Nine Gates (13 page)

Erick sprang to his feet, physically facing down Tracy, although his bright blue gaze fastened on Pearl.

“Is what Tracy’s saying true? About a possible invasion? It sounds like she means something bigger than what you were talking about before, right? More than three or four people, I mean. It sounds like she’s afraid of an army.”

Pearl met his gaze with equal directness. “That is quite likely, Erick. The three who came a few months ago with the intention of separating the Orphans from their memories were—as I have mentioned—part of a larger group that has since been defeated. We have every reason to believe that those who may now attempt to come after the Earthly Branches will be a more powerful group, for they have won their war. Therefore, they will be able to spare more resources—and probably more adepts.”

Renata, who had given Tracy a very nasty look when the Generalist had spoken so flippantly of banishing West African “boogies,” turned a sympathetic face toward Pearl.

“I’ll tell you because no one else seems to be doing so,” she said, her tone defiant, “but there’s been talk since Hattie LaTour here passed on what the Rosicrucians had learned, that the easiest solution would be to give the invaders what they want and send them off home.

“From what I’m hearing, though, it wouldn’t be as tidy a solution as some were making it out to be, would it? Seems that if you lost contact with those Earthly Branches, we’d be lobotomizing you.”

Pearl nodded. “Those who were attacked lost any memories connected to their lives as associated with the Earthly Branches.” She let a note of steel enter her voice for the first time. “And we are not going to let it happen again.”

“Even to save a world?” asked Myron in a soft voice.

“Let us fight against invasion of this world,” Pearl said, “as our ancestors fought before. After all, although you may have forgotten, this has become our world, too.”

“What the
hell are you doing in my room?” Brenda asked indignantly.

An irreverent voice in her head said,
I sound like something out of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”

Honey Dream swung lightly around to confront Brenda. She’d been standing near the small desk where Brenda’s laptop and a few books rested. The motion brought her almost back to the doorway.

Today Honey Dream’s attire was almost normal: short shorts, a tee shirt cut so that her navel (and the Snake tattoo
that surrounded it) showed, and long, teardrop earrings of polished green jade. Her feet were bare, but her toenails were perfectly manicured. Brenda’s feet never looked so good.

Honey Dream’s long hair was caught up almost casually with a couple of polished sticks—not chopsticks, though. A while back, Brenda had made the mistake of trying to be friendly, and in complimenting Honey Dream’s hairstyle had referred to the sticks as “chopsticks.” She had been informed in a very frosty tone of voice that Honey Dream would never put eating utensils in her hair. These were hair ornaments.

Normal as the rest might be, the expression in Honey Dream’s narrowed eyes was anything but normal. For a moment, she reminded Brenda of a snake about to strike: cold and focused. The Rat within Brenda quailed, but she forced herself not to step back, holding her position in the doorway.

This is my room, dammit.

Then Honey Dream’s expression softened. Her lips curved in an embarrassed smile. She looked almost friendly.

“I needed a bathroom,” she said softly. There was a embarrassed note to her voice that Brenda felt certain was affected. As far as she could tell, nothing embarrassed Honey Dream.

“There’s a powder room downstairs,” Brenda said. “Why come up here?”

“I thought the powder room was in use,” Honey Dream said. “The door was closed. Why are you so upset?”

Because you’re on my turf. Because you’re snooping in my room
, Brenda thought, but she knew Honey Dream would deny any such intention.
Because the door to the bathroom is nowhere near my desk. Because when I came in I think I saw your hand reaching for my computer.

“Because Lani’s taking a nap,” Brenda said aloud, “and she needs her sleep.”

“Ah… I think I heard her screaming a while back. She wanted her ‘Foster.’ Poor child.” The curve of Honey Dream’s
lips seemed to accord pity to Brenda as well. “I would not wish to wake the child. I will go downstairs.”

Brenda stepped out of the doorway to let her pass and watched as the other woman walked—no, undulated—down the stairs. Brenda heard the door to the powder room open and shut.

Well, she’d have to go there after what she said, wouldn’t she? Doesn’t prove anything.

Brenda went into the bathroom that linked her room with Nissa’s and opened the door a crack, until she heard Lani’s quiet breathing. Then she pulled it shut again, and reentered her own room and gave it a minute inspection. The way Honey Dream was dressed, she couldn’t have hidden much on her, but it was worth checking to see if anything was gone.

As far as Brenda could tell, nothing was missing. She thought some of her things had been moved: a hairbrush, some of the loose items on her dresser, her pillow. She couldn’t be sure, though. She was honest enough with herself to admit that she might be being paranoid.

When Brenda left her bedroom, she closed the door firmly behind her. She wondered if she could make a ward of some sort—not a damaging one, but one that would let her know if someone, namely, Honey Dream, was prowling.

Brenda had seen wards etched into the soft wood of doorways and along stairs. She didn’t want to do anything destructive here. This was Pearl’s house, after all, so she shouldn’t be putting graffiti on it, but maybe she could make an amulet bracelet and hang it on the doorknob.

Later, she’d ask Des if such things were possible.

Turning from contemplating her door, Brenda realized Riprap and Nissa were standing in the doorway to the classroom, their expressions showing they knew something was wrong.

“Is Lani all right?” Nissa asked.

“Sleeping like a baby,” Brenda promised. “I checked.”

“What happened?” Riprap asked.

The lines of the big man’s body were tight, as if he were containing an impulse to go after someone: an attack dog, waiting to have his target pointed out to him.

Brenda motioned them back into the classroom, and when the door was closed, quickly told them everything that had happened. As she did so, her heart started beating far faster than it had done during the actual confrontation—rage and indignation flooding to the fore.

