Xenocide

“Who is Demosthenes?” asked Wang-mu.

“A traitor who is apparently succeeding better than anyone thought.” Did Starways Congress realize that Demosthenes' ideas were being repeated by people who had never heard of him? Did anyone understand what this meant? Demosthenes' ideas were now the common wisdom of the common people. Things had reached a more dangerous turn than Qing-jao had imagined. Father was wiser; he must know already. “Never mind,” said Qingjao. “Tell me about the Lusitania Fleet.”

“How can I, when it will make you angry?”

Qing-jao waited patiently.

“All right then,” said Wang-mu, but she still looked wary. “Father says– and so does Pan Ku-wei, his very wise friend who once took the examination for the civil service and came very very close to passing–”

“What do they say?”

“That it's a very bad thing for Congress to send a huge fleet– and so huge– all to attack the tiniest colony simply because they refused to send away two of their citizens for trial on another world. They say that justice is completely on the side of Lusitania, because to send people from one planet to another against their will is to take them away from family and friends forever. That's like sentencing them before the trial.”

“What if they're guilty?”

“That's for the courts to decide on their own world, where people know them and can measure their crime fairly, not for Congress to decide from far away where they know nothing and understand less.” Wang-mu ducked her head. “That's what Pan Ku-wei says.”

Qing-jao stilled her own revulsion at Wang-mu's traitorous words; it was important to know what the common people thought, even if the very hearing of it made Qing-jao sure the gods would be angry with her for such disloyalty. “So you think that the Lusitania Fleet should never have been sent?”

“If they can send a fleet against Lusitania for no good reason, what's to stop them from sending a fleet against Path? We're also a colony, not one of the Hundred Worlds, not a member of Starways Congress. What's to stop them from declaring that Han Fei-tzu is a traitor and making him travel to some faraway planet and never come back for sixty years?”

The thought was a terrible one, and it was presumptuous of Wang-mu to bring her father into the discussion, not because she was a servant, but because it would be presumptuous of anyone to imagine the great Han Fei-tzu being convicted of a crime. Qing-jao's composure failed her for a moment, and she spoke her outrage: “Starways Congress would never treat my father like a criminal!”

“Forgive me, Qing-jao. You told me to repeat what my father said.”

“You mean your father spoke of Han Fei-tzu?”

“All the people of Jonlei know that Han Fei-tzu is the most honorable man of Path. It's our greatest pride, that the House of Han is part of our city.”

So, thought Qing-jao, you knew exactly how ambitious you were being when you set out to become his daughter's maid.

“I meant no disrespect, nor did they. But isn't it true that if Starways Congress wanted to, they could order Path to send your father to another world to stand trial?”

“They would never–”

“But could they?” insisted Wang-mu.

“Path is a colony,” said Qing-jao. “The law allows it, but Starways Congress would never–”

“But if they did it to Lusitania, why wouldn't they do it to Path?”

“Because the xenologers on Lusitania were guilty of crimes that–”

“The people of Lusitania didn't think so. Their government refused to send them off for trial.”

“That's the worst part. How can a planetary government dare to think they know better than Congress?”

“But they knew everything,” said Wang-mu, as if this idea were so natural that everyone must know it. “They knew those people, those xenologers. If Starways Congress ordered Path to send Han Fei-tzu to go stand trial on another world for a crime we know he didn't commit, don't you think we would also rebel rather than send such a great man? And then they would send a fleet against us.”

“Starways Congress is the source of all justice in the Hundred Worlds.” Qing-jao spoke with finality. The discussion was over.

Impudently, Wang-mu didn't fall silent. “But Path isn't one of the Hundred Worlds yet, is it?” she said. “We're just a colony. They can do what they want, and that's not right.”

Wang-mu nodded her head at the end, as if she thought she had utterly prevailed. Qing-jao almost laughed. She would have laughed, in fact, if she hadn't been so angry. Partly she was angry because Wang-mu had interrupted her many times and had even contradicted her, something that her teachers had always been very careful not to do. Still, Wang-mu's audacity was probably a good thing, and Qing-jao's anger was a sign that she had become too used to the undeserved respect people showed to her ideas simply because they fell from the lips of the godspoken. Wang-mu must be encouraged to speak to her like this. That part of Qing-jao's anger was wrong, and she must get rid of it.

But much of Qing-jao's anger was because of the way Wang-mu had spoken about Starways Congress. It was as if Wang-mu didn't think of Congress as the supreme authority over all of humanity; as if Wang-mu imagined that Path was more important than the collective will of all the worlds. Even if the inconceivable happened and Han Fei-tzu were ordered to stand trial on a world a hundred lightyears away, he would do it without murmur– and he would be furious if anyone on Path made the slightest resistance. To rebel like Lusitania? Unthinkable. It made Qing-jao feel dirty just to think of it.

Dirty. Impure. To hold such a rebellious thought made her start searching for a woodgrain line to trace.

“Qing-jao!” cried Wang-mu, as soon as Qing-jao knelt and bowed over the floor. “Please tell me that the gods aren't punishing you for hearing the words I said!”

“They aren't punishing me,” said Qing-jao. “They're purifying me.”

“But they weren't even my words, Qing-jao. They were the words of people who aren't even here.”

“They were impure words, whoever said them.”

“But that's not fair, to make you cleanse yourself for ideas that you never even thought of or believed in!”

Worse and worse! Would Wang-mu never stop? “Now must I hear you tell me that the gods themselves are unfair?”

“They are, if they punish you for other people's words!”

The girl was outrageous. “Now you are wiser than the gods?”

“They might as well punish you for being pulled on by gravity, or being fallen on by rain!”

“If they tell me to purify myself for such things, then I'll do it, and call it justice,” said Qing-jao.

“Then justice has no meaning!” cried Wang-mu. “When you say the word, you mean whatever-the-gods-happen-to-decide. But when I say the word, I mean fairness, I mean people being punished only for what they did on purpose, I mean–”

“It's what the gods mean by justice that I must listen to.”

“Justice is justice, whatever the gods might say!”

Almost Qing-jao rose up from the floor and slapped her secret maid. It would have been her right, for Wang-mu was causing her as much pain as if she had struck her. But it was not Qing-jao's way to strike a person who was not free to strike back. Besides, there was a far more interesting puzzle here. After all, the gods had sent Wang-mu to her-Qing-jao was already sure of that. So instead of arguing with Wang-mu directly, Qing-jao should try to understand what the gods meant by sending her a servant who would say such shameful, disrespectful things.

The gods had caused Wang-mu to say that it was unjust to punish Qing-jao for simply hearing another person's disrespectful opinions. Perhaps Wang-mu's statement was true. But it was also true that the gods could not be unjust. Therefore it must be that Qing-jao was not being punished for simply hearing the treasonous opinions of the people. No, Qing-jao had to purify herself because, in her heart of hearts, some part of her must believe those opinions. She must cleanse herself because deep inside she still doubted the heavenly mandate of Starways Congress; she still believed they were not just.