CHAPTER TWELVE: RENEWAL

"When I was young, life was continually changing, and I was excited by it. Now it continues to change, and I feel only a sense of loss," said Kati.

She sat at the edge of the pool in the upper gardens, with flowers cascading down the rocks behind her and Mengmoshu at her side. She'd pulled up her robe to dangle her bare feet in the water, and watched the colorful carp there darting in and out to inspect her toes. "I've become lonely, Father," she said.

Mengmoshu took her hand in his. "Yes, I know. Lately, you've spent much time inside yourself. You'd like to have your family with you all the time, but now they pursue their own lives and you don't seem happy for them. I think it's selfish of you, Kati. You must release them and get on with your own life. Perhaps you need a holiday."

"Holiday? The last one I took was for Festival, and I didn't even recognize it. There was no parade of ordu leaders, no ritual charge or ceremonial passing of The Eye, only a grand party for everyone. And the only family to accompany me was you."

Mengmoshu leaned against her. "Was that so bad?"

"Oh, Father, you know what I mean. I can excuse Huomeng and Mengjai for being a light-month away, but Yesui was here, and she wouldn't even consider going."

"Her work does not allow distractions."

"Her work is also here," said Kati. "Who do you think will replace me, when I'm gone? She spends all her time with other worlds, and has no interest in the affairs of Shanji."

"Her work with Lan-Sui will end soon enough, Kati, and she's only twenty-three. Do you think you'll be gone so soon? You're not even middle-aged." Mengmoshu put an arm around her and squeezed gently. "You have two talented children who do things you would not attempt, and Huomeng's dream of travel in space was known to you before you married him. Now he has realized his dream, and you resent it. Please, Kati, get out of your pity and look around you. See the things you've done. You've become a hermit in your own palace. You've lost your connection with the people you nearly gave your life for when you were young. Let me take you on a grand tour of Shanji, to see what changes your reign has brought about. You need to see the good you've done."

"A tour?"

"Yes, beginning in Wanchou, then northeast to Jensi City. You've spent twenty years signing orders for things to be done, and not once have you personally seen the results. The people have nearly forgotten they have an Empress."

"That is not so bad," said Kati.

"Kati! You made a promise to return in Wanchou, when all the people were suffering. You healed, and gave them hope with your presence and touch, and you were not even Empress then."

"They thought I was a God," said Kati sullenly.

"In a way, you were, and still are. You heard the cries of your people, and did something about it. If there are Gods, and I doubt it, they do nothing to ease the lives of the people. You have done it for the Gods. Let me take you on a tour to see what has been accomplished, Kati. It will make a fine holiday for you, and the people will know you still watch over them."

Kati wiggled her toes in the water, and a carp darted away from them. "Maybe Yesui could join us?"

Mengmoshu shook his head. "Just you, Kati. Let your daughter do her work. It's you the people need to see. Yesui's time will come, when she's ready, not now."

Her mood of self-pity was suddenly gone, her thoughts turning to the human misery she'd seen years before: the poor, stacked like cordwood in tiny rooms, the sick, without medicines or doctors, then a child she'd brought back from the edge of death in a village which accepted death as the will of First Mother. And who was First Mother for them? Was it Mandughai, to whom the Tumatsin had prayed for deliverance? Certainly not. She was Abagai, a human being, special, yes, but a person of flesh and blood, and Kati's dearest friend, now near her death.

Kati's heart ached with that thought. It was Abagai who had come to her, trained her, brought out her powers to do good for the people. Not a God. If there was a God, a thing beyond human powers and comprehension, it could only be the universe itself, with that beautiful complexity of physical and biological laws only partially understood by its inhabitants. It was those laws that had led to the powers of Abagai, herself, her children, even the Moshuguang. The powers of the universe were the powers of God. And it was people who used them for good, or for evil.

"Well?" said her father.

"Yes. I'll do it, but I can't spare more than a week. Can we cover everything that fast?"

Mengmoshu laughed. "You still remember our slow journey by horse and wagon, Kati. You have no idea what has happened in the last twenty-three years, yet all of it has been your doing. I find that incredible. I'll arrange the trip right away, but give me two weeks. People must be notified of your visit."

"I do know about our transportation system, Father. And no lavish receptions, please. It's the life of the common people I want to see again. I have more than enough contact with the rich and influential every day of my life."

"I will see to it," said Mengmoshu, squeezing her again, "and I'm happy to see you feeling better again."

