here, he said without words.
Wan-lin brought his family to her: a wife and two small children, a boy and a girl. He asked for her blessing on his family, and she brought heat to her hands when she touched them, her eyes glowing green. "The blessings of First Mother are upon you, and your lives will be fruitful," she whispered, and they believed her.
There was a short visit to the new clinic in the village, then they were back in carts for a bumpy ride to the mag-rail station and a blurring trip back to the shuttle-field just north of Wanchou. At last she was cushioned by soft fabric, and the air was cool. An attendant served them cold drinks as they lifted off in the wedge-shaped craft reserved only for her party.
Kati cupped her chin in one hand and looked out the window at the great valley lined with grassy hills passing below them. After some minutes, her father said, "You are very quiet, my dear."
"Just thinking," she said. "The village people still see me as First Mother, and I can't seem to convince them otherwise. I don't like living a lie, Father."
Mengmoshu chuckled. "You wouldn't have such a problem with that if you could believe we are all a part of First Mother, whoever or whatever She is. We are all a living presence of Her."
Kati looked at him sharply. "Do you really believe that?"
"Not really, not as it sounded. I've told you I don't believe in Gods. If there's something beyond us, it's the universe itself and all the natural laws that govern it. You think too much about such things."
Kati rejoined: "Your view of the universe, however, is quite narrow. You've not lived in the gong-shi-jie, or seen the birthplace of new stars in another galaxy like I have. And I think Yesui sees even more. She's always talking about a fabric of green threads that fills all space, yet I've never seen them there. There is much we don't see, Father."
"I have enough trouble dealing with what I can see," said Mengmoshu gruffly. "Everything else is speculation. It's only an hour to Jensi City. We should talk about your visit there, and you need to compose a short speech."
"More receptions," said Kati.
"Not many, although there will be at least one. We have a request for you to speak to the congregation of the Church of The Mother."
"What?" said Kati.
"No red eyes, please. I didn't promise you'd do it, but I think you should. It's something new in Jensi City, and most of the people there attend services. You're regarded as the intermediary between themselves and First Mother, Kati, just as you've said to the people all along."
"I said I was an emissary."
"Yes, they accept that. They accept all that you've said, even in Congress. It's all been recorded in a book they read from and discuss in services. They believe all you've said and done has been inspired by First Mother."
"Oh, Father!"
"Shhh. Not so loud. That secret has so far been kept. Kati, it's not a religion, exactly, more like a philosophy, a way of living. You are the center of it, like it or not, and you should speak to them. You must accept the fact that you're more than Empress to the people. You have special gifts which you seem to take for granted as you grow older. You forget the miracles you've wrought, but the people remember. They see you as more than human, and it's the truth. It's even more true with your children. When are you going to accept that?"
His voice was an angry whisper. "Your humility is generous, but misplaced. I want you to see yourself as you really are. I don't know where your powers, or your children's, have come from, and I don't care. They are real, and you've used them for good. Yesui follows your example. Acknowledge yourself."
"As a super-being?"
"Yes. That is what you are, as is Yesui, even Mengjai, and very likely the children they will produce. You don't have to be brilliant to see that."
"Fine, but I'm not a God. I don't want people offering up prayers to me." Kati turned away from him, and looked out the window again. Below her was a solid green mat of forests covering hills of substantial height, with narrow river-cut valleys meandering between them.
"There are no prayers in services, no forms of worship, Kati. They believe First Mother knows all, and speaks directly to you. And if people offer up private prayers, it can't be prevented. You saw the young people by the shrine; you saw their faith, and felt it as I did. Let them have it. What's the harm?"
What can I say to them?
You will think of something. "I have your itinerary here. Let's go over it quickly before we begin our descent."
It did not seem so bad: a three-day stay for touring, two small receptions, one with city leaders, the other with a small business guild of shop owners, then her appearance at the Church of The Mother. Tours would include a reactor, lumber mill, shuttle fabrication plant, and a cultural park.
