Nine Gates (48 page)

Every so often, one of the heads would lift and look around, but like its mythical counterpart, the Nine-Headed Leech, as she dubbed it in her mind, never seemed to look up.

“The sun rises because it’s lifted up by those springs?” she said. “They don’t look very powerful. Even when the Leech isn’t sucking, they just sort of trickle.”

Righteous Drum shrugged. “In some tales, the suns are birds in a tree, and a divine figure, usually their mother, picks one to fly up into the outer world each day.”

“Perhaps,” Flying Claw offered, “the springs gain force when the sun heats the water.”

“Or maybe each spring just goes off at the right time, like Old Faithful,” Riprap said. He explained when the three from the Lands looked confused. “That’s a geyser that always shoots off at the same time every day.”

“Or maybe,” Deborah said, “the Leech doesn’t like drinking boiling water. Maybe the springs heat up like the river did when the sun is ready to rise. Then the Leech pulls back and the sun can get a lift.”

An idea had been niggling at the back of Brenda’s mind for a while now, and she’d been trying not to let it take form because she guessed she wouldn’t like it much. Now, though, she turned around and gave it a look.

“We can’t shoot the Leech with arrows,” she began, “and we can’t cut it up because we don’t want to risk spreading
poison. We don’t think it will run, and even if it could, it would just come back. Pretty lousy ‘men’ we’d be to the Nine Yellow Springs if we left them being sucked up by that monster.”

“I hear,” Flying Claw said, “something other than defeat in your voice.”

“The Suns’ River,” Brenda said. “I keep thinking about the Suns’ River. It goes underground here. I bet anything it feeds the Nine Yellow Springs.”

“That makes a sort of sense,” Deborah agreed, “but what of it?”

“I keep thinking,” Brenda said, feeling her way into her idea, “that if we could do something to the water from the springs, that would affect the Leech, because it’s drinking the water.”

“Do something?” Righteous Drum asked. “Such as?”

Brenda looked sharply at him, but he wasn’t mocking her. His expression was thoughtful and serious.

“I don’t know,” she said with a certain degree of frustration. “Poison them? Fill them with sleeping potion? Run red ants up their noses so they’ll be so distracted that Riprap could tie the necks into knots? I’m open to suggestions.”

Brenda expected to be laughed at, to be reminded of her basic ignorance, but she was surprised. She’d forgotten that the Landers originated in a place where the rules of myth and legend were as valid as those of physics and chemistry were in her own.

“That’s a thought,” Righteous Drum said. “A good thought. We’d need to take care only to taint the water going into the springs. I suspect the Suns’ Tree also gets its water from where the river runs underground. We would not wish to harm it. We might harm the suns.”

Everyone agreed. Before possible courses of action could be suggested, Loyal Wind suggested that he scout down into the chasm where the Suns’ River had disappeared.

“After all, a general cannot plan a campaign of action until he knows the battlefield. Although in many ways I am as
vulnerable to damage as any of you, I do have the advantage that if I find myself unable to get back, I can disembody as I did to escape the passage of the sun.”

Brenda realized with a certain amount of surprise that Loyal Wind felt guilty about leaving them. She’d thought what he’d done had only made sense, but she guessed that was the difference between a Rat’s practical nature and a Horse’s heroic one.

Riprap and Flying Claw lowered Loyal Wind down on the longest rope they had, and hauled him up, dripping wet, not long after. His initial report was not encouraging.

“The waters spill into a vast lake that, as best as I could see, touches the surface above it—like a full wine bottle turned on its side, rather than a bowl. I swam and felt a strong tugging. I swam further, and could feel where the waters were being drawn up by the Nine Yellow Springs.”

Helped
, Brenda thought,
by the Leech
.

“So there are distinct entry points for each spring,” Riprap said, “but each of them is under water. Not good. If we’re to make certain whatever we put into the springs doesn’t backwash into the lake, we’re going to have to hand place it where the pull of the springs will make sure it gets into the Leech.”

“It’s a shame,” Deborah said, “that none of the twelve animals of the zodiac is aquatic.”

Brenda ran through the twelve in her mind—rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, ram, monkey, rooster, dog, and pig.

“Wait!” she said. “What about the dragon? Des told us that in Chinese myth, the dragon has its origin as a sort of water spirit. Later, the dragon’s role expanded: into the sky first—since water falls from the sky—and then as the imperial emblem and a directional spirit and a bunch of other things. What about it, Righteous Drum. Can you breathe water?”

