Nine Gates (10 page)

“For either of you,” Pearl said softly, understanding Umeko’s reaction perfectly. “Or for Geoffrey. I’m sorry, Shen.”

He straightened, and managed a twisted grin. “The phone call that came earlier this morning didn’t help Umeko’s state of mind either.”

“Phone call? Is something wrong in San Jose? Has something happened to someone?”

Shen raised a hand to reassure her. “No. The call was local. We have been requested to attend a meeting of the Rock Dove Society today.”

“That’s hardly unexpected,” Pearl said, “but they’ve certainly moved quickly.”

“I believe your arrival in New York was noted,” Shen said. “In any case, the East Coast organizations have always been more aggressive than those on the West Coast.”

Pearl knew the Rock Dove Society all too well. Publicly, they were an association of bird-watchers. They hosted
weekly talks and slide shows, even the occasional lecture series in conjunction with eminently respectable zoological and ornithological organizations.

Privately, the Rock Dove Society served as a cover under which representatives of the various indigenous magical traditions could meet and discuss matters related to the Art—and the very human politics that arose when traditions conflicted.

“The Rock Dove Society is having their public meeting at the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory of the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx,” Shen went on. “Then they are moving on to one of their usual places.”

“Usual” in this case meant secured against intrusion, magical and mundane. A public garden might seem an odd place to hold a private meeting, but hiding in plain sight was a lesson of which more than one covert society had learned the benefits—and the Rock Dove Society, under a variety of names and guises, was older than most.

“But the meeting isn’t until this afternoon,” Shen said. “I had the impression last night that you had more that you wanted to discuss.”

Pearl nodded. “Trust. I have never trusted easily, and this situation is demanding more than I find myself capable of giving. For example, right now I have five people living in my house—one of whom I hadn’t even met before this spring. I knew Nissa and Brenda, but in a very different context. Des is the only one who I would have called a friend. Then I’ve had to open my house to four people—three of whom I would have called enemies until a few weeks ago.”

“From what you have told me, the four from the Lands fought very fiercely when you were all attacked a few days ago,” Shen said mildly.

“I know, I know…” Pearl waved one hand through the air in a gesture of dismissal. “The point is, all these people now have free run of my house. I think only Des suspects how many wards I put in place before I left.”

“And I remember,” Shen said with a chuckle, “how many
there were twenty years ago. You’re right. You’ve never been a very trusting Tiger. Do you think there is reason beyond your natural inclinations to be less so now?”

“There is the matter of whoever informed on us,” Pearl said. “We know for certain that someone—one of the Thirteen—was advising Righteous Drum. I suspected this was so from how well Righteous Drum and his allies navigated our world, how efficiently they located their targets. Later, Righteous Drum as much as confirmed that such a person existed.”

“And?” Shen leaned slightly forward.

“And he asked leave not to reveal who their informant had been,” Pearl said. “He swore that the reasons that person had cooperated were no longer valid, and said that since we needed all our number intact, such a revelation would be unwise. His reasoning seemed sound at the time, but now…”

“Now the Tiger is even less at ease than she was before,” Shen said. “She sees a potential enemy even among those she should view as friends.”

Pearl felt her cheeks suddenly heat with embarrassment. Shen had made his last statement with the oddest of inflections coloring his words, a slow trailing off that invited speculation.

“Shen! I don’t mean you… Surely it couldn’t have been you.”

Shen gave her a very dry half smile. “For their informant to have been of any use to them, he or she must have had knowledge of the Thirteen. That rather narrows down who they could use. Who knows of all Thirteen?”

The question was rhetorical, but Pearl felt duty-bound to answer. “Myself, Albert, Gaheris, Des, yourself, Deborah.”

“And of those six, we can rule out you, Pearl, since you seem to have been untouched. Des appears to also have been later on their list. Albert was attacked on the very day he was to have begun Brenda Morris’s training. Gaheris was attacked a few days thereafter. This argues that the informant was either myself or Deborah.”

“I can’t believe it was you,” Pearl said.

“But,” Shen said relentlessly, “it is hard to believe that it could have been our sweet, maternal, yet unremittingly fierce Deborah either. And so we return to your matter of trust.”

Silence dominated, a very uncomfortable, unhappy silence. At last Pearl took a deep breath.

“There are a couple other possibilities,” she said, “although they are hardly preferable. Both you and Deborah have taken care to train your heirs apparent very carefully. They also know about the Thirteen and their locations.”

“True,” Shen said. “But from what you told me, the strongest control Righteous Drum and his allies could assert would be through the use of the affiliation each of the Thirteen has with one of the Earthly Branches.”

“Yes,” Pearl agreed.

“So they would have a harder time with either my son or Deborah’s daughter.”

“Or easier,” Pearl protested. “There are ways of influencing those who have magical gifts without touching Earthly Branches.”

“True.” Shen relaxed a little. “I tend to forget that, especially since, given the pact our ancestors made with the indigenous powers of this world, we rarely use such magics.”

Pearl nodded. “Righteous Drum said the informant should remain unnamed. When we start talking like this, I understand why. I sometimes forget that Righteous Drum has lived seeped in intrigue, probably since he was Flying Claw’s age or even younger. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we’re better off not knowing.”

“I want to agree, and yet my mind turns in circles,” Shen admitted. “Is it better to know and have doubt ended—but to forever feel less trust? Is Righteous Drum attempting to do us—and his former tool—a favor or is he attempting to divide us from within?”

“And divide and conquer,” Pearl said, “is a very, very old tactical principle.”

“And two of us, at least,” Shen said softly, “will be
divided from within. Not to know if one was a tool for betrayal is very hard.”