The turbine whine of the shuttle suddenly decreased in pitch, and Kati's stomach seemed to float. "You might start looking for the city," said her father.
Below her, the forests stretched to the horizon, but as they descended she began to see structures nestled among the trees: pagodas, and towers of polished wood, surrounded by walkways, colorful gardens, and roads spiraling away from them along the hillsides. Suddenly there were other structures, white, in clusters, and a myriad of roads heading east, and she craned her neck to look ahead. She saw a valley much like the one by her own city, but there were no open fields, only a mass of white buildings covering it as far as she could see. Mengmoshu leaned against her shoulder to look past her.
"There are no high-rises here. All those buildings are private homes, all owned by the people who work here. You can barely see the city center far ahead, those glistening buildings, not so high as in Wanchou. We will land to the east of it."
"How many people are here?" she asked.
"Around two hundred thousand so far, but they're coming in rapidly, now. The boom started only a few years ago, and thirteen years ago there was nothing here but forests and grass. It is a restricted city, Kati. You can only move here if you have a good job and sufficient funds to buy a home. There are no rentals allowed. Any property you buy here must be for your own, personal dwelling."
"A city for the elite," said Kati, not pleased with what he'd said.
"No, a city for the successful," said her father. "It is the peoples' dream to live here, and it drives them. Education and hard work is what it takes, and the opportunities are open to all of them. Jensi City is only the first, Kati. Other cities are just beginning south of here, all the way to the sea. What you see here is the future of Shanji."
They came lower, and she saw homes of all sizes, some small, like little blocks of stone, other clusters elaborate and sprawling, with parks at their centers. The streets crawled with vehicles, like sparkling bugs, all heading to and from the city center, also spread out, buildings no more than twenty stories, shining like golden glass in the morning light.
The eastern edge of the city was dominated by a heavily forested area, with green lawns bordered in swirls of color, and open spaces with pagoda-like structures and what looked like crowds of people, and then there were open fields and ribbons of concrete rising to meet them. In seconds, they had touched down and were rolling to a secluded hanger away from the main terminal, a sprawling building of red stone.
"We'll try to keep you away from the television people as much as possible," said Mengmoshu, "but your appearance at the church will be televised for all the people, and that day has been declared a holiday."
Kati sighed, her mind a whirl. "I'll need time to compose something."
"You'll have it," he said. "Now relax, and see the good things your reforms have led to."
It was easier to do that when she saw that only a few people were actually there to greet her, and none of them were reporters.
Ming-hau, mayor of Jensi City, presented her with a bouquet of flowers, introduced her to the six members of his council, all men, then the chair of the Small Business Guild, a woman. They bowed graciously and shook her hand when she offered it, but in a few minutes she'd forgotten their names. The last member of the greeting party was dressed in a white robe, an elaborately carved amulet hanging on a gold chain around his neck. Kati probed him, and liked what she first felt there. Before Ming-hau could introduce them, she stepped up to the man and held out her hand, his robe suddenly green in the glow of her eyes.
No fear, only a serene, reverent feeling was within the man. "I bring you greetings from First Mother, Elder Hanshou," she said, bringing warmth to his hand when he softly shook hers. "I look forward to speaking to your congregation while I'm here."
Hanshou bowed, and touched his amulet with his free hand while Kati held the other, still probing him.
"My soul rejoices in the feeling of your presence, Madam. We have long awaited your visitation. Welcome to our city."
"Thank you," she said, and released his hand. Suddenly, she was not so fearful of her speech at the Church of The Mother, for although Hanshou held her in deep reverence, he saw her first as the Empress of Shanji, and not someone supernatural.
Four vans awaited them, and Ming-hau was her driver. Kati sat beside him, her father, Hanshou, and the recorder in the back, an arrangement not pleasing to her security people. They left the hanger, went through a gate far from the terminal and drove bumper to bumper back towards the city center only minutes away.
Ming-hau pointed out the vast cultural park east of the city. "The day after tomorrow will be spent there so you may see our arts, and meet many of our people in a festive setting," he said solemnly.