She was feeling better, except for one thing. She thought about Abagai, the fading aural colors of the woman in the gong-shi-jie, the hesitancy in her speech, the continued references to that special place in a distant galaxy where something awaited her. Of all people, even her father, it was Abagai whose love she felt the most, a constant touch, even when they were not together in the place of creation. Life would be so terribly empty without her, and Kati could not suppress the strong feeling the time for that was coming soon.

 

They left early in a morning, taking the mag-rail through the tunnel in the mountain at a constant, gentle slope down towards the floor of the eastern plains. This was not new to Kati, for she'd dedicated the system on its opening day and ridden it all the way to Wanchou with dignitaries in the first year of her reign, coming out at a little station surrounded by the squalor of a shantytown thrown up to house jobless refugees from outlying regions and the city itself. She was twenty-two, then, her emotions still close to the surface, and the royalty who would benefit from commercial use of the tunnel had felt her rage in public, cringing at her pledge to withhold further commercial development until the poor had been provided with adequate housing.

Again, she felt guilt. The shantytown had been torn down, and high-rises built for the poor, yet in the twenty-three intervening years she had only believed a report, and never personally checked to see if it was true.

Her entourage was small. Besides herself, there was Mengmoshu, a recorder, and four security guards from the Moshuguang elite. She did not wish to be conspicuous, and dressed in a white pants suit with high collar, her hair coiled up into side-buns, and she carried the little, silver fan so often used by women of the noble class. She hoped she would be seen as one of them, though the emerald green of her eyes might betray her.

She was not so lucky. When the door of her car opened, there was a crowd there to greet her, jostling for position. Reporters bowed respectfully, then thrust their microphones at her.

"How long is your visit? Will you travel to Jensi City, or remain in Wanchou? Is your daughter with you? Does the market remain open with Meng-shi-jie? Do you anticipate any overproduction that might cause layoffs in the near future?" And so on.

She gave them short answers, Mengmoshu taking her arm to guide her to a small man who smiled brightly, bowed, and held out a hand to her.

"I recognize you from somewhere," she said, shaking his hand.

"I am Jin-yao, Madam. Many years ago I drove a wagon for you. Now I have the honor of being Mayor of Wanchou. Welcome back."

"Thank you, Jin-yao. I've waited far too long in coming here again," she said to the former Comptroller.

"I will be your driver again, Madam, but the wagons are gone, and I promise there will be no major receptions to occupy the time you have with us."

"You anticipate my wishes," she said, glancing at her father.

The reporters followed them, held in check by her security people, but she felt heat from the lights of their cameras. "Do you now have television here?" she asked.

"No, Madam, only radio. The people with cameras are from Jensi City," said Jin-yao.

Radios in Wanchou. Even in her capital city, these were not common. Despite vast reforms all over Shanji, her own home remained traditional, and was known as a center for arts, with outdoor concerts and plays from ancient times, held in the many gardens and sheltered from all weather. The towers she'd erected, including the pagoda on Three Peaks, had become the daily refuge of writers, poets, and painters.

Twenty years ago, this station had been a concrete slab and an awning. Now it was a monstrous complex with a dozen tracks, and crowds rushing in every direction, men and women dressed in white, steering their little electric carts piled high with luggage.

Her party stood on a moving walkway which took them to the entrance, where eight men with sidearms came to flank them. Reporters were held back and she was guided outside to waiting, canopied vans, bullet shaped, and electrically powered. Of the hundreds of people they'd passed, only a few gave her a passing glance, but some smiled, nodding in recognition.

Kati sat next to Jin-yao. Her father with the recorder and one guard were in the back seat. The rest were loaded into a second van that followed them closely. "We will spend the rest of the day just driving around," said Jin-yao, "but there will be a small reception for you this evening."

And Kati saw what had been accomplished in Wanchou.

The housing for the poor was indeed reality, a cluster of forty-level high-rises near the station, white and clean-looking, with balconies where people kept their own gardens of little trees and potted plants. They went first to the old city, a short drive, streets still narrow, but now smooth, not the rough cobblestones she remembered. Kati sniffed the air, and Jin-yao smiled at her.

"No stink, Madam. The sewers were our first improvement, and they drain into treatment lakes to the east of the city."

"Everything looks so clean," she said, looking up at buildings erected before her time, but fresh-looking, painted in green and yellow hues. Again there were balconies everywhere, sprouting green, not the racks of drying clothing she remembered.

