Nine Gates (21 page)

“Two points,” Des said, marking with two fingers on an imaginary board.

Brenda was pleased by the praise, but she was even more pleased by the flicker of disappointment that went over Honey Dream’s face. She guessed that Honey Dream had been looking forward to lecturing their ignorant selves.

Brenda hoped Flying Claw hadn’t been annoyed by her lapse—referring to him as Foster, not Flying Claw—but right now she felt too shy to look over at him.

Riprap had flashed an approving smile at Brenda when she’d answered, but now he was looking serious again.

“Our larger group,” he said, “I mean, when you include Pearl and Shen and the rest, has not one but two Tigers, and not one but two Dragons. Has that been taken into those calculations you keep mentioning?”

Des nodded. “It has, and that’s one of the reasons that it’s taken so long for the appropriate formula to be constructed. I spoke with Pearl this morning, and unless they turn up something new in their work today, the plan for when we set out to set up the Nine Gates is for us to enter in the West, then place the gates in a sequence that will enable us to make our final exit from the guardian domains into the East. Righteous Drum has something of an acquaintance with either the Dragon or a dragon—I’m not really sure which—in the East. He hopes that will facilitate our final transition into the Lands, even if various barriers have been erected specifically against any of our return. But that’s for later. Let’s get on with now.”

“And ‘now,’” Nissa said, “includes setting up the first of the Nine Gates, earlier than planned.”

“Last night’s little adventure,” Des said, “makes that necessary. We need to establish a gate into the guardian domains before enough of the indigenous traditions are stirred up and start insisting that we do nothing to perforate the integrity of what they see as ‘their’ domain.”

Brenda glanced at Nissa. The other woman’s turquoise eyes were very round and her expression far from reassured. They traded worried looks, but obviously the time to argue was long passed.

“But we’re not constructing the gate at Pearl’s house?” Nissa pressed. “Won’t that make it vulnerable?”

“Pearl,” Des said, “does not welcome the thought of a series of gates beginning in her house, and she extended the same courtesy to Colm Lodge. Instead, she suggested we use some commercial real estate she owns. There’s a building not currently rented that should be perfect for our needs.

“The building we’ll be using,” Des went on, sensing their need to be reassured, “is fenced. Equipped with locks. Pearl and Shen came out this morning at the start of the Double Hour of the Tiger and secured the premises further.”

That’s three in the morning
, Brenda thought.
And they came over after dealing with our “guests.” I hope they get some rest before Righteous Drum and Waking Lizard arrive to fuss over the intricacies of magical formulae.

The area in which Pearl’s rental property was located was in one of those nice commercial/industrial areas that are so well groomed that they look more like parks than warehouses. Even the unmistakable security fences were nicely made. The ones guarding Pearl’s property had a light growth of bramble roses on them—ornamentation and deterrents in one.

“Classy,” Nissa said with approval. “But then if Pearl’s involved, I’m not surprised.”

“Pearl’s parents—her mother in particular,” Des said, pulling the van in front of a gate and reaching out to press a code into a keypad, “had a good eye for real estate. Pearl sometimes gripes that she supported her family far more than her
father ever did, but unlike many child stars, her parents made certain there was plenty left over for her.”

The gate slid open, and Des eased the van through. A moment later, the gate closed again.

“Classy,” Nissa repeated.

Des parked the van under a steel ramada around the side.

“Everybody grab a bag or two out of the back,” he said, taking up a small case he’d had resting next to him on the front seat. “I’m going to open the warehouse.”

They did so. There was a pack for each of them, none overly large, but holding between them a wide variety of camping and medical gear. As Des had put it the evening before, he didn’t expect them to need ninety percent of what they’d be carrying, but he’d hate to have them wishing for bandages or water-purification tablets or the means of making a fire merely because they were too lazy to carry them.

“After all,” he’d said, “we’re not going for a walk in the park.”

There was another package, too, something large, wrapped in a tarp, that Riprap and Des had stowed with teasing solemnity. Riprap took charge of this, moving it with ease, despite its bulk and evident weight.