"It sounds wonderful," she said, smiling.
"Tours of our technology centers are today and tomorrow, but we'll try to be brief and give you time for relaxation. We want your visit to be enjoyable, so you'll return again soon."
"Oh, I intend to," she said sweetly. "I've heard marvelous things about what you've done here."
"All credit goes to our people, Madam," said Ming-hau. "Those of us who govern the affairs of the city are only their servants."
Kati probed the man's mind, and instantly liked him.
The city center was small, some four square kilometers of buildings faced with clear polymer, and tinged golden to filter sunlight. The streets were jammed with rushing traffic: vans, scooters, and bubble-cars, broad sidewalks crowded with people, all hurrying somewhere. Store windows were filled with goods on display, including strange yet obviously fashionable clothing she'd never seen before. Restaurants were everywhere, with tables under awnings along the sidewalks, and at every intersection it seemed there was a little fountain surrounded by young Tysk and beds of flowers, and terrifying round abouts where cars darted from one lane to another to speed away in a new direction. Twice she saw the familiar mag-rail signs by stairs leading underground from the sidewalks, people coming and going there.
"There is a suite for you at one of our hotels, Madam," said Ming-hau. "We will deposit your luggage first, if you don't mind, and then get on with the tour."
"Very well," she said, feeling rested.
The hotel was like the other buildings, revolving doors at its entrance. Their meager luggage was unloaded by uniformed men in seconds, and was not even inside the building before they sped away again, Ming-hau honking his horn at a driver who cut closely in front of him. "Sorry, Madam. Driving is not yet an art, here. Cars are like toys to some of the people, and sometimes they play rudely."
"The pace of life seems quite rapid here," she said, trying to quiet her heart.
"It is, Madam. There is so much to be done here, you see." The van careened through a round about, changing lanes twice, and accelerated southward along a broad street until the passing scenery was a blur.
How do they keep from killing each other in these things? This is terrifying!
Her father chuckled audibly behind her. Accidents are not common here. The people have quickly taken to their little cars, and actually drive rather well. There are no speed limits here. The people won't tolerate them.
Mercifully, traffic thinned as they left the city center, and Kati could unclench her fists again. They drove at high speed for twenty minutes until Ming-hau pointed ahead to a complex of buildings surrounding a shining dome. "Our reactor, Madam. The rest of the complex is a factory for shuttles and all the vehicles you see on our streets. There is time to see only part of it, but it's our most important industry. Over thirty thousand people are employed here, and a new factory is being added just to the east."
The afternoon was a blur to her, and she was awed by the sights, the huge scale of everything. The fusion reactor was a ball the size of her palace, sprouting bundles of thick cables like a squash gone wild, workers the size of bugs from where she watched on a high viewing platform for visitors. The shuttle factory was even more huge, a single building a kilometer long with a ceiling hundreds of meters up, lines of shuttles in various stages of manufacture, swarming with workers. She watched an assembly line for vans, three of them being completed and driven outside in the few minutes she was there. Several workers waved, and she saw Hanshou wave back to them.
"Members of your congregation?" she asked.
"No, Madam. I work here as a welder. That is how I make my living. There are no paid servants of the Church."
Now Kati felt even better about him, and his church.
In the evening there was dinner with Ming-hau and his council in a wood-paneled room by an elegant-looking restaurant filled to capacity in her hotel. Their politeness was surreal: no requests or complaints, no demands for political favors, only responses to her simple questions, and cautious inquiries about the lives of her children. Again she felt the peoples' desire to meet Yesui, a virtual unknown to them, yet destined to be their future Empress.
Her suite was enormous: three rooms, two with beds large enough for a family, flowers everywhere, a refrigerator stocked with tea and ayrog and delicious fruits. Flowered wall-paper and a gilded ceiling surrounded her. Mengmoshu had his own bedroom, now. He winked evilly at her, and took four bottles of cold ayrog with him when he retired.
Kati was quickly into bed, and the lights off when she called to her daughter.
Anything new, dear?
