Nine Gates (29 page)

“Good,” Riprap said. “That’s one problem solved. Now, do we go back to Pearl’s and tell the others what we’ve learned, or do we go on?”

“Go on,” Brenda Morris said with annoying certainty. “I’m not saying we should try and open another gate or anything, but part of this trip was to get me, Nissa, and Riprap a little more up to speed. After meeting the White Tiger, if there is one thing I’m sure of it’s that I’m not up to speed on just about anything.”

Her combination of frankness and humility made Honey Dream’s blood boil, but Flying Claw looked impressed, so Honey Dream decided she had better not say anything. The last thing she wanted to do was put him in the position of explaining how admirable that deceptive little Ratling really was.

Des glanced at Nissa and Riprap and their expressions made clear that they agreed with Brenda. Nissa looked a little wistful, though. She probably wanted to go home and tell her Lani Bunny about Mama’s brave adventure with the Magical Tiger.

Honey Dream tried not to gag. These people were completely without dignity. Nissa was the Rabbit. Mothering concerns should no longer distract her. Although, Honey Dream admitted to herself, Rabbits did breed like, well, rabbits, and given the peculiar way power was handed down within families within the Thirteen Orphans, perhaps Nissa wasn’t so out of line.

She realized that Des was looking at her, and from his expression had probably spoken to her.

“My apologies,” she said loftily. “I was reading the emanations of ch’i in this place.”

Des looked at his three students. “See how easily she does it? No hand gestures, no word, simply drifts off a little. Honey Dream,” he said politely, returning his attention to her, “I asked if you agreed that we should continue on? If we
do run into trouble, you and Flying Claw are likely to be the ones who are going to have to pull us out.”

Honey Dream glanced over at Flying Claw and saw the faintest of grins playing around his handsome lips.
He
knew perfectly well that she had been caught napping—or daydreaming or brooding, whatever—but she took heart from the fact that he clearly wasn’t going to embarrass her in front of these others.

“You know what your students are capable of,” Honey Dream hedged. “If you think they will benefit from further exploration, then by all means, let us do so.”

“We’re agreed, then,” Des said. “We’ll take a look around. I don’t want to set up another of the Nine Gates quite yet. I think I know what our direction will be, but I’d hate to get back and find out that Shen and Righteous Drum have recalculated everything.”

“Now,” Des continued, “if all of you have rested your feet and adjusted your packs, shall we go on? Honey Dream, you were reading the ch’i. What do you suggest?”

Honey Dream fought down a momentary flare of panic. Then she noticed Flying Claw gesturing ever so subtly toward one particular path, a bit wider than the others.

“That one,” she said grandly, pointing with a gesture that made her sleeve flutter most attractively. “I think that one might prove of interest.”

And “of interest” did it indeed prove.

Until the end of her life—and curiously, most acutely when that life was in danger of ending—Honey Dream would remember that “field trip” through the outer fringes of the realm of the White Tiger of the West.

For the first time since Honey Dream had crossed the bridge from the Lands into the Land of the Burning, she had the sense of being in a place that felt like home. In addition to the more usual plants and animals, she could sense dragons in the streams and dwelling in the upthrust bones of the many rises and ridges that characterized this particular region. Indeed, for all that their initial journey had taken them
through jungles, here the terrain was rocky and often open, making it easier to see the creatures who made their homes here.

Honey Dream hadn’t realized how much she had missed the awareness that, even if unseen, the resident creatures were there in a way they were not in the Orphans’ world. She wondered if in the Orphans’ land they had been driven away, of if they simply took more care to remain hidden. Either would make sense. For all the Lands were in constant governmental tumult, there was considerably more respect—even simple awareness—of those others who had their own claims on rock and water, hill and tree.

But Honey Dream was in no mood to philosophize. She gloried in this living, breathing realm. Indeed, she felt more kindly toward her companions than ever she had before, taking every gasp of awe, every expression of wonder and pleasure as if she were a householder and they were admiring her manse.

The White Tiger of the West must have somehow communicated his—“welcome” might be too strong a word—but at least that he was not adverse to their journey. They saw many creatures Honey Dream had only read about in dusty bestiaries.

The Dugu—that curious creature shaped much like a tiger, but with its snowy pelt unbarred with black, its head more like that of a dog, and its tail like that of a horse—looked down at them from a crag on a particularly barren rocky slope. It offered neither welcome nor threat, and they followed its example, bowing politely as they passed.

When their trail through the rapidly thinning jungle emptied out in a series of rocky hills, fingered through with tendrils from a river that seemed to have its origin somewhere farther west, they glimpsed a herd of slender creatures something like a horse in shape, but with tails more like those of an ox. Their coats were all in shades of white, from pearl to ivory, to powdery chalk and translucent alabaster. Their elegant
brows, delicate as those of a deer, were ornamented with a single horn.

Nissa gasped. “Unicorns! An entire herd of unicorns!”

Honey Dream heard this word through the translation spell, initially broken down into its meaning as “one horn,” and again as the given name of a type of creature.

“These are Boma,” she corrected. “Some say they are kin to the ch’ilin.”

Flying Claw was looking after the fleeing herd, aware that unless the Boma chose to turn back, there was no way the humans could hope to catch them.

“The sage who tutored us in such things,” he said, “noted that the Boma cried out in a voice that was almost human. He never said they could speak, though. In any case, these do not seem inclined to stay and visit.”

Brenda and Nissa were watching the retreating Boma with shining eyes, their expressions so bright and filled with wonder that Honey Dream made a mental note to look up this “unicorn” when they returned to Pearl’s house. She thought she had seen a group of creatures rather like Boma on one of the children’s television programs Lani watched, but those had been plump, almost dumpy, and their coats had been uniformly of pastel hues. She did not think those would have aroused such a reaction in Brenda and Nissa.

