Nine Gates (40 page)

“Thank you, Nine Ducks. We will honor and respect your wishes.”

Bending over had made Honey Dream sniffle. Surreptitiously, she drew a tissue from her sleeve and wiped fresh tears from her eyes. When she rose again, the ghost of Nine Ducks had vanished, taking with her both the light from the candles and the scent of the many sticks of incense that had been burned in her honor.

The expectation that the Exile Ox would join them had been so strong that Brenda was shocked when she came down to
breakfast the next morning to see the serious expressions on the faces of those already awake and assembled—and on the faces of those who had been unable to settle after the failed attempt.

Shen briefed Brenda on what had happened, and something of the despair the others must be feeling was evident in that the usual host of interruptions and clarifications were completely absent. Of course, this might have had to do with the fact that most of the others had come down before Brenda. Nissa and Lani were out in the backyard, and Riprap and Des were sitting at one end of the table, both looking gloomy. Only Deborah hadn’t yet emerged.

Without asking, Brenda knew the matter had been discussed and rediscussed as each new arrival had filtered down, so she quietly set about making more coffee, putting on water for tea, getting herself something to eat, and, most importantly, listening.

“We must try again,” Des said. “We’ve settled that. The only question is who: Horse, Ram, or Monkey?”

“There are objections to all of them,” Pearl said. She looked very tired, more tired, even, Brenda thought, than after the battle with the Three-Legged Toad. Then Pearl had only been exhausted, now she had been beaten.

“So let’s appeal to each in order,” Albert said. “Horse next. The Horse is the most group-oriented of the remaining signs. Exile Horse may have personal resentments, but he may overcome them for the good of the group.”

Or herd
, Brenda thought. Aloud she said, “What House does the horse belong to?”

“The House of Gender,” Righteous Drum said. “Perhaps not as auspicious as construction for our needs, but in its own way useful. Gender—like life and death—is one of the ruling dichotomies.”

“Horse, then,” Albert said, “and not today. All of us who participated in the ceremony spent a great deal of ch’i. We should rest and meet again at, say, ten-thirty tomorrow morning?”

“That will be fine,” Righteous Drum agreed. “The altar is already set up. Purification of participants will not take long now that we all know the routines. Will someone drive myself and Honey Dream back to Colm Lodge?”

“I will,” Brenda said. “Des, are we going to do fighting practice this morning?”

“Absolutely,” Des agreed. “We have a quorum. Why don’t you drive Honey Dream and Righteous Drum over now? The rest of us will follow in a few minutes.”

“Great,” she said. “I’ll get my shoes and be right down.”

There wasn’t a great deal of discussion on the drive over, but once they arrived at Colm Lodge, Flying Claw and Waking Lizard must be told the entire series of events. This carried them until the arrival of Des with the others. Then Righteous Drum and Honey Dream retired and the rest gathered on the practice field.

Once again, Brenda was paired with Deborah, and once again she found that although the Pig might love to sleep in and would never refuse a second dessert, when it came to the fighting arts, she was far from slothful.

During their first practice, Deborah had discovered that Brenda’s earlier injury had made her inclined to shy back when an attacker came at her, even if intellectually she knew perfectly well that most attacks could not get through the protective circle of the Dragon’s Tail. Therefore, Deborah had decided to show Brenda a series of blocking maneuvers, designed to give her confidence that just because someone was coming at her with a weapon didn’t mean the weapon was going to hit.

“Never forget,” Deborah said as she put Brenda through a blocking exercise for the fourth or fifth time, “wild boars were more feared than lions or wolves in Europe. Indeed, the only creature that might have been more feared was an angry bear—and I like to think that even bears came up second, because I don’t recall anyone ever inventing a ‘bear spear.’”

“What about in China?” Brenda panted, moving her stick
rapidly to avoid getting rapped on the knuckles. “Aren’t Chinese pigs lazy, home-loving creatures?”

