CHAPTER NINE: MORTALITY
Yesui returned to her rooms in a downcast mood, for the happenings of the day had been her first experience with death. Juimoshu had died quietly in her sleep at the age of eighty-five, and the royal family had attended her funeral in the mountain vault that was the mausoleum for all past nobility and royalty of Shanji over its two thousand year history.
Yesui had only met Juimoshu a couple of times, but had touched her mentally and heard the stories of those days when her mother had first come to the Emperor's city. She'd not felt close to Juimoshu, though her mother considered the woman a dear friend, and thus they had attended the funeral.
The vault was deep in the mountain, beyond the Moshuguang laboratories and the caverns, now museums for the first wedge-shaped shuttles which had brought the people to Shanji. All the past Emperors were interred there, their granitic tombs marked with plates of bronze and receptacles for candles and incense. Panels of orange lights glowed dimly in a high ceiling of rough-hewn basalt, and Yesui had felt closed in, a squeezing sensation in her chest. Candles burned at many places along the walls. Her mother lit two new ones, and also incense, with a wave of her hand at the crypt of Shan-lan, and Yesui felt her sadness, her sense of loss. You are gone forever, but my love remains, dear friend.
Juimoshu's withered body was robed in Moshuguang black and lay in a concrete box lined with polished Tysk. There were no priests, no formal religions among the educated on Shanji, only an understanding that before the universe and the gong-shi-jie, there had been powers beyond comprehension, and those powers were still at work. The friends of Juimoshu spoke of her, exchanging fond memories, and they placed flowers in the casket. Their Empress placed a green pebble in the woman's stiff hands and then four workers lifted a slab of enameled copper to cover the casket, following that with a slab of concrete lifted by machine. Even as they walked away, another machine was lifting the closed casket to slide it into its final resting place within a recess in cold stone.
Yesui was already depressed, but then her mother pointed to other places along the walls, places with bronze plates without inscriptions, and she said, "Those are for us, when our times come."
By the time they got back to the tunnel and the mag-rail awaiting them, Yesui was nearly in tears, for her mother was open to her, and she was thinking of the ones she loved: her family, including Gong-Gong, and especially Abagai, who was now very old. She was thinking about losing them. For the first time, Yesui thought about losing her own mother, so much a part of her, and so the tears came. Her mother sensed it without looking, and took her hand as they seated themselves in the mag-rail car.
We are all mortal, dear. We live, and we die, and our atoms are scattered to become parts of new things. The atoms in your body have come from the deaths of stars, and they have been used for many things before you existed. Only the atoms are permanent, Yesui. All life is a transient thing.
But an atom is not aware of itself, thought Yesui, as her mother squeezed her hand. It does not seem right for that to be so.
They went back to the palace in silence, Mengjai staying behind with his father for a private inspection of the old shuttles there. At the door to Yesui's rooms, her mother took her by the shoulders and looked closely at her.
"I want to see Abagai, Yesui, and I want to see her alone. Will you feel badly if I ask you to remain here?"
"No, Mother. I understand. She is very old."
Her mother kissed her. "I knew you would see the reason. I will call when we are finished."
"Do you mind if I wait for you in the gong-shi-jie? I promise not to follow you, and there are some things I want to try with the violet light there. It might be useful for our project with Lan-Sui, Mother."
"Very well. I think that Abagai and I will be traveling quite far this time."
"I understand, Mother. She has made promises for years, and now you will hold her to them."
"Yes, dear." Her mother smiled, kissed her again, and left her.
So Yesui returned to her rooms in a downcast mood, her mother thinking of Abagai growing old and dying before they could make a promised trip to a distant galaxy where there was a special place to be seen. Yesui did not like her own bad mood, knew that only action would relieve it, and so she called to her brother.
Mengjai, I have a new idea for Lan-Sui, and I want to leave right away. Can you come with me?
We're on our way back now, came the reply. Give me about fifteen minutes.
Hurry!
As it turned out, his rush was not so necessary, for their mother had found several documents awaiting her review and signature, and was now working at her desk. Mengjai arrived with time to spare, but his excitement was not about traveling with his sister in the gong-shi-jie.
"I saw all the control systems, and sat in the pilot's seat! Father says that in two years my body will be ready for training in space, and he wants to start me out as a navigator! I can see myself now, piloting a freighter all the way to Tengri-Nayon, actually being there."
"You've already been there, many times."