Riprap, too, looked fascinated. His big hands kept opening and closing in the vicinity of his chest.

“Man! I wish I’d thought to bring a camera.
National Geographic
would just flip! Heck, I’d settle for doing a slide show for Pearl and the others.”

Des smiled with gentle good humor. “I doubt any camera—except maybe for a very simple camera obscura made from local materials—would work here.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Riprap chuckled. “But I’d still like to try.”

They did not see a Zhi Pig, but when crossing a river (a fallen tree made a convenient bridge) they saw a school of
Zhi Fish. The Zhi Fish had the long, heavily scaled bodies of ocean fish, making them interesting enough as denizens of an inland river, but when they poked their heads from the water, it could clearly be seen that those heads were shaped like those of dogs.

Brenda Morris nearly lost her balance and fell off the log when she saw this, but Riprap grabbed her arm and arrested her fall. The Zhi Fish made a sound like crying babies, although whether in disappointment or amusement Honey Dream could not be certain.

That night they made their camp at the edge of a grove of trees near a freshwater spring. They did not hunt or fish, but ate from foods they had brought with them. Des insisted on adding some foul-tasting tablets to the spring water, assuring them that the tablets would make certain the water was pure. Honey Dream had her doubts as to the need—the spring water looked wonderfully clean and clear to her—but she certainly didn’t want to risk the indignity of getting the runs.

Later, when they were sitting around the fire telling stories, they saw a dark-winged bird, rather like a crow, fly over their camp. It dropped a twig or some such into the fire, and in the sudden flare they all saw the bird had a human face, but surrounded by feathers where the hair would be.

“Banmao,” Flying Claw said dreamily. “My teacher pointed them out to us, and said their flesh was a sovereign cure for insanity.”

“No wonder,” Nissa said, shivering a bit, although the night was quite warm. “Looking at one is enough to drive anyone crazy. I’ve been comparing Chinese cures to the ones I studied in pharmacy school. I noticed there are a great many built around symbolic correspondences.”

“And I wonder which set of methods,” Brenda Morris said in that voice Honey Dream hated because she knew that they were being forced to listen to the idiot girl think aloud, “would work here? I mean, Des said Riprap’s camera wouldn’t, but he still made sure we had to use those awful purification tablets in the water.”

Des gave a rueful grin, aware but unthreatened by his contradictions. “I suppose I’d want that shot of penicillin if I got an infection, but I wouldn’t turn down some traditional remedy either.”

The next day they continued their progress, heading west for a few hours, then beginning to circle back in the direction that both Flying Claw and Des agreed (after much checking of their compasses and cross-referencing the results) their gate lay.

Their new route took them through lands somewhat less barren, perhaps because they were so well watered. It seemed as if they forded some brook or stream every hundred paces.

During one such ford, Nissa spotted some very odd deer with four long antlers. They had fled before the group could get a closer look, and Riprap muttered, “Okay. Maybe a camera won’t work, but next time I take binoculars or at least a telescope.”

Later, Brenda shrieked when she spotted a Tiaorong—a bright yellow snake with tiny wings, almost like fins. The creature was so startled that it dove into the water of a nearby stream. The resultant flash of golden light was so bright that even in daylight everyone was temporarily blinded.

“Nice defense mechanism,” Des said, wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve.

Not all the creatures were as timid as the four-horned deer and the Tiaorong. Once Flying Claw and Honey Dream had to hold off a Yayu. The Yayu had lured Nissa close by making a sound like a baby crying. The Yayu didn’t look dangerous—only strange with its ox’s body, human head, and horse’s hooves—but the way it leapt at Nissa left no doubt as to its carnivorous intent.

Riprap grabbed Nissa and dragged her back as the Yayu reared, barely getting the Rabbit clear of the slashing front hooves. Flying Claw interposed himself, his sword out as quickly as his namesake’s claws.

Brenda was fumbling for one of her bracelets when Honey Dream raced forward. Knowing how quadrupeds of all types
hate serpents, she cast a sensation of snakes twining about the creature’s hind legs. The Yayu wheeled and Flying Claw took off its head in a single swipe. The creature’s blood was pale green, rather like sap.

No one had much room left for wonders after that, so Honey Dream didn’t mention the Dragon-Turtle whose shell was one of the stepping-stones they used as they hurried back to the gate. She thought Riprap noticed though, and heard him mutter something about a camera.

When they turned their feet to return to where they would cross back into the Land of the Burning, Honey Dream had to resist a desire to stay here where things were so familiar—even as they were so strange. But then she saw Brenda gazing at Flying Claw, her expression filled with longing, and changed her mind.

I am the only one who realizes how dangerous Brenda is. I cannot be weak, I cannot give in to my own desires. Not yet, at least, and when I do, I doubt Brenda will enjoy the results.

When Righteous Drum and Waking Lizard learned of the latest complication, they volunteered to carry forward with the more theoretical work, so that Albert, Pearl, and Shen could prepare both for the interview with Tracy Frye that evening, and the eventuality that the Ox and Monkey mah-jong sets would not be reclaimed then.

They also agreed that they would return to Colm Lodge well before Tracy Frye was due, and that Lani could come and stay with them, since it was likely that Pearl and the others would have a busy night.

“Will the prisoners be secure?” Waking Lizard asked.

“Oh, yes,” Pearl assured him. “I’ve tightened my wards. If you’d like, I can create a link between you and them. I’ll give you a emergency phone numbers in case you sense anything amiss.”

When this was done, Pearl suggested Waking Lizard and
Righteous Drum work in the family room, rather than her office.