CHAPTER NINETEEN
Titus Quinn should have married Subprefect Mei Ing, a fitting match. But it was Ji Anzi who fought at Quinn's side, shared his sorrows, and stood for the Rose. Some conclude their marriage was driven by circumstance or desperation. At times, even Anzi did.
—from Annals of a Former Prince
IRITAJ PRODDED AT THE MINIATURE TREE, creating a fold on a branch.
“Um,” he said, considering his modification. “Deeper.” The fold increased as Iritaj pushed on it from a hand-span away. One never touched an Ut tree.
Standing behind him, Anzi watched, more interested in this chance to view his life art than his tree art. Iritaj's broad back made a fine canvas. He was rumored to cultivate a thick body for this very purpose, but it was vanity, if so, and not worthy of a Beautiful One. On the back of his grown shirt bloomed a square field enlivened with a dazzling complexity of tiny scenes. Seen from a distance they appeared to be representations of Jinda ceb life, but the closer one got, the more abstract they appeared. A commentary on the real and imagined, Anzi had heard. Now that she had a stripe on her back, and was working hard—so far without the slightest effect—to alter it, Anzi could only be in awe of the Beautiful One.
“How are you feeling today, Anzitaj?”
“Wonderful, Nan Da.” It was true. With the change complete, she thought it had not been so bad. However, here at her first teaching session with Iritaj, she was nervous. She had an unpleasant topic to address. How to begin?
Iritaj still puttered with the Ut tree. With tendrils for branches, the offshoots curled and looped endlessly, colors flashing as nutrients flowed. Iritaj had been training it for seven hundred thousand days.
“Good.”
It took Anzi a moment to realize he was responding to how she was feeling today. She wished he would discuss her life art, but so far Iritaj was in no hurry to teach.
“Observe, Anzitaj. There is a transparent wall cloaking it like a sheaf.” He peered closely at the tree. “When I press correspondences, it translates to the inner workings, and the tree grows accordingly.” He paused. “It cannot be hurried. The point is never to make a mistake, for the tree cannot go backward.”
“Very interesting, Nan Da. I have seen other Ut creations, but this is the best.” In vain she cast about for a way to redirect the conversation.
“You see,” he went on, “it grows, but based upon the former structure. Everything is built on what went before.” He moved around to the other side of the table where the tree occupied its tray. He regarded the tree from this new view with rapt attention.
“Nan Da,” she finally convinced herself to say, “I was able to go to Manifest a few days ago. I saw something that surprised me.” When he didn't look up or respond, she went on, “Sen Ni was in Manifest.”
A glance at her. “Um, who?”
“Sen Ni. My husband's enemy.”
Back to the Ut tree. “Daughter, I thought.”
“That too.”
“Daughter, enemy. It is hard to keep track.”
“She who is trying to destroy the Rose universe.” If he had had trouble keeping track, he should focus on that.
“Look! Oh, look.” He pointed to a curl of the tree that was just completing a filigree extrusion. “A sight not often observed. We are honored, Anzitaj.”
“Yes, Nan Da. So unusual.” She chewed on her lip. “But.”
She had little right to complain of Sen Ni's access to Manifest. And another dilemma arose. Should she tell Titus? Would such a disclosure make her a spy? But how could she keep this hidden? And as for hidden, she had not even told Titus that she had taken on bodily computationals. She hadn't wanted to worry him until it was over. Until, to be honest, he could not object.
Iritaj was gazing at her. “But?”
Her opening. “But it's not fair that Sen Ni can speak for her side. Unless we are permitted to.”
“Your power struggles have no place among us.”
“But did she talk about them?”
Iritaj gave up on the Ut tree and went to a window shadow line. At his approach it stretched wide, displaying his lush gardens. Householders were busy there today, directing growth in the small ways they were allowed. “Venn has been disciplined.”
“Complete One Venn?”