"It's not the same, and you know it. It's not being their physically, walking on Meng-shi-jie, or seeing Lan-Sui city with real eyes. I don't feel anything when we're there. It's more like a dream. I want to be there!"
She felt the longing in his heart, and was strangely disappointed by it. "Will you go with me now?"
"Sure I will. Let's see what new idea you've come up with."
"As soon as Mother leaves. I think she and Abagai are going to that other galaxy they've talked about for years. Mother is afraid that Abagai will die before they make the trip."
"No wonder, after today. That was depressing," said Mengjai. "All that talk about death. I was glad to get out of there. I'm too young to think about death. My life is just beginning."
"You're still a mortal, and so am I, brother," she said, but Mengjai only shrugged and smiled at her.
And it was only a few minutes later when they felt their mother leave them, a part of her gone, although her body was still alive. A part of her was gone, as if in death, yet Yesui knew she would return. So it was not death. It was not permanent. Still, there was a similarity there that bothered her, and would continue to bother her for many years before she finally understood.
"Now, but carefully. I want to be certain about where she is," said Yesui.
There was no conscious effort on their part, no touch or ceremony required. They were simply together when they willed it. But their entrance to the place of creation was made cautiously, their emergence slow, without manifestation. There, said Yesui, without fear of detection, for the connection with her brother was something unobservable by any others, including her mother and Abagai. Together, as they were now, they were one mind, and she could mask for both of them.
Her mother never traveled without manifestation in the gong-shi-jie. Yesui suspected she could not do otherwise, but knew that Abagai had done it on more than one occasion, a shadowy presence that only Yesui herself could detect. The column of emerald green that was her mother drifted slowly to the vortex of Tengri-Nayon, within view, and waited there. Yesui heard her call, then the happy reply, and Abagai appeared in a flash, the two figures melding together in greeting. Yesui had never seen the two of them like this, thinking they were alone. Their affectionate feelings threatened Yesui's composure, and she made a conscious effort to retain her invisibility.
Her mother and Abagai chattered like children, exchanging news. Yesui caught the news of storms on Lan-Sui, and Yesugen's new love, before they drifted out of sight in the direction of Abagai's special place. Now! she said. I've discovered some new things I can do, Mengjai, and I think they can be useful for Lan-Sui. I don't think what we've been doing there is going to work.
That's because you're not using enough mass, or going deep enough.
Maybe, but you said yourself the ideal model would be to add low density mass everywhere, at the same instant, and it's not happening that way. Let me show you something.
They drifted to the vortex of Tengri-Nayon.
Mengjia asked: Something's different here. Where did all the violet light come from?
I've been bringing it in from the edge of our galaxy.
Why go so far? I've seen you make it by transferring mass from real space to here.
But only a little, and there is a great quantity of it around our galaxy. It's easier to just bring it here. Yesui seemed quite pleased with what she was telling him, and was leading him on. He obliged her with a question.
I thought you couldn't move this stuff. You said it was "sticky."
Were you with me when I said that, brother? That was a long time ago.
Then, and before then, said Mengjai smugly.
Aha, she said. Well, anyway, yes, I couldn't move it with any speed. All other light here moves from A to B when I think it so. The violet light would not. It flickers all the time. It's here, and not here, over and over again, at very high frequency.
I can see that. But light is light. What's the difference?
The violet light is not light, Mengjai. It is mass, she said dramatically.
Impossible! It's far too hot here, Yesui. We're surrounded by the light of creation. It had to pass through the interface to real space before it could cool enough to form mass.
Heavy particles first, then lighter ones, dying fast and making even lighter ones that make up our universe, said Yesui.
Yes, but that happened very fast. When it was done, it was done.
I agree, said Yesui, still leading him on, and nearly giggling with excitement, but still he indulged her patiently.
So, how can there be mass in the gong-shi-jie? he asked.
It's only here part of the time, where it seems like light. In real space it is a dark mass, but again only part of the time. The rest of the time it is HERE!
The transition was sudden, and they were not in real space. They were at the interface, and faint lines of green ran in every direction to infinity. Off to their right was the dense, parabolic-shaped pattern they'd used to target Lan-Sui in the vortex of Tengri-Nayon. We are in it, said Yesui.
In what? This is the interface, the fabric of space. Now he was becoming impatient with her.