No. Abagai has stirred a few times, but that's all. Yesugen continues to have hope. I'm still feeling that presence, Mother, but now it comes and goes. Are you having a good time?
Oh, yes. You must come with me next time. The people are asking about you.
All in good time, Mother. I have so much to do here.
You'll be Empress someday, Yesui. It's time to start thinking about that.
Oh, Mother, you'll be Empress forever.
Of course, dear, she said, amused.
Only the young think they're immortal.
The visit to the lumber mill and brick factory was hot and dusty, and made her sneeze convulsively until she was given a mask to wear. She was glad to get away from it, and was rewarded with an afternoon at the cultural park. Her visit had been well publicized, and the crowds were huge, though orderly, an army of security guards making a path for her wherever she went. In the sea of humanity around her, about each neck there was a greenstone amulet, many elaborately carved, many others only abstractly-shaped pebbles, but always there, always fingered as she passed by.
The people did not jostle rudely for position, nor did they shout out to her or cheer, but the ones nearest her held out their hands, and she touched as many as she could, her eyes glowing. The feelings of goodwill coming from the people brought her near tears, but the tears only flowed when she came to the Museum of the Miniatures.
A walkway formed a circle within a grove of Tysk, and along its circumference were displays of Shanji's historical centers in miniature to a scale of twenty to one. The first thing she saw was old Wanchou, with its slums and decaying buildings, then the new city as she'd recently seen it. Next came her own city, complete with bubble canopy and the golden dome of her palace, and she admired it while her recorder dutifully took pictures of everything. The next display surprised her, for it was a reproduction of the Tumatsin ordu where her brother lived by the southern sea, and near its edge, gilded in gold, was the burial place of her parents.
Mengmoshu put a hand on her shoulder. They know all about you, from the very beginning. The next display shows it more clearly, and you should not be afraid to show your emotions over it.
The first thing she saw was the life-sized bronze statue of a young girl with braided hair falling across shoulders and chest, dressed in riding leathers and sitting on a small, mountain horse. She was gazing into the distance over the heads of her visitors, her face strong, resolute, and hanging from her neck was a necklace of seashells. Behind her was the miniature of an ordu in the mountains, partially burned, bodies sprawled around it, a column of troops walking their horses away along a trail, one soldier clutching a little girl to him in his saddle. The figure of the girl had been painted gold.
It is called "The Beginning of Our Lady," said Mengmoshu. He put his arm around her as her tears came. Her body shook, and she pressed her face against his shoulder. The silence around them was broken only by the sobs of a few people who dared to cry openly with her. Ming-hau looked very nervous, and clenched his hands together over his chest.
"It's beautiful," she quickly said to him, "but the memory is very painful to me. Can we move on, please?" She wiped her eyes, and managed a smile for the many who now looked sorrowfully at her.
The last display was of Jensi City itself, and before it another life-sized bronze of a robed woman with a halo of blue porcelain fixed over her head, showing the visable aura of the Empress of Shanji.
"I've never seen such fine work with bronze," she said, calming herself slowly.
"You've encouraged the arts, Madam, and we select only the best artists to live here," said Ming-hau. "There are many retreats and studios for them in the quiet of the forests west of the city."
She saw many of those artists that day, their work displayed in kiosks around the entertainment pavilions: paintings, small sculptures of animals, pagodas, gnarled trees, and herself. By the end of the day, she'd purchased five pieces, insisting on full payment to honor artists stunned speechless in her presence.
She was entertained by dancers, singers, and acrobats on the stages of four pavilions, and there was a parade which she watched like an ordinary tourist, security people at her back, the crowd pressed in behind them to watch her reactions. There were jugglers, and musicians, a parade of clowns on stilts, a float with people dressed like Tumatsin, banging cymbals and blowing horns, and the people cheered with her as it passed by. She was delighted, and giddy.
Oh, this is wonderful, Father.
We're one people, Kati. That is the point of this.