“Yes, she gave access to the mistress of Rim City sway. Avva ceb took an interest, unfortunately. An accident. We do not wish to compound the embroiling of our affairs with yours. It is over now.” He turned around, noting her unsettled expression. “Do you take my instruction, Anzitaj?”
“Yes, Nan Da.” It was fearfully hard to keep from pleading further.
“So, then, what was the lesson for today?”
Lesson? Had there been a lesson? Her silence held rather longer than she could have wished.
“Perhaps your thoughts were too full to receive instruction.” He pointed to the Ut tree.
What had he said? Nattering on about this old tree…
“I said that the tree never loses anything that it was, but builds on what has gone before. There is no erasing. The same is true of life art.”
Well, Nistothom got erased. But of course that had been a special punishment. “Thank you, Nan Da. I understand.”
“What do you think of your new art?” He glanced at her, as though seeing through to her back. He hadn't actually asked her to turn around, so she wondered if he had seen the bright stripe, and if he had, what he thought of it.
“It's just a beginning,” Anzi said. “It's not really life art yet.”
“Not correct. It is life art. Your art will emerge from what you already have, what you already are.”
It was just a line. But she knew better than to argue.
“You shall give up mirrors,” he said.
“Mirrors?”
“Small ones. Large ones. Mirrors, yes.”
“How can I see my progress, then?”
“It is best for you not to be distracted by progress.”
“But everyone else will be able to see it. Won't they?”
“It's part of your education. Do you take my instruction, Anzitaj?” He was already distracted by the Ut tree, probing, examining.
“Yes, Nan Da.”
She waited, hoping for something more from him. At least if he wasn't going to let her see her back, he could comment on what was there!
After another few increments it became clear that her lesson was over. She left his hut, crossing the common garden outside his front door.
What could she accomplish without mirrors? In fact, what could she do at all, to create life art? Iritaj had told her absolutely nothing. He wasn't helping her. Despite her most urgent need to hurry, he was making his instruction complicated and pointless.
Nistothom, came the thought. Nistothom had gotten to Iritaj and poisoned him against her. Hadn't he said, You will never be one of us? Was he making sure of it, now? No mirrors. How could she direct her display if she couldn't see it?
Titus, she thought in a sudden pang of loneliness. His face would be so welcome. It seemed they had been parted a very long time. Why hadn't he written?
Anzi took a footpath through the woods to the next village up the minoral. She wore quilted pants tucked into boots and a close-fitting top plunging deeply in back. Sideree had created it for her to Iritaj's specifications.
People were kind enough not to stare at her. But then, maybe they did stare, from behind. She quickened her step through the mass of plainform biots, stalky plants with buds along nascent branches. They hadn't been grown into artistic shape yet, and looked truncated and sullen.
Venn lived in Tir, not far from Iritaj's village, and Anzi meant to find her. She hardly knew Venn from her previous sojourn here; there were many Complete Ones, and they tended to keep to themselves.
Venn puzzled her. One moment she gave Anzi encouragement, the next, she allowed Sen Ni to argue in Manifest. Surely Sen Ni would have argued her case; she would have appealed to their self-interest, thinking that the Jinda ceb Horat were like most sentients. Anzi hoped that was wrong. They wouldn't restart the engine; how could they justify such aggression? The Jinda ceb prized their neutrality too much to contribute to genocide. All through her stay among them, Anzi had accepted this neutrality as the product of a superior knowledge that the Jinda ceb had attained in their unimaginably long history. Now, she had doubts. The barriers Iritaj placed in front of her seemed designed to thwart her. This wasn't real neutrality.
In fact, she was beginning to see a good deal of self-satisfaction in their claims to moral superiority. Even their life art might be seen—if she was going to be harsh—as little more than self-congratulation.
On the outskirts of Tir, Anzi paused, taking in the view of the village, a wall of spindly habitations, leaning and pressing on each other, with the occasional narrow passageway between. Tall and absurdly narrow, the huts afforded much larger internal spaces.