The interface IS the mass, brother. It spends most of its time here. It was you who led me here, Mengjai, and now I've found it! I come HERE to move the violet light, not in the gong-shi-jie. It's "sticky," yes, because it is attached everywhere to real space. It IS the fabric of space. All those lines you see, I want you to be patient with me, pick one, and look closely. Relax. I'm trying to explain!
It was an effort, but he relaxed, and didn't focus so hard, and Yesui helped by moving in for a closer look at the threads. What he saw astounded him, for the threads were not constant, but flickering, and seemed to be broken at regular intervals into closely-spaced pieces.
I haven't figured out the green color, said Yesui casually. I think it's illusion, an average between real space and the gong-shi-jie. Do you see the holes?
The threads are broken in pieces, he said, and they flicker.
All right, they're oblong holes. That's where the mass passes back and forth. Where there's a thread, there's mass—for a while. Dark mass, if you want to call it that. I don't know what it is, but it makes the threads, and the normal mass comes to it. See over there, by Tengri-Nayon, how the threads get so dense?
The star's mass distorts space.
No. There was a distortion there before the star formed. Very small, but it was there, and the normal mass came to it.
You have it all backwards, said Mengjai.
You think you're so smart, she said. Let me show you something you don't have in your learning machine. Watch those parallel threads right in front of us. I'm bringing the violet light there—now!
She only thought it, and it was there, but it was not violet light he saw. The threads suddenly brightened, and were no longer parallel, coming closer together, and bending to form a small depression like a shallow hole, which began to move. Now you see my new way of moving mass, she said proudly.
The depression moved with increasing speed towards Tengri-Nayon, leaving behind the normal pattern of threads far apart and parallel. You see how they attract each other? she said. Where one is, the other wants to be.
When the disturbance in the threads reached the great depression that was Tengri-Nayon, it melded into it and was gone, and everything was quiet again.
I've put mass into a star, and uniformly, well, sort of. More went in towards the center, but some went in everywhere. I'm going to do that with Lan-Sui.
Dark mass in Lan-Sui? You don't even know what it IS! And do you have any idea how much mass you just moved? That "ripple" of yours was five times the size of what we see for Lan-Sui.
No, I don't. I'll have to work on that. But you get the idea.
Yesui! You frighten me to death with your hurry to do things! We don't know the composition, and the mass equivalent of that violet light is huge, from what I just saw. You could blow up a planet, or a star with that stuff!
I suppose so, she said, not impressed. But what about the idea, Mengjai?
I don't know, he said, oscillating between excitement and fright. Let me think. Something new was crawling in his mind, and Yesui waited patiently for him to dig at it.
You can certainly transfer lots of mass, and that will speed up Lan-Sui's compression. That's good. We don't know the composition of the mass, and that's bad. Compression is good, but heat takes a long time to get to the surface. We really need a helium rain to get the upper level heating started quickly. Dark mass by itself won't do. We need hydrogen, and especially helium along with it.
I've tried that, Mengjai, and all I do is make local storms. There's no distribution of mass like you predicted, she chided.
So use the dark mass to guide the hydrogen and helium. Use them together, from here! Bring in the violet light as you just did, then get mass from Tengri-Nayon and add to it. You can do it right now, Yesui. Try it!
All right, mister genius. Let's see if you can be right this time!
And so she tried his idea—three times—while Mengjai watched from the interface. The violet light moved easily for her, and it was obvious she'd had much practice with it. Each time it came, forming a well-defined depression in the fabric of space, a thing already moving as she fled to bring mass back from Tengri-Nayon. The first time she did not account for the motion, and missed the depression by a wide margin, the mass scattering over the interface as the depression disappeared into Tengri-Nayon. The second time she was closer, but the result was the same, and now she was angry.
I will start further out, she grumbled, then disappeared, back in a flash to form a new depression twice as far from Tengri-Nayon than before. It moved more slowly now, and before Mengjai could speak she was gone and back again, and with her came ripples in the threads which rushed into the depression, making it deeper as it rushed headlong into Tengri-Nayon and was absorbed there.
That's IT! he shouted. Oh, I would give anything to have seen that in real space. It must have been spectacular!
Yesui seemed exhausted by the effort. It is very precise, brother. Very difficult.
But it will work! And not just for Lan-Sui. Do you see what you've done, Yesui? You've taken mass without destroying it in the gong-shi-jie, and moved it at high speed just by bending the fabric of space. The dark mass does the accelerating. You can move anything this way. Oh, oh, the possibilities here. A spaceship, a planet, anything can be moved.
