Nine Gates (65 page)

“But I am not the Rat,” Brenda protested. “That’s my dad.”

She caught herself rationalizing aloud.

“I know, I know. Dad didn’t go on that journey, and so maybe that’s the reason you reached me and not him. Maybe
the others are both awake. Is it easier for you to contact someone who is asleep?”

“Infinitely,” Loyal Wind said, and Brenda could tell that, for him at least, this explained the anomaly. She made a mental note to find out how late Deborah and Riprap had slept.

But Loyal Wind was speaking.

“I have come to bring the Orphans and their allies news of ill omen. You recall that when last we met, I agreed to journey through the Hells until I found the ghosts of the Thirteen Orphans—especially of those four of whom we had need—then seek to win them to our cause?”

“Yes.” Brenda nodded. “We’ve been wondering how you were doing. Quite a few days have gone by since we parted. We’ve all been recovering, but recently Righteous Drum has started hinting that perhaps we should try some more traditional summons.”

Quite a few days
, Brenda thought.
Well, just five. And I, for one, have been glad for them. What happened at the end of Tiger’s Road…I’ve needed time to think, to adjust.

Loyal Wind, however, took Brenda’s comment as a reprimand. He answered with stiff, military exactitude.

“You do realize that the afterlife is vast, far vaster than the worlds of the living, and to locate five spirits—not all of whom recalled me fondly—”

“Yes. Yes,” Brenda cut in. “I’m sorry if I seemed unappreciative. Please, tell me what you learned.”

Loyal Wind seemed appeased, but his words continued to hold the stiff tone of a report from scout to headquarters. “I located Nine Ducks, the Ox, first. I related to her the heroic tales of the dangers undergone in order to link the Nine Gates to the Nine Yellow Springs. This proved sufficient to win her to our cause.”

Brenda remembered that Nine Ducks had been halfway won over already, but nodded understanding and approval.

“Next in order on the wheel is the Snake,” Loyal Wind went on, “but as the Snake is not as greatly needed as the other two, I decided to leave Gentle Smoke for later. Equally, the Ram,
my yin counterpart, was likely to be easy to convince—or so I judged, given that in life Copper Gong was fierce in her desire to return to the Lands. Thus, next I went searching for the Monkey.”

“And did he refuse?” Brenda prompted when Loyal Wind fell silent.

“Worse. I could not find Bent Bamboo at all—or rather, when I did, his trail blended with and then ended in that of another of the Exiles, one whom I had not sought.”

“You’re procrastinating,” Brenda said. “Get on with it. I don’t want this dream to end like dreams do in those stupid books where the dreamer gets woken up right before she learns something vital.”

Loyal Wind’s expression became vaguely disapproving, and Brenda remembered that in the strict hierarchy the Horse had been trained in, he would have expected more respect from a junior. Well, if he wanted abject respect, he shouldn’t have come breaking up her dream—especially when she was about to get kissed.

“Where the signs showed me that I should find Bent Bamboo, the Monkey,” Loyal Wind continued, “instead I found Thundering Heaven, who was once the Tiger. Fierce and defiant, Thundering Heaven awaited me before the dark mouth of a sheltered cave. I knew without asking that the Monkey was within, and that unless I fought Thundering Heaven, I could not pass into that place.”

“So you came to report,” Brenda said. “Smart.”

Loyal Wind looked slightly embarrassed. “Actually, I was considering charging forth and challenging Thundering Heaven when I felt Nine Ducks seeking to contact me. Upon hearing her voice, I realized the wisdom in letting someone else know the situation before I confronted the Tiger, for Thundering Heaven manifested—even as did I—as a man in his prime.”

“And Tigers,” said Brenda, who had learned a bit in the almost three months since her world had turned so inside out and upside down that she took having conversations in dreams
with ghosts of men who had died more than a hundred years before somewhat for granted, “are the best solo fighters of all the twelve signs, although Horses are the finest battle commanders.”

“Precisely,” Loyal Wind said, obviously mollified regarding her earlier impertinence by this recognition of his prowess. “I discussed what I had learned with Nine Ducks. We resolved that I would come and tell the living of this turn of events, while she would seek out and warn the others among the dead.”

“And my job,” Brenda said, “will be to pass on your news to the others. I wonder what time it is?”

As if in answer, an explosion of raucous rock-and-roll shattered the dream into fragments. Loyal Wind and the stable didn’t so much vanish as never had been. Brenda sat bolt upright in bed.