When Love Is Gone, There's Always Justice
> “There is power when we all stand together, we'll face this burning world all hand in hand. Together we will sing and lift our spirits higher, and together we will reach a brighter land.”
>
> -from “Setting the Factory Aflame”, traditional workers song
the Mother banner [https://66.media.tumblr.com/024acefb357df7f1d5a1f4e58ce50932/tumblr_pdxwrhUDP41xnm75po6_r1_1280.png]
Yan had thought she had been seeing and feeling ghosts. She had spent many days drifting through the crevices of the Mother's group mind, learning what there was to learn, doing what there was to do. Separating herself from herself was one way of healing. Without Etta around, there was little reason for her to exist as a separate entity.
Perhaps it was less healing and more ignoring the problems that she had, but the problems were unsolvable. There wasn't anything that could be done about the lingering horror of months alone in a prison cell, except erasing it with time and company. There wasn't anything that could be done about the remembered pain and fear.
Someday, it would all pass.
In the meantime, she was making the Mother see ghosts.
The Mother, for her own part, was certain it was not a ghost. She had felt this new sensitive pass through her barrier and run around on the surface. She had come off of the pirate ship that was continuing to orbit the planet. It didn't particularly concern the Mother.
One of her selves had been dispatched to the capitol, to determine if the ship posed a threat. The Circle had been in contact with the ship and had decided that they did not. If that changed, of course, the Mother would be the first to know, and the first to act.
What did the ship want? That wasn't any of the Mother's concern. Let the Circle handle it.
As for the sensitive who had splashed down into the ocean, the Mother was drawing her in, on a line, on a line. She was less willing to come than most others; her mind was slippery in the way its thoughts danced around. But she reached out to the Mother, and the Mother reached out to her, and there was an unspoken agreement that she would come.
They all came, eventually. If she wanted to wander some of the islands, it didn't matter. She would arrive in time. It was fortuitous that the Mother was about to have a second new body. She wondered what that would be like.
All through this process of courting this new daughter to come home, her Yan thought this newcomer was achingly familiar. The touch of a mind so much like a friend of hers. The Mother combed through all of Yan's memories, watching those happier times with her. It wouldn't make sense for this newcomer and the ghosts of Yan's past to be the same, and so they simply were not ghosts. It was a mind that felt familiar, though not out of any true familiarity, only out of longing.
Such things were common, the Mother understood, when someone had been exposed to great tragedy or pain. It was up to her to be gentle with herself, to understand and to comfort. All of her was feeling echoes of the pain, softly, but a burden shared is a burden lessened, so there was safety in that as well. They were all haunted now by being alone in the dark, as Yan's memories filtered out into the group. The Mother stayed outside, or together, holding hands, feeling the warmth of skin on skin. And she called this new daughter home, and she came.
They smiled as they watched her come up the road. She was sunburned and short, with her hair loose and fried bright by the sun and salt water. She walked with a wobble in her step that came from days at sea, though she didn't seem to notice it herself. She was accompanied by another person, not a sensitive, and they walked side by side. They looked familiar, but the Mother consulted her memories and remembered that she had seen pictures of them, from the ship in orbit, when the Circle had reported what the ship was after to her body in the capitol. It was no matter. The ship certainly wouldn't be getting the short one back. The one who was not a sensitive could stay or go as she pleased. That wasn't to say that the ship was leaving orbit, simply that the tall one had no ability to join the Mother, thus no reason to remain here.
Part of the Mother's attention was focused on constructing a new stone staircase up to the higher level terraces. An earthquake earlier in the season, combined with heavy spring rain, had caused mudslides to wipe out some of the infrastructure on one side of her little farm. She took rocks from her tiny quarry and used the power to haul them up the hillsides and hew them into shape. It was a simple enough task, and she had only one body assigned too it at the moment. There was no need for urgency, as they wouldn't be able to replant those terraces until the next growing season anyway. That body was passing through the same area the newcomer was walking, the perfect opportunity to catch a glimpse with another pair of eyes.
She watched the newcomer approach; she hauled rocks. All was well, until the newcomer stopped in her tracks, looking like she'd seen a ghost.
“Yan! Yan!”
It was hard to say who was more surprised in that moment, Yan or the Mother.
It was Sylva, and she ran towards Yan remarkably quickly. Yan's mind was elsewhere, though her body remained stock still as the Mother decided what to do with it. Hearing her name passing through the distant awareness of several sets of ears brought Yan searching for her body. She arrived back just in time to register Sylva crashing into her, wrapping her arms around her chest, and kissing her directly on the mouth.