There were packs for Flying Claw and Honey Dream already made up, so Brenda wondered what they’d brought in their duffels. When Flying Claw moved his, it emitted a faint but distinctly metallic clank, and she thought she knew.

Des was standing in the doorway of a medium-sized prefabricated building too small to really be classified as a warehouse, but too large to be a shed.

“Come on,” he called. “Grab the stuff and get a move on. Riprap, make sure the van’s locked up tightly. I don’t trust these beeper things.”

Riprap did so without comment, and Brenda, who’d been about to make some joke about old people and electronic devices, fell silent. He was being a perfect Dog, the ideal strong team player. They might not have crossed into the guardian
domains yet, but this was none too soon to start taking things seriously.

There’s just one problem
, she thought, sliding her pack onto her shoulders.
I don’t really believe we’re going to do this. Despite everything I’ve seen, I don’t really believe that in a few minutes or hours or whatever, we’re going to be walking somewhere that isn’t in this world.

The interior of the warehouse smelled of animal feed and burnt sugar. Although no air-conditioning was running, the interior was cool.

“Pearl rented this space to the same itinerant circus that was using Colm Lodge,” Des explained. “They only picked up their gear last week. There’s another small room in addition to this large one. It’s basically a closet, lined with shelves, but you…” he glanced at Honey Dream and Flying Claw, “might find it useful as a changing area. You can leave your duffels in there on the shelves. You won’t want to carry them.”

“No,” Flying Claw agreed. “Honey Dream can change first. I would like to help orient the gate.”

Brenda held her breath, waiting for Honey Dream to say something provocative, but the Snake did not. She didn’t even look disappointed.

She also realized this is work time, not flirt time
, Brenda thought.
I’ve got to get my head on straight.

“Change?” Nissa asked.

“Into my working clothes,” Honey Dream said, hefting the duffel slightly. “The robes of the Snake.”

Nissa looked impressed. “Of course. That makes sense, but you wouldn’t have wanted to wear them over here. Someone might have seen and noticed.”

“Do you think someone is watching us?” Brenda said. “I’ve been looking, but I haven’t seen any cars following us.”

“I think it’s likely,” Nissa replied. “We know Tracy Frye and her associates are interested in what we’re doing. As far as they know, we’ve come here for some sort of training
exercise, but if Flying Claw and Honey Dream had been seen in elaborate robes, someone might have wondered.”

“And Pearl would prefer to keep people wondering,” Des said. He was kneeling on the floor, next to the case he’d brought from the van. “In this, she and Righteous Drum are in the fullest agreement. Brenda, you’ve got to remember, there are more ways for our adversaries to watch than by physically trailing us.”

Brenda felt dumb.

Honey Dream was heading for the closet. Nissa called out after her.

“If you have any buttons that need to be done up or ribbons tied or whatever, let me know.”

“I am not Lani,” Honey Dream began sharply, her words snapping in the empty air. Then, perhaps hearing how bitchy she sounded, she softened. “I’m sorry. Thank you. I can reach almost all the ties, but I will call if I need help.”

“We’ll be here,” Nissa promised.

“We will indeed,” Des said.

He had pulled out a compass and was checking the directions. Flying Claw was standing next to him, using a compass of his own. The design was somewhat different from the one Des was using, the dark wooden case elegantly carved with elaborate symbols.

It seemed to work the same, though, because both Flying Claw and Des oriented on the same wall, almost as if performing steps in some slow, solemn dance.

“Okay,” Des said, making a mark on the floor with red chalk. “Here’s due west. Do we want to set up directly against the wall or out a bit?”

Flying Claw went and ran his fingers over the ridged metal of the walls.

“We could set up here, but I would prefer if we did not. That would put two liminal zones in against each other.”

“Liminal zones?” Brenda asked, forgetting her shyness now that the project was becoming real.

“Borders,” Des explained. “Space between space. Walls may look solid, but they are what create inside and outside. Gates open inside and outside of the space between here and somewhere else. That’s what Flying Claw means.”

“Can we set up here?” Flying Claw asked, taking a few paces back from the wall and consulting his compass. He bent and made a few marks on the floor with a perfectly normal yellow pencil. “It feels like the proper place.”

