Nine Gates (37 page)

Brenda widened her eyes and pressed one hand to her throat in mock horror, but in reality she was pleased. Initially, both Pearl and Des had taken part in their training—although Des had always been Brenda’s primary instructor. Now Pearl seemed to hardly ever be available, and Des was constantly being called on to consult on other matters.

Therefore, when the front doorbell rang shortly before six in the evening, Brenda raced Lani to the front door in high spirits. Not so high, however, that she forgot to check who was on the stoop. At first she saw only her dad, then she caught a glimpse of a shock of white-blond hair right below the peephole.

Another short one
, Brenda thought, undoing the wards, spelled chain, and perfectly mundane lock that held the front door safe from intrusion.

When Brenda swung the door open, her first impression
was that Deborah Van Bergenstein resembled a fireplug. Deborah didn’t seem the least bit fat, but the figure that was packed into a neat pantsuit was one long curve. Her hair, cut in one of the short, helmetlike cuts that so many older women seemed to prefer, completed the impression.

She’s taller than I guessed, too
, Brenda thought, extending a hand in welcome.
She was probably bending over her suitcases.

There were two of these, canvas sides bulging. Brenda noticed that Dad carried another bag that matched the first two. Deborah obviously didn’t believe in traveling light.

“Hi,” Brenda said politely. “I’m Brenda Morris.”

Deborah, who stood about five foot six inches tall, gave Brenda a stern look up and down as she shook the proffered hand. Then she smiled.

“I would have guessed. Your father showed me family pictures while we were waiting for the luggage.”

Brenda hugged her father, then gestured him in and made sure the door was locked and warded. Behind her, she heard Deborah ask, “And who is this?”

“Lani!” the little girl answered exuberantly. Then she became suddenly shy after the fashion of children her age, and ducked behind Brenda. “Are you Deb’rah the Pig?”

“I am indeed,” Deborah said. “And you are a Rabbit.”

“A bunny!” Lani said, shyness gone, and hopping in demonstration.

Brenda had lifted the two canvas bags, and found them quite heavy enough that she wasn’t insulted when Riprap appeared and offered to take Mrs. Van Bergenstein’s luggage to the third floor.

“Deborah,” the new arrival corrected, “and you must be Riprap.”

“That’s right, ma’am,” Riprap said with a teasing smile.

“Now you stop that, or I’m going to start calling you Charles!”

Riprap looked mock horrified, collected the bags—including the one Gaheris had been carrying—and headed
up the stairs. He was back before introductions were quite completed all around, for the four from the Lands were dining at Pearl’s that evening.

Dinner began with elaborate appetizers, then continued through soup and various courses, sizzling hot from the wok. Des was the head cook, but to Brenda’s surprise Flying Claw was his main assistant. Honey Dream, Brenda now realized, had shown no interest in anything domestic, and Brenda—feeling comfortably superior when everyone oohed and aahed over her mousse—wondered if Honey Dream even knew how to cook.

Despite the number of people at the table, conversation remained general. Part of this was because Deborah had many questions about various of the events that had begun late in May. Over and over again Deborah said, “Albert told me, but…”

Before long, Brenda noticed that her dad seemed to take a special delight in filling in whatever it was Albert had missed—even if the events in question were ones that neither he nor Albert had personally witnessed.

Dad’s got issues with Albert
, Brenda thought. She remembered how hesitant her father had been to tell her anything about Albert in advance of their first meeting, how even after it became evident that something bad had happened to Albert, Dad hadn’t seem so much worried as annoyed.
But I thought they were boys together, playmates even. Maybe I was wrong—or maybe it’s just my imagination. I’m overreacting because he’s my dad.

But she wasn’t. After they had retired from the formal dining room to the family room, Brenda noticed that a gradual stiffening was spreading throughout the gathering, making the conversation stilted and awkward. Only Lani—who was playing Go Fish with Flying Claw—seemed unaffected. Only Lani and Dad. Dad kept smiling and talking, telling anecdotes with great enthusiasm, laughing at his own jokes.