"We resurfaced everything, and added tinted resins that cured with the concrete, Madam. The colors are quite permanent, and the resins are impervious to water or sunlight. We've used them in the interiors as well."

Many people were on the narrow sidewalks, most of them dressed in white, only a few with the drab, canvas clothing she recalled, and there was little traffic, just a few vans like their own, and many one-person scooters that veered around and past them like darting flies. "It doesn't seem to be as busy as I expected," she said.

"The mag-rail is underground here, Madam. The lightning-bolt symbols on the signs you see designate the stations beneath various buildings. Few people actually live in the old city, now, and they leave their personal vehicles at home. The mag-rail takes them anywhere, and runs every ten minutes."

One building was familiar, as they neared the edge of the old city. "I remember that place. It was a hospital." Dark, stinking of death, my hands moving over a dying woman. 

"Now it's the Agricultural Operations Office," said Jin-yao. "All these buildings are for commerce and banking, Madam. The hospitals and schools are in the new city, where the people live. It's just ahead of us."

It seemed the city had expanded only to the north. West and east, the land was suddenly empty and green, but only a kilometer ahead a cluster of tall buildings gleamed white, a single spire towering above the others. As Kati looked at them, the van suddenly slowed.

"There is an artifact you must see," said Jin-yao.

Coming up on their right, along the edge of the road, a stone cairn rose like a sea shell standing on edge. A cluster of young people stood around it, taking pictures with pocket cameras, several scooters parked nearby. "Tourists from Jensi City," said Jin-yao, bringing the van slowly to a stop. "We will wait a moment."

The young people took their pictures, then crowded close to the cairn, placing objects there and stepping back with hands clasped reverently at their faces, bowing several times, as if in prayer. When they began walking back to their scooters, Jin-yao got out of the van and opened the door for Kati, then her father, but as he led them to the cairn, a girl turned around and saw them. There was whispering in the group, and they turned to stare at Kati as she approached the cairn, Mengmoshu at her side.

There was an altar, with three candles burning under envelopes of glass, a stone bowl of green pebbles, a cylinder of foamy, soft polymer bristling with sticks of burning incense, and above it, encased in hard, clear plastic were the remnants of a robe once richly purple before being burned and buried. A few purple shards of cloth still showed; the garment was mostly charred black, but had retained its form.

"Oh my," said Mengmoshu softly. "I didn't bury it deep enough."

Kati was shocked. Wearing that robe had been the first time she'd felt like an Empress, but it had been saturated by the bloody mucus of a young patient, absorbing the mess that had nearly killed him, and so they had burned the thing rather than carry it all the way back on horseback.

"The shrine went up only months after your departure," said Jin-yao. "It disappeared overnight, when the Emperor began tearing down shrines, and reappeared the same way. Now the people come, and put their little stones in the bowl. They ask First Mother for wisdom, and for Her guidance in their everyday affairs. My wife comes here often. Once, I thought she was foolish, but then I personally witnessed the powers of First Mother. Now I believe in Her."

Jin-yao lowered his eyes, and bowed slightly to Kati. Around them, the young people had returned, and were edging in apprehensively for a closer look.

"I am not Her," said Kati, feeling uneasy.

"I know," said Jin-yao, "but She does Her work through you."

"She does it through all of us, Jin-yao. We care for ourselves, and our neighbors." As Kati said this, she looked at the faces of the young tourists who crowded in to hear her, and saw reverence there. Each of them, men and women, wore greenstone amulets on leather thongs about their necks, fingering them as they listened. The amulets were no simple pebbles, but intricately carved, and Kati was curious about them. Her security guards were right at her back, shouldering their way into the ranks of the young people to move them away. "No," she said, "let them stay here."

She stepped up to a girl, perhaps eighteen, who lowered her eyes reverently and clasped her amulet with both hands.

"You honor us, Mother," said the girl, voice quavering. The others bowed their heads, not looking at her.

"Why do you call me that? Don't you know who I am?" Kati took the girl's hands in hers, and moved them away from the amulet so she could see it. The girl was startled, and gasped at her touch.

"You—you are Empress of Shanji, and our emissary to First Mother. We came here to visit your shrine, Ma'am, and all the others in the countryside."

Kati fingered the amulet, an abstract carving of a woman holding an infant child. "You've come all the way from Jensi City to see a simple shrine?"

Waves of fear were now coming from the girl. "We are soon to be confirmed, Ma'am. The Church requires it of us."

