Legacy of the Mind by H.R. Moore Page A

colossal, open expanse as the Spirit Temple.  As opposed to sky high pillars holding up the roof, the Body Temple had a series of high arches splitting the space into distinctly separate, but still relatively open sections.  Every Temple had a clear run from at least one entrance to its altar, in the Spirit Temple pretty much every entrance had this, but in the Body Temple many had to sit in side chambers with views obstructed by the intricate brickwork.  The Mind Temple was a total nightmare for large, public events as the spaces were so closed off that only a very fortunate few ever got to see anything, but that’s how the Mind Descendants generally liked things, small and elitist. 
    Twenty minutes later, all the seats were taken and a massive crowd stretched out behind the ropes that had been erected to keep a pathway clear for the coffin.  Christiana had been extremely popular, mostly for her fairness and generosity, and many people had travelled from Kingdom to be there.
    Music wafted back through the Temple from a harp at the front, bouncing around the arches and up to the spire above, vibrant yet haunting music that made the hair on the back of Anita’s neck stand up as the procession of the coffin and the Descendants began.  Everyone turned round in their seats to watch the coffin, carried by six Body Councillors, enter the Temple, with Peter and Gwyn following immediately behind.  They were both wearing black cloaks and Gwyn had a black birdcage veil across her face, with small white flowers in her hair.  Very theatrical, thought Anita.  Behind them was Alexander, also with a floor-length black cloak, his dishevelled hair looking a little more tame than usual.  He had his usual regal yet rugged look about him, like some ancient knight about to wield a sword in the pursuit of the righteous.  Anita noted that his energy seemed to be far less prominent than it normally was and she wondered how he was able to mask it as he did.  Finally, Austin and Marcus entered the Temple, both also in black cloaks, but theirs had a red trim running round the edge.  They can’t even show her respect at her funeral, thought Alexander.  As he entered the Temple, Alexander unintentionally inclined his head in Anita’s direction, feeling her brazen energy.  She really needs to learn to hide that he thought, noticing he was a little riled as he moved on.
    Austin was in front of Marcus and looked every inch the evil dictator as he sauntered into the Temple, Marcus however looked regal, his chiselled features glorious as ever as he strode after his father.  He spotted where Anita was sitting and looked directly at her, locking his eyes with hers as he ascended the steps.  Anita held his gaze and hoped people hadn’t noticed.  He neared where she was sitting and broke eye contact to keep from having to turn his head to look at her, continuing up the aisle to join the rest of the Descendants.  Cordelia looked sideways at Anita but didn’t say anything.  She knew that Austin and Marcus had given Anita a lift home after the Chase, but after that look she wasn’t sure if that was all that was going on.
    The funeral was short but emotional.  Austin gave the opening speech, which most people thought a little strange, but he explained it away by starting, in his normal cloying voice, ‘as the only current reigning Descendant…’ Anita rolled her eyes as he said it.  There were several moving tributes to Christiana and the spectacular Body feats she had achieved during her life, along with accounts of her generosity to those of all Temples.  Peter gave a gripping insight into life as the child of someone so exceptional, however the most moving account was the last from Alexander.
    ‘…and at the age of five, when I had recently lost both my father, in a tragic fire in this very Temple, and my mother, of a broken heart just a few months later, it was Christiana who guided me.  Over the years she was a source of