Indeed, a platoon of armored troops came next, armed and severe looking, their heads made up to show them as Moshuguang elite, then a platoon of men dressed as soldiers of the old empire, then one of Tumatsin warriors on horseback, armed with curving swords and bows.
The Moshuguang disguise needs work, grumbled Mengmoshu. Our heads are really not so large as that.
Kati laughed at him, but then a float was coming to end the parade. Drawn by twenty men and women, it was covered with flowers, a miniature of Kati's palace at the front, a throne behind it, on which sat a beautiful young girl in a golden robe. The girl smiled beautifully, waved serenely to the crowd, and her eyes were emerald green.
How does she do that? asked Kati.
Special colored lenses on her eyes, said her father. You're not offended?
Of course not. She's beautiful.
The girl saw her, then, and seemed stricken. She bowed deeply, and covered her face with her hands.
Sit up straight, child, and smile for me. Your appearance does me great honor. Kati stretched out her arms as she said it, and the girl responded, smiling again, and holding out her own arms, but now there were tears in her eyes, and then she was gone, the parade over.
Kati was still happy when they drove back to the city. She remained that way throughout a meal with the women representing the Small Business Guild, and then an hour of quiet time in her suite to compose a short speech for the Church of The Mother. She could remember few times she'd enjoyed herself so much in a single day, her worries forgotten.
Mengmoshu retired early, exhausted by all the walking they'd done. Now sixty-nine, he was not used to such extended exertion, and even Kati felt it in her own legs. She went over her speech, rehearsing it twice in her head, and then crawled deliciously into bed. Immediately, she sent out a call to her daughter.
Yesui? It's Mother, again. Do you have news for me? I've just had a wonderful day.
There was no answer. She waited a moment, and called again. Still nothing, and her eyelids were heavy, the sheets cool on her skin. She fell asleep without another thought, and languished in dreams about the day: the smiling faces, beautiful arts of the people, then the lovely girl who had portrayed her.
She is like the little one I remember, but now that one is a woman, and her daughter works new miracles in this place. Dear Kati, I love you so. I will miss you so much.
Kati stirred in sleep. I still think of you, Abagai. Now you're in my dreams.
No, Kati. I invade your dreams to tell you I'm here in our usual place, and I have little time. Please come to me quickly, so I can see your face again before it's too late for me.
She was not awake, but nearing it. The huge, emerald eyes she'd seen as a child were suddenly before her, then the matrix of purple stars, and she rushed blindly towards one of them without thought of becoming lost, entering the gong-shi-jie with a flash to find Abagai standing before her.
One last time, dear. If only we could touch each other in saying goodbye.
The familiar, smiling face was there, but Abagai's manifestation was a frightful thing: dim, and muddied, nearly devoid of color and closely hugging the body, like a faintly glowing sculpture.
I called Yesui. She should be here soon, said Abagai. She was talking to the young man who occupies her heart these days.
Oh, Abagai! said Kati. I thought you were well again, but what I see
Is a woman near death, dear, any instant, now, and I wanted to be here when it happens. You might even call it a compulsion. I should be here, it seems, with you, and Yesui, while Yesugen tends to my body. Come here, Kati. Meld with me. It's the closest we can be to touching each other here.
They came together, a mental twining in a place without mass, or sound, or touch.
Yes, said Abagai, I remember it, too, when we held each other long ago. You were bloodied from battle, your hands hard and calloused.
Yours were soft, said Kati, fighting for control.
Abagai! You're back!
Yesui rushed in to meld with both of them, her sudden presence a shock of both joy and apprehension. You're well again!
Abagai disengaged herself from them. You can see that's not so, dear. I only came to say goodbye to both of you. My time has come.
NO! screamed Yesui, and her manifestation blazed with streamers of red. I won't let it be!
Abagai smiled at her. Sweet child, there are limits to what you can do. I've lived a full life. All my hopes for you, your mother and Yesugen have been realized, and I have no regrets. I am not afraid. Now it's time for something else.
What do you mean? asked Kati, wondering at Abagai's serenity.
