Xenocide Part 12

"You did it, didn't you?" she said to the G.o.ds. "What no human being could have done, you must have done. You reached out and cut off the Lusitania Fleet."

The answer came, not in words, but in the ever-increasing need for purification.

"But Congress and the admiralty are not of the Way. They can't imagine the golden door into the City of the Jade Mountain in the West. If Father says to them, 'The G.o.ds stole your fleet to punish you for wickedness,' they'll only despise him. If they despise him him, our greatest living statesman, they'll despise us as well. And if Path is shamed because of Father, it will destroy him. Is that why you did this thing?"

She began to weep. "I won't let you destroy my father. I'll find another way. I'll find an answer that will satisfy them. I defy you!"

No sooner had she said the words than the G.o.ds sent her the most overpowering sense of her own abominable filthiness she had ever felt. It was so strong it took her breath away, and she fell forward, clutching at her terminal. She tried to speak, to plead for forgiveness, but she gagged instead, swallowed hard to keep from retching. She felt as though her hands were spreading slime on everything she touched; as she struggled to her feet, her gown clung across her flesh as if it were covered with thick black grease.

But she did not wash. Nor did she fall to the ground and trace lines in the wood. Instead she staggered to the door, meaning to go downstairs to her father's room.

The doorway caught her, though. Not physically-- the door swung open easily as ever-- but still she could not pa.s.s. She had heard of such things, how the G.o.ds captured their disobedient servants in doorways, but it had never happened to her before. She couldn't understand how she was being held. Her body was free to move. There was no barrier. But she felt such a sickening dread at the thought of walking through that she knew she couldn't do it, knew that the G.o.ds required some sort of penance, some sort of purification or they'd never let her leave the room. Not woodgrain-tracing, not handwas.h.i.+ng. What did the G.o.ds require?

Then, all at once, she knew why the G.o.ds wouldn't let her pa.s.s through the door. It was the oath that Father had required of her for her mother's sake. The oath that she would always serve the G.o.ds, no matter what. And here she had been on the verge of defiance. Mother, forgive me! I will not defy defy the G.o.ds. But still I must go to Father and explain to him the terrible predicament in which the G.o.ds have placed us. Mother, help me pa.s.s through this door! the G.o.ds. But still I must go to Father and explain to him the terrible predicament in which the G.o.ds have placed us. Mother, help me pa.s.s through this door!

As if in answer to her plea, it came to her how she might pa.s.s through the door. All she needed to do was fix her gaze on a point in the air just outside the upper-right corner of the door, and while never letting her gaze move from that spot, step backward through the door with her right foot, place her left hand through, then pivot leftward, bringing her left leg backward through the doorway, then her right arm forward. It was complicated and difficult, like a dance, but by moving very slowly and carefully, she did it.

The door released her. And though she still felt the pressure of her own filthiness, some of the intensity had faded. It was bearable. She could breathe without gasping, speak without gagging.

She went downstairs and rang the little bell outside her father's door.

"Is it my daughter, my Gloriously Bright?" asked Father.

"Yes, n.o.ble one," said Qing-jao.

"I'm ready to receive you."

She opened Father's door and stepped through-- no ritual was needed this time. She strode at once to where he sat on a chair before his terminal and knelt before him on the floor.

"I have examined your Si w.a.n.g-mu," said Father, "and I believe your first hiring has been a worthy one."

It took a moment for Father's words to make sense. Si w.a.n.g-mu? Why did Father speak to her of an ancient G.o.d? She looked up in surprise, then looked where Father was looking-- at a serving girl in a clean gray gown, kneeling demurely, looking at the floor. It took a moment to remember the girl from the rice paddy, to remeber that she was to be Qing-jao's secret maid. How could she have forgotten? It was only a few hours ago that Qingjao left her. Yet in that time Qing-jao had battled with the G.o.ds, and if she hadn't won, at least she had not yet lost. What was the hiring of a servant compared to a struggle with the G.o.ds?

"w.a.n.g-mu is impertinent and ambitious," said Father, "but she is also honest and far more intelligent than I would have expected. I a.s.sume from her bright mind and sharp ambition that you both intend for her to be your student as well as your secret maid."

w.a.n.g-mu gasped, and when Qing-jao glanced over at her, she saw how horrified the girl looked. Oh, yes-- she must think that I I think that she told Father of our secret plan. "Don't worry, w.a.n.g-mu," said Qing-jao. "Father almost always guesses secrets. I know you didn't tell." think that she told Father of our secret plan. "Don't worry, w.a.n.g-mu," said Qing-jao. "Father almost always guesses secrets. I know you didn't tell."

