Qing-jao listened to them as they laid the choice before her.

“Why should I care what you decide?” she said, when they were finished. “The gods will laugh at you.”

Father shook his head. “No they won't, my daughter, Gloriously Bright. The gods care nothing more for Path than any other world. The people of Lusitania are on the verge of creating a virus that can free us all. No more rituals, no more bondage to the disorder in our brains. So I ask you again, if we can do it, should we? It would cause disorder here. Wang-mu and I have planned how we'll proceed, how we'll announce what we are doing so that people will understand it, so there'll be a chance that the godspoken won't be slaughtered, but can step down gently from their privileges.”

“Privileges are nothing,” said Qing-jao. “You taught me that yourself. They're only the people's way of expressing their reverence for the gods.”

“Alas, my daughter, if only I knew that more of the godspoken shared that humble view of our station. Too many of them think that it's their right to be acquisitive and oppressive, because the gods speak to them and not to others.”

“Then the gods will punish them. I'm not afraid of your virus.”

“But you are, Qing-jao, I see it.”

“How can I tell my father that he does not see what he claims to see? I can only say that I must be blind.”

“Yes, my Qing-jao, you are. Blind on purpose. Blind to your own heart. Because you tremble even now. You have never been sure that I was wrong. From the time Jane showed us the true nature of the speaking of the gods, you've been unsure of what was true.”

“Then I'm unsure of sunrise. I'm unsure of breath.”

“We're all unsure of breath, and the sun stays in its same place, day and night, neither rising nor falling. We are the ones who rise and fall.”

“Father, I fear nothing from this virus.”

“Then our decision is made. If the Lusitanians can bring us the virus, we'll use it.”

Han Fei-tzu got up to leave her room.

But her voice stopped him before he reached the door. “Is this the disguise the punishment of the gods will take, then?”

“What?” he asked.

“When they punish Path for your iniquity in working against the gods who have given their mandate to Congress, will they disguise their punishment by making it seem to be a virus that silences them?”

“I wish dogs had torn my tongue out before I taught you to think that way.”

“Dogs already are tearing at my heart,” Qing-jao answered him. “Father, I beg you, don't do this. Don't let your rebelliousness provoke the gods into falling silent across the whole face of this world.”

“I will, Qing-jao, so no more daughters or sons have to grow up slaves as you have been. When I think of your face pressed close to the floor, tracing the woodgrain, I want to cut the bodies of those who forced this thing upon you, cut them until their blood makes lines, which I will gladly trace, to know that they've been punished.”

She wept. “Father, I beg you, don't provoke the gods.”

“More than ever now I'm determined to release the virus, if it comes.”

“What can I do to persuade you? If I say nothing, you will do it, and when I speak to beg you, you will do it all the more surely.”

“Do you know how you could stop me? You could speak to me as if you knew the speaking of the gods is the product of a brain disorder, and then, when I know you see the world clear and true, you could persuade me with good arguments that such a swift, complete, and devastating change would be harmful, or whatever other argument you might raise.”

“So to persuade my father, I must lie to him?”

“No, my Gloriously Bright. To persuade your father, you must show that you understand the truth.”

“I understand the truth,” said Qing-jao. “I understand that some enemy has stolen you from me. I understand that all I have left now is the gods, and Mother who is among them. I beg the gods to let me die and join her, so I don't have to suffer any more of the pain you cause me, but still they leave me here. I think that means they wish me still to worship them. Perhaps I'm not yet purified enough. Or perhaps they know that you will soon turn your heart around again, and come to me as you used to, speaking honorably of the gods and teaching me to be a true servant.”

“That will never happen,” said Han Fei-tzu.

“Once I thought you could someday be the god of Path. Now I see that, far from being the protector of this world, you are its darkest enemy.”

Han Fei-tzu covered his face and left the room, weeping for his daughter. He could never persuade her as long as she heard the voice of the gods. But perhaps if they brought the virus, perhaps if the gods fell silent, she would listen to him then. Perhaps he could win her back to rationality.

They sat in the starship– more like two metal bowls, one domed over the other, with a door in the side. Jane's design, faithfully executed by the hive queen and her workers, included many instruments on the outside of the ship. But even bristling with sensors it didn't resemble any kind of starship ever seen before. It was far too small, and there was no visible means of propulsion. The only power that could carry this ship anywhere was the unseeable aiua that Ender carried on board with him.

They faced each other in a circle. There were six chairs, because Jane's design allowed for the chance that the ship would be used again, to carry more people from world to world. They had taken every other seat, so they formed a triangle: Ender, Miro, Ela.

The good-byes had all been said. Sisters and brothers, other kin and many friends had come. One, though, was most painful in her absence. Novinha. Ender's wife, Miro's and Ela's mother. She would have no part of this. That was the only real sorrow at the parting.