It’s like everyone is holding their breath to see what Dad will say next—and no one is willing to call him on anything
because he hasn’t actually done anything rude or mean—he’s just overly enthusiastic. Except he isn’t.

Brenda expected Pearl to be the one to call Dad on his behavior, maybe ask him to come and help her with something, but it was Deborah who, suddenly stern, turned a smile that managed to be both polite and freezing on Dad.

“Gaheris, I appreciate your interest in this, but really, since you’re only reporting secondhand, perhaps we should give those who were there a chance to speak?” Her expression became conciliatory without in the least removing her reproof. “Des has asked me to help with the teaching of our Rabbit and Dog—and, of course, Brenda—and it would help me to see where their strengths and weaknesses lie.”

Dad blinked, but his charming smile never faded. “Sorry, Deborah. I guess I got carried away.”

“Ah, yes,” Deborah said. “Always the eager one. Liesel told me that when she studied with you and Albert under Shen you were always first with the answers.”

“Pretty little Liesel,” Dad said, his smile becoming just a touch wistful. “I had such a crush on her. I really wanted to impress her.”

He turned to Brenda and winked, “This was long before I met your mom, of course.”

And who is it you’re trying to impress now?
Brenda wondered.
Me? I don’t think so. The Landers, maybe? Show them how much you’ve learned even if they did steal your memory? I wonder. I really, really wonder.

Pearl wasn’t in the least surprised when later that evening, after all the guests had left, and the household had settled down, Brenda Morris came knocking at her office door.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Brenda asked.

“Certainly. Have a seat. Would you like some tea?”

“No. I’m fine.” Brenda sat for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. Then she said, “Pearl, what’s the problem with Dad and Albert? There’s something there. We all noticed.”

Pearl sat for a moment, eyes closed, considering what to tell Brenda. The truth, certainly, but perhaps not all of it.

“Brenda, your father’s problems with Albert date back to his own father. You remember that your grandfather wanted nothing to do with his heritage as the Rat of the Thirteen. Although his father could not make his son behave as he might wish, he did everything in his power to make certain that Gaheris was taught our lore.”

Brenda nodded. “Great-Grandpa threatened to disinherit Grandpa, and Grandpa knuckled under.”

“That’s about it,” Pearl agreed, “but your grandfather did not ‘knuckle under,’ immediately. For a while I thought we were going to have to take your grandfather to court to enforce the terms of the will. When your grandfather realized we were serious—by ‘we’ I mean myself, Albert’s father, and Des’s great-grandmother—he gave in, but it was a bad time.

“Even when your grandfather did give in, he didn’t do so fully, not to the point of teaching—indoctrinating, I suppose he would have called it—Gaheris himself. But he permitted me and Shen and a few of the other elders to do so, and that was enough to fulfill the requirements of the will.

“When Gaheris joined us, Albert was already one of our students. His father—the Second Cat—hadn’t rejected his role as emperor-in-waiting, but, frankly, he seemed to take the ‘waiting’ far more seriously than he did the ‘emperor.’ Most of what Albert learned, he learned from other than his father. Then, not long after Gaheris joined us, when Albert was ten, Albert’s father died in a car accident that may not have been an accident. Albert’s mother was severely injured in the same accident, her legs broken in multiple places. For a while, she managed to get around with a cane, but today she’s restricted to a wheelchair. There were other injuries, not as visible, but at least as debilitating.”

Brenda frowned. “So Dad and Albert were both pretty vulnerable when they started taking lessons from you. That didn’t draw them together?”

“It did, after a fashion, and it did not. For one, Albert was slightly older, and definitely more experienced. Small differences like that matter a great deal to boys. They are fiercely competitive at that age.”

Brenda laughed. “Do they ever stop? But surely you noticed that competitiveness.”