Yesui did not seem impressed. Your imagination is soaring, brother, she said, and my mind is a blur. I don't think you realize how difficult that was for me. I've never had to concentrate so hard before. I want to stop, now.
Yes, yes, of course. We can try other things another time; find a small asteroid, maybe, and move it, or something even smaller that—
Enough. I'm tired, and we've been here too long anyway. I promised Mother I'd meet her.
Very well, he said reluctantly, for he already had several new experiments in mind for her to try. You've reached another stage, Yesui, and I didn't even see it coming. You've been practicing without me.
You don't always have to be with me, Mengjai, and my practice is easier without your chattering.
I didn't feel you go.
You are not so observant as you think, brother, and your work with Father has been conveniently distracting.
I will fly in space with him, Yesui, and you will move our ship!
Perhaps, she said, as they came out into the gong-shi-jie, still totally immersed in themselves.
Two great columns of emerald green awaited them.
It was their mother and Abagai, and the looks on the faces of the two women were expressions of both surprise, and pure horror.
They melded together in a warm embrace without touch.
Again, said Abagai, then frowning. You are upset, Kati. A problem?
No. I just wanted to see you again. I want to make that journey with you that we've talked about for years. I want to do it now, before . . . before it's too late. Kati opened her mind, and let Abagai see the events of her day.
Ahhh, said Abagai. Another reminder of my mortality, but it is true. We should have gone before now, but much has distracted me.
Abagai brought Kati up-to-date about the situation on Lan-Sui, including the mysterious storms there, and then she smiled.
There's also good news. Yesugen has found love with Kabul, and she bears his child. We had a grand wedding just weeks ago, and I cannot think of a time when I've been so happy, even with you. Her heart fairly bursts with love for the man, and my tears were bubbling during the entire ceremony. It's what I've always wanted for her, Kati. A love to soften her heart, and finally she has it.
They were drifting automatically towards Abagai's observing place, past a yellow vortex that had once been deep red, changed forever by a special child. I'm happy for you, Abagai, and for Yesugen. Perhaps there's hope yet for my Yesui. She shows no interest whatsoever in boys.
Abagai laughed, as they neared the edge of the galaxy with its quiescent clouds of violet light. You're not nearly as old as I, Kati, and already you think of heirs. Well, so do I. We have our daughters, but wonder who will come after them.
They did not stop this time, but drifted steadily outwards through violet mist that seemed to fade, then was gone, and they were in a featureless void. Far ahead was a colorful wheel of another universe only Abagai had seen before. Now they were finally going there, and Kati could not suppress her sorrow, somehow feeling it would be the first time and the last time for them to see this place together.
You think of my mortality, dear, and it is realistic. I'm not well, and I think there's little time left for me. But we're here, now, and this moment is ours. There is a wonderful place I want you to see. And I want you to enjoy it after I'm gone.
Oh, Abagai! cried Kati.
Now, now.
The galactic wheel was now large, yet they had drifted only a little while, and in real space light would have to travel for millions of years to reach it. But here they were, already coming in close, and Kati could see the clouds of violet light tucked in around the wheel like a great, misty disk with a bulge in its center. Patterns of vortices began to appear, great swirls of them, but towards the center of the wheel their colors were blurred together, as if smeared by the strokes of a great brush.
There are seven whorls of dust and gas where new stars are forming, Kati. We are going to the innermost of those, to the left of the hub. You see the line of orange and yellow vortices?
Yes.
You pick the third one from the bottom of the pattern, the one in orange. That is the first signpost.
They were coming in nearly perpendicular to the galaxy, the great wheel of it filling their view, and to her right the number of vortices was huge, packed so densely together she could barely distinguish them individually, for the short spaces between them were filled with violet mist.
Here we are, said Abagai. They came in to a vortex in deep orange, nearly red, and again there were the swirling clouds in blue and purple beyond purple, that Kati was so familiar with. She felt a relief of tension, for between this galaxy and her own there had only been a black void with the tiniest trace of violet shimmering there.
Now we turn left. Look closely, a short ways, the mottling of blue within the purple. The vortices there have only recently formed. The three largest make a triangle, and we come out in its center. It is that simple.
I see it, said Kati, and the transition occured as she said so.
This is the place, said Abagai, but Kati was too stunned to answer for a long moment.