Mengmoshu was suddenly in her head. Don't ask about the church. I'll brief you later, and the amulet is a symbol of both you and Yesui. They'll assume you know what it means. Give them some advice, and let's go. I didn't anticipate this so soon. 

"Of course," said Kati. "Your amulet is lovely, but please remember that Yesui and I are people, not Gods. We are not beings to be worshipped."

"We are taught that, Ma'am, but you're our link to First Mother; we follow your actions, and words, and they are the pattern of our lives."

How much news do they get? 

Plenty. There are even fairly accurate reports floating around about what Yesui is doing with Lan-Sui. Maybe they get it through radio traffic from the freighters. Rumors are always flying there. Let's GO! 

The girl was shaking, and so awestruck that Kati had to do something. She brought heat to her fingertips, touched the child's chin and raised it so she had to look at her. "Life is simple, dear. Work hard, and use all the abilities given to you. Love yourself, and all others. If you do these things, you will be happy. I must go, now. Perhaps I will see you again in Jensi City."

The girl's eyes were brimming, and she only nodded, unable to speak. Her companions had not moved or spoken, just stood there with bowed heads.

Mengmoshu led her back to the van, and they drove away, but not before Kati had seen the girl collapse sobbing into the arms of her companions.

Kati sighed. That was very uncomfortable for me, Father. 

I know, but there'll be more of it, I'm afraid. 

The girl said she's taught that Yesui and I are people, but in her heart she sees us as Gods! 

I see no harm in it. 

But it's not the TRUTH! 

Jin-yao caught her eye. "I shouldn't have stopped, Madam. I'm sorry."

"No, no," she said. "I found it quite interesting. Now tell me, what is that tall spire ahead of us, the one with the bulging top?"

"A radio tower, Madam, but also a museum, and the thing on top is a restaurant. The tower is mostly decoration, a thing to distinguish the skyline of the new city."

They drew near the cluster of new buildings, all tinted white. At the edge were the high-rises where the people lived, arranged in groups of four, surrounding a park with gardens and lakes, and a playground for children. "Each unit of four buildings is a cooperative," explained Jin-yao, "with underground shops and a mag-rail station. It is like a company, Madam, and the people own everything except the mag-rail connection. They control all small business in the city, but the large stores still belong to the nobles. It seems to work well, so far. Your people are quite industrious, Madam, especially when there are profits to be made. Small business is expanding quite rapidly here."

The streets were wide, and filled with traffic: vans, scooters, and many four-seat cars half-domed with plastic bubbles, the bubbles partially retracted to let in fresh air on a warm day. Most of the drivers were women, and Kati never saw more than two children in a car. She started to ask about this, but suddenly Yesui was in her mind.

Mother! 

Yes, dear. I'm in the middle of something here. 

I'm sorry, but I've just seen Abagai, and I'm concerned about her. She seemed so sad and confused, and her colors weren't right. She wanted to know where you were, and she always knows that. Something is very wrong with her! 

Is she still there? Abagai? 

No. She faded away a moment ago. She wants to see you. What should I do? 

Wait where you are, dear, and give me your sign. It could be several hours before I come, but for you it's an instant. Be calm. 

I'll try, Mother, but hurry! 

She was gone. Jin-yao was talking again, and she hadn't heard a thing.

I'm afraid, Father. 

We can have Jin-yao stop and find you a private place if you like. 

No. He might think I'm getting bored. But soon, Father. An hour for me is an hour for Abagai, and I don't know how many more she has left! 

"Our major hospital is over to your right, that complex at the far edge of the lake," said Jin-yao. "There are still a few Moshuguang physicians here, but all of them are retired from private practice, and serve as clinical professors of medicine. Most of our interns end up in small clinics scattered all the way from here to Jensi City, but we still have a problem with providing sufficient pharmaceuticals to the rural regions. Their hygiene has changed little since you were last here, and they still use human waste in their fields, but they welcome our clinics, and use them. They live longer lives, now, and have fewer children. We encourage no more than two children per family, but the farmers still ignore our advice. It's getting better, though."

Kati's mind was light years away, but she nodded at appropriate times and asked simple questions the rest of the afternoon. Her mental autopilot served well, for Jin-yao never seemed to sense her distraction and was thrilled to show her everything there was to be seen. But after hours of sightseeing, it all looked the same to her, and she was desperate to find a private, secluded place for herself.

"I think it would be good if we have time to change clothes and rest before the reception," said Mengmoshu.