“They may be,” Deborah said, switching her grip, “but by now my genes are more European than Chinese, and I take my omens where I choose.”

Brenda thought of this later, when practice was over, and she found herself sitting alone in her car with Flying Claw. Riprap had taken a nasty cut to his scalp during a much more lively exercise than the one Brenda had been given.

Deborah, in her capacity as former nurse, had ruled that stitches would be needed. A call had found Dr. Andersen with a nearly immediate gap in his schedule, so Deborah and Des had taken Riprap over.

Waking Lizard—who had delivered the cut—had asked if he might remain at Colm Lodge.

“I can see that I need both meditation and honing of my own skills. That blow should never have landed with such force. I will come over to Pearl’s house later, perhaps.”

Flying Claw, however, had promised to babysit Lani so that Nissa could focus on her magical studies, and so Brenda found herself really alone with him for the first time since that acutely memorable day when she had driven him off to the rendezvous with Honey Dream—the rendezvous that would remove Foster forever from Brenda’s life.

Take your omens where you wish
, Brenda thought.
I just wish I could decide if this is a good or bad one.

Flying Claw tossed a small daypack into the backseat and got into the passenger seat.

“Buckle up,” Brenda reminded him.

“Right,” he said in English, reaching up over his shoulder for the top of the buckle with the muscular grace that made Brenda’s heart beat faster.

The buckle clicked home and she realized that she’d been sitting there staring. She felt her face grow hot as she turned the key in the ignition, and pulled the car through the circular drive and back out onto the surface roads.

“Brenda, do you have any money with you?”

She blinked in surprise. “A little. Twenty bucks or so. I have my credit card, too. Is there something you need?”

“I was thinking that we should stop and get Riprap something—maybe a pastry. He’s going to need cheering up.”

Brenda tried to remember whether or not people with head injuries were supposed to fast, then decided it didn’t matter. The gesture was what would count, and with so many people in the house, no food ever went to waste.

“Sure,” she said. “How about that German place?”

“Strudel,” Flying Claw answered in a tone of voice that made clear he approved. “Cherry or apple.”

“Or both,” Brenda said.

They laughed. At moments like this, Brenda could almost forget he wasn’t the Foster with whom she’d shared so many long walks.

So, get to know this guy, idiot!

“I’ll call Pearl,” she said, “so they know we’ll be a little behind schedule.”

“Give me the phone,” he said. “You shouldn’t use the cell phone and drive.”

After the call was made and they were congratulated on their idea, Brenda said, “You know, I realized the other day that even though we talked so much, back—back when you still lived with us—I still don’t know much about you. You mentioned having siblings. How many? Are you really close?”

“Five.” Flying Claw considered for a moment. “We are—and we aren’t. I went into training so young that in some ways we didn’t have a lot in common. On the other hand, when I came home, they always made me welcome. I enjoyed my visits, and felt very proud when my older sister began to earn fame for the family through her gifts.”

“What did you do when you went home?” Brenda asked. “Feasts, I guess, but what else?”

“Kite flying,” Flying Claw said. “If the winds were with us, and—later, when I had some training—even when the
winds were not. Through the grace and sacrifice of Thundering Heaven, my family had retained a good deal of land, but not all of it was suited for planting or even for grazing. No one minded a wind out of season there.”

He went on, talking happily about a marvelous kite he and his brothers had labored over for most of one long holiday, refining and rebalancing it so that it seemed to fly almost of itself. Brenda liked the happiness in his voice, and was definitely sorry when they arrived at the pastry shop.

The mood did not break there, however. Fresh strudel was just out of the ovens, and Brenda decided that her bank account—which was actually pretty solid because she had so few expenses and Pearl was paying her what she would have earned at a summer job—would stand to large strips of both cherry and apple.

She saw Flying Claw licking his lips, and grinned.

“We don’t want to eat Riprap’s present. Want to have a piece for the road?”