In one direction, towards the galactic hub, the field of view was packed solid with dim, red stars, and their combined light was dazzling to behold. Up and down from the plane of the wheel, few stars were visible, many peeking out from behind dark clouds of dust and gas. But it was the view away from the hub that stunned her into silence. It was as if she stood on level ground, looking up at a great cliff made by pressing sharp spires tightly together, the top of it jagged and convoluted, as if boiling. This was not rock, but a billowing mass of dust and gas, a wall of it stretching as far as she could see in two directions, dully illuminated in red by the stars behind her. Protuberances issued everywhere from the wall, and along the top of it, and at the end of each was a stalk like a fine twig, and at the end of each stalk a tiny, dazzling light was shining forth from a point. All colors, a full spectrum from red to blue were there, as if a cosmic artisan had covered the wall with strings of lights for some great festival.
Ohhh, said Kati. What a beautiful sight.
A birthplace for stars, said Abagai softly. Behind us are the old, and the dying. Before us are stars not yet born, all those tiny lights, struggling for birth. I've never seen another place like it.
I can see why you love this place, said Kati, memorizing the sight before her.
There was a long pause, then Abagai said, It is more than the view, dear. I'm afraid I haven't been honest with you. I've come here many times since I first promised to bring you along. I've wanted to be alone because of the feelings I have when I'm here. Now I have those feelings again, and I'm glad you're with me.
Feelings? asked Kati. Yes, I feel wonderment for this place. I could not imagine such a vision as this.
Another pause. You feel nothing special? No sense of a presence here?
No, Abagai, I feel no presence but yours. The woman seemed disappointed in her answer.
It is more than one presence; it is many. I've only felt it here, and I feel it again, as if now both of us are watched.
Kati concentrated hard, but nothing was there. I'm sorry, Abagai. Now, she was worried.
It is not my imagination, dear. Each time I've come, the feeling is stronger, and now it is great, even with you here. It is like—a calling. I think of the first time you called out to me when you were a little girl. You called out, but didn't know who I was.
I remember, said Kati fondly. I wanted you to make the thoughts of other people get out of my head. You showed me a vision of your emerald eyes.
Abagai smiled. Yes—so long ago. But I have no visions, only a feeling. I feel compelled to wait here, as if someone comes for me. Now it is very strong.
Perhaps we should leave, said Kati, now terribly troubled by such talk.
You think I anticipate my death here. No, Kati, but the feelings come from beyond that wall of gas and dust and infant stars. I'm not imagining them.
It was all too much for her. I'd like to leave now, Abagai. Yesui is waiting to meet us, said Kati. Can we go? There will be other times.
Abagai looked at her sadly. I think not, dear, but you've been here, now, and you know the way. I will leave because you're afraid for me, but there's no reason for fear. And we've had our moment here together. One last look if I may . . .
Kati burned the sight into her mind, suffered guilt from her foolish fear and remained silent as they returned to the gong-shi-jie. Abagai sensed her mood, and said, There is our universe, burning brightly. The voyage back is an easy one, and we'll hurry now to meet Yesui.
She had to say something. It's a beautiful place, Abagai. I'll go back there again and again. It's wonderful being there.
I'm glad you liked it, said Abagai, smiling sweetly, but a part of her was where they had just been. You might want to look back and see that first signpost again.
Kati did it, but it was already firmly in her memory, receding from them quickly as they rushed ahead. They traveled in silence, but when their own galaxy filled half their view, Abagai suddenly spoke again, a whisper, as if in conversation with herself.
I do not think we are unique, nor are we alone in this vastness. I think there are others like us out there, and someday I will find them. I will.
It seemed a strange thing for an old woman to say, but Kati kept her silence. The mood of the conversation was too dark, and filled with thoughts of death.
The return to their own galaxy was swift indeed, and Kati had no difficulty in locating their entrance, for by now Abagai had taken her several times beyond the rim to study it. The rim was lined with dust, and a gap was there where a spiral arm of vortices came to an end. Violet light surrounded them as they neared the place, then broke into individual clouds as they passed the first vortices of young stars, following the curve of the spiral along its inner edge towards home.
A familiar feeling of excitement suddenly passed through Kati like a rush of wind. Yesui does not wait patiently, said Kati. She's up to something.
And near, said Abagai. Tengri-Nayon is just ahead. I thought I saw a flash of light there.
