The taxi drew up beside a small side gate in the wall of the chapter house. Clare gathered up Baby Adonis and opened her side of the car. Martha pulled on her door handle.

"No Martha. Stay here while I check out the lay of the land," advised Clare. "We don’t know what’s going on now. I’m going right to Sister Mary." She gave Adonis a peck on the cheek. "We’ll use the safe house if things are bad."

"I’ll check it out," replied Adonis as she left. He spoke into the speaker in his dash. "Lefty how’s the apartment?"

"O.K. Tea. You got a package?" came back the reply.

"Not right now. Maybe later," answered Adonis. He turned and gave Martha another wink and a grin. "We’re all named Adonis at Adonis Taxi, so my nickname. After my love of the tea houses." He snapped off the monitor and turned on the radio. The news signature tune jangled.

"At the top of the hour. Correction by owners ordered for defiant transpos at Lady Joan execution. New World mourns the death of Archbishop Sain. Flaming car accident kills transpo mass murderer after amazing capture by His Excellency Prince Yevgeny. First up, transpo terror comes to a fiery end.

"A potential forest fire greeted a surprised group of travelers along a New Alabama side road. John Sweet of Salem, his son Terry and a truck load of friends interrupted their hita hunting expedition to phone for help when a thundering ball of fire flew up from the jungle ahead of them. Unknown to them at the time, the exploding prison van contained the escaped transpo responsible for the massacre of an elderly matriarch, a mother, her baby, and an ill noblewoman. In an odd coincidence, the capture of the murderer had occurred in the village of Salem. " The news cut in a southern accent.

"Musta been something to do with the gas tank," said John Sweet. "Pretty sad we couldn’t rescue him."

"His Excellency also expressed shock at the outcome," continued the report.

"I’ve expressed my condolences to the family of Peter Edin, one of my most loyal guards. I am also saddened at the loss of one of our best transpo trainers, Moses Roactin. The families of those massacred at Endor are in my thoughts. Working from a tip sent in by a local constable, we found the transpo in a backwoods whorehouse, drinking up the remains of his stolen loot. In a sad note for me," Yevgeny’s voice oozed with regret, "this delusional mad man had told the local villagers the unbelievable story that he was my long dead brother, Dante, who you may remember died in a fire several years ago. This wicked transpo’s death by burning was a just retribution."

"Turn it off. I can’t take anymore," cried Martha. " No more. No more. I want to go home. Make it all go away."

She bent over Sophia, shaking with grief and terror. The baby wailed in sympathy. Martha threw up all over the floor.

"Damn," muttered Adonis. He grabbed a rag and handed to her, then placed a hand on her heaving back. "Damn."

Sister Clare opened the front door, the tears and the smell assaulted her. She slammed it shut and crawled in the back. Martha sobbed into her shoulder. Clare cuddled both mother and baby. Sophia calmed.

"Just heard about her husband," said Adonis.

"Sister Mary told me," replied Clare. "There, there. I’m so sorry." They hugged until Martha spent her tears.

"Oh. I’m gong to be sick again," she panicked. Martha heaved but nothing came up.

"What a mess I’ve made."

"Nothing I haven’t had before," said Adonis. He handed Clare a package of hita tree chips. "Sprinkle this over it. Pretty absorbent stuff. That’ll hold it ‘til I get back to the garage."

"Sister Mary wants to see all of us, you too Adonis," said Clare. "In her private apartment. Prince Yevgeny arrives soon with the Queen, our new prioress. Everything must be done before the change. We must move quickly."

Martha got out of the car, while Clare sprinkled the chips. Adonis grabbed the package containing the dress, popped out of the taxi and handed it to Martha with a hug.

"My skirt's splattered at the bottom. How can I see Sister Mary like this?" worried Martha.

"She’s not going to worry about that," said Clare as she came to stand beside her. The nun bent down and rubbed along the edge of Martha’s dress with the rag. "You’re fine."

Adonis opened the small gate to the chapter house and they slipped inside. All seemed quiet and serene as they walked briskly through the gardens to the senior nuns’ apartments. Mother Sain’s assistant occupied spacious rooms at the end of the building. They knocked. Sister Mary opened the door.