Abagai hesitated, then said, I feel called to go elsewhere, but where is a mystery to me. Even now, there is a presence, a force that tugs at me. It seems impatient. Perhaps it's my own mind, wishing for an end to my struggle to breathe. These last two years have been like slow suffocation for me, Kati. I welcome relief from it.
Oh, Abagai, Kati said miserably.
I feel a presence, said Yesui softly, and it's not you. I felt it when you weren't here.
I was asleep, dear, but now I'm awake. My eyes are closed, and I feel Yesugen's hand in mine, and I see you here. I feel love from all of you, and it's a comfort, yet I'm compelled to leave all of it. There is something else for me. There, you feel it? Isn't it wonderful?
Kati felt herself slipping away. I don't want to lose you. Your love has held me up so many times.
It is wonderful, but what is it? asked Yesui. I feel it very strongly, now.
STOP IT! said Kati. You cannot recover when you think only of death. Please, Abagai, focus yourself!
Yes, I'm doing that, but not as you wish. Abagai's manifestation flickered. She raised her chin, and closed her eyes. Ohoh. Yes, I'm ready, now. Kati, Yesui, my love will always be with you. I hope with all my heart that we will see each other again.
Abagai's face disappeared. Her manifestation began to dim.
ABAGAI! shrieked Kati, but she was drowned out by Yesugen's call.
Mother. MOTHER! Oh, Kati! She's GONE! I just felt her GO!
Yesui momentarily lost control, her manifestation disappearing and reappearing in a blink as she returned for one instant to her own body.
Abagai's manifestation dimmed, and lost form. It began to flicker, feeble sparks of red and yellow within muddy brown, and then there was a terrible flash, an implosion sucking in nearby purple mist of the light of creation, so intense that Kati and Yesui jerked backwards in their astonishment.
They could only stare at what was now there. Where Abagai had been there was now a brilliant ellipsoid of light, silver mixed with purple, opaque, like a solid thing, and immediately it began to move rapidly away from them, heading in the direction of Tengri-Nayon.
Yesugen! Come quickly! Something has happened here!
I can't. My mother has just passed away, Kati. How can you ask that?
Her manifestation is still here, but changed, and it's moving away from us. Please, Yesugen, come quickly!
Kati and Yesui rushed after an apparition that quickly threatened to outdistance them, and its route was instantly familiar to Kati. Her special place, Yesugen. It's heading in that direction!
The vortex of Tengri-Nayon was just ahead, and the ellipsoid passed it just as Yesugen's manifestation flashed green within the clouds of creation. Clouds and vortices were a blur as they rushed headlong after the thing.
What is it? shouted Yesugen.
I don't know, but it came out of your mother's manifestation, and I think I know where it's going. We must go faster!
Kati had never traveled so fast in the gong-shi-jie, yet Yesui was managing to stay ahead of her, Yesugen struggling to keep up, the ellipsoid pulling away from all of them.
Clouds of shimmering violet, and the edge of their galaxy was nearing. The ellipsoid crossed it and headed straight towards the distant galaxy Kati had visited before. Faster! she urged. We have a long way to go yet!
They plunged into violet mist, gaining speed, and suddenly it was as if a massive vortex of galactic size had appeared in order to pull back on them. The ordinarily quiescent background of violet was now roiling about them, sending them tumbling out of control, and ahead of them a whirling thing, organized in its motion, reaching out like a snake to swallow the remnant of what had once been First Mother to Kati and her people.
Abagai! she shrieked once, and the ellipsoid they'd been chasing was swallowed up, the thing that had taken it collapsing with a splash like water receiving a falling stone, ripples of light passing them as they continued to tumble.
And then it was quiet again. Around them was only the quiescent presence of Yesui's favorite light. Immediately, their tumbling ceased, and they were alone, the great wheel of their galaxy clearly visible behind them.
GONE! screamed Yesugen, and she disappeared, her control lost.
Kati looked longingly at the distant galaxy where Abagai had shown her the birthplace of new stars, and Yesui knew her thoughts.