Past this fencing of huts was the commons garden. This is where she'd heard Venn could be found today.
Around the habitations she found more people strolling and working than in the plainform woods. It seemed everyone looked up as she approached, then averted their eyes. She had always been a stranger among them, an alien being; previously, however, they had managed very well not to single her out.
As she wound her way into the garden, she noted that at first the shrubs and trees were generic, like the biots along the path between villages. Gradually, they gained particularity.
“Have you seen Complete One Venn?” she asked a Jinda ceb sitting under an old, evolved tree.
He pointed down the path. “In the center. Teaching today.”
When Anzi found her, the old woman was surrounded by juveniles. Some were seated, but many ran freely, practicing with their hoops and dashing in and out of the group that sat for the formal lesson.
Venn sat on the grass. “Oh yes,” she said to a very small juvenile, “blood and death everywhere. It was quite a sight. In those days, we actually died, you know. That is, we left the world and never came back. It was sad, I seem to remember.”
“Blood and death!” a few juveniles chanted. “Blood and death!”
Some of the teachers standing among them smiled indulgently, but made no effort to create a more respectful class. One couldn't presume to manage a session led by a Complete One.
“Well,” Venn went on, “the fights and skirmishes were all quite exciting, but the fun didn't last long. You might have blood and wounds for a while, but then you died, you see. That is why we made rules against it.”
“Ohh,” some of the juveniles moaned.
Venn leaned forward. “You would not have liked it. You would have missed your friends that died. You would feel terrible if you killed someone. Also, that was in the time when we flew.” She flapped her arms with enthusiasm, as though missing the old days. “And that is what the hoops were for, originally, so that you could watch your parents ride the skies.”
“Hoop!” one of the students shouted.
“You cannot imagine living without your hoop, can you? Someday you will not need it anymore. You will be grown then, and speak in Manifest. I hope you like it more than I do. Too much talking, if you ask me.”
Venn followed the gaze of several juveniles who had noticed Anzi standing on the edge of the class.
She turned back to the class. “Lately I was bad, and as a consequence, Avva ceb determined I must attend Manifest. Is it a good idea? What do you think? If I go to Manifest will it make me think the same things that everyone else thinks?”
Puzzled expressions at this. Finally one juvenile threw out, “Yes! So you won't be bad anymore!”
Amused, Venn swayed from side to side. “We shall see!”
“Tell about flying!”
“Oh, flying. We had wings, of course, and very long claws. Caught our food live and swallowed it, blood and all.”
“Ohhh!”
“Yes, but then we made rules against that, too. We decided to change to ground dwelling so that when we came home we'd look less intimidating. We also decided to conform our breathing needs to our future homeland. We do not need the membrane covering the end of the minoral anymore. You remember that we could not breathe Entire air in the old days?”
“Yes! Needed good air!”
“It is all good now. We reattached to the same place where we broke away from. And so we are home.”
“Came home!”
“Yes, and now we have more changing to do.”
“Sex!”
“Well, yes, eventually. Do not worry about choosing a sex right now. No, the changing we need now is to find a way to be at home here. Are we at home, or are we just attached to the primacy?” She looked around delightedly at her confused class. “That is your thinking assignment: How to be at home.”
“No hoop work? No songs to compose?” one of the older juveniles asked.
“Thinking. Just thinking. Give it a try.” She rose. “Lesson done. Off with you, now. Go play at blood and death!”
As the class broke up, Venn waved Anzi to her side. As Anzi approached, Venn said, “I thought I might see you today.”
“Complete One.”
“Feeling better? You can walk me back to my hut, if you do not mind being seen with me.” She was referring to her punishment from Avva ceb, but she didn't seem upset about it.
Anzi had an urge to fall back a step and look at Venn's back display, but it wasn't polite. As they walked, people seemed far more interested in Anzi's life art, although they were careful to stare discreetly.
“How are you enjoying Manifest?” Anzi said with a little spite.