He had cherry. She did, too, although the apple, perfectly spiced with cinnamon, smelled great. They carried the pieces out to tables on a little sidewalk terrace in front of the store, him with a Styrofoam cup of tea, her with coffee.

The strudel was delicious. Brenda was sorry that the buttery pastry melted into nothing so quickly—sorrier still that they really should get over to Pearl’s. She drank the last of her coffee, and dusted powdered sugar and flakes of pastry off her shirt.

“Ready?” she asked as Flying Claw looked up from dusting himself off.

“I am,” he said, bending to pick up the white boxes holding the strudel.

They walked to where the car was parked around the corner, both suddenly quiet, but not in the least uncomfortable.

As Brenda unlocked the passenger-side door, then stepped back, she was aware that Flying Claw was watching her intently.

“What’s wrong?”

He smiled. “You have a little sugar on your nose. It’s very cute, but you probably don’t want it there.”

She reached to brush it off, but he caught her hand with his one free one, the move so quick she couldn’t have dodged if she wanted to.

And she didn’t.

“I’ll get it,” Flying Claw said. For a long moment, he stared into her eyes. Then he reached up and gently rubbed the tip of her nose. “There. Perfect.”

Brenda held her breath, hoping, fearing he’d kiss her, but Flying Claw only smiled and slid into the car.

“Come on,” he said. “The pastry is getting cold.”

And I
, Brenda thought,
suddenly feel very, very hot.

“Are you
sure that going to practice is a good idea?” Nissa asked Riprap the next morning. “I mean, so soon after you were hurt.”

Pearl covered her mouth with her hand to hide a completely unexpected smile, but she didn’t blame Nissa for her question. Riprap’s head, neatly shaven in a long strip to expose the slice the edge of Waking Lizard’s sword had put into his scalp, was rather ugly-looking. Yesterday, when Riprap had returned from Dr. Andersen’s office, Lani had taken one look at him and burst into shocked sobs.

The little girl had adjusted by now, and even seemed to find the stitches fascinating. Nissa looked less certain.

“No sign of concussion,” Riprap said. “No bleeding. Not even a leak. Deborah will be there. She’s a trained nurse and has promised to sit on me if she thinks I’m overdoing it.”

Nissa didn’t argue, but Pearl noticed she kept looking very thoughtfully at the wound. When her gaze wandered over to Brenda’s midsection, then to Lani, Pearl was certain of her train of thought.

Please don’t back out now, Nissa. Please! We need every one of us.

But Nissa said nothing, and as Brenda, Des, and Deborah joined them around the table, Nissa joined in the conversation naturally enough that Pearl let her apprehensions fade away.

You’re worried about how the Horse will react
, Pearl thought.
Don’t project those worries onto the others.

“Where’s Shen?” Brenda asked.

“He’s out checking on our prisoners,” Pearl said.

“Is it safe for him to go alone?” Riprap asked, half rising.

Pearl made a motion as if to push the big man down into his seat. “Relax. Shen is very careful—and our prisoners respect him as the Dragon.”

“Okay,” Riprap said, but Pearl thought he didn’t look convinced. She decided to distract him. “We’re going to try to summon the Horse in just a few hours.”

“Are you certain you don’t want us here?” Des said.

“Absolutely. Albert will bring Honey Dream and Righteous Drum over with him. Nissa will be in the house in case of emergency. Otherwise, the fewer distractions the better.”

About an
hour after Riprap, Des, Deborah, and Brenda left, Albert arrived with Honey Dream and Righteous Drum. Greetings were exchanged.

“The others were still going at it on the practice field when we left,” Albert said with a grin.

“Did Riprap’s head seem to be bothering him at all?” Nissa asked anxiously.

“Not if the way he was going after Flying Claw was any indication. They were both wearing some sort of helmets—riding or bicycle, I think, I didn’t get close enough to look—so they’re taking yesterday’s accident seriously.”