Nine Gates (58 page)

“We’ll know,” Pearl said, “when we get there. Let’s not worry about it for now. I have an idea how we might get Righteous Drum up to snuff faster. What do you think about a variation on Triple Knitting?”

“That might work,” Shen agreed. “Let’s see… Who would be the most effective donors?”

They began working through the intricacies of the spell,
and Pearl found herself thinking about Shen’s question. She might have dismissed it aloud, but in fact she was very, very worried. What could attack a universe—and how could they, even at their best, hope to stop it?

Honey Dream carefully reviewed the spell Shen and Pearl had designed to restore Righteous Drum’s ch’i, but although she tried to find errors, tried to find some indication of a hidden agenda, she could not.

There were spells similar to this “Triple Knitting” in the Lands, so it was not the spell itself that both impressed Honey Dream and awakened her innate sense of caution. What impressed Honey Dream was that the Orphans were willing, at a time of such great risk to themselves, to donate ch’i to one who had been—such a short time ago—an enemy. True, they needed Righteous Drum for the coming venture, but still…

The Triple Knitting called for three donors: Shen, as another Dragon; Riprap, as the Dog, the sign that sits in direct balance to the Dragon on the zodiac wheel; and Honey Dream herself, as the Snake, the Dragon’s yin counterpart.

As with any spell that linked ch’i, this Triple Knitting called for an element of trust, belief that Righteous Drum would take what was offered, and nothing more. But so the trust was given, and so it was deserved. That evening found Righteous Drum nearly restored to himself. A good night’s sleep, in which the various ch’i streams would be encouraged to mingle and blend, would finish the preparation.

Earlier that same day, the same Dr. Andersen who had treated Brenda’s belly cut on the day the assassins had made their failed attempt came to call. He had been told that Pearl’s friends and students had gotten a bit carried away in some martial arts practice. Although Honey Dream saw his eyebrows rise when he saw the extent of some of those injuries, he treated bruises, cuts, and batterings without asking any questions.

Honey Dream knew enough to guess that the thick envelope Pearl handed the doctor was meant to buy his silence, in addition to his medical skills.

Before he left, Dr. Andersen took a look at Righteous Drum’s arm. Honey Dream had some experience detecting lies, and she knew the doctor was sincere when he said there was nothing he could do—and that he could have done nothing, even if he had been on the spot when the injury was dealt.

“You’ve been practicing a bit too roughly,” Dr. Andersen said to Pearl as he was taking his leave. “Please take care. There are injuries that cannot be treated without recourse to a hospital.”

After the various patients had gone to their beds, Nissa went to settle Lani to sleep. Des was about to fetch the van so he could drive the four from the Lands back to Colm Lodge, when Flying Claw rose from the chair where he had seemed half asleep and spoke.

“Des, wait. There is something…” Flying Claw looked at Pearl, Shen, and Albert. “If you can tolerate our company a short while longer, I have a suggestion as to how we can increase our forces significantly.”

Albert cocked his head to one side. “Without involving anyone new? We don’t have time for detailed explanations. We’re hoping to depart tomorrow, as soon as Gaheris has arrived. Are you thinking of a summons, perhaps?”

Flying Claw shook his head. His eyes were no longer drowsy, but snapped bright and alert.

“Not a summons—using a resource we already have. We can include our four prisoners: Twentyseven-Ten, Thorn, and the other two.”

“Chain and Shackles,” Shen said. “Do you think we could trust them?”

“There are bindings,” Flying Claw said, “and perhaps more importantly, oaths. They have been prisoners for many days now. We can’t leave them forever imprisoned. Here
they are a danger to you—people whose very existence will cause questions to be asked if they are ever discovered.”

“Do you think they would agree to these oaths and bindings?” Albert asked. “Especially, since what we are asking them to do is risk their necks in our cause?”

Flying Claw nodded crisply. “I would not present the matter to them in that fashion. I would tell them we are offering them an opportunity to return to the Lands alive. Then I would tell them the nature of the danger we face—and that if it is permitted to spread, it will be a danger not only to the guardian domains, but to the Lands, and even to this place.”

“Remind them,” Albert said thoughtfully, “that their safety is only relative.”

“Yes. I believe I will also share with them our belief that the attacks on the guardian domains may somehow be connected to their mysterious captain.”

“Do we really know that?” Pearl asked.

“We do not,” Flying Claw admitted, “but I do wonder. So many new things all at once… Our enemies having an ally with strange spells, then strange monsters attacking both the Yellow Springs and the four guardians. No. I cannot swear they are connected, but I can certainly argue the possibility.”

“Four trained warriors,” Albert said thoughtfully. “We even have appropriate armor and weapons. It is tempting, but… What do you think?”

He addressed his question generally, and Honey Dream was pleased to realize she and her father were included. Again, the acceptance of the Orphans for their allies astonished her.

But then
, she thought,
perhaps I am only astonished because I was such an unworthy ally. They have done nothing but live not only to the word, but to the faith of our treaties.

“I like it,” Shen said. “I’ve talked to all four of these men. They’ve had time to think—and I’ll admit, I’ve encouraged some of that thinking myself. I know they wonder why no
rescue attempt has been mounted. Chain, who I think is the least acute thinker of the group, even said as much in my hearing.”

“Would we be safe?” Albert asked.

“Safe,” Pearl said bluntly, “doesn’t enter into what we’re about to do. This wouldn’t be the first time in military history where prisoners have been given a chance to risk their lives to gain their eventual freedom. I know some of the bindings Flying Claw mentioned. The one I’d favor would render a traitor paralyzed—unable to defend himself—if he broke his word.”