“Not. Not enjoying.”
“You missed Sen Ni's appearance.”
“Pity. I am sure it was worth seeing.”
“And so would Titus's appearance. You could give him a hoop. Let him challenge the Jinda ceb view of what it means to be home. Let him challenge your neutrality.”
Venn nodded enthusiastically. “Good idea. But I am afraid Avva ceb is prepared for that now. She would never let him in. Or Sen Ni either, now that everyone knows she has a hoop.” Venn waved irritably at a large group of Jinda ceb who were working at biots hugging a decorative pool. “A waste of time, poor things. You cannot do group art, I have always said so.” She cut a glance at Anzi. “Besides, I thought Titus did have a hoop.”
“It's a million days old! It doesn't work.” Surely Venn knew that. She was playing with her.
“A million days, by Manifest! That is a long time.” Venn stopped, fanning herself and calmly regarding Anzi's increasing distress. “You have your own advantage, Anzitaj. You are here. Sen Ni is not. Is that fair? Is that neutral?”
“But my old teacher despises me. I think he's working against me. People stare at me. I haven't got any life art, and Iritaj won't let me look at what I do have.”
“You have life art.”
Anzi paused in frustration. “A gold line. It's just a line. It's nothing.”
“Well, the bright is a line.”
Did that imply the line was good? Iritaj had not been willing to say so. “Besides,” she went on, trying to recover her point, “people distrust me. My old friends won't talk to me. Who would listen to someone who stumbled as I did? Even if I win respect again, it might be too late, because Titus will be woven into a prison of Geng De's making, and he and Sen Ni will take over and invite the Tarig back and the Rose will die.”
Venn looked at her blankly.
Anzi thought it the worst speech she had ever made. She had come here to charm and reassure and gain the ear of Manifest. And now this outburst.
“You should sit down, my dear. You have been ill.”
They made their way to a bench, and Anzi sank onto it. “My husband has not thought of me in ten days,” she murmured.
Venn sat also. Her life art lit up the shadowed glen they sat in, as though her soul had been released for a moment to flit among the biots.
Anzi went on, “Because of events, now I am older than he is. All those thousands of days wasted, when we wished to be together. I came back to him. But for me, a lifetime had passed; something was different between us. But we had married, and he, having blamed himself for abandonment of one wife, would never do so again. But he does not love me as he used to.”
“Do you love him?”
“I loved him from the first moment I saw him come through from the Rose, with his wife and daughter. From that moment. I love him still.”
“Well, you should think about a question like that before answering.”
“I don't need to think about it.”
“You need to.”
“I…” She stopped herself. Was she actually arguing with a Complete One?
“Is that all you want, Anzitaj, to have things be the same as they were between you and Titus Quinn?”
“Yes.” Anzi's throat swelled. If they could be as before…
“Because it can be.” She noted Anzi's confused look. “When you came among us the first time, you shared with us a nonmaterial life; our world was an information equivalency. We have a memory of your physical properties from when you arrived. You can be re-created.”
Anzi gazed at her, uncomprehending.
Venn went on. “I am not sure I should tell you all this, but I am already in trouble, no going back.” She paused, then went on. “Anzitaj, where did you think the Jinda ceb went when the Tarig cut away our minoral so long ago?”
“You were still a minoral. Floating between the bubbles of the worlds.”
“So we had our own bright and storm walls. Is that what you thought?”
“Well, no River Nigh. You had the travel slits.”
“Anzitaj. There was no bright. There was no minoral. We could never have sustained a minoral cast away between worlds. For one thing, when the Tarig cut us away, we were a young civilization, without great capabilities. We were still flying in the skies. But the Tarig allowed us to become a representation of ourselves. Perhaps they felt some guilt over their decision to exile us. Who knows?”
Anzi had not the slightest idea what she was talking about.