Righteous Drum looked startled and a little annoyed at himself. “Actually, when I am a dragon, I can.”

“When you are a dragon?” Brenda repeated. “You mean
you can actually change your shape? This isn’t something symbolic?”

“Why are you so surprised?” Righteous Drum asked. “Haven’t you been traveling on a horse that was the ghost of a Horse?”

“I thought… I mean I guess if I thought at all, I figured it had something to do with them being, well, I mean, dead.”

Brenda heard her voice drop off to nearly a whisper and felt very embarrassed.

Righteous Drum reached out and patted her on the arm. “My apologies, Brenda. I keep forgetting that not only haven’t you had the education one of our own would have had, you belong to another culture entirely. To answer your question: Yes, I can turn into a dragon. A real dragon, as solid as the Horse.”

“Not symbolic or a sort of astral projection?” Brenda asked, wanting to be perfectly certain.

“I can use those aspects as well,” Righteous Drum said, “but, yes, with the proper preparation, I can turn into an actual water-breathing dragon. I can even—as is told in our folktales—extend the ability to breathe water to one who accompanies me.”

Righteous Drum moved his right shoulder and his empty sleeve shifted. “However, I cannot do anything about this. Even if I were to turn into a dragon, I would be a maimed dragon. That would limit considerably what I was capable of doing. For example, I do not think I could both swim and maneuver to insert spells or amulets into the access points of the springs.”

Riprap took a deep breath, and Brenda was pleased to see he was trying to cover his own astonishment.

And he’s probably pretty excited, too
, she thought.
After all, as the Dog, he can learn to change shape.

“How large a dragon,” Riprap asked, “do you become?”

Righteous Drum considered. “About the size of a horse—although longer and thinner in body, with shorter legs.”

“So you could carry a passenger.”

“A small one,” Righteous Drum qualified, “the smaller and lighter the better, given my lack of a forelimb. I’ll be struggling to propel myself, and a great weight would be a disadvantage.”

“That rules me out,” Riprap said, obviously disappointed. “Although if someone showed me how, maybe I could turn into a small dog.”

Flying Claw laughed. “Forgive me, Riprap, but I cannot see you doing that. The shapes we take match our images of ourselves to some extent. You might try to turn into a Pekingese, for example, but you would likely end up a Pekingese the size of a chow chow or larger—more like a Fu dog.”

“Oh,” Riprap said. “No choice then?”

“No choice for novices,” Flying Claw agreed, his tone making quite clear he considered himself one of those novices, and that therefore this was not intended as an insult.

“So that rules you out as well,” Riprap said, “either as you are, or as a Tiger.”

“That is so,” Flying Claw agreed. “I believe either Deborah or Brenda will need to accompany Righteous Drum.”

Brenda didn’t know whether to be thrilled that her suggestion had been so quickly adopted or horrified at the direction this talk was taking.

Deborah was looking her up and down. “I’ve shaped a pig only once—as a sort of graduation exercise after my mother died. And I was a hefty sort of pig even then.”

Brenda could see where this was going, and decided she’d better say something fast. It would be better to volunteer than to get volunteered.

“Look, Deborah, I don’t know how much you weigh, but I think that even though I’m taller, I’m probably lighter.”

Deborah laughed, the warm laugh of someone who is stout and has long grown comfortable with the fact.

“That’s true enough.”

Righteous Drum looked interested. “Brenda, as I recall,
you have had some experience already with shape-shifting, have you not?”

When Brenda simply looked astonished, he went on, “The night the Three-Legged Toad was accidentally drawn down to Pearl’s house. I thought I was told you manifested a Rat then.”

Brenda shook her head. “Not really. I mean, it was sort of a dream-state thing, astral projection or something, when Nissa and I were resetting the wards. It wasn’t real.”

Righteous Drum shook his head, but his face was amused. “Brenda, Brenda, we must teach you to accept that ‘real’ has many more dimensions than you were taught. What you did that night was ‘real,’ as real as the shape of your soul.”

Deborah cut in. “But Righteous Drum, Brenda wouldn’t need to shape a Rat, would she? Certainly, she’s light enough for you to carry. You see, from what Albert told me, that occasion was a fluke, a direct result of Gaheris’s—let’s call it his ‘incapacity.’”