It was chaotic inside the Mother as both the over-consciousness and Yan tried to figure out what to do exactly with her limbs. The Mother, for her part, was enjoying this experience and wanted it to continue. She had been replaying Yan's memories of Sylva a lot over the past few days, to convince herself that they were not seeing ghosts, and with those memories fresh and clouded by happiness in her mind, it was only natural for the whole of the Mother to want to reach out and touch Sylva, to welcome her. It was nice, to meet an 'other'. It would only be a matter of time before Sylva joined them, but for this moment, the feeling of being touched by someone else was enjoyable. Even with this one body's stiff neck, the Mother wanted to lean into the experience.
Yan felt almost the complete opposite. The part of her that wanted to keep kissing Sylva was already in agreement with the Mother, and was making the rest of her rational and irrational brain have a difficult time. She didn't like the feeling of the entire Mother using her body like this. She didn't like the idea of someone else kissing Sylva. She didn't like the twin feelings of possessiveness that had appeared in her brain: Sylva was hers, Yan's, not the Mother's, and yet, Sylva should join with the Mother, and then they could be together forever. All these instincts dueled within her, and she was frozen solid, neither able to push Sylva away nor pull her closer.
And still, there was the fear that this was a ghost come to life. This couldn't be real, no matter how real it looked and felt.
So it was Sylva who finally had to back away. She dropped down from her tiptoes, and released Yan slowly, a look of fear crossing her face as Yan and the Mother continued to negotiate how to act. Finally, by mutual agreement, on one part to confirm reality, on the other to invite further touch, they reached out a hand to put on Sylva's cheek. It was flushed hot, dry, slightly fuzzy, soft, and real. Realer than the sun in the sky, or the churning chorus of thirty voices in Yan's head. Realer than the gentle wind, or the squawking of the chickens, or the months of prison that slipped behind into her memory. Far realer than this place.
Perhaps she could never return to the past, but some echo of that happier time had returned to her, inexplicably, without warning, without any expectation that it would ever happen.
Sylva stared up at her, the look on her face full of protectiveness and love so fierce that they could have stopped an army at a glance.
Yan, completely overwhelmed by all of this, began to sob. She stood there, choking loudly on her tears, feeling her face burn, unable to do anything as months of pent up and incomprehensible feelings poured out of her. Sylva hugged her again, head nestled onto Yan's collarbone, and they sort of rocked back and forth, swayed by Sylva's feet.
It was at this point that the Mother disconnected most of herself from Yan's emotional chaos and made some executive decisions. Her body that had been weaving at the loom on the ground nearby stood up, dusted herself off, and walked over to Iri. She knew the names now, after making all of the connections.
Iri was looking on at the very tearful reunion with her hands stuffed deep into her pockets. Her face looked slightly constipated, as far as the Mother could tell. She was also very sunburned, though not quite as badly as Sylva. Iri noticed the Mother approaching, and half turned away from the tender scene.
“Hello, Iri,” the Mother said in heavily accented New Imperial. She didn't know the language herself, exactly, but she was running the jist of what she wanted to say through the language processing centers in Yan's brain. It would work well enough.
Iri whipped fully around at the sound of her name, hand closing on whatever was in her pocket. Obviously a gun, a Yan-memory whispered to the Mother. There was no way such a thing could ever harm her, so it could be disregarded.
“Who are you?” Iri snapped.
“I am the Mother,” she said. “We should go inside and sit down.”
“Mother of who?” Iri asked.
“This planet.”
Iri seemed to wrestle with something within herself. Her shoulders tensed, then relaxed, then tensed up again.
“I don't recommend that you try shooting me,” the Mother said. “It wouldn't do you any good.”
“So you're a sensitive?”
“We all are,” the Mother said. “I am.”
“You're the one who made the barrier?”
“Yes.”
“And who brought Sylva here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I bring every sensitive on this planet to me. We are one.”
Iri's face changed a fraction. The Mother couldn't tell what it was that Iri was clamping down on. Fear, perhaps. Iri's voice had been carefully neutral this whole time, and she kept it that way. Calm and professional, just like Yan had known her to be under dire circumstances.
“So you took Yan.”
“Yan came to me on her own. I did not bring her to this planet,” the Mother said. “Please do not think that I would do any harm to my daughters.”
“Yan isn't your daughter,” Iri said. “Yan's mother is dead.”