"I wish more secrets were as easy as this one," said Father. "My daughter, I commend you for your worthy generosity. The G.o.ds will honor you for it, as I do also."

The words of praise came like unguent to a stinging wound. Perhaps this was why her rebelliousness had not destroyed her, why some G.o.d had taken mercy on her and shown her how to get through the door of her room just now. Because she had judged w.a.n.g-mu with mercy and wisdom, forgiving the girl's impertinence, Qing-jao herself was being forgiven, at least a little, for her own outrageous daring.

w.a.n.g-mu does not repent of her ambition, thought Qing-jao. Neither will I repent of my decision. I must not let Father be destroyed because I can't find-- or invent-- a non-divine explanation for the disappearance of the Lusitania Fleet. And yet, how can I defy the purposes of the G.o.ds? They have hidden or destroyed the fleet. And the works of the G.o.ds must be recognized by their obedient servants, even if they must remain hidden from unbelievers on other worlds.

"Father," said Qing-jao, "I must speak to you about my task."

Father misunderstood her hesitation. "We can speak in front of w.a.n.g-mu. She's been hired now as your secret maid. The hiring bonus has been sent to her father, the first barriers of secrecy have been suggested to her mind. We can trust her to hear us and never tell."

"Yes, Father," said Qing-jao. In truth she had again forgotten that w.a.n.g-mu was even there. "Father, I know who has hidden the Lusitania Fleet. But you must promise me that you will never tell it to Starways Congress."

Father, who was usually placid, looked mildly distressed. "I can't promise such a thing," he said. "It would be unworthy of me to be such a disloyal servant. "

What could she do, then? How could she speak? And yet how could she keep from speaking? "Who is your master?" she cried. "Congress or the G.o.ds?"

"First the G.o.ds," said Father. "They are always first."

"Then I must tell you that I have discovered that the G.o.ds are the ones who have hidden the fleet from us, Father. But if you tell this to the Congress, they'll mock you and you'll be ruined." Then another thought occurred to her. "If it was the G.o.ds who stopped the fleet, Father, then the fleet must have been against the will of the G.o.ds after all. And if Starways Congress sent the fleet against the will of--"

Father held up his hand for her to be silent. She immediately stopped speaking and bowed her head. She waited.

"Of course it's the G.o.ds," said Father.

His words came as both a relief and a humiliation. Of course Of course, he had said. Had he known this all along?

"The G.o.ds do all things that are done in the universe. But don't a.s.sume that you know why why. You say they must have stopped the fleet because they oppose its mission. But I say that Congress couldn't have sent the fleet in the first place if the G.o.ds hadn't willed it. So why couldn't it be that the G.o.ds stopped the fleet because its mission was so great and n.o.ble that humanity was not worthy of it? Or what if they hid the fleet because it would provide a difficult test for you? One thing is certain: The G.o.ds have permitted Starways Congress to hold sway over most of humanity. As long as they have the mandate of heaven, we of Path will follow their edicts without opposition."

"I didn't mean to oppose ..." She could not finish such an obvious falsehood.

Father understood perfectly, of course. "I hear how your voice fades and your words trail off into nothing. This is because you know your words are not not true. You meant to oppose Starways Congress, in spite of all I have taught you." Then his voice grew gentler. "For my sake you meant to do it." true. You meant to oppose Starways Congress, in spite of all I have taught you." Then his voice grew gentler. "For my sake you meant to do it."

"You're my ancestor. I owe you a higher duty than I owe them."

"I'm your father. I won't become your ancestor until I'm dead."

"For Mother's sake, then. If they ever lose the mandate of heaven, then I will be their most terrible enemy, for I will will serve the G.o.ds." Yet even as she said this, she knew her words were a dangerous half-truth. Until only a few moments ago-- until she had been caught in the door-- hadn't she been perfectly willing to defy even the G.o.ds for her father's sake? I am the most unworthy, terrible daughter, she thought. serve the G.o.ds." Yet even as she said this, she knew her words were a dangerous half-truth. Until only a few moments ago-- until she had been caught in the door-- hadn't she been perfectly willing to defy even the G.o.ds for her father's sake? I am the most unworthy, terrible daughter, she thought.

"I tell you now, my Gloriously Bright daughter, that opposing Congress will never be for my good. Or yours either. But I forgive you for loving me to excess. It is the gentlest and kindest of vices."

He smiled. It calmed her agitation, to see him smile, though she knew that she didn't deserve his approbation. Qing-jao was able to think again, to return to the puzzle. "You knew that the G.o.ds did this, and yet you made me search for the answer."

"But were you asking the right question?" said Father. "The question we need answered is: How How did the G.o.ds do it?" did the G.o.ds do it?"