Light flashed again ahead of them, and its color was violet. They slowed as they came to the vortex of Tengri-Nayon, and saw streamers of violet and red emanating from it, then sucked in with sudden force.
Now what is she doing? asked Kati. For an instant she'd felt Yesui's presence again, but somehow it was different. They stopped before the vortex, and waited for Yesui's manifestation to reappear, but suddenly there was babbling.
I will fly in space with him, Yesui, and you will move our ship!
Perhaps.
A fan of emerald green erupted from the vortex of Tengri-Nayon, and froze there, right in front of them. Kati was shocked by the strength of its presence, but it was the realization of who was there in that manifestation that nearly drove her back to herself.
Oh, my, said Abagai softly. This is a surprise.
MENGJAI! said Kati. HOW DID YOU COME HERE?
Immediately, her sense of his presence disappeared.
Don't you DARE mask yourself from me! I KNOW you're here!
Yesui seemed delighted by the discovery. He's always been here, Mother. He's been coming here with me for years. You're found out, brother. Say something.
Say what? Yes, I'm here.
But HOW? asked Kati.
I don't know. When Yesui goes to the gong-shi-jie, I know it, and when I want to, I go with her. It has always been that way.
Oh, Kati, this is wonderful, said Abagai. Two of them, together here.
But you never told me! said Kati.
We were going to, Mother, said Yesui. I think we just found a solution to the problem of mass transfer into Lan-Sui, and Mengjai has contributed much in finding it. If you'll calm down a little, I'll explain.
Have you been experimenting, Yesui? asked Abagai.
Yes, but not with Lan-Sui. We just finished transfering some mass to Tengri-Nayon in a very clever way Mengjai suggested to me. It was difficult, but it worked, and I know I can do it with Lan-Sui so we can distribute mass uniformly, and not at one point.
Kati felt Mengjai's pleasure at being given credit by his sister.
Moving mass the usual way brings it in wherever Yesui is, at a point, and planetary rotation doesn't distribute it fast enough, said Mengjai sagely, but perhaps too quickly.
Mengjai! warned Yesui.
You've experimented with this? asked Abagai.
Yes, said Mengjai, ignoring his sister's apprehension.
You've put mass into Lan-Sui? asked Kati, horrified. We gave you no permission to do that!
Just little masses, Mother, said Yesui, and we were careful to stay far from the city. We didn't hurt anything.
But now we have a better way to do it, said Mengjai, and it's less dangerous.
Abagai was suddenly smiling. Now I understand all those storms that have been appearing in the northern hemisphere of Lan-Sui. Governor Wizera will be relieved to know they are not natural, unexplained phenomena. I must say those storms have caused his people concern, and I wish you would have told us what you were doing.
You would have told me I shouldn't do it! protested Yesui.
Theory is no good without experimentation, chimed in Mengjai, sounding like an academic. Everything must be tested, and our first concern has always been the safety of Lan-Sui City.
Abagai looked at Kati. The two are one in this. It seems we are outnumbered. Let us listen to their new idea for transfering mass to Lan-Sui.
Kati was still upset, and more than a little angry. I will, if you both promise me you won't do anything more behind our backs.
We promise, Mother, said Yesui.
Yes, said Mengjai.
Is there anything else about you two that I don't know about? asked Kati. You especially, Mengjai. You've hidden a great deal from me.
No, Mother, said Mengjai. You know it all, now. I'm sorry, Mother.
That satisfied her. Very well. Let's hear your new idea.
Kati understood little of it, especially about the threads, for she'd never been able to see them, and neither had Abagai. But the children were most enthused, and seemed confident enough. They recognized the dangers, and seemed to have proceeded cautiously with all their clandestine experiments.
I'm convinced, said Abagai, but I have to get Wizera's permission before we begin. I think I can have it within a few days if you can give me some sort of timeline for what you want to do.
Yesui and Mengjai gave it to her, a four-year plan for the restoration of warmth to Lan-Sui, but at the end of it, Yesui had an unexpected request.
It's important that I be able to target Lan-Sui City at all times, and I've been aided in it by a strong presence I've felt there in the past. It would be useful if that presence could be identified and enhanced, she said.
Perhaps you sense the many empaths there, said Abagai. They are a kind of priesthood.
If they knew when I was present, perhaps they could focus on me, even if it were only the calling out of my name.
I will suggest it to Wizera, dear, said Abagai.
Kati was mystified by the request, for she was sensing a strange feeling of longing within her daughter.