Finally, at the age of sixteen, her schooling was finished. She had only to prove herself in a grown woman's task– one that was difficult and important enough that it could be entrusted only to one who was godspoken.

She came before the great Han Fei-tzu in his room. Like hers, it was a large open space; like hers, the sleeping accommodation was simple, a mat on the floor; like hers, the room was dominated by a table with a computer terminal on it. She had never entered her father's room without seeing something floating in the display above the terminal– diagrams, threedimensional models, realtime simulations, words. Most commonly words. Letters or ideographs floating in the air on simulated pages, moving back and forward, side to side as Father needed to compare them.

In Qing-jao's room, all the rest of the space was empty. Since Father did not trace woodgrain lines, he had no need for that much austerity. Even so, his tastes were simple. One rug– only rarely one that had much decoration to it. One low table, with one sculpture standing on it. Walls bare except for one painting. And because the room was so large, each one of these things seemed almost lost, like the faint voice of someone crying out from very far away.

The message of this room to visitors was clear: Han Fei-tzu chose simplicity. One of each thing was enough for a pure soul.

The message to Qing-jao, however, was quite different. For she knew what no one outside the household realized: The rug, the table, the sculpture, and the painting were changed every day. And never in her life had she recognized any one of them. So the lesson she learned was this: A pure soul must never grow attached to any one thing. A pure soul must expose himself to new things every day.

Because this was a formal occasion, she did not come and stand behind him as he worked, studying what appeared in his display, trying to guess what he was doing. This time she came to the middle of the room and knelt on the plain rug, which was today the color of a robin's egg, with a small stain in one corner. She kept her eyes down, not even studying the stain, until Father got up from his chair and came to stand before her.

“Han Qing-jao,” he said. “Let me see the sunrise of my daughter's face.”

She lifted her head, looked at him, and smiled.

He smiled back. “What I will set before you is not an easy task, even for an experienced adult,” said Father.

Qing-jao bowed her head. She had expected that Father would set a hard challenge for her, and she was ready to do his will.

“Look at me, my Qing-jao,” said Father.

She lifted her head, looked into his eyes.

“This is not going to be a school assignment. This is a task from the real world. A task that Starways Congress has given me, on which the fate of nations and peoples and worlds may rest.”

Qing-jao had been tense already, but now Father was frightening her. “Then you must give this task to someone who can be trusted with it, not to an untried child.”

“You haven't been a child in years, Qing-jao. Are you ready to hear your task?”

“Yes, Father.”

“What do you know about the Lusitania Fleet?”

“Do you want me to tell you everything I know about it?”

“I want you to tell me all that you think matters.”

So– this was a kind of test, to see how well she could distill the important from the unimportant in her knowledge about a particular subject.

“The fleet was sent to subdue a rebellious colony on Lusitania, where laws concerning noninterference in the only known alien species had been defiantly broken.”

Was that enough? No– Father was still waiting.

“There was controversy, right from the start,” she said. “Essays attributed to a person called Demosthenes stirred up trouble.”

“What trouble, in particular?”

“To colony worlds, Demosthenes gave warning that the Lusitania Fleet was a dangerous precedent– it would be only a matter of time before Starways Congress used force to compel their obedience, too. To Catholic worlds and Catholic minorities everywhere, Demosthenes charged that Congress was trying to punish the Bishop of Lusitania for sending missionaries to the pequeninos to save their souls from hell. To scientists, Demosthenes sent warning that the principle of independent research was at stake– a whole world was under military attack because it dared to prefer the judgment of the scientists on the scene to the judgment of bureaucrats many light-years away. And to everyone, Demosthenes made claims that the Lusitania Fleet carried the Molecular Disruption Device. Of course that is an obvious lie, but some believed it.”

“How effective were these essays?” asked Father.

“I don't know.”

“They were very effective,” said Father. “Fifteen years ago, the earliest essays to the colonies were so effective that they almost caused revolution.”

A near-rebellion in the colonies? Fifteen years ago? Qing-jao knew of only one such event, but she had never realized it had anything to do with Demosthenes' essays. She blushed. “That was the time of the Colony Charter– your first great treaty.”

“The treaty was not mine,” said Han Fei-tzu. “The treaty belonged equally to Congress and the colonies. Because of it a terrible conflict was avoided. And the Lusitania Fleet continues on its great mission.”

“You wrote every word of the treaty, Father.”

“In doing so I only found expression for the wishes and desires already in the hearts of the people on both sides of the issue. I was a clerk.”

Qing-jao bowed her head. She knew the truth, and so did everyone else. It had been the beginning of Han Fei-tzu's greatness, for he not only wrote the treaty but also persuaded both sides to accept it almost without revision. Ever after that, Han Fei-tzu had been one of the most trusted advisers to Congress; messages arrived daily from the greatest men and women of every world. If he chose to call himself a clerk in that great undertaking, that was only because he was a man of great modesty. Qing-jao also knew that Mother was already dying as he accomplished all this work. That was the kind of man her father was, for he neglected neither his wife nor his duty. He could not save Mother's life, but he could save the lives that might have been lost in war.

“Qing-jao, why do you say that it is an obvious lie that the fleet is carrying the M.D. Device?”

“Because– because that would be monstrous. It would be like Ender the Xenocide, destroying an entire world. So much power has no right or reason to exist in the universe.”

“Who taught you this?”

“Decency taught me this,” said Qing-jao. “The gods made the stars and all the planets– who is man to unmake them?”

“But the gods also made the laws of nature that make it possible to destroy them– who is man to refuse to receive what the gods have given?”

Qing-jao was stunned to silence. She had never heard Father speak in apparent defense of any aspect of war– he loathed war in any form.

“I ask you again– who taught you that so much power has no right or reason to exist in the universe?”

“It's my own idea.”

“But that sentence is an exact quotation.”

“Yes. From Demosthenes. But if I believe an idea, it becomes my own. You taught me that.”

“You must be careful that you understand all the consequences of an idea before you believe it.”

“The Little Doctor must never be used on Lusitania, and therefore it should not have been sent.”

Han Fei-tzu nodded gravely. “How do you know it must never be used?”

“Because it would destroy the pequeninos, a young and beautiful people who are eager to fulfill their potential as a sentient species.”

“Another quotation.”

“Father, have you read the Life of Human?”

“I have.”

“Then how can you doubt that the pequeninos must be preserved?”

“I said I had read the Life of Human. I didn't say that I believed it.”