Nine Gates (25 page)

“Very good, Matt. Thank you. Yes. Send it to my e-mail and I’ll review the details and fax back a signed copy, then get the original in the mail. How soon? Hang on.”

Albert lowered the phone and spoke to Pearl. “Can I use your fax and printer?”

“Certainly.”

Albert lifted the phone back to his mouth. “Within a few hours of your getting me the contract. Great. Phone me when you e-mail the document and I’ll get right on it. Thanks again. Yes. I’d prefer you bring the set in person. After all of this, it would be stupid to lose it in shipping. Bye.”

Albert flipped closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

“That was Matt. We’ll have the Horse’s mah-jong set probably by tomorrow. Tracy Frye could match us in money, but not in favors. Ainsley and Rico, however, insisted on a contract.”

“Contract?” Righteous Drum asked. “For favors?”

“Something like that. Matt’s going to work out the details. They’re thinking of some sort of event promoting their ranch, with me as a sponsor.”

Pearl frowned. “Can you do that? You’ve done a great deal to protect your reputation for exclusivity.”

“And it’s what makes my candy so expensive,” Albert agreed. “Don’t worry. We’re not doing anything tacky like peanut butter mint pinto ponies.” His narrow face grew very serious. “And Aunt Pearl, how exclusive my chocolates are
won’t matter much if we don’t win. I know that, and so do you.”

“I do,” Pearl said, “and when this is done, if the inclusion of one attenuated child movie star will make a difference in the guest list, count me in.”

“Thank you, Aunt Pearl.” The warmth of Albert’s smile faded as quickly as it had risen. “But even if we have the Horse’s set, we are still without the Monkey’s and the Ox’s.”

Waking Lizard waggled a long finger. “You have mentioned this Monkey before, and always with a peculiar note to your voices. What is the problem caused by my Branch cousin?”

“Well,” Albert said, looking a bit embarrassed. “We lost him for a time, and when we found him again…”

“Lost?” asked Righteous Drum indignantly. “I thought you had the means for tracing each Exile’s line.”

“We do and did,” Pearl said, “but after a while, this seemed less and less important. Really, the problem goes back to Exile Monkey himself.”

“How so?” Waking Lizard asked, leaning back and looking quite interested in this bit of history.

Pearl wondered if Waking Lizard, like Flying Claw, had made a fetish of his Exiled predecessor. She decided not to ask, but instead launched into her tale.

“The Exile Monkey was in his fifties when the Exile occurred. He was both highly irresponsible and highly sexed. Neither of these traits mattered when he was in service to his emperor, but they made him a problem after the Exile.

“By all accounts,” Pearl continued, “and I overheard far more than the ‘grown-ups’ might have imagined, Exile Monkey would have sex with anyone—male or female—who proved even vaguely willing. Despite this, he showed no interest in tracking the possible issue of those liaisons. In his defense, Exile Monkey may have had no real desire to return to the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice. He had no established family or commitments there, and may have viewed the Exile as a tremendous adventure.”

Righteous Drum hrumphed, but Waking Lizard only grinned.

“Monkey’s more responsible associates,” Pearl went on, “Ram especially—kept track of Exile Monkey’s bastards. In time, a boy child born to a peasant girl in China was clearly shown to be the next Monkey. They bought the child from his mother and began carting the boy around with their increasingly large nursery. To everyone’s surprise, Exile Monkey showed some interest in assisting with the education of the child. Indeed, I think he honestly loved the boy.

“In the 1920s, Second Monkey was killed in mysterious circumstances—probably due to one of the attacks issuing from the Lands. First Monkey was so hard hit that he actually married for the first time, wedding a lovely Polish immigrant much younger than himself. She bore him a son. A much-changed Monkey doted upon this boy, tutoring him and telling him many tales about the wonders of the Lands. Exile Monkey didn’t have much time to indoctrinate the boy. He died about five years later, from old age and the side effects of a dissolute life.