Pearl shook her head. “That was a complicated time for us all. Shen and Umeko’s son, Geoffrey, was born that same year. To say that Shen didn’t have quite the attention for his students that he should have…”

Pearl smiled reminiscently. “Let’s just say Shen was rather distracted and overtired. I had let my own business interests lapse to attend to the Rat lawsuit. I wasn’t in danger of becoming impoverished, but those were years of rising inflation, and I had worries of my own. None of us even considered that what we were seeing was more serious than two strong-willed, intelligent boys trying to decide which one would be boss.”

“But didn’t Albert have the advantage?” Brenda asked. “I mean, not only was he a little older, but he was ahead in his studies, and, no matter what Dad did, Albert would be the emperor, while Dad was just a Rat.”

“And,” Pearl said, pleased with Brenda’s acuity, “not even a full Rat. His father was still alive, even if he refused to exercise his abilities. Gaheris was a Rat-in-Waiting, feeling himself inheritor of all the Rat’s responsibilities, without the full affiliation.”

“I know how that feels,” Brenda said. “I feel that way now that Dad has his memories, like I’m not sure where I fit in.”

Pearl decided this was
not
the time to get sidetracked into a discussion of Brenda’s own peculiarities. Reassurance was what was needed.

“You are doing very well,” she said. “Talk with Waking Lizard. In the Lands, the Twelve mentor those who show promise, not just in the various arts, but in having a particular affiliation for a Branch. You are in a similar relationship
with Gaheris, with the added certainty of your place being assured.”

“Flying Claw mentioned his mentor,” Brenda said. “I guess it’s that Dad isn’t really mentoring me, if you know what I mean. He keeps showing up, leaving, showing up again. If I have a mentor at all, it’s Des—or you.”

“You have us both,” Pearl assured her, “and believe me, we are very happy to have you.”

“Thanks,” Brenda said. “So, when did you figure out that Dad and Albert’s problems had gone a bit deeper than usual?”

Pearl considered. “Brenda, can I be honest with you? I’d considered holding some of this back, because it’s not all very pleasant—and it reflects worse on Gaheris than it does Albert.”

Brenda looked startled. She sat upright, suddenly very serious.

“Sure, Pearl. I think I sort of suspected that Dad was to blame from how he has acted. Let me guess. Dad really, really didn’t like that, no matter what he did, Albert would still be emperor, and he’d be, at best, first counselor.”

“Very perceptive.”

“I know my dad. Competitive isn’t the word for him—and he’s worst when he’s competing with himself. If Albert sneered at him even just a little, it would have made Dad crazy.”

“And Albert probably did sneer,” Pearl said, “being that he was ten years old and his father newly dead, and his responsibilities had come home to him all too suddenly. To Albert’s credit, I don’t think that sneering lasted long. I think the responsibilities scared him into sense.”

Brenda grinned, a flash as white and hot as summer lightning. “I bet you had a bit to do with that scaring, Pearl. I can’t see you putting up with a boy giving himself airs.”

The grin vanished as fast as it had arisen. “But Dad wouldn’t have forgotten, not even if it was just one sneer. Don’t get me wrong. Dad’s a great guy. Loyal and loving, but
he’s not as secure as he might seem. I never knew why, just sensed it there, but I guess Grandpa really hurt Dad.”

“He did,” Pearl said softly. “Your grandfather hurt a good many people, all because he thought himself hard-used.”

She thought about how she herself had treated Foster, and had the grace to be quietly and thoroughly ashamed.

And so because your father had hurt you, you were determined to snub that boy who looked so much like him—who echoed him in that grace of motion, that inescapable masculinity that you could never have. Yes. I’ve been guilty of as much as Gaheris’s father—but hopefully I can make amends.

Brenda was watching Pearl carefully, and Pearl wondered just how much those rat-sharp eyes had seen, how much that too-acute mind had surmised. Brenda was at that age where it was easy to misjudge her, to underestimate her, filled with wisdom one moment, mooning over an imagined wrong the next.