Page 643 - Enders_Game_Full_Book

when her ritual was done. "You did very well," said Qing-jao. "It was easier for me to concentrate on the tracing, with you in the room."
"I think I fell asleep once, Qing-jao."
"Perhaps twice. But you woke when it mattered, and no harm was done."
Wang-mu began to weep. She closed her eyes but didn't take her hand away from Qing-jao to cover her face. She simply let the tears flow down her cheeks.
"Why are you weeping, Wang-mu?"
"I didn't know," she said. "It really is a hard thing to be godspoken. I didn't know."
"And a hard thing to be a true friend to the godspoken, as well," said Qing-jao. "That's why I didn't want you to be my servant, calling me 'holy one' and fearing the sound of my voice. That kind of servant I'd have to send out of my room when the gods spoke to me."
If anything, Wang-mu's tears flowed harder.
"Si Wang-mu, is it too hard for you to be with me?" asked Qing-jao.
Wang-mu shook her head.
"If it's ever too hard, I'll understand. You can leave me then. I was alone before. I'm not afraid to be alone again."
Wang-mu shook her head, fiercely this time. "How could I leave you, now that I see how hard it is for you?"
"Then it will be written one day, and told in a story, that Si Wang-mu never left the side of Han Qing-jao during her purifications."
Suddenly Wang-mu's smile broke across her face, and her eyes opened into the squint of laughter, despite the tears still shining on her cheeks. "Don't you hear the joke you told?" said Wang-mu. "My name-- Si Wang-mu. When they tell that story, they won't know it was your secret maid with you. They'll think it was the Royal Mother of the West."
Qing-jao laughed then, too. But an idea also crossed her mind, that perhaps the Royal Mother was a true ancestor-of-the-heart to Wang-mu, and by having Wang-mu by her side, as her friend, Qing- jao also had a new closeness with this god who was almost the oldest of them all.
Wang-mu laid out their sleeping mats, though Qing-jao had to show her how; it was Wang-mu's proper duty, and Qing-jao would have to let her do it every night, though she had never minded doing it herself. As they lay down, their mats touching edge-to-edge so that no woodgrain lines showed between them, Qing-jao noticed that there was gray light shining through the slats of the