"How can I know?" answered Qing-jao. "They might have destroyed e fleet or hidden it, or carried it away to some secret place in the West--"

"Qing-jao! Look at me. Hear me well."

She looked. His stern command helped calm her, give her focus.

"This is something I have tried to teach you all your life, but now you must must learn it, Qing-jao. The G.o.ds are the cause of everything that happens, but they learn it, Qing-jao. The G.o.ds are the cause of everything that happens, but they never never act except in disguise. Do you hear me?" act except in disguise. Do you hear me?"

She nodded. She'd heard those words a hundred times.

"You hear and yet you don't understand me, even now," said Father. "The G.o.ds have chosen the people of Path, Qing-jao. Only we we are privileged to hear their voice. Only are privileged to hear their voice. Only we we are allowed to see that they are the cause of all that is and was and will be. To all other people their works remain hidden, a mystery. Your task is not to discover the are allowed to see that they are the cause of all that is and was and will be. To all other people their works remain hidden, a mystery. Your task is not to discover the true true cause of the disappearance of the Lusitania Fleet-- all of Path would know at once that the true cause is that the G.o.ds wished it to happen. Your task is to discover the disguise that the G.o.ds have created for this event." cause of the disappearance of the Lusitania Fleet-- all of Path would know at once that the true cause is that the G.o.ds wished it to happen. Your task is to discover the disguise that the G.o.ds have created for this event."

Qing-jao felt light-headed, dizzy. She had been so certain that she had the answer, that she had fulfilled her task. Now it was slipping away. The answer was still true, but her task was different now.

"Right now, because we can't find a natural explanation, the G.o.ds stand exposed for all of humanity to see, the unbelievers as well as the believers. The G.o.ds are naked naked, and we must clothe them. We must find out the series of events the G.o.ds have created to explain the disappearance of the fleet, to make it appear natural to the unbelievers. I thought you understood this. We serve Starways Congress, but only because by serving Congress we also serve the G.o.ds. The G.o.ds wish us to deceive Congress, and Congress wishes to be deceived."

Qing-jao nodded, numb with disappointment that her task was still not finished.

"Does this sound heartless of me?" asked Father. "Am I dishonest? Am I cruel to the unbeliever?"

"Does a daughter judge her father?" whispered Qing-jao.

"Of course she does," said Father. "Every day all people judge all other people. The question is whether we judge wisely."

"Then I judge that it's no sin to speak to the unbelievers in the language of their unbelief," said Qing-jao.

Was that a smile now at the corners of his mouth? "You do understand," said Father. "If ever Congress comes to us, humbly seeking to know the truth, then we will teach the the Way and they'll become part of Path. Until then, we serve the G.o.ds by helping the unbelievers deceive themselves into thinking that all things happen because of natural explanations."

Qing-jao bowed until her head nearly touched the floor. "You have tried to teach me this many times, but until now I never had a task that this principle applied to. Forgive the foolishness of your unworthy daughter."

"I have no unworthy daughter," said Father. "I have only my daughter who is Gloriously Bright. The principle you've learned today is one that few on Path will ever really understand. That's why only a few of us are able to deal directly with people from other worlds without baffling or confusing them. You have surprised me today, Daughter, not because you hadn't yet understood it, but because you have come to understand it so young. I was nearly ten years older than you before I discovered it."

"How can I learn something before you did, Father?" The idea of surpa.s.sing one of his achievements was almost unthinkable.

"Because you had me to teach you," said Father, "while I had to discover it for myself. But I see that it frightened you to think that perhaps you learned something younger than I did. Do you think it would dishonor me if my daughter surpa.s.sed me? On the contrary-- there can be no greater honor to a parent than to have a child who is greater."

"I can never be greater than you, Father."

"In a sense that's true, Qing-jao. Because you are my child, all your works are included within mine, as a subset of mine, just as all of us are a subset of our ancestors. But you have so much potential for greatness inside you that I believe there'll come a time when I will be counted greater because of your works than because of my own. If ever the people of Path judge me worthy of some singular honor, it will be at least as much because of your achievements as my own."

With that Father bowed to her, not a courteous bow of dismissal, but a deep bow of respect, his head almost touching the floor. Not quite, for that would be outrageous, almost a mockery, if he actually touched his head to the floor in honor to his own daughter. But he came as close as dignity allowed.

