Nine Gates (19 page)

There was no bitterness in the words, although Thundering Heaven had never approved of Pearl, and that lack of approval had blighted Pearl’s entire life.

Flying Claw talks about fulfilling his mentor’s dreams,
about living up to his family’s expectations
, Brenda thought.
I wonder if he’s ever allowed himself a dream that was all his own. I wonder if it would be entirely bad to have everything so neatly laid out for you.

She glanced up at her father. Gaheris Morris had that absent look in his eyes that she knew so well. He was planning something. It probably had to do with one-upping Albert over those mah-jong sets. What was it with those two? She decided that she’d ask Pearl if she could get her alone later.

Their meeting broke up shortly thereafter. Even though he’d rushed out to the West Coast, Gaheris wasn’t one to waste a business opportunity. He had an appointment in San Francisco the next morning, and was taking the train up that night.

“Means I have to pay for a hotel room, Breni,” he said, when she drove him to the station in the small car, “but it also means I don’t need to deal with rush hour, and that’s a bonus. What do you think of our grand plans?”

“Kinda shaky,” Brenda replied honestly, “and not much for me and the others to do but make more amulet bracelets while Albert runs around buying mah-jong sets.”

“Learn the techniques that will make those bracelets backup, rather than your entire arsenal,” Dad advised her.

Brenda nodded. She’d had a reminder when she’d caught Honey Dream prowling in her room of just how little she could do, just how vulnerable she was.

“Dad, do you really think we can pull this off? I mean, can we get to these Nine Gates and back to the Lands before whoever in the Lands comes after us? And once we’re there, can we actually do anything? I mean, it seems so impossible.”

Dad answered sideways, an annoying habit of his.

“Actually, Breni, we’re not going to need to ‘get to’ those Nine Gates. We’re going to need to build them.”

“What?”

He ignored her and went on. “As to whether we can do it or not, if there’s one thing that Ms. Tracy Frye’s visit to my
office the other day proved to me, it’s that we’d better make every appearance of trying very hard to do so. Otherwise we’re going to find ourselves under a lot of pressure.”

“From the Rock Dove Society?”

“From them, and from people who are a whole lot less pleasant—people who don’t pretend to be a bird-watching club when they want to meet. When I brought you out to meet Albert—god, was it only a little over a month ago?—I knew that what I’d be introducing you to was a whole new worldview. I admit, I’d hoped that we could concentrate on our traditions for a while before being forced to explain the complexities of this world within a world that we’re part of.”

Brenda had pulled into the commuter train station while he was speaking, and Dad leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek before reaching into the backseat for his overnight bag.

“My advice to you, Brenda Morris,” he said, suddenly serious, “is to do your best to concentrate on your immediate studies. Learn what you can—what you need—and leave worrying about the big picture to us.”

“To us ‘grown-ups,’” she said, trying to make a joke of it and feeling pretty certain that she’d failed.

“To those of us who have a bit more training,” he replied seriously as he got out of the car. When a Zhi Pig is coming at you is
not
the time to wonder if the sequence you need is ‘dragon—dragon—wind’ or ‘wind—wind—dragon.’”

“What’s a Zhi Pig?” Brenda called after him.

“Ask Des,” Dad called back. “Ask Des. I’m going to miss my train.”

He jogged toward the platform, and Brenda watched him go. Then she pulled back into the stream of traffic and drove thoughtfully along the now-familiar streets to Pearl’s house.

Honey Dream
was coming out of the downstairs powder room when she heard Brenda Morris’s voice drifting down the stairs. From the location of the sound, she guessed that Brenda must be in the upstairs classroom, and that the door was open. That must mean that whatever lecture or work session had been going on was ending, because the door was invariably kept shut otherwise.

“Des? What’s a Zhi Pig?”

“Where did you hear about Zhi Pigs?” Des’s voice sounded surprised.

“Dad. When I took him to the train station yesterday, he told me that I needed to concentrate on my studies, because when a Zhi Pig was coming after me, that was no time to worry about the sequencing of a spell.”