Will we go there, Mother? I have a strange feeling we should not go further, not now.
I feel it, too, said Kati, the first wave of sorrow hitting her as she said it. It is over. She is gone.
I didn't feel her, Mother. It was an energy field of some kind, very concentrated. It disturbed things here.
Do you still feel that mysterious presence, Yesui?
No, it's disappeared, too.
Then they have gone away together, said Kati.
They fled to their own bodies, as the tidal waves of their grief struck hard.
She was exhausted, without sleep, and Mengmoshu had spent most of the night comforting her. Their faces were haggard, eyes bloodshot, and she explained to Elder Hanshou that she'd just received news of the passing of a beloved friend.
The Church of The Mother was a stone structure one block square, with a steepled roof of polished Tysk stained red. Twelve massive stone columns supported a plastered, domed ceiling, the walls also plastered white, without windows. Soft light came from panels in the dome to illuminate the rows of pews separated by a single aisle in their centers. The pews were filled two hours before she arrived, and there was a huge crowd outside to hear her message over loudspeakers placed there for the event. The people made way for her quietly, and with little bows as Hanshou led her into the church, but once inside she began to cry again.
"Do you wish to have a moment for quiet meditation?" asked Hanshou, his feelings soft and understanding about her grief.
"Oh, yes," she said, and gripped his arm.
He led her down a helix of stone steps to a wooden door, opened it, and peered inside. "Do you wish to be alone? There are a few people here. The Chapel of Light is open to all people, at any hour. They come here to reflect on their lives."
"Please let them stay," she said.
"I will wait for you here," he said.
The Chapel was small, nearly dark, light coming from swirls of luminous paint on a hemispherical ceiling: purples, reds, greens and yellow mixed together, and somehow familiar. Even her private descriptions of what she saw in the gong-shi-jie were known to the people, and in this room was their effort to simulate it.
There were several pews, a center aisle leading to a shrine on which two candles flickered, and there was an odor of smoldering sweet grass. As she walked down the aisle, several kneeling people stood up, as if to leave.
"Please stay with me," she said softly, and then they kneeled again. She went to the shrine, ignited four candles with a wave of her hand, then returned to a front pew and kneeled there, tears trickling down her cheeks. She clasped her hands before her face, going deep within herself, as if in prayer, her eyes still open.
I travel in the place of your creation, and when I call the light it comes to me and goes where I will it. My daughter moves mass as well as light, and changes one to the other, and from the time I was a child I wonder about the sources of such powers. Why me? Why Yesui? And now the woman who first brought me to the gong-shi-jie has been taken away, and I cannot help but think she is not gone, only changed, and I have witnessed a new force beyond my comprehension. What is that force? Is it First Mother? I want to understand. I want to understand everything, but in the meantime I can only follow my heart, and do what I feel compelled to do.
Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, her emotion so intense that her eyes were glowing, and green mixed with the blue of a visible aura she'd not consciously sought to bring forth. Is there someone or something out there to hear my thoughts, or is it my imagination? May I please understand? First Motherplease?
There, it was out, her first prayer since she'd prayed as a child for release from other peoples' thoughts, but it was Abagai who had come to her rescue. It was Abagai who had been First Mother to her, a mortal woman now dead. Or had she only taken on a new form?
Abagai, I miss you so. I will always love you.
There was a release of sorts, though her chest still ached, and her eyes burned. She wiped them with a hand, stood and walked up the aisle, saw wide eyes glistening in candlelight and aural blue on both sides of her. "The blessings of First Mother are upon all of you," she said, and then found Elder Hanshou waiting for her just inside the exit door.
He led her upstairs and into the people's sanctuary, and a crowd of two thousand rose as she walked down the aisle. Many others stood crammed together at the back of the church, and two television cameras were also there. There was no altar in the church, only a riser and a lectern of elaborately carved wood. Hanshou left her, and sat with her father in a front pew as she stepped up to the lectern and put her two pages of notes there. The aura, the glow of her eyes, had not left, but now she was aware of her appearance, and allowed it to remain as a sign to the people before her: upturned faces reverent, amulets everywhere, in each pair of hands the book that recorded her words spoken over a twenty-four year reign. Television cameras were red eyes glowing in the distance, taking her to hundreds of thousands of people in their homes.