It confused her for a moment, frightened her; then she understood. When he implied that his chance of being chosen G.o.d of Path depended on her greatness, he wasn't speaking of some vague future event. He was speaking of the here and now. He was speaking of her task. If she could find the G.o.ds' disguise, the natural explanation for the disappearance of the Lusitania Fleet, then his selection as G.o.d of Path would be a.s.sured. That was how much he trusted her. That was how important this task was. What was her coming-of-age, compared to her father's G.o.dhood? She must work harder, think better, and succeed where all the resources of the military and the Congress had failed. Not for herself, but for Mother, for the G.o.ds, and for Father's chance to become one of them.

Qing-jao withdrew from Father's room. She paused in the doorway and glanced at w.a.n.g-mu. One glance from the G.o.dspoken was enough to tell the girl to follow.

By the time Qing-jao got to her room she was shaking with the pent-up need for purification. All that she had done wrong today-- her rebelliousness toward the G.o.ds, her refusal to accept purification earlier, her stupidity at not understanding her true task-- it came together now. Not that she felt dirty; it wasn't was.h.i.+ng she wanted, or self-loathing that she felt. After all, her unworthiness had been tempered by her father's praise, by the G.o.d who showed her how to pa.s.s through the door. And w.a.n.g-mu's having proven to be a good choice-- that was a test that Qing-jao had pa.s.sed, and boldly, too. So it wasn't vileness that made her tremble. She was hungry hungry for purification. She longed for the G.o.ds to be with her as she served them. Yet no penance that she knew of would be enough to quell her hunger. for purification. She longed for the G.o.ds to be with her as she served them. Yet no penance that she knew of would be enough to quell her hunger.

Then she knew: She must trace a line on every board in the room.

At once she chose her starting point, the southeast corner; she would begin each tracing at the eastern wall, so that her rituals would all move westward, toward the G.o.ds. Last of all would be the shortest board in the room, less than a meter long, in the northwest corner. It would be her reward, that her last tracing would be so brief and easy.

She could hear w.a.n.g-mu enter the room softly behind her, but Qing-jao had no time now for mortals. The G.o.ds were waiting. She knelt in the corner, scanned the grains to find the one the G.o.ds wanted her to follow. Usually she had to choose for herself, and then she always chose the most difficult one, so the G.o.ds wouldn't despise her. But tonight she was filled with instant certainty that the G.o.ds were choosing for her. The first line was a thick one, wavy but easy to see. Already they were being merciful! Tonight's ritual would be almost a conversation between her and the G.o.ds. She had broken through an invisible barrier today; she had come closer to her father's clear understanding. Perhaps someday the G.o.ds would speak to her with the sort of clarity that the common people believed all the G.o.dspoken heard.

"Holy one," said w.a.n.g-mu.

It was as though Qing-jao's joy were made of gla.s.s, and w.a.n.g-mu had deliberately shattered it. Didn't she know that when a ritual was interrupted, it had to begin again? Qing-jao rose up on her knees and turned to face the girl.

w.a.n.g-mu must have seen the fury on Qing-jao's face, but didn't understand it. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said at once, falling to her knees and bowing her head to the floor. "I forgot that I'm not to call you 'holy one.' I only meant to ask you what you were looking for, so I could help you search."

It almost made Qing-jao laugh, that w.a.n.g-mu was so mistaken. Of course w.a.n.g-mu had no notion that Qing-jao was being spoken to by the G.o.ds. And now, her anger interrupted, Qing-jao was ashamed to see how w.a.n.g-mu feared her anger; it felt wrong for the girl to be touching her head to the floor. Qing-jao didn't like seeing another person so humiliated.

How did I frighten her so much? I was filled with joy, because the G.o.ds were speaking so clearly to me; but my joy was so selfish that when she innocently interrupted me, I turned a face of hate to her. Is this how I answer the G.o.ds? They show me a face of love, and I translate it into hatred toward the people, especially one who is in my power? Once again the G.o.ds have found a way to show me my unworthiness.

"w.a.n.g-mu, you mustn't interrupt me when you find me bowed down on the floor like that." And she explained to w.a.n.g-mu about the ritual of purification that the G.o.ds required of her.

"Must I do this also?" said w.a.n.g-mu.

"Not unless the G.o.ds tell you to."

"How will I know?"

"If it hasn't happened to you at your age, w.a.n.g-mu, it probably never will. But if it did happen, you'd know, because you wouldn't have the power to resist the voice of the G.o.ds in your mind."

w.a.n.g-mu nodded gravely. "How can I help you, ... Qing-jao?" She tried out her mistress's name carefully, reverently. For the first time Qing-jao realized that her name, which sounded sweetly affectionate when her father said it, could sound exalted when it was spoken with such awe. To be called Gloriously Bright at a moment when Qing-jao was keenly aware of her lack of l.u.s.ter was almost painful. But she would not forbid w.a.n.g-mu to use her name-- the girl had to have something something to call her, and w.a.n.g-mu's reverent tone would serve Qing-jao as a constant ironic reminder of how little she deserved it. to call her, and w.a.n.g-mu's reverent tone would serve Qing-jao as a constant ironic reminder of how little she deserved it.

