Nine Gates (56 page)

“Something philosophical?” Des offered. Then he shook his head. “No. I can’t believe that of the White Tiger. There’s something practical about him.”

Waking Lizard said, “What if he means the nature of
our
universe in particular? The more closely we look, the more whatever this enemy is we face seems to have first shown himself in the Lands.”

Honey Dream thought Waking Lizard might be jumping to conclusions, but she knew why he was doing so. The connection felt “right” in a way she could not intellectually justify. She leaned forward, ready to pursue the matter.

“All right, so what’s the shape of the world?” Des asked.

Lani, who was coloring on sheets of paper spread out around her mother’s feet, said, “Round!”

“Our world is round,” Des agreed, “but…”

Nissa smiled, and leaned down to stroke her daughter’s silky hair. “I’m guessing that the answer you want is either ‘square’ or ‘a cube’ because that’s how the ancient Chinese cosmographers envisioned the universe.”

“And that’s why,” Riprap added, “the original Twelve adopted mah-jong, especially as played with tiles, to encode their magical system. The ‘great wall’ that is built at the beginning of each hand evoked the universe for them.”

“Good,” Des said. Clearly he’d resumed his schoolmaster role. “Riprap, what’s at the center of the square that is the universe?”

“China,” Riprap said promptly. “The old name for China—Chung Kuo—meant ‘center’ and is why texts often translate it as ‘Middle Kingdom.’”

Nissa looked thoughtful. “I guess that’s a common enough idea, isn’t it? I mean, the old Norse envisioned our world as Midgard, which means something like ‘middle world.’”

“If you study comparative mythology,” Des agreed, “you’re going to find that idea over and over again. It’s not as odd as you’d think. Those ancient cultures envisioned the universe much as they experienced it. Your midpoint is your starting point, and from there you go out and find out what is elsewhere.”

“All roads lead to Rome,” Pearl murmured. “There’s no place like home.”

“Okay,” Des said, “now that you’ve got that, let’s try drawing this version of the universe. Lani, can I have a piece of your paper?”

“Sure,” the little girl said, and generously extended a half-dozen sheets, their corners crumpled in her pudgy hand. “And crayons. Anything b’pink, an’ yellow. I’m usin’ dose.”

“Thank you,” Des said. “I’ll just take these.”

He gathered up a small handful of crayons and set them
alongside the stack of paper. “You folks from the Lands, make sure I don’t screw this up. I only know it in theory.”

Taking up an orange crayon, Des drew a rough square in the center of his piece of paper. Spiky triangles representing mountains were drawn in near the edges of the square in green. Next, with a light blue crayon, he drew squiggly lines representing the four great seas, each separated from the others by comparatively narrow land bridges. Then Des took up the orange crayon again and drew vague land shapes beyond each of the seas.

The drawing was crude, but not unlike those Honey Dream recalled from her earliest geography lessons.

Des slid his drawing to where everyone could see it. “This represents the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice. I know this will seem odd to most of you, but the center area really is square—some maps show it as a cube—because that was one of the dominant images of the world when the first Ch’in emperor ordered all those books to be burnt.”

“And the universe took its shape from theory,” Riprap said, “rather than theory from the universe. Cool. Seems like they’d be a bit crowded though.”

“No more so than on this world,” Des insisted. “Theoretically, the residents could see the edge of their world if they went far enough, whereas we have the illusion that the horizon continuously moves more distant as we move toward it. That’s the only difference. In fact, from some of the things my grandmother said, I had the impression that the surface area of the Lands might be far larger than that of this world.”

“What’s that beyond the waters?” Nissa asked. “It looks as if you’ve drawn land that isn’t square.”

“Various sources give those lands different names,” Shen said when Des glanced over at him. “I rather favor the ‘great wilds.’ They are usually designated by the directions, just as the seas are.”

Nissa was studying the drawing, puzzlement on her face. “So what’s at the edge? I mean, if you crossed the seas and then those wild lands, what would you find?”

Flying Claw answered. “There is a wall, but before you ever reach the wall, you must cross even more oceans. And before you reach those oceans you must traverse regions that become wilder and wilder, the creatures that populate them more and more fierce, so that not one warrior out of a hundred, not one sorcerer out of ten, can penetrate safely to the shadow of that wall. When you reach the wall, the area at its base is lapped by water, for all the waters of the universe come there to be refreshed before draining into the underworld, from whence, via the power of the Nine Yellow Springs, they come again to the upper world.”

“Have any of you been to this wall?” Riprap asked.

Honey Dream shook her head. Waking Lizard and Flying Claw did the same.

“My father hasn’t either,” Honey Dream said, just to confirm. “Even with magical aid, even flying on dragonback, it would take years.”

While they had been talking, Des had pulled his picture back to him, and added to the sketch using different-colored crayons. Now his square was surrounded by four other squares, each with its base set beyond the great wilds, but aligned with the sides of the central square. He quickly wrote the four compass points inside the appropriate squares. Honey Dream noted with approval that he’d drawn his squares with the colors most commonly associated with the directions.

“This is really oversimplified,” Des said, “but it’s how my grandmother described the way the guardian domains touch the Lands. I’m not at all certain if they’re squares as well, but that’s how she drew them.”

Flying Claw shrugged. “The theories as to the shape of the guardian domains differ with the theorists.”

Honey Dream added. “The description your grandmother gave you, Des, is as good as any. The guardian domains are not places one lingers. They belong to the Land, and yet they do not. They are borders that are yet their own places. The one thing all the theorists seem to agree upon is that there are landmarks within them that remain more or less constant.”

Des looked pleased. “That’s about what my grandmother said. She felt that the guardian domains belonged to the Lands in a sense, were an outpouring of all the contradictions the Lands could not contain. That’s why from them—through them—one can touch things that are also integral to the Lands themselves.”