Follow your heart, dear. It was as if Abagai were speaking to her, and Kati swallowed hard, clearing her throat before she spoke. Her hands were cold, and her knees felt weak. She took a deep breath, and stretched out her arms.
"There is love here," she intoned. "Now feel with me the love of First Mother for her people." She focused hard to give them what she felt, and saw heads bow everywhere. "I bring you Her love, and blessings upon you for long and fruitful lives. She is most pleased with what you have done, and for your kindness to Her emissary."
She lowered her arms. "Please sit."
As they did so, and settled themselves, she looked at her notes, and suddenly the words were all wrong. She crumpled the papers into a ball, and looked into her heart to find what should be said.
"Love," she said. "What is it? A feeling, an emotion, a pounding of the pulse, or something more? Perhaps it's caring about another, a suspension of selfish desires, a sacrifice to provide for the lives and needs of others. The Mother has shown me the universe in our travels within the gong-shi-jie, and everywhere there has been love. I've seen great clouds of molecules and dust. They are born through the deaths of old stars, they live, then sacrifice their lives in giving birth to new stars, beginning a new cycle. They are part of First Mother.
"The stars themselves are a part of Her. They warm the planets that bear life, and then they die, changing form, dispersing themselves to form new stars, new planets, even life itself. The atoms of your bodies have come from the deaths of stars. That is a gift to you. In death, the stars have taken on new forms, and all are a part of First Mother.
"Death is change, and rebirth in new forms within The Mother, but as living beings we have unique opportunities to show Her love, opportunities not available to stars or planets or clouds of gas. We live, and First Mother is within each of us. Every Empress, noble, skilled worker or unskilled, those with jobs or without, every human being is a living manifestation of First Mother. We are One within Her, and must care for each other, for The Mother shares Her love equally among all of us.
"Your city is a marvel, and it has come from your special skills and efforts. But you are still part of a whole, and it is Shanji. Do not forget your neighbors, especially those less fortunate than you. With your success comes the power and responsibility to show the love of First Mother within you. Do not be caught up in the excesses of living once practiced by the nobles of the old empire. Where you see poverty, eliminate it by sharing what you have. Care for the sick, the elderly, all those who cannot work, or do not have the skills you've been blessed with. As long as one needy person remains on Shanji, the work of First Mother has not been completed here. Remember that in the cycles of life, you could have been one of them."
Kati paused, and suddenly, what she'd said seemed enough.
"This is the will of First Mother," she said solemnly, then smiled.
"I've had a wonderful visit here, and I hope to return regularly in the future. Thank you so much for your kind hospitality."
There was no applause, only a respectful silence as she walked down the aisle, Mengmoshu, then Hanshou behind her. She touched a few hands, and saw a sea of smiles on both sides of her.
Well?
Very good. You've anticipated a problem with the elitest attitudes that have been developing here. You can be sure your words will be in their little books by the end of the week.
Vans awaited them, the crowd outside parting for her, amulets waving. Hanshou stayed behind, and she pressed his hand warmly. "You are a good person, Elder Hanshou. Please keep what I said today in your heart, and practice it."
He was still bowing to her when the van pulled away. They drove straight to the shuttle field at terrifying speed, Ming-hau at the wheel, and again to the private hangar, boarding quickly after more thanks, compliments, and warm handshakes. As they rolled to a takeoff strip, Kati called to her daughter.
Yesui. I'm coming home now, dear. Are you feeling better?
Oh, Mother, please hurry! I'm in my room. I can't think! I can't work!
The rest was unsaid, but both Kati and her father heard it anyway.
Morbid thinking, said Mengmoshu.
No more than my own, Father, and she sees what I see. When death comes to me, I will be there to greet it in the gong-shi-jie.