"Of course," said Jin-yao. "We're only minutes away from the place, that cooperative ahead, and left. It's an informal affair, Madam. I hope you don't mind, but no nobles have been invited. The ladies of the cooperative have prepared a buffet of everyday foods for you, and the guests were chosen by lottery. Tonight you dine with common people, and then there will be a tour of the underground shops."

"How wonderful," said Kati, suddenly back again.

Jin-yao smiled. "It was also a profitable fund-raiser for the cooperative," he said. "Two thousand tickets sold for one hundred winners, and sixty-five of them are women. You will not be burdened with talk of business and politics this evening, Madam. It should be relaxing for you."

How thoughtful of them, Father. 

And informative, said Mengmoshu.

There was no crowd to greet them, not even a single official. They stopped at the back entrance of a building, where there was a playground and a pond, with acres of green grass criss-crossed with beds of flowers and dotted with Tysk. Jin-yao led them inside and down some stairs to a basement, where there were cooking odors that reminded Kati she was hungry. A long hallway, bare walls painted white, had several numbered doors on both sides. "Guest rooms," explained Jin-yao. "We have three of them for your party, Madam. I will return in two hours to take you to the reception. It is in the Common Room, nearby. My nose tells me the ladies have already gone far with the cooking." He showed them to their rooms, bowed, and left.

Two beds, a dresser, table and two chairs, a small bathroom with tub and sink, an open closet with a rack for hanging clothes, the room was spartan and simple, yet accomodating. Kati's security people were moved into rooms flanking hers. There was no telephone, no radio, just soft light from ceiling panels. Quiet.

"I will bathe first," said Mengmoshu, "while you do what you've been thinking about all afternoon." He went into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Kati quickly unpacked a change of clothes, then lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. The purple matrix of stars was there, three of them pulsing together, and she went to them, coming out so accurately she nearly melded with her daughter's manifestation.

Good, you've arrived, said Yesui. I didn't even move, waiting here. She sounded impatient.

They went quickly to the vortex of Tengri-Nayon, and Kati called out, Abagai, it's Kati. I'm here now, if you still want to see me. Yesui's here with me. 

No answer, no flash of green, or the familiar, smiling face.

Abagai, please. Yesui is worried about you, and so am I. Please come. 

Nothing. She just faded away when I was talking to her, and I was right in the middle of something, said Yesui. Her face disappeared first, and then her manifestation turned muddy, all brown and yellowish. It flickered a couple of times, then dimmed to nothing. And when I called again, she didn't answer. 

Abagai! You're frightening us! Please answer! 

The answer came not from Abagai, but her daughter.

Kati? What's going on? 

We've been trying to reach your mother, Yesugen, but she doesn't respond, and we're worried. Kati concentrated hard, trying to sense a familiar presence, but felt nothing there.

She was asleep when I looked in on her an hour ago, Kati. I'll go check her again— 

She's asleep, and I can't rouse her. I'm calling her physician— 

Oh, Kati, she's in a coma! She's dying! We're moving her to hospital— 

The machines are helping her breathing. I saw her eyelids flutter once, but her heartbeat is so slow!

How much time has passed, Yesugen? I had an appointment in two hours when I came here. 

It's nearly that, now. 

I must leave. Yesui will stay here and relay any message from you. I'm sorry, Yesugen, very sorry. 

I understand. I'm at her side, now. 

Kati opened her eyes with a start, and burst into tears. Mengmoshu was sitting on the edge of the bed, face grim, and held out his arms to her. He cuddled her, stroked her hair until the sobbing began to subside. "There's nothing you can do except wait, Kati. You cannot prevent what is natural, and she has lived a long life."

"I know," sobbed Kati, "but she's like my own mother, and now I'm losing her."

"I will miss her, too, but Jin-yao waits for us in the hallway. He arrived several minutes ago. What you're wearing will be fine for the reception. The people wait for you, Kati."

She nodded, and sniffed, and wiped her eyes dry. "Once they waited for First Mother, and now she's dying. What do I tell them, when it happens?"

"You tell them nothing. If there is a First Mother, it is not Abagai, or you, or Yesui, but something else, a natural power beyond our comprehension. As long as there is a universe, there is a First Mother, Kati. Try to think of it that way, and it will be easier for you. First Mother has always been, and always will be. She is everything there is, and we are a part of Her."