“We can try,” Riprap said. “Des and I experimented in the hardware store last night, and picked up what we’d need to make this stand on its own.”

With that, he stripped off the tarp, and Brenda saw with a little shiver of amazement that what he’d carried in was a complete door assemblage in unfinished pine, frame and all.

Within a few moments, the door was standing on the bare concrete floor, looking very odd. Riprap put his hand out and gave the doorframe a solid shake. It vibrated, but remained steady. He opened and shut the prehung door, kicked another shim under the doorframe when the door didn’t swing neatly shut, then tried again. This time everything worked perfectly.

“All right,” Riprap said. “We have a door. However, I don’t think it’s going to take us anywhere without some further modifications. What do we do next?”

Des was holding a folder he’d taken from his case, and now he opened it to display two colorful prints depicting heavyset, red-faced Chinese warriors in elaborate if obviously stylized armor. Each bristled with weapons, and each held what Brenda decided must be lanterns.

“These,” Des said, “are the Men Shen. That simply means Door Spirits or Door Gods. A more accurate translation would probably be ‘door guardians,’ because that’s what they do. These are modern depictions, so their costumes and the way their faces look owe a lot to Chinese opera, but the tradition is quite old. Records exist as far back as the second century
A.D.
, but they are probably far older.

“There are several different stories as to how the door guards originated, but these two are based on actual historical people, ministers of the T’ang emperor T’ai Tsung. The story is that whenever T’ai Tsung tried to get some sleep, he was plagued by supernatural visitations. Some versions of the story call them demons, others ghosts or goblins. What’s absolutely clear is that T’ai Tsung couldn’t get a decent night’s sleep. This was good neither for the emperor, nor for the lands he ruled, and especially not for his ministers.”

“Yeah,” Riprap said with a grin. “They’d be on the front line if the emperor got cranky.”

“So two of those ministers,” Des continued, his answering grin fading into storytelling solemnity, “Ch’in Shu-pao and Hu Ching-te, offered to guard T’ai Tsung’s door—some stories say they guarded the palace gates, but the point is the same. They put on their most elaborate armor and all their weapons before taking up their posts. In the end, they were so ferocious-looking that whatever supernatural creatures were bothering Emperor T’ai Tsung decided to back off. The ministers kept watch for several more nights, and the creatures did not return.

“Eventually, T’ai Tsung, noticing that two of his key ministers weren’t quite up to their duties, since they weren’t getting very much rest, thanked them for their services. However, he asked if, before they put off their armaments, would they permit the court artists to make life-sized portraits of them. These portraits would be placed on the palace gates to remind the supernatural creatures how well the emperor was guarded.

“The tactic must have worked, because there is no further record of the emperor’s sleep being troubled. A continuing New Year tradition is to hang portraits of the Men Shen on the door to keep evil influences at bay. I picked up these two when I was in San Francisco last week.”

“Nice,” Riprap said. “So I guess Ch’in Shu-pao and Hu Ching-te will guard the first of the Nine Gates for us. I admit it’s a relief that our backs will be guarded, but how will they help us get into the guardian domains?”

There was a slight rustling of silk behind them. Brenda turned to see Honey Dream, clad in elaborate robes of pale golden yellow, elaborately embellished with snakes and other, less immediately recognizable things, coming over to join them. Across the large room, the door to the storage closet was closing behind Flying Claw.

Honey Dream was trying to fasten one of the ribbons that bound her thick, black hair into an elaborate twist, and Nissa moved to help her. Perhaps in gratitude, Honey Dream spoke almost politely, certainly without her usual condescension, her reply showing that she had been attending to Des’s lecture.

“Doors—and gates are simply a kind of door—are considered dangerous because they make an opening that introduces chaos into the system of order. In their role as guardians, the Men Shen make the choice as to what—and who—are to be guarded against, who to be admitted. We will request that the Men Shen open the gate into the Western guardian domains for us. Then, unless the White Tiger of the West refuses our appeal to enter, they will let us pass.”

“Because,” Nissa said, tucking an edge of Honey Dream’s hem so that it hung straight, “if the White Tiger admits us, we will not be introducing chaos into the ordered system.”