“Everyone on this planet is my daughter.”
Iri made a noncommittal noise. Having judged apparently that there was nothing she could do to the Mother, she was looking back at Yan and Sylva, who were still standing and embracing. Yan was content to stay there until some force, either the Mother or Sylva, compelled her to move. The Mother let her be, and Sylva seemed just as happy to stay there as well, so that left Iri as the only other rational actor for the Mother to talk to.
“Is she free to leave?”
“There is nowhere to go.” Certainly she would not permit the ship currently in orbit to leave. She was dedicating a certain amount of her mind and power to wearing away at the stardrive. It was difficult but not impossible to force her will upon it, just as it was difficult but not impossible to forcibly control another person. A stardrive was more specialized and took a different type of effort, but it would yield to her eventually, and the ship would not be able to leave. She couldn't have her secret out.
“Is she still her own person?” Iri asked.
“In a way. The power facilitates complicated relationships between people. She is wholly me, and I am wholly her. But each of us,” the Mother gestured around at the few of her other bodies who were in sight, “are our own as well. The more closely we work together, the better we know each other.”
“Sure.” Iri didn't sound convinced, but what could a person without the power know? Nothing, unfortunately. How sad it would be for her to be trapped in her own mind, alone, forever. The Mother remembered all the times before she had come to herself, to be herself. They were pale and dull compared to her existence now.
“You should come with me. We can all talk inside.”
“They seem fine where they are,” Iri said.
“Don't you want to talk to Yan as well?” the Mother asked. It seemed strange to her. Clearly Iri had come all this way to find Yan, a thought that did manage to stir something in the Mother's hearts, but she had made no move to approach or greet her.
“Am I not already?” Iri said.
The Mother smiled. “As I said, we work together but split our individual attentions somewhat. Most of Yan is currently occupied.”
“I'm in no hurry,” Iri said. “Let them stay.”
“Very well.”
“May I ask you some questions?” Iri began.
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“Of course.”
“You say that you didn't originally take Yan, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Who did?”
“A child that Yan calls the Green King. I have no relationship to her,” the Mother said, somewhat disdainfully. A look of confusion flitted across Iri's face at the word child, but it smoothed out after a moment. The Mother wasn't used to the gendering of New Imperial, and running the language crosswise through Yan's brain wasn't the easiest for communication.
“And how did Yan end up here?”
“She escaped from the Green King with the help of one of my daughters.”
“Someone here, or?” Iri asked, gesturing specifically to the body that the Mother was inhabiting and using to talk.
“No, just someone who lives on this planet. We had never met. She was not a sensitive.” The Mother smiled slightly at the thought of Etta.
“What is this planet called, by the way?” Iri asked.
“Olkye.”
“You are enemies of the Empire,” Iri said. It wasn't a question.
“We will not be, if the Empire does not know we exist.” The Mother watched Iri as she said this. Iri chewed her lip.
“And if the Empire does know?”
“Then enemies we will be,” the Mother said. Though Iri was doing an admirable job of keeping her face neutral, the simple fact that this agent of the Empire had made her way to the Mother's doorstep indicated that planet's secret was a sailed ship. “My duty, as it always has been, and always will be, is to protect my daughters. This is the reason I exist. The only reason.”
Iri nodded. “And what do you plan to do?”
“In the best case scenario, nothing,” the Mother said. She was perfectly willing to discuss things with Iri, who at the moment had no capacity to harm her, having neither a ship nor an ansible with which to contact the Empire. Still, she was not going to divulge anything that could be used against her in the future, should it come to that. She continued, talking about information that Iri clearly already knew. “I protect this world by keeping it under cover of darkness. If I had a desire to fight, I would have done so long ago. But endless war is no way to live.”
“Who said it has to be endless?”
“The Empire has been waging it for nearly six hundred years,” the Mother said. “And doubtless they intend to continue.”
“Only until they win,” Iri said. Interesting that she said they rather than we.
“There are infinite stars in this universe, my daughter.”
“Don't call me that,” Iri snapped.
They lapsed into silence for a second. The Mother had been listening to Yan and Sylva's quiet conversation. She tuned into it more fully as Iri had less to say.
“Does your family know where you are?” Yan asked.
“No,” Sylva said.
“Does the Iron Dreams crew know you're here?”
“In a general way?” Sylva squeaked.
“I'm glad you came,” Yan said after a pause.
“Is that you saying that, or is that...” Sylva hesitated.