“By the time First Monkey died, circumstances had changed. The Thirteen Orphans were less certain they would ever return home. Moreover, under United States law, Third Monkey’s mother had complete custody of her son. She had no particular desire to have her child taught strange lore by her late husband’s odd associates. She took him away to where her own people had settled somewhere in the Midwest. Illinois, I think.

“The Cat kept track of the Monkey’s family, as was his duty. Therefore, we knew when Third Monkey’s first child—a girl—was born. We also knew when she died of complications related to childbirth while she was still a relatively young woman.”

Albert cut in, still looking ashamed. “No one bothered to see who would replace her. By then, ambitions to return to the Lands were at an ebb. Third Monkey was still alive and
had other children. Those who bothered to think about the matter at all assumed the Monkey’s line would pass to one of these.

“When Third Monkey died of pneumonia ten or so years ago, Shen, Pearl, and I did an augury merely to keep in practice. That’s when we got a shock. All the evidence showed that Monkey’s lineage had not passed to any of Third Monkey’s children.”

“Who then?” Waking Lizard asked.

“It took us a long time to find out,” Albert said. “Eventually, we traced the lineage to a boy of twelve who is apparently a descendant of one of the Exile Monkey’s later bastards. We don’t know how the confusion occurred. My theory is that the man we knew as Third Monkey never really was his father’s heir, and that First Monkey deceived us. What matters to us here and now is that the Monkey line rests with a twelve-year-old boy who knows nothing of his heritage. The Monkey mah-jong set was in the custody of one of Third Monkey’s sons.”

“Are you certain about that?” Righteous Drum asked.

“We researched both matters carefully,” Albert said, his tone making quite clear that he realized that this had probably been too little, too late. “The ‘real’ Monkey knows so little of his heritage that his disconnection from the Monkey Branch apparently affected his behavior not in the least.”

“This is not good,” Righteous Drum said. “Are matters as bad with the Ram’s line?”

“Almost,” Albert admitted, “except that we never lost track of that lineage.”

Shen took up the account. “First Ram’s situation was unique among the Exiles. She was already pregnant when she was exiled from the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice.

“Exile Ram’s daughter was born some months after her mother’s arrival in mainland China. Exile Ram’s passion to return home to her husband and other children was a drive
she used to whip on the rest of her contemporaries—with guilt if not desire—when their devotion flagged even momentarily.”

Righteous Drum, who was probably using similar tactics to motivate Waking Lizard, looked very neutral.

Shen pulled at his lower lip, as if the action would help him in concentrating his memories, then said, “Second Ram was a close contemporary of First Cat and Second Horse—one of that handful of small children who were shuffled from place to place, country to country, apparently at the whim of her mother and her mother’s friends. Even so, Second Ram did not become as great a disciplinary problem as First Cat—probably because she was not as indulged. She was taught by her mother and seemed obedient.

“However, in addition to her mother’s passionate desire to go back to the Lands, Second Ram was also deeply influenced by the ‘Hua Problem.’”

He glanced at the others. “Pearl has told you about that?”

“Yes,” Waking Lizard said. “Hua was the adopted daughter of the Exile Ox, but the other Orphans came to—disown her, I suppose is the right way to put it—because they feared she lacked the appropriate bloodline to tie her to the Lands.”

“That’s it,” Shen agreed. “Hua had been like a big sister to Second Ram and the other small children, and eventually Second Ram came to resent ‘Big Sister’s’ second-class status with many of the Orphans.”

“So Second Ram didn’t,” Waking Lizard guessed, “put a lot of energy into educating Third Ram. Did Third Ram learn something of your history despite her mother’s indifference?”

Pearl nodded. “Third Ram learned a bit because her grandmother—the Exile Ram—survived until Third Ram was a little younger than Brenda Morris is now. The Exile Ram made certain her granddaughter learned whatever she could teach. However, Second Ram’s ambivalence played its own part. After her grandmother’s death, Third Ram drifted away from the society of the Thirteen.”