Des moved his map toward the center of the table. “We’ve been talking about universes as if they are all distinct, but some places—like the guardian domains, which exist by virtue of the need to create a buffer between two areas—are more permeable than others.”

“‘Need to create a buffer’?” Nissa repeated. “Whose need? What’s need?”

Honey Dream was surprised to hear herself laughing. “That’s one of the great philosophical questions, Nissa. Really. It’s simply that reality is more complex than those of us who live in relatively solid areas can grasp.”

“Solid?” Nissa echoed, but she was smiling back, and Honey Dream was amazed how good that made her feel.

“Various types of existence,” Honey Dream went on, glancing over at Shen and seeing that, Dragon though he was, he was perfectly happy to have her explain, “are often classified by how easily manipulated they are. Manipulated by other than physical force, I should add. Some, like the afterlife, can be very easily adapted by the expectations of those who are there.”

“One man’s heaven is another man’s hell,” Riprap muttered. “I mean, what I’m trying to say is that what’s wonderful and what’s horrible depends quite a bit on the person. So if you have an afterlife, and that afterlife includes the ideas of reward or punishment or even renewal, then that reality is going to have to be flexible. Otherwise it won’t work.”

Honey Dream nodded. “We could spend days on this, and we don’t have days, so since I see you’re following me, I’m going to jump ahead. Magic involves shaping reality. In this world, magic works only with great effort. In the Lands, it
works with less effort, probably because the underlying myth of creation is different. In the guardian domains, reality is so flexible, that you can hold a discussion with a creature like Pai Hu and find it completely reasonable.”

Everyone was nodding encouragingly, so Honey Dream looked at Des. “May I add to your drawing?”

“By all means.”

Honey Dream slid the drawing toward her, and put a finger on the red square Des had labeled “South.” Then she slid her fingertip until it passed out of the red square and into the vacant area to the right of South, below the green “East” square.

“Des hasn’t colored this in on his map because what is there is impossible to map. Remember how the Lands can be considered not only a square but a cube?”

Heads nodded all around. Even Lani had stopped scribbling and was listening seriously, a pink crayon in one hand.

“Very well, extend this drawing in your mind until the center square is a cube and the others are matching cubes. Above and below are the Void, but in these ‘empty’ areas to the sides are compressed layers upon layers of realities. Even more than what we have called the guardian domains, these layers are the infinity of places where realities touch realities. They may even extend into what we think of as Void. They probably do, actually—at least according to my teachers, and they were great theorists.”

“So if we were traveling in the guardian domains, we wouldn’t just walk out of ‘South’ and into ‘West’ or ‘East,’” Riprap said. “We’re blocked on both sides.”

“That’s why Nine Gates are necessary,” Des said, giving Honey Dream a courteous nod. She was startled by how the small gesture warmed her. “Our initial plan was to establish two each in the four guardian domains. The ninth would be our entry point into the Lands. One of the things those of us who haven’t been jaunting off on field trips have been doing is calculating where best those gates should be built.”

Nissa was looking at the drawing with alarm. “I don’t understand. I really don’t understand. I thought Pearl or Shen or someone said something about the Nine Gates being tied to the Nine Yellow Springs because everyone everywhere had an underworld or hell or something. Now we’re talking about square-cube worlds surrounded by layer cakes of alternate realities. I don’t get it! I really don’t.”

Pearl reached out and patted her hand. Lani, who had been alarmed by the edge in her mother’s voice, climbed up into Nissa’s lap.

“Nissa, remember what Honey Dream said. These are vast philosophical points. We don’t need to understand them any more than you need to understand how an internal-combustion engine works to drive a car.”

Nissa nodded. “Right, but I think I have about as much of this as I can handle. Can we focus in on what’s next?”

Albert had been studying the elaborate crayon drawing, and now he ran his finger along one of the roughly triangular areas that represented the “layer cake” realities.

“Into the Void. Nature abhors a vacuum. Draining away.” He shook his head violently, as if to clear away conflicting impulses. “Something is attacking Pai Hu—and probably the entirety of the guardian domains. Let’s start there. If we save him, we save the lands he protects. If we do that, I have a feeling that Nine Gates or no Nine Gates, we’re going to find our way to the borders of the Lands made a lot easier.”

Waking Lizard, uncharacteristically silent to this point, nodded somberly. “And if we do not, then I have a feeling it won’t matter. I think the Lands themselves will then be under attack and our return won’t make the least difference.”

Brenda could
have sworn she was sound asleep, but there was a woman sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed, a woman she didn’t think she’d ever seen before, but who nonetheless seemed familiar.

The visitor’s age was hard to peg. At first glance, Brenda had thought she was young—younger even than Brenda herself. Her eyes, though, leaf-green and brilliant, held a depth of living experience that made Pearl’s knowing gaze look like that of a child. The visitor’s body was slim and graceful, with none of the stiffness of age in her posture. Her reddish-gold hair, worn long and unrestricted, was untouched with either silver or grey, but Brenda was certain those rich hues had not come out of any bottle—not even from the careful chemistry of a salon.

The woman’s attire was what made Brenda wonder if she might be dreaming. At first glance, Brenda had taken it for a loose tee shirt worn over shorts—not in the least inappropriate for a summer afternoon in San Jose. Now, propping herself up on her pillows to get a better look at this all-too-comfortable stranger, Brenda saw the woman wore a tunic. It wasn’t quite Greek, more like the illustrations Brenda had seen in books of fairy tales.

And then the woman moved slightly, pushing her hair back from her face with one graceful hand, revealing for a moment an ear that was slightly, but most distinctly, pointed.