“It's me. It's both.” Speaking in New Imperial came more naturally to Yan, so she had more control over the conversation than when she had needed to borrow speaking power from the Mother to talk to Etta. The Mother was letting her have her way, anyway. For now. After all, there would be plenty of time for the Mother to get to know Sylva.
Sylva rested her head on Yan's chest again. Yan would have like to lay her chin on Sylva's head, but her seized up neck made that impossible. She was forced to stare stoically into the distance. Her hand, possibly in her control, possibly in the Mother's, but it didn't matter, stroked the back of Sylva's head.
She looked with two pairs of eyes at Iri. From up close and far away, it was clear that something was wrong.
“Is Iri alright?” Yan asked Sylva.
“She'll be fine,” Sylva murmured into Yan's chest. “Don't worry about her.”
The Mother was perfectly happy to take that advice, but Yan found herself unable to let go of the nagging worry.
“What is this place?” Sylva asked. “Iri knows but she wouldn't tell me.”
“It's a long story,” Yan said. “The Empire is in the business of colonizing new planets. Sometimes those planets already have people on them. So we hide.” Yan's conflicted feelings about the Empire and the Mother's wish to not say anything too detailed was what led to that particularly benign sounding description of the genocidal war the Empire led.
“Oh,” Sylva said. “So they kidnapped you to stop that?”
“They were after Sandreas,” Yan said. “I was just there instead.”
“Are you okay?”
“I am now,” Yan said. Sylva pushed herself slightly up off of Yan's chest, interrupting the hair stroking, and looked at her in the eyes.
“Don't lie.”
“I don't know,” Yan said. “It'll take a long time, probably.”
“Yeah,” Sylva said.
“We should go inside,” the Mother said. “Sit down and talk.”
“Sure.” Sylva unwrapped herself from Yan, and Yan led the way, walking towards the central building of the compound. Iri and the Mother's other body followed a little way behind. Sylva's hand crept into Yan's, and their arms swung between them rhythmically as they walked.
They went to a little room off the main hall, one of many mainly-empty rooms that the Mother used for whatever was needed at the time. Yan retrieved a rug from the closet and unrolled it onto the floor. Yan sat with Sylva next to her and Iri across. The Mother's other body left, returning a moment later with a bowl of curried vegetables and a hot stack of fried bread. She left it in the center of the rug for the three to eat, then departed again. The Mother could speak just as well through Yan's mouth as that one's, and having only Yan's body there would ease the minds of her two guests.
It seemed that Sylva and Iri were quite hungry, because they ate steadily. The Mother made Yan eat, despite the pool of nausea in her stomach. Neither of them could identify quite what was causing it. She was glad that Iri and Sylva were here. Of course she was glad. But their presence meant that the outside world was capable of intruding here, and Yan didn't know what the future would look like. Part of her had thought that she would stay here with the Mother for the rest of her life. There were no ships to take her away, and no one knew where she was. Now, Iri and Sylva were here, and that probably meant that someone else would be following. Even if the Mother destroyed the Bellringer's stardrive, they were only the beginning.
But for now, for now, they were all here together.
Iri and Yan hadn't yet spoken to each other, but now that they were in such close proximity, they had little choice. The Mother had decided it would be best to allow Iri to initate the conversation, so she waited in silence.
“I'm sorry for what happened,” Iri said eventually. “It's my fault.”
“No it's not,” the Mother said.
“It was my job to protect you, and I failed.” Iri's voice was carefully neutral.
“Please don't think that,” Yan said.
“I don't need you to forgive me. I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am.”
“Iri,” Yan said. “It's alright.”
Iri shook her head mutely.
“I promise it's alright,” the Mother said.
“I told you she wouldn't hate you,” Sylva said. “Yan's way too nice for that.”
Yan would have shaken her head if she could have. She was not nice at all, but there would be time enough for Sylva to understand that later. Iri already knew. Iri had seen what Yan had done in the past, everything she was capable of.
The Mother put a small smile on Yan's face. She was capable of accepting the compliment even if Yan wasn't.
“Sylva, will you join me?” she asked.
“Inside the Mother?” Sylva asked. “No, thanks.”
The Mother did not like this at all, but Yan was merely torn. On one hand, she desperately wanted to feel the same connection with Sylva that she felt with the rest of the Mother. She had always wanted that. She probably always would want that. But on the other hand, she didn't feel particularly inclined to share Sylva with the rest of the Mother. Sylva had come for only her.
“Just a little?” the Mother asked. “You can always leave if you don't like it.”