“I’m sure Honey Dream was poking around in my stuff, not just looking for a bathroom,” Brenda concluded. “But what could she have been looking for? I mean, I’m not even one of the Thirteen.”

Riprap looked uncomfortable. “Even if you’re not technically one of the Thirteen, you’re still an adept.” He gestured with one broad hand at the array of tiles waiting to be baked, evidence that Brenda was capable of making magic. “You’re also our contact to your father.”

“Or Honey Dream’s snooping might have nothing to do with magic,” Nissa said, her turquoise eyes bright with laughter. “She might be interested in finding out other things about you—like just how close you and Flying Claw are.”

Brenda felt herself blush. Then she got angry.

“We’re not close at all,” she said. “Honey Dream’s the one who says Flying Claw is her beloved.”

Nissa shrugged. “Since when has what someone says about a relationship mattered? Isn’t what’s really going on what matters?”

Riprap wasn’t about to get distracted from the main point. “Whatever the reason, I don’t like Honey Dream prowling around like that. She’s proven before this that she doesn’t exactly respect our privacy. This is a violation of hospitality, if not of our formal treaty.”

“So you two think I should tell Des and Pearl,” Brenda said. “I mean, I was planning to tell Des eventually, but I was figuring I could wait until the four from the Lands had gone back to Colm Lodge.”

“Tell Des,” Riprap agreed, “and he can decide if we should distract Pearl. However, I think your report can wait until the four from the Lands leave—but I don’t think it should wait a moment after.”

“We’re working with Righteous Drum and all them,” Nissa agreed, all her former merriment gone, “but that doesn’t mean we can trust them. In fact, given the circumstances, we’d be stupid to do so. They need us. That has to hurt given that they came here hunting us. I’m sure that all of them would give anything to have the upper hand again.”

Brenda nodded. “I’ll tell Des then. You’re right. Waking Lizard is so friendly, and Flying Claw and Righteous Drum so cooperative that I sometimes forget that not long ago they were our enemies—and that their being our allies doesn’t make them our friends.”

“Your world, too,” Tracy Frye echoed. “But you’re willing to let a war the like of which we’ve never seen come here—and expect us to stand by and let you do the fighting while everyone and everything we care about is endangered. I don’t think so.”

Pearl shook her head. “You misunderstand me. Deliberately, I think. We have intended from the start that we will take the battle to them—anticipate the invasion—intercept it before it can reach this place.”

“And how,” Judd Madden said, interest mingled with fear tightening his voice, “are you planning on doing that?”

“I am not going to detail our plans,” Pearl replied a touch haughtily, hoping that hauteur would cover the reality that, as of yet, she and her allies did not have any concrete plans. “However, the Exiles told us that there are several ways between the Lands and here. The recent invaders—intruders—came via a bridge linking the universes. All of these bridges have been destroyed.”

She had their attention now, and was determined to hold
it. “As you know, the Exiles’ main hope was that someday they could return home.”

“They planned to break the terms of their exile,” Tracy Frye said. There was no mistaking the sneer in her voice. “Probably even as they accepted it.”

Pearl did not let her annoyance show. “The Exiles left children and spouses, parents and friends, pets and property. Of course they hoped to return home. This does not mean that they did not intend to honor the terms of their exile, only that they hoped circumstances would permit its repeal.”

Tracy looked no less hostile, but Renata set a firm hand on the other woman’s arm, and Tracy sank back into her chair.

Pearl continued. “The Exile Dragon left records of the Nine Gates that could be passed through in order to reach the Lands. These gates are not so much in the Lands as they are potentially of the Lands. The higher the potential, the closer the link. We are researching that route now.”

Erick leaned forward, all eagerness. “And how can we help?”

Pearl shook her head. “I thank you for your kindness, but our belief—and our research supports this—is that no one who does not carry the blood of the Lands can enter there. This is not something that the Exiles accepted lightly—especially after spouses and friends were acquired who belonged wholly to this world.”

Pearl wasn’t sure the assembled Rock Doves accepted this restriction, but no one was going to challenge her—at least not until they had a chance to do research of their own. For a moment, Pearl thought Tracy might make another nasty comment, but although the other had raised her chin pugnaciously, she lowered it without comment.

Tracy Frye made her interest in acquiring our particular lore too apparent
, Pearl thought with satisfaction,
for her to play disinterested patriot now.

Hattie LaTour, the Rosicrucian representative, raised a
hand. Judd Madden, his relief obvious that someone remembered the rules of polite discussion, acknowledged her.

“Hattie LaTour?”

“We of the Rock Dove Society,” she said, her light voice strong despite its softness, “have rules of our own. Ever since the ugly internal conflicts that arose during the Second World War, we have all sworn to refrain from using our powers except in the most personal of ways. This has kept us from internecine battles for over fifty years, and is not a regulation to be lightly broken.

“I have known Pearl Bright personally for a decade. There are members of the Rosicrucians who have known her far longer. We have always found her reliable and trustworthy. Indeed, we have found the scions of the Thirteen Orphans very willing—even eager—to keep the pact they made after they found themselves in our world. I suggest we give them the opportunity Pearl requests.”

Tracy muttered, “Demands, you mean.”

Myron the Greek raised a hand. “I second Hattie’s motion.”

“I third it,” Erick said. “If motions get thirded, I mean. Give them a chance. We can always step in later if they can’t handle it. I mean, we won’t have any choice, right? Anyhow, this seems like a personal matter between two branches of one tradition, and we don’t want the Rock Dove Society to get involved in mediating those, do we?”

This Erick is cunning
, Pearl thought.
I begin to understand why he is here as a representative. That open expression along with a devious mind is a devastating combination.