"You can help me by not interrupting," said Qing-jao.

"Should I leave, then?"

Qing-jao almost said yes, but then realized that for some reason the G.o.ds wanted w.a.n.g-mu to be part of this penance. How did she know? Because the thought of w.a.n.g-mu leaving felt almost as unbearable as the knowledge of her unfinished tracing. "Please stay," said Qing-jao. "Can you wait in silence? Watching me?"

"Yes, ... Qing-jao."

"If it goes on so long that you can't bear it, you may leave," said Qingjao. "But only when you see me moving from the west to the east. That means I'm between tracings, and it won't distract me for you to leave, though you mustn't speak to me."

w.a.n.g-mu's eyes widened. "You're going to do this with every grain of wood in every board of the floor?"

"No," said Qing-jao. The G.o.ds would never be so cruel as that! But even as she thought this, Qing-jao knew that someday there might come a time when the G.o.ds would require exactly that penance. It made her sick with dread. "Only one line in each board in the room. Watch with me, will you?"

She saw w.a.n.g-mu glance at the time message that glowed in the air over her terminal. It was already the hour for sleep, and both of them had missed their afternoon nap. It wasn't natural for human beings to go so long without sleeping. The days on Path were half again as long as those on Earth, so that they never worked out quite evenly with the internal cycles of the human body. To miss the nap and then delay the sleep was a very hard thing.

But Qing-jao had no choice. And if w.a.n.g-mu couldn't stay awake, she'd have to leave now, however the G.o.ds resisted that idea. "You must stay awake," said Qing-jao. "If you fall asleep, I'll have to speak to you so you'll move and uncover some of the lines I have to trace. And if I speak to you, I'll have to begin again. Can you stay awake, silent and unmoving?"

w.a.n.g-mu nodded. Qing-jao believed that she meant it; she did not really believe the girl could do it. Yet the G.o.ds insisted that she let her new secret maid remain-- who was Qing-jao to refuse what the G.o.ds required of her?

Qing-jao returned to the first board and started her tracing over again. To her relief, the G.o.ds were still with her. On board after board she was given the boldest, easiest grain to follow; and when, now and then, she was given a harder one, it invariably happened that the easy grain faded or disappeared off the edge of the board partway along. The G.o.ds were caring for her.

As for w.a.n.g-mu, the girl struggled mightily. Twice, on the pa.s.sage back from the west to begin again in the east, Qing-jao glanced at w.a.n.g-mu and saw her sleeping. But when Qing-jao began pa.s.sing near to the place where w.a.n.g-mu had lain, she found that her secret maid had wakened and moved so quietly to a place where Qing-jao had already traced that Qing-jao hadn't even heard her movements. A good girl. A worthy choice for a secret maid.

At last, at long last Qing-jao reached the beginning of the last board, a short one in the very corner. She almost spoke aloud in joy, but caught herself in time. The sound of her own voice and w.a.n.g-mu's inevitable answer would surely send her back to start again-- it would be an unbelievable folly. Qing-jao bent over the beginning of the board, already less than a meter from the northwest corner of the room, and began tracing the boldest line. It led her, clear and true, right to the wall. It was done.

Qing-jao slumped against the wall and began laughing in relief. But she was so weak and tired that her laughter must have sounded like weeping to w.a.n.g-mu. In moments the girl was with her, touching her shoulder. "Qing-jao," she said. "Are you in pain?"

Qing-jao took the girl's hand and held it. "Not in pain. Or at least no pain that sleeping won't cure. I'm finished. I'm clean."

Clean enough, in fact, that she felt no reluctance in letting her hand clasp w.a.n.g-mu's hand, skin to skin, without filthiness of any kind. It was a gift from the G.o.ds, that she had someone's hand to hold when her ritual was done. "You did very well," said Qing-jao. "It was easier for me to concentrate on the tracing, with you in the room."

"I think I fell asleep once, Qing-jao."

"Perhaps twice. But you woke when it mattered, and no harm was done."

w.a.n.g-mu began to weep. She closed her eyes but didn't take her hand away from Qing-jao to cover her face. She simply let the tears flow down her cheeks.

"Why are you weeping, w.a.n.g-mu?"

"I didn't know," she said. "It really is is a hard thing to be G.o.dspoken. I didn't know." a hard thing to be G.o.dspoken. I didn't know."