“Of course Yan won't ever leave because she loves meditation,” Sylva said to no one in particular. “That's how she got you.”
The Mother had no response to that. It was true enough, but Sylva was more resistant to her pull than anyone else had ever been. For all that she had been mentally tugging on Sylva since she had arrived on the planet, Sylva had been able to halt her advances handily. It was a little surprising that even the thought of being with Yan couldn't entice her into the Mother, but Yan's memories did describe just how much she hated using the power in almost every aspect. Perhaps her weakness had become an unintended strength.
No matter. The Mother was patient, and since Sylva would be remaining on this planet, it would only be a matter of time. She wouldn't push her luck now. That would only upset Yan, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. Her love was patient and kind.
They spent the rest of the day together. Sylva and Iri described their various adventures that had led them to this point. The Mother let Yan reign over the conversation, and didn't interfere much. Yan, for her own part, decided that it would be best not to describe what she had been through. They could fill in the gaps. She showed them around parts of the island, and the Mother's home. The place was full of natural and Mother-made beauty.
Because remembering the Mother existed seemed to upset them, the Mother kept them away from her other bodies, just in case. They would get used to her in time. She wasn't forming the best impression of Iri, but she liked Sylva well enough. She would be a valuable addition. Iri regarded her with outright suspicion and hostility, but Sylva's rejection was due to her own personal biases. Those could be overcome, just as during their trip Sylva had apparently improved her control over the power in leaps and bounds.
Eventually night fell. They ate dinner again in private, and then it was time to negotiate sleeping arrangements. The Mother did not often have guests. There were occasional visits from the families of some of her bodies, but rarely were they so... attached. She set them up in a private room with sleeping mats.
Yan felt strange, to not be around the rest of the Mother physically, even as they still shared a dream space. Sylva curled up next to her, and they tangled up limb to limb. Iri kept watch for a while.
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Yan's shared dreams with the rest of the Mother were interrupted, this time with a far less pleasant guest. The Mother had originally intended to let Yan sleep through it, but the information had trickled through the pathways of their subconscious and into the dream state, where Yan seized upon it and woke, demanding to know if it was true.
Yes, the Green King had come.
Yan disentangled herself as gently as possible from Sylva. Iri, who was still awake, noticed her getting up. Despite the darkness of the room, her eyes were clearly visible, like a cat's.
“Where are you going?” Iri asked.
“I have someone I need to talk to,” Yan said. She was resisting the Mother every step of the way. She needed to see the Green King. The Mother relented, and her process was easier.
“Who?” Iri asked.
Yan didn't respond, and slipped out of the room. She was aware that Iri was following her, just a few steps behind, because she was making no effort to be stealthy. The Mother dispatched another of her bodies to the room where Sylva was sleeping, so that the girl would not be terrified if she woke up alone.
The Green King was waiting in the room where Yan had first met the Mother. She was not the only body there. There were four others, all tall and strong. The Mother was clearly making a statement, even if the physical prowess of her bodies had nothing to do with her actual strength. She could have sent her four youngest bodies, or her four oldest, and she would have had the same capability to protect.
The Mother directed Yan into the room, and closed the door with the power after she and Iri had entered. Despite Yan's tunic being rumpled from sleep, she managed to hold herself regally as she faced down the Green King.
“I didn't think you would come here,” the Mother said in Yan's voice. They spoke in Valus, which Iri did not understand, but the tone would carry meaning all the same.
“My employers were very angry with me that I lost you,” the Green King said. “I see you've fallen under the sway of this creature.” The Green King spoke in heavily accented Valus. Though she was one of her daughters by virtue of being on the planet, and thus under the Mother's protection, she was not originally from here, at least based on the way that she spoke.
“I make my own decisions,” the Mother said. “You made the wrong one by coming here.”
“I will pay to take her back,” the Green King said, directly addressing the Mother, even though she was looking at Yan's body. Yan's stomach churned heavily, and her fingers twitched. The Mother kept her body still. Thee was no need for haste. Should the Green King make a misstep, she would quickly find herself learning exactly what the Mother was capable of.
“There is nothing you can give me that I would want,” the Mother said.
“I'm sure I could acquire a replacement for you.”
“You mistake me. I have no desire to have people brought to me as sacrifices.” The Mother's voice in Yan's mouth was cold and hard. She and Yan could neither forgive nor forget what the Green King had done. Even if she was not the top of the line of command, she had been the one to put the gun to Yan's head.
There was a gun in Iri's pocket.