“Brenda would not need to shape a rat,” Righteous Drum said, “but if she could, I would find carrying her much easier. Because of how a dragon is shaped, whoever is my passenger will need to ride along the front end of my body, so that I can lift her—or him—toward the top of the chamber, where each of the springs draws up the waters. It would be much easier for me to repeatedly lift a rat than even the most slightly built human.”

“Small would be better for another reason as well,” Loyal Wind said. “When I took my swim, I felt where the waters rose to feed the spring, and the openings were not large. A human hand could get into them, but not an entire person.”

“Well, all of that does make sense,” Deborah admitted. She turned to Brenda. “Are you willing to try it? I can take you aside and teach you what you’ll need to know. Otherwise, I’ll see if I can manage a little pig. Ever since my kids started growing taller than me, I’ve felt smaller and smaller. Maybe I can channel that feeling.”

Brenda felt tempted to refuse, to start making excuses, but
she wasn’t going to let herself—and not just because Flying Claw was watching her, his face showing clearly his confident expectation that she would agree. She couldn’t forget the warning Leaf had given her. Moreover, deep down inside, Brenda needed to prove to herself that she wasn’t just a tagalong.

“I’ll try,” Brenda said, “but I have a question. Can I do it? I mean, I’m not really the Rat. Dad is.”

“Shape-shifting is not limited to those who are affiliated with the Earthly Branches,” Flying Claw assured her. “There are many who can take another shape—or many other shapes. However, for those of us with this affiliation, certain shapes are easier.”

“Another thing that may encourage you,” Righteous Drum added. “You said you hadn’t questioned the horses’ ability to change their shape because we are in the afterlife. There is actually a nugget of wisdom in your supposition. The afterlife is an environment in which malleability is more acceptable. You may find less resistance to the process.”

“Thanks,” Brenda nodded to them both. “I’ll try it.”

“Good,” Deborah said. “Now, I suggest that we all go back into the Suns’ River tunnel while we prepare. It isn’t as pleasant as this area, but it is infinitely more private. Also, I think the walls will shield our ch’i manipulation. We shouldn’t alert the Leech that anything is out of the ordinary. I’ll work with Brenda, and the rest of you come up with some sort of charm she and Righteous Drum can carry to the sources of the springs.”

“We’ll set up wards as well,” Righteous Drum said.

“And I will keep watch,” Loyal Wind added, already turning back, “so that the next sunset will not catch us unawares.”

“Pearl, I
want to know where my daughter is.” Gaheris Morris stood in the entryway of Pearl’s house, his expression tight with worry and anger. “Her mother has been trying to call, and keeps getting no answer, and Brenda’s mailbox is full.”

“Keely is going to have trouble reaching Brenda on any phone,” Pearl said, her head thrown back so that she could meet Gaheris’s eyes. “Brenda has gone to the afterlife.”

Gaheris blanched reflexively. Then he nodded slowly, understanding not seeming to mitigate his anger in the least.

“I suppose this is my penalty for not dropping everything and rushing to do Emperor Albert’s bidding. I didn’t follow him to Hell, so now he’s dragged my daughter and heir apparent there?”

Albert stepped from Pearl’s office, where, until the ringing of the doorbell had interrupted them, he and Pearl had been going over some old scrolls Shen’s grandfather had left. Albert’s smile when he met Gaheris’s shocked and embarrassed gaze was not kind.

“Actually, I’m here. Brenda went on her own initiative—or rather when she was asked. That’s more than I can say for her father.”

“Why didn’t you go if this is so damn important?” Gaheris retorted. “I suppose your business interests couldn’t spare you. Or was it because the emperor must be kept safe at all costs?”

“My business,” Albert said, his words very clipped, but his tone no less angry, “has been functioning fine without me—as any well-run enterprise will do, if the CEO isn’t a complete control freak. As for my safety, that has never been an issue.”

Pearl cut in. “Gaheris, the auguries made very clear that our chances for success in this venture were raised if we had
either a Rat or an Ox—a representative of the House of Expansion—as part of the group. An Ox was out of the question, so Brenda became our best—our only—choice when you weren’t available. She’s in good care. Righteous Drum is an experienced father. He’s not going to let anyone harm a young girl—and neither is Deborah or Riprap—neither is any of them. Brenda is just along for her symbolic value. That’s it.”