Righteous Drum spoke from his seat on the sofa. “I agree with Pearl. We are only thirteen. Four more adds a significant percentage to our force—and, realistically, we lack trained soldiers. Flying Claw and Riprap are the only two who have trained in that profession. Several of the rest of us are battle trained, and even blooded, but it is not the same.”

“It’s worth the risk,” Honey Dream said, “if we use appropriate bindings, and don’t trust them at our backs. If some of you would like to speak with them, I can sit and write out the bindings. They would be best presented as treaties, rather than inflicted as nonmaterial chains.”

“I agree,” Pearl said. “Good thinking. Anything that permits a modicum of dignity makes a stronger tie.”

After a short amount of further discussion, it was decided that Flying Claw, Shen, and Albert would go speak with the four prisoners. Honey Dream settled at the long table sketching out Pearl’s binding in pencil on a sheet of scrap paper. Then, after her father and Des had reviewed it, she began writing each out in careful calligraphy, trickling a small amount of ch’i into each character.

There was only one interruption, Albert returning for a copy of the binding/treaty. They gave him the scrap paper—by then Honey Dream had one copy done—and Honey Dream immersed herself in her labors. In the background, she was aware of her father’s gentle breathing as he meditated, of Pearl explaining matters to Nissa when the other
came downstairs, but she did not listen, shaping every character and the power it contained as if it might save her life.

Honey Dream was finishing the fourth and final copy of the agreement when Albert came back in through the patio door.

“They’ve agreed,” he said shortly. “Flying Claw is to be their commander, and they will answer to him personally. Twentyseven-Ten thought this better than having them feel afraid of the consequences if they received conflicting orders.”

Honey Dream noticed that Albert looked directly at Pearl as he said this, and knew he was waiting to see if his old teacher would object. She did not.

“Good. Flying Claw knows their ways and tactics far better than I ever could. I will bring Treaty. Shall we swear them in tonight?”

“We had better,” Albert said. “They still need to be armed and armored. Probably in hopes of escaping, they’ve taken advantage of the size of that apartment to keep in some sort of condition, but they’d probably benefit from a chance to stretch.”

Des had been reviewing Honey Dream’s calligraphy, and now he set down the final copy of the binding.

“Nice work,” he said. “Not only is the writing perfect, I can feel the power in the paper. Have you drained yourself too far?”

Once Honey Dream would have taken this as an implied insult—as if she could not do four such written spells without incommoding herself. Now she recognized it as the offer for assistance it was.

“I should regain what I lost through meditation and sleep,” she said. “These take much of their ch’i from the one who swears to abide by the conditions.”

“Good.”

The prisoners were escorted in one at a time, each standing between the two Tigers—the one with her sword, the other their new commander—and swearing to the conditions
agreed upon. Honey Dream watched carefully, but she saw no indication that they intended ill faith.

Twentyseven-Ten was the most distinctive of the four. He would have been handsome, except for a certain hardness around his eyes. Thorn, the other adept, was almost his opposite: short, thickset, scarred. He’d shown a fondness for sweets, and it showed along the line of his jaw—this despite the exercise routines the prisoners had maintained in the capitivity.

Chain and Shackles—Honey Dream guessed some cruel barracks humor in those nicknames—were the common soldier type. Chain was the taller, his arms heavily muscled, one hand curled as if he habitually carried a spear or banner.

Shackles was taller than Thorn, but no one would ever call him tall. He walked with a shuffling step, but his gaze was clear and alert. Honey Dream reminded herself that although neither of these men had magic, each must have had some skill or quality to recommend him, or he would not have been chosen for this elite mission. She let the thought encourage her.

Probably they want to get home as much as we do
, she thought.
Probably they will all fight very hard toward that goal. Still, oath or no oath, that Twentyseven-Ten bears watching. I don’t like how he looks at Flying Claw when he thinks no one is aware.

Honey Dream was reminded how she had glowered at Brenda Morris, and felt uncomfortable. Had her hatred and resentment been so obvious? She suspected so.

Well, I don’t exactly love Brenda now
, she thought wryly.
And I doubt she loves me. Nor have I resigned Flying Claw to her—only my illusion that he was ever mine.

Now Des brought around the van, and their augmented company went back to Colm Lodge. Des came inside with them, staying to assist with outfitting the new recruits from the items stored in the attic.

He left within an hour or so, reminding them that getting
a sound night’s sleep was probably the most important thing any of them could do to prepare.

“Gaheris’s flight is due in around nine tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’ll be here around ten, and we’ll go from here directly to the warehouse.”

And from there
, Honey Dream thought as she locked the door behind him and mounted the stairs to her room.
Where will we go from there? And how many of us will return?

Brenda actually
felt good as she got out of her dad’s rental car. They’d parked around the corner from Pearl’s warehouse. Around front, both the town car and the van were unloading a rather odd assortment of even more oddly dressed passengers, but none of the vehicles that went by on the main road through the industrial park even so much as slowed.

Well, I guess this is California
, Brenda thought, rummaging in the backseat of the car for her own pack,
and the last people to rent this warehouse were a traveling circus. Maybe we look perfectly normal by contrast.

But Brenda doubted it. Their augmented company now included five men dressed in archaic-style Chinese armor. Almost everyone else was wearing elaborate Chinese-style ceremonial robes. Only Riprap, Nissa, Gaheris, and Brenda herself were dressed “normally.” Judging from the rather large bag he was extracting from the trunk of the car, Dad had plans to change, too.

Brenda let her hand touch the little black stone frog carving Des had brought her, realizing as she did so how she had grown into her own peculiar role as the in-between. No longer did she feel a need for a title. She’d proven herself on that
journey to the afterlife, and she’d be a perfect idiot not to accept that.