“This part is difficult. The foam of the Thousand Realms contains life and substance on the surface of each foam particle. But what lies inside the surface of the bubble? Ah well, that is a holographic representation. It bears an isomorphic relationship with the surface. Inside—in the volume of the foam particle, so to speak—is a correspondency, but a representational one. That is, it exists as data, but not as life and blood, rock and biot. That is where we lived while separate from the Entire. We found your little capsule floating between the worlds, and we brought you in, representationally.”
“I died?”
“Best not to think of it that way. I certainly do not.” Venn's life art—which Anzi still could not see from her position seated next to the old woman—now cast a weird blue light on the glen, more a brooding murk than a dance of soul. What were the Jinda ceb? Had she lived with them completely oblivious?
Venn continued. “You lived with us for a time that is best expressed as five thousand days, and when you asked for the involution back to the Entire, Nistoth (as he was known then) gave you form based on the experiences you had as a correspondency being. That is, all that you knew, all that you did while living among us, all the days that had passed—these all determined what material being you would become upon your return.”
Anzi was still swimming in confusion. She whispered, “A correspondency being?”
“Think of it rather like a complete mathematical description of yourself.”
“I see.” Although she didn't, quite. She felt her world wobbling. “You switch back and forth? Between dreaming and real?”
“Did I say dreaming? I suspect you are stuck on the physical world. You think it is more real than other descriptions of reality. But it is all information, you see.” She pinched Anzi on the arm. “Matter—it is just an incidental, my dear. It is all only information. The volume is encoded on the surface, but the volume is virtual. That does not necessarily make it less real.”
Anzi frowned, confused about something that Venn had said. “But you did create a minoral.” She gestured around her. “This minoral wasn't here, and now it is.”
“Well. By the time of our homecoming we could do all kinds of things. We were infinitely older. And attaching to the Entire is much more easily done than thriving between the worlds.” She went on, “So, Anzitaj, I have some interesting information for you: If you would like to go back to that earlier Anzi, the one who we recovered from the void, that can be effected. That is, I think I could persuade Avva ceb, if I got to him on the right day and Manifest was quiet for once.”
She looked satisfied with herself. “So how would that be, then?”
“I…I…” Anzi looked at her helplessly.
“Oh dear. And I thought it would help.”
“Would I be young again?”
“You would lose knowledge of things between then and now. And you would be the age that you left the Entire. I cannot imagine why that would be what you want, but if it is, Avva ceb remembers your form.”
Anzi stared into the gardens, suddenly as strange a scene as she could imagine. What was real? What was solid? She murmured, “I would lose my present body.”
“Is that not the point?”
“Would Manifest still think of my disgrace, or would that get erased?”
“Manifest cannot forget. But the Jinda ceb would not blame the new Anzitaj for anything the old one did. You would have a fresh start with us.”
A fresh start. Powerful words.
Venn stood up. “Well, it is a lot to absorb. Do not tell anyone. Manifest has decided that we must appear as normal as possible to the sentients here. I am afraid most of them would be troubled by how we coped with banishment. Look at how they reacted to learning that the Tarig were consensus beings. They are setting them on fire, I believe.” Her scalp swirls contracted. “You people have a very narrow view of life. We try to understand; most of the time we just accept how you think. It is not easy, you know.”
She settled an appraising look on Anzi. “You do look rather pale, even for a Chalin.” She raised her hand. “Shall I send you home by travel slit?”
Anzi suddenly didn't like the idea of the travel slits. She wanted just plain real. Real body, real walking, real everything.
“Thank you, no, Complete One. I'll walk.”
She wandered in the direction of her village, stunned, oblivious to what people thought of whatever in the world was appearing on her back.
Five thousand days. Five thousand days she had lived as an imaginary being, dreaming of life. Or was the dream the same as the actual? And how could it be? No wonder the Jinda ceb had fought so fiercely to come home. They had been living suspended lives.
It made Anzi a little crazy. She could go back to what she was. The Jinda ceb could remove those thousands of days from her mind and body as though they never were.
Because they never had been.