Albert, keeper of the contemporary roster, took over. “To the best of my knowledge, Fourth Ram—the woman we would need to deal with—knows a few legends, but has no training. She married late and has a teenaged son who is, according to what Pearl and I have observed, very spoiled.”

“Almost as bad as the Monkey’s line,” Righteous Drum agreed, a note of something like hope in his voice, “but perhaps not quite as bad.”

Albert’s phone rang again. Everyone fell silent as he answered it.

“Matt? Got the contract so soon? Something else?”

There was a long silence as Matt explained something on the other end. From the small notes of sound, not really words, Pearl caught from the other end, Matt was apologizing. Albert responded decisively.

“No. No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Yes. I’m acquainted with the woman you mentioned. I think she’s stretching matters to say we’re friends—oh, associates?—well, perhaps. Let’s leave it that I know her.”

There was another pause.

“Yes. You can give her my phone number. Yes. This one is fine. No, not my private office line. I’m not there in any case and probably won’t be today.”

Pause.

“Right. Oh, and Matt, take good care of that mah-jong set. I have no doubt that this woman represents the competition, and I don’t think she’s above trying to get a third set.”

Pause.

“Fine. And don’t forget to call me when you have the contract done with the O’Reillys. Great. Thanks.”

Albert terminated the call.

“Tracy Frye isn’t giving up. She cornered Matt and demanded that he put her in touch with me. I’ve agreed. She should…”

The phone chimed again. Albert flipped it on and held it to his ear.

“Yes. Yes, Ms. Frye. Yes. I know who you are. Yes. Ms.
Bright and Mr. Kung did mention your thoughts on this matter, so did Mr. Morris. That surprises you? It shouldn’t. Gaheris Morris has always been more complicated than most imagine.”

Pause.

“No. I’m not discussing this further on the phone. None of this. If you want to meet with me and my associates, you’re going to need to come to San Jose. No. Not San Francisco. I’m currently in San Jose. Yes. That is convenient.”

Pause.

“Call when you get into town. I’ll see if I can arrange a neutral meeting place. Yes. I mean neutral. I was thinking about our meeting under the auspices of the Rosicrucians.”

Pause.

“Yes. Many of them are friends with Pearl Bright, but do you think that changes their neutrality in a matter such as this? No. I didn’t think you’d go that far. Fine. I’ll talk with them, and when you get into San Jose, call and we’ll meet. Yes. I’m aware that it’s not likely you can arrive any sooner than tomorrow, possibly the day after. No. I will not discuss this further over the telephone.”

He disconnected the call, and when the phone chimed a second later he glanced at the caller ID and gave a tight, thin-lipped smile.

“I think all of you could follow that.”

“The woman who has the mah-jong sets,” Righteous Drum said. “She is willing to trade.”

“That’s what she said.” Albert nodded. “However, she started dropping hints, and I’m not certain that we’re going to be willing to trade with her.”

Shen looked very worried. “But that would mean doing without the sets.”

Albert’s expression was saturnine. “You were the one who taught me, good teacher, that there are simply things we do not do. Not for anyone. Not for any reason at all.”

“But we shall speak with her,” Waking Lizard said. “Good.
I’ve wanted to meet this lady since Gaheris Morris first mentioned her. She sounds interesting.”

“Interesting,” Albert said, “seems like a supreme understatement to me.”

The White Tiger’s jaws gaped. Brenda could feel his breath: warm and moist, like a humid day back home in South Carolina.

The rush of homesickness that washed over her at that moment didn’t help her courage. She wanted to go home. What was she doing here in California? She should be back working a summer job, hanging out at one of her friends’ pools in the evening, talking about books and boys and bosses.

What was she doing here, being told she had to walk into a tiger’s jaws to get somewhere she wasn’t sure she wanted to go? Why wasn’t her father here, doing his part? He was the Rat. She was just Brenda Morris.

Brenda felt herself taking a step back, turning to head for the door. She could go wait in the van. She wouldn’t mind. Wait. They might be gone for days. Fine. She had her cell phone. She’d call her dad, explain things, tell him she didn’t want to do this anymore.