“He’s right,” Des replied. “The spells need to come quickly, the images to flow through you like…”

“Des!” Brenda interrupted. “We just finished that lecture. I agree. Really. I’m working on it. What’s a Zhi Pig?”

The voices were coming closer now. Footfalls hit the stairs. These were made by more sets of footsteps than two. Probably Nissa and Riprap were present as well.

Honey Dream thought about drawing back, but she wasn’t doing anything wrong, and she
was
interested. Where had Gaheris Morris learned about Zhi Pigs? They weren’t precisely common.

“A Zhi Pig,” Des said pedantically, “is a denizen of the Floating-Jade Mountain. Despite its name, it more resembles a tiger than a pig, although its tail is like that of an ox. It is carnivorous, and a known man-eater.”

He and Brenda, walking side by side down the staircase, had turned toward the back of the house and so saw Honey
Dream standing in the hallway. Brenda—predictably—stiffened, although Honey Dream had done nothing to merit such a reaction, but Des gave an easy smile.

“Hi, Honey Dream. Have you ever seen a Zhi Pig?”

“I have not,” she admitted, turning to lead the informal procession—for Nissa and Riprap were indeed coming down the stairs a few paces behind their teacher and classmate—toward the back of the house. “Once, at a festival there was a man displaying what he said was the skin of one, but I had my doubts. The ox’s tail had clearly been stitched on to the tiger’s skin. When I challenged the man, he refused to be shaken from his lie. He said that the tail had come loose during the curing process, and he had simply returned it to its natural place. I did not press him further. Argument with a fool makes one a fool oneself.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t bother,” Des agreed.

They had all arrived in the large back area of the house that combined kitchen, informal dining area, and what was, for some reason Honey Dream couldn’t quite fathom, called the “family room.” The name seemed odd to her, especially in light of the fact that until recently Pearl had apparently lived alone in this large house without even a niece or nephew to attend her needs, only a few paid servants—and these about only during the day.

Riprap had, inevitably, crossed to the refrigerator and was pulling out a bowl of cherries. The big man could eat more than any grown man Honey Dream had ever met, and he always seemed to be hungry.

“Have you ever seen a dragon, Honey Dream?” Riprap asked. “I mean living wild or in its natural habitat or whatever, not summoned by a spell.”

“Of course,” she said. “Dragons are easy to find if you know their habits.”

“Must be something,” he said. “I mean, even with what we can do with our spells, even with what we’ve seen, I can’t really believe that there are places where dragons live the way squirrels and rabbits live around here.”

“Dragons,” Honey Dream reminded him, “are much more intelligent and dangerous than squirrels and rabbits.”

Riprap nodded and extended the bowl of cherries to her. Honey Dream took a small handful, glad that she hadn’t offended Riprap with her unnecessary reminder. Having watched him in action during the attack, she felt sharply aware that for all the big man’s eager cooperation so much of the time, he could be quite dangerous.

Honey Dream knew perfectly why she kept digging at the Orphans. She felt so out of place here, and kept trying to remind them—and herself—how much she had to offer.

The bowl of cherries was placed on the long table. Riprap seated himself within easy reach. Nissa and Brenda had vanished, probably outside to check on Lani. Honey Dream was internally debating whether she should remain here or return to Pearl’s office, where she had been taking notes for her father, when she saw Des looking speculatively at her.

“I’m thinking,” he said, when she raised her eyebrows at him in mute query, “that Riprap is right. Dragons and all the rest are far too unreal to all of us. Yet, if we are going to attempt to establish the Nine Gates, we will need to adjust our worldview—to widen it. Otherwise, we’re not going to be much help.”

Honey Dream didn’t know how to respond to such an odd statement, but Riprap made that unnecessary.

“So what are you thinking? Adding zoology to our lessons? I’m not sure I can handle much more memorization.”

Des reached for a cherry and used one long fingernail to split it and remove the stone.

“I was thinking of something more immediate than memorization,” he said. “I was considering a field trip into the guardian domains. We’re going to need to enter them eventually. Why wait to acclimate you three until after Righteous Drum and Shen agree where and how to set the first gate?”

“Have you been there?” Honey Dream asked.