Suddenly she felt comforted. A life, having been lived, ends, and the atoms of the body are dispersed to form new things. The atoms of her own body had once been parts of many stars, then clouds of dust and molecules, then planets, then . . . Was this immortality?

Kati hugged Mengmoshu, and kissed his cheek. "As usual, you've found a way to make me feel better. I love you, Father."

"And I love you," he said, returning the hug. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, if I don't look like I've been crying."

Mengmoshu smiled, and touched her cheek. "Your eyes are wonderfully green again."

Kati sighed, followed him to the door and outside, where Jin-yao awaited them. The man led them down the hall to the common room, where she came together again with her people for a meal she would long remember, not just for the food, but for conversation.

The room was narrow and long, with tables pushed together to form an oval. Lanterns hanging from a high ceiling cast an orange glow on everything, and the walls were decorated with large, colorful butterflies made from sticks and paper. The meal was served in twelve courses, and Kati sat at a different place for each one, Mengmoshu beside her. Most of her dining companions were women, and they talked about everyday life: children, schools, the increasing costs of city apartments, the rising interest rates on loans for the shops they operated in the evening hours after their husbands had been fed, the complaints of the men in serving as evening mothers to the children.

One thing was quickly obvious. There was now wealth among the common people, and with it dreams and ambitions. Many talked about leaving apartment life in Wanchou, and moving to Jensi City where there were better jobs, more opportunities for business, and single-family dwellings with land for gardens and privacy. Jensi City was more progressive, they said. It had theaters and cultural parks, even television. Mostly, it was new, and not yet crowded like Wanchou.

The talk was uplifting, and for three hours Kati was totally distracted by it. Her people worked hard, saved diligently, and invested. They dreamed of still better lives, and felt empowered to realize those dreams. Kati's own ambition had been realized; the people themselves had become the driving force for progress on Shanji.

At the end of the meal she gave a short speech of thanks, bringing them greetings from First Mother, and promising to return more regularly in the future, with Yesui accompanying her. Several people had asked about her daughter, and the rumors of Yesui's powers, and Kati had frankly admitted to the truth of them. The people were most eager to meet the future Empress of Shanji, but for now they were satisfied with a promise.

Kati returned exhausted to the quiet of the guest room, and all distractions were gone, Mengmoshu falling quickly asleep in the bed next to hers. She lay awake in the darkness, but closed her eyes and again sought the place of creation, rushing towards the three strobing points of purple light that were the sign of her daughter's presence.

Yesui was there, her face frowning within the lovely manifestation of green she'd adopted for her new love on a distant planet, a young man she could not truly be with, or touch.

Anything new? 

No. I just called Yesugen, and she said there's no change. 

I see your worry, dear. We must continue to have hope for a recovery; there's nothing else we can do. 

Yesui's frown deepened. It's not just that, Mother. Do you feel anything new here? Are we alone at this moment? 

Kati looked around at the swirls of blue and purple clouds, the spots of red to green within the vortices of stars in every direction. I feel nothing special, she said.

I do, said Yesui, but maybe it's because I wish it. I remember how Abagai masked her presence from you, before I was even born, when you first brought me to the gong-shi-jie. 

She watched your first steps in this place, but gave us our privacy because it was such a precious moment. Yes, she told me. 

But I saw her, mother, a tenuous, black mist, without form. Now I feel something here with us. I've looked and looked, but there's nothing. 

She's in a coma, dear. She can't be with us, now. 

Then why do I feel a presence other than ours? asked Yesui, looking all around her again. It grows stronger by the minute, but there's no manifestation. Abagai, is it you? Please! 

Kati felt nothing except sudden apprehension, for Yesui's sight was indeed beyond hers. When she awakes, she'll be with us again. We must wait, but I have to return now. Keep watch for me. 

I will, Mother. 

But don't forget your own body, dear. You have to eat, and time passes quickly beyond this place. 

Yes, Mother. I'm doing that. Mengjai has also reminded me. 

Kati smiled at her daughter's irritation. Call me, she said, and Yesui nodded at the instant of the purple flash accompanying transition.

Darkness, and quiet, except for the soft snoring of her father. The body told her she was exhausted, ready for sleep, but the mind kept her awake for several minutes, replaying the time with Yesui. No, she decided, there had been nothing there with them, only the roiling clouds of purple beyond purple that had created the universe.

As sleep neared, she had an intriguing thought. If her father were correct, perhaps the clouds of purple light themselves were First Mother.

She fell asleep with a vision of Her in her mind.