Pearl reached out and squeezed his hand. “Shen, even if it was you, you weren’t ever a traitor. What is that saying, ‘Guns don’t kill people, people kill people’? It’s the same sort of thing. Even if you were used—and I cannot imagine anyone could use you—you did not agree willingly.”

“Then you trust me?”

“I do,” she said. “With all my heart.”

But that heart whispered traitorously in itself:
Shen is the Dragon. Righteous Drum is also the Dragon. Could Righteous Drum have employed this sympathy in their natures to use Shen? Worse. Could he do it again?

Pearl kept those thoughts from her eyes and released Shen’s hand, leaning back in her chair with affected ease that came naturally after so many years as an actress.

“I am also very worried about how far we can trust the members of the Rock Dove Society,” she said, “and those they represent. My associates among the Rosicrucians have indicated that their association is willing to let us deal with our own problems. Will the others feel the same? Will they honor that century-old treaty they made with our ancestors?”

“The treaty that said the Exiles could remain as long as they didn’t cause any trouble?” Shen said. “I hope so. We did not invite this trouble. Still, there is one way to find out, and we will not by sitting here. Shall we go to a meeting?”

Pearl rose. “I’d like to get there early enough to hear the lecture—and get a look at the audience—before some of them take it upon themselves to become our judges.”

“Pearl called earlier,” Des said, when the household assembled for breakfast, “while you were running, Riprap, and you were in the shower, Brenda. She wanted us to know that she and Shen have been contacted by the indigenous traditions.”

Riprap looked up from putting a layer of apricot jam on his toast. “We expected that, didn’t we? But why in New York?”

“The Rock Dove Society,” Des said, “is the current name for one of the older mixed-tradition societies.”

Brenda felt a charge go through her that had nothing to do with the caffeine in her coffee.

“Will Pearl be all right?”

Des smiled reassuringly. “Better ask if the Rock Doves will be all right. Sure. Pearl will deal with them just fine.”

But as Brenda ate her breakfast—she was actually coming to like rice congee and pickled vegetables; it wasn’t that far from grits except the toppings were spicy rather than sweet and oily—Brenda thought that Des looked worried.

“Riprap, will you drive over to Colm Lodge and pick up Waking Lizard and Righteous Drum?” Des asked. “Waking Lizard is going to continue teaching you. I’m going to get Righteous Drum to tell me more about the guardian domains, since we’re going to need to cross them to get to the Lands.”

Brenda really wanted to ask what Honey Dream and Flying Claw were going to be doing, but didn’t dare. Nissa did, however.

“Physical training,” Des said, completely deadpan. “Seriously. Both have lost a lot of tone, and with Righteous Drum out of action, we’re going to need them in perfect shape.”

“Do the rest of us get to do more than jog?” Riprap asked.

“Absolutely,” Des said. “We’re going to resume training as soon as Pearl and Albert are back—one or two days at most—and I’m sure that Flying Claw would be happy to work out with you if you have the energy after your lessons are done.”

“So they’ll be by later?” Nissa said. “Good. Lani’s going to be asking after her buddy.”

Brenda felt relieved that the morning was starting with a lecture. Between envisioning Pearl embattled by mysterious Rock Doves—her mind’s eye dressed them in hooded,
cowled robes wearing bird’s-heads masks, even though she knew that was ridiculous—and Flying Claw wrestling with Honey Dream, she would have botched any spell she attempted.

She answered the door when Riprap dropped his passengers off, and found Righteous Drum in front. He had adopted local clothing styles in place of the ornate, multilayered attire of his homeland long before they had met him. But, even after Des had taken him shopping and shown him all the options available to a modern man in California, Righteous Drum had refused to lower his dignity and wear shorts, favoring instead neatly pressed trousers and a short-sleeved button-down shirt. However, despite his interest in personal dignity, Righteous Drum saw nothing in the least strange about a man in his fifties choosing all his clothing in varying hues of yellow. Even his trousers were a sort of bright khaki, his shoes a very pale tan.

Brenda knew that yellow was the Dragon’s color, but she thought that Righteous Drum carried this proclamation of his affiliation a bit too far. With his somewhat dumpy figure and short, unimaginative haircut, she thought Righteous Drum looked like Chairman Mao costumed as a dandelion.

Righteous Dream half bowed to Brenda as he passed over the threshold, but Waking Lizard shared none of Righteous Drum’s concern for dignity. He was evidently feeling a lot more energetic today, and had dressed to express this.

After the shopping expedition, Des had reported that Waking Lizard had been delighted with modern clothing, especially the more casual styles. Unlike Righteous Drum, Waking Lizard appreciated shorts, especially the baggy styles favored by skateboarders and surfers. The pair he wore today were bright blue, embellished with waves. His loose sports shirt was of a roughly matching shade of blue, embellished with pink and yellow hibiscus flowers. He wore thong sandals in bright pink.

The outfit might have looked great on a teenaged boy,
especially one with thick, shoulder-length, curling golden-blond hair, but on a man in his eighties, one whose long, monkeylike legs and arms were accented by knobby knees and elbows, the effect was not so much eye-catching as eye-straining.

Unlike Righteous Drum, who had shaven his beard and mustache before leaving the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice in order to better blend in, Waking Lizard had come through in a rush. Now that he was here, he perceived no need for concealment. Therefore, he continued to wear his white hair and beard both trimmed after the fashion usually seen in pictures of Confucius, long and sort of pointed at the ends.

Brenda blinked and felt certain the glaring colors left an afterimage on her retina, but she waved Waking Lizard in over the threshold, even remembering to offer a polite bow.

The morning passed quickly, and after lunch Des sent his three apprentices up to work on tiles.

“From what I’m hearing about the guardian domains, not to mention the Lands themselves, we can’t have too many amulets.”

Brenda looked to see if he was joking and decided he wasn’t.