“There are others looking for you, you know,” the Green King said. “That ship in orbit.”
“It's of no consequence,” the Mother said. Yan was aware of the pirate bounty on her head. This whole planet seemed to be encircled in rings of people doing wrong by each other. She had killed the pirates' family. The Green King had paid people to kidnap Yan. The Green King had shortchanged the people who had been hired to kidnap Yan. Sylva had described how that person had betrayed the Green King to the pirates aboard the Bellringer. Sylva and Iri had stolen information and a shuttle from the pirates. The Green King had hurt Yan. Yan had hurt Etta. Etta had hurt the Green King. And here they all were, all the little pieces wrapped up in it together.
“I can't believe you'd let her into your mind,” the Green King said to the Mother. “Don't you know who she is?”
“Yes.”
Who was Yan? She hardly knew herself.
“You'd let a murderer and an Imperial leader directly into your head?”
“Yan could no more harm me than I could her,” the Mother said confidently.
“You think you have her on such a tight leash, but look at her shaking there. She wants to hurt me, doesn't she?” The Green King took a couple steps closer, leaning forward into Yan's personal space. She stood still and stared directly ahead. Through another set of eyes, she saw Iri put her hand in her pocket.
“I think you'll find that I want to hurt you more than she does,” the other voices of the Mother said in concert.
“Is that so?” The Green King smiled. She reached up toward Yan's face. “Shame about your neck,” she said. That was enough. Yan's hand grabbed the Green King's wrist, with a force that was far more than her slender fingers would usually exert.
“Enough,” the Mother hissed in Yan's voice. “You've done more than enough harm.”
“And she hasn't?”
The Mother didn't answer that question. Yan released the Green King's wrist, and with a none-too-gentle shove with the power, sent her stumbling backwards a few paces. She wasn't ejected from the room, but it was enough to get her to back off for the moment.
“Have you talked to Etta?” Yan asked. She needed to know if her savior was alright, or if the Green King had gotten to her.
“I sent someone to deal with her,” the Green King said. “She nearly destroyed my shoulder, you know.”
“Pity,” the Mother said. There was no pity in her voice at all.
All of Yan's fear had been transmuted into the Mother's anger. She was angry at the way the Green King had treated her daughter, she was angry at the way she had brought visitors to this planet, and she was angry at the way the Green King was addressing her. She was angry about the implied vengeance done to Etta.
The Green King was probably lying, of course. Etta was probably sailing somewhere far away, maybe to her promised cousin's house. Yan hoped she was safe and sound and happy.
“I didn't precisely come to get her back,” the Green King said. “I have a message from my employers for you.”
“Then say it.”
“You can consider our business relationship over if you insist on keeping her as your pet. She's a shark below the water.”
“The whole of her mind is open to me,” the Mother said. “And she will do no harm. As for your employers, I'm sure they will find that they needed me much more than I need them.”
“You won't say that when she brings her people here,” she said. “You'll want us then.”
“You are much more afraid of the future than you should be,” the Mother said.
“Perhaps you are being overly optimistic,” the Green King began.
“It's the present you should be worried about.”
The Green King raised her eyebrows.
In New Imperial, the Mother spoke. “Iri, may I borrow your gun?”
“What?” Iri asked.
“Your gun. In your pocket, please.”
The Green King could understand this conversation, and the Mother held her still with the power. Yan felt a weird thrill of power in her stomach as the Mother marched her body over to Iri. She took the gun from her. There was an electric tension passing through the air between them.
“Are you sure you want this, Yan?” Iri asked.
“Thank you, Iri,” the Mother said. She walked towards the Green King, bare feet pattering quietly across the stone floor. Yan clicked off the safety of the gun. She took the Green King's hand and peeled the fingers apart, placing the gun in position.
Iri watched, face slightly horrified, as Yan physically positioned the Green King's arm so that the gun was pointed directly at her head.
“Now,” the Mother said. “You're going to leave here without saying a word, touching anything, or making any more threats. I don't care to have you here. Leave that on the shore when you go.”
She used the power, to ever so gently caress the Green King's finger over the trigger of the gun. “You would do better to think of how your actions might be remembered,” the Mother said. “Tell your employer the same. I have a far longer memory than they do.”
The Green King, face slightly crumpled in fear, didn't say anything.
“Go on, walk,” the Mother said.
Though her hand was frozen in position, holding the gun at her head, the Green King could walk away, which she did, clearly eager to escape the Mother's horrible presence.