“A few times,” Des said. “My grandmother took me in,
just as far as the edges, when I was a boy. What she showed me was interesting, beautiful sometimes, but not exactly where I’d choose to go on holiday.”

Honey Dream had to agree. She had done some training in the edges of those lands herself, but had not cared to venture in very deeply. Her teachers had not pressed her. Later, when passing over those lands via the bridge, she had been relatively safe. Even so, she had seen things that continued to transform the most benign dreams into nightmares.

She was impressed that Des had been there. His training had been more rigorous than she had thought.

Riprap looked excited and pleased—a clear indication he had no idea how dangerous what Des proposed might possibly be.

“When would we go?” he asked.

“I’ll need to talk with Pearl,” Des said, “but I was thinking tomorrow. I thought I’d request that Flying Claw—and Honey Dream, if her skills as a researcher are not needed here—accompany us, so that we will have a mixture of talents and a certain degree of experience.”

Riprap looked momentarily disgruntled, as if he were going to protest the need for a caretaker, then what Honey Dream had come to accept as his basic good sense took over.

“You’re right. Brenda, Nissa, and I are all novices. It would be too much to expect you to cover for us all if there was an accident.”

“And Zhi Pigs,” Des reminded him, heading in the direction of Pearl’s office with his usual directness of purpose, “are noted man-eaters. They’re not the only creatures to have cultivated that taste.”

Following the inevitable discussion that Honey Dream was coming to accept as part of anything the Orphans did, Des’s suggestion of a field trip was not only agreed upon, but viewed as a very wise preparation for the tasks to come.

Pearl retreated to her office to make a series of phone calls that somehow related to the planned journey. Nissa had her own series of phone calls to make, these involved with keeping
Lani occupied while they were away. It had been agreed that this was not the time to take the child along.

Brenda vanished upstairs and Honey Dream heard the door to the studio/classroom close firmly behind her. Des and Riprap left—inviting Flying Claw to go with them—in order to do some shopping in preparation for the trip.

Seeing them all so purposeful, listening to them discussing arcane items like ultralight Coleman lanterns and collapsible cooking pots, Honey Dream felt so out of her depth that she considered making an excuse to remain here. However, if she didn’t go, she had a feeling that she’d regret it. There was too much she didn’t know about these guardian domains, too much she needed to know.

And, if she stayed behind, Brenda would have Flying Claw to herself in the cozy intimacy of shared danger. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.…

That night
, Pearl and Shen sat in her office waiting for the Double Hour of the Tiger—or less poetically put, for three o’clock in the morning. After assisting with arrangements for what Des persisted in calling the “field trip,” both of them had taken afternoon naps, agreeing that going to bed at their normal hour, then expecting to get up at 2:00
A.M.
and function with clear minds would be more difficult.

Clear minds were what they would need, for the reason they were waiting for the Double Hour of the Tiger was that they were going to set wards and protections on the warehouse from which Des and his students would be making their departure for the guardian domains.

The household had begun settling in to sleep at 7:00
P.M.
, when a protesting Lani was taken up for her bath. The adults had stayed up longer, of course, but by midnight, reminded that tomorrow would be a very busy, very unusual day, the last rushes of water through the pipes, the last muffled thuds of motion from above, had indicated that all but Shen and Pearl were asleep.

They had filled the remaining time sitting in her office
with the lights turned low, alternating between conversation and meditation, gathering the ch’i they planned to spend in lavish wards, enjoying the luxury of time when of late there had been so much rush.

Pearl was leaning back in her favorite wingback chair, grey Bonaventure purring lazily in her lap, when she felt one of her household wards go off.

She rose, pushing Bonaventure to the floor, reaching for her sword Treaty, which rested—polished, shined, and sharpened—on top of her desk.

“Pearl?” Shen pushed himself to his feet, hands on the arms of the wingback chair that matched her own. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s set off one of my wards, one of the ones on the garage apartment.”

“Where the prisoners are?”

“Exactly.”

Pearl had kept moving as she spoke, and now she was heading toward the back of the house. The garage was a separate small building that could be entered either from the walled backyard, or from the street. The ward that had alerted her had been on the street side.