"Come in," she murmured, her face grim.

She motioned them to several comfortable chairs. Packing boxes filled one end of the room. Beside them rested Mother Sain’s folded wheelchair. Sister Mary set out tea and an opened beer for Adonis.

"Nothing like a good cup of tea to make you feel better," she said to Martha as she poured. "I’m sorry about your troubles."

"Thank you," whispered Martha.

"There’s not much time," said Sister Mary. "Queen Medea and Princess Beatrice move in tomorrow. Sister Clare says your sister lives, sold to the Blue Moon?"

"I must buy her. I have the funds." Martha spilled the pouch of gold shillings onto the table. Adonis’s eyes widened. Sister Mary glanced at them without expression.

"No," she replied. "For the temple to buy her would raise suspicions. No one must know you and The Beloved live." Adonis looked shocked. "Yes, my son, this baby is The Beloved. Her father was the bodhisattva, His Highness, Prince Dante, Weaver of Words. A horrible loss. If only we’d known he’d been sent here." She waved a hand at the coins. "Look at the magic he produced. Still the age of an apprentice, not even the twenty-one years needed to become a beginning wizard. There’ll not be another like him in our life time. This child is the only hope of the people."

Martha sighed and gathered up her coins. "Then could you ask after my father? Reba willl know if they sold him away too," she suggested with small hope.

"Perhaps. But an old slave..." Mary turned to Adonis. "I want you to visit the Blue Moon. See if they’ll let you talk to Madam Martha’s sister. I don’t have to tell you how discrete you must be."

"Yes Sister," he replied.

Martha realized she still clutched her new dress. Dante would never see it. Her eyes filled.

She held out the package to Adonis.

"I don’t need this now. Please send it to Reba. With my love," she choked.

"That gives me a good excuse. Her first patron gift," smiled Adonis as he took it. Clare narrowed her eyes, making him point out, "I can’t say it comes from Martha, now can I? The walls have ears in a tea house. I’ll have a little chat with Madam of the Blue Moon. Make sure she’s treated well and doesn’t have any unexpected fatal visitors."

"You’ll have the funds you need," murmured Sister Mary.

Adonis grinned. He downed the last of his beer, gave the Bishop’s assistant a quick bow, blew Clare a kiss and let himself out.

"Reverend Mother entrusted me with the safety of The Beloved." Mary sighed. "And the bodhisattva. His death — and Mothers — changes everything. Reverend Mother believed it best that The Beloved be sent to the safety of an obscure order on the Old World in a land far away from the plots of mages and nobles."

"No. You won’t take her," shouted Martha clutching a bewildered Sophia.

"Of course not," said Sister Mary with a horrified look. "You’re the Mother of The Beloved, chosen by Gaia. The day after tomorrow, a ship leaves for the Old World. We’ll disguise you as a nun. After a few years, when the storm has passed, we’ll set you up with a new life. Though it would help The Beloved to learn from us."

Suddenly everything fell into place. Gaia called her. "I want to be a nun," stated Martha.

"That’s a big step. You’re suffering from shock. Don’t make any hasty decisions," said Sister Mary. "Sister Clare will teach you on the voyage. You’ll need to be a postulant and a novice before your vows. To test your vocation. To become a professed of Gaia is not an easy road nor a decision lightly made. You must go where the order sends you and do the will of Gaia, no matter what your heart or mind say. As Sister Clare and I will do by going with you to the Old World."

Clare nodded. If she felt disturbed by the news, she hid it well.

"My heart yearns to go home, yet you tell me, and I agree, that Sophia and I should hide in the Old World," pointed out Martha. "Strange. Before I fell in love with Dante, to be a nun was what I’d wanted all my life. Obeying Gaia, singing her praises, sharing her sacred food." She brushed Sophia’s head. "When you’re a slave, you work day in, day out for no purpose, for nothing. I’d listen to the radio as I worked and imagine I was a nun, praying as I made the meals and my special magic soup, dedicating it all to Gaia."

Sister Mary and Sister Clare glanced at each other. Through chance, The Beloved possessed the perfect mother. Mysterious the ways of God

Too dangerous to take Sophia and her magic to Mother Sain’s funeral, Martha sat all alone in her room, feeding the baby as she waited for Sister Clare to come and take her to the ship. She stared at the mural of Gaia with Cerea at her breast and listened to the now familiar chirp of the lizards.

Martha found it hard to believe that her whole life had changed. Despite watching every news cast, her heart refused the reality that her kitchen with the soup bubbling on the stove, tea stewing in the pot and Dad clumping in with his boots, no longer existed. If she got on the bus and left Botany behind, all this dislocated horrible nightmare would disappear. Around a bend, down the lane of trees, home waited with open arms. A tear trickled down her cheek.

"It’s Adonis," whispered a voice from the hall. Martha unlatched Sophia who suckled in her sleep, wiped her eyes and opened the door.

"I thought men were forbidden in the nunnery. You seem to wander in and out at will," she remarked, covering the nervousness of meeting him alone in her room.

"You don’t believe all that twice a year stuff, do you?" he grinned. His face melted into sympathy at the sight of her grief swollen face. "You managing all right?"

"Not really. I’m packed but not ready to go." Martha’s lower lip quivered.

"I think you’re bearing up well, considering,"said Adonis. "And you look mighty fine in that nun’s habit." Martha sent him a small smile. "That’s better. Sit down, I’ll tell you about your sister."

"How is she? Is Dad still alive?"

"Your dad’s dead. I’m sorry. Killed by Prince Yevgeny and his guards. None of your family told the Prince that you existed. So that's good." Adonis spared her the news that her father had died by the rod, her sister forced to watch.

"Oh. And Reba?"

"She’s resting in bed after her operation. Very pale, but fine considering." He refused to mention that Reba had clung to him, weeping, begging him to tell her sister to buy her. The dead in Reba’s eyes when he told her she must stay. Her cold smile as she ran the string of garnets through her fingers then brushed a hand over the folded red velvet. She had requested another visit. He had promised he would, when her Madam allowed

"Reba needed an operation?"

Adonis grimaced. He had forgotten the innocence of the Mother of The Beloved.

"Tea ladies are sterilized. Their feet are scarred by the rod then bound for awhile, for smallness and a dainty walk." He bit his lip as he thought to himself with a touch of guilt, "And so they won’t run."

"Oh."

"Madam Camillia is pleased with her and her talents. It’s an upscale house, one of the best. She’ll be well taken care of. Taught many arts. I’ll keep an eye on her. I promise. She sends her love. She’s glad you and the baby are well and that we’re looking after you. Once things settle down, I’m sure you could write from wherever you are."

"You know, it’s funny. Dad used to say, Don’t wish for something, you might get it," murmured Martha. "She was dying to leave the farm for the bright lights and fame of Botany. It’s almost as if she’s getting her wish in a horrible way. And I always longed to be a nun."

"Like the tale of the freed genie granting bad wishes," said Adonis. "Cept yours is dead instead of back in the bottle."

"Yes," said Martha. They both stared out the window.

Clare pushed open the door, Baby Adonis on her hip.. "My suitcase is by the taxi," she announced. Adonis embraced her.

"I’m going to miss you and my baby boy," he said, his eyes filling.

"Now none of that. I hate long good-byes," answered Clare. Her voice choked. "There’ll be many more nuns and children for you."

"None like you and my son," said Adonis. He picked up Martha’s suitcase and the diaper bag.

"I’ll write. Send some videos so you can see how he’s growing. And we’ll be back one day." said Clare.

"Maybe I’ll come visit you in the Old World."

"Maybe."

They walked out, arm in arm. Martha gave the ancient mural of Gaia and child one last lingering look, hugged Sophia to her and followed them out.

Unable to sleep, Martha stood alone in the ship’s empty lounge, staring out the huge window. A bright band of asteroids streamed off into the far distance, charting her course into the future. Behind lay the New World and its sprinkle of tiny moons, growing smaller as she watched. The planet had turned the green and brown face of home towards the never-ending night, only the blue of the great sea and the white of the clouds showed.

"I’ve died and gone to heaven," thought Martha. She bowed her head against the pane and wept.