Gateway

by Sharon Shinn

  Kalen passed her and moved with care around the catwalk, but Gabe skipped across the boards with the agility of the fearless. He pointed to a thick woven rope that stretched from the monster bell to an iron tether embedded in the far wall.

  “That’s the rope that starts the bronze bell clanging,” he said. “It’s heavy, so you need a few good pulls before the clapper hits, and you’d be surprised how much strength it takes to keep it moving. Once it pulled me off my feet and I was swinging back and forth over the open ground, trying to land on one side or the other.”

  Daiyu figured this story had an equal chance of being true or false, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t like heights, and she was pretty sure the whole tower had trembled again. “What about the little bells?” she asked.

  Gabe danced even farther away, hopping over what appeared to be a small break in the continuity of the catwalk, to point at a much thinner rope tied to a second hook. The other end was attached to a circle of small bells that looked as if they were made of chrome swirled with crystal. “They don’t weigh hardly anything at all,” he said. “A little kid could pull them. A girl. You could.”

  She smiled faintly. “Why didn’t somebody design the tower so you could reach these ropes from the ground?”

  “Then anybody could come along and pull them just for a prank. You’d have people rushing out of the river when they had half a day of work left.”

  “Well, they could do that now if they felt like climbing a hundred stories and maybe breaking their necks,” Daiyu said.

  Gabe shook his head and grinned. “The gate at the bottom of the stairs is supposed to be locked. Everyone thinks it is, but I know the lock is broken.”

  She didn’t answer. She was starting to get nauseated, and she really wished she was back on level ground.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Kalen asked, and Daiyu shook her head.

  “No. I think—This is kind of making me sick.”

  Abruptly, she sat down on the top step, quickly transferring her hold to one of the metal posts that supported the railing. She heard Gabe exclaim, “What’s wrong with her?” but Kalen didn’t bother asking questions. He just crossed to where she was sitting and crouched beside her, putting a hand on her wrist.

  Just as he had the night before. Taking hold of her so she wouldn’t be afraid.

  “Maybe breakfast upset your stomach,” he said. “All that food you’re not used to.”

  She tried to smile at him. “I think it was the climb. And maybe the travel yesterday.”

  “Can you get back down?” Gabe wanted to know.

  “Well, I hope so,” she said. “Maybe I’ll just go down on my butt, one step at a time.”

  Still holding her hand, Kalen slipped past her and carefully stood up. “I’ll go down first,” he said. “You can hold on to me.”

  A little uncertainly, she came to her feet, clutching the railing with one hand and resting her other on Kalen. His bony shoulder seemed so much more solid and reliable than the thin railing. She quickly figured out how to synchronize her steps to his, and they eased through the descent. Daiyu was shaky but grateful when she was finally back on solid ground.

  Gabe bounded down the last three steps without touching his feet to one of them. Daiyu attempted to smile at him. “Thanks for showing me the bells, even though I got sick,” she said. “I hope I hear you ring them sometime.”

  “You will, tonight or tomorrow,” Gabe said. He looked at Kalen. “Are you going to work the next time? Or will your friend still be here?”

  Kalen gave a convincing shrug. “She’ll probably still be here, but she might be busy. If she’s got something else to do, I’ll come to the river.”

  “Don’t miss work because of me,” Daiyu said.

  He smiled. “It’s all right. I can work in the river any day, but you won’t be here very long.”

  She laughed, but the sound was a little rueful. “Well, Idon’t think I will be,” she said. “I suppose you never know.”

  SIX

  ONCE THEY LEFT Gabe behind, Kalen showed Daiyu around the shops that clustered on the streets a little west of the river. She figured they were roughly in the area where Isabel’s office was located in St. Louis, but how different the cities!

  Where downtown St. Louis had a diverse but orderly collection of office buildings lining the parallel streets, the central district of Shenglang was built around winding avenues that spilled into circular drives and meandering boulevards. The small building swere all crammed together like parade watchers determined to be at the very front. The streets were noisy and crowded, trolleys jostling for space with vehicles that looked like fancy Model T’s and those contraptions that seemed to combine bicycles and carts. The sidewalks were thronged with people, overwhelmingly Han with cangbai and heiren individuals mixed in. Almost everyone, male and female, wore outfits similar to Daiyu’s—wide-legged black trousers and brightly colored tops.

  “I can’t believe that the clothes I picked out yesterday when I was still on Earth turned out to be perfect for wearing on Jia,” Daiyu said.

  Kalen smiled. “Somehow you knew you were coming here.”

  “Somehow I don’t think so,” she retorted.

  When she was thirsty, Kalen bought her a bottle of some sweet-flavored juice that tasted like apples and cinnamon and ginger ale. “Ice costs more than the juice does,” he told her. “We’ll have to drink it warm.”

  Shepracticallygulpedhersdownanyway.“Idon’tcare,”she said. “I love it.”

  By this time they had wandered to a street that was wider and straighter than most of the rest, and both the foot traffic and vehicular traffic were heavier. Twice, Daiyu and Kalen got separated when careless pedestrians pushed between them, and the secondtime, Daiyu felt a surge of panic as strong as the one she’d felt when she first arrived. She looked around wildly for Kalen.

  He was right behind her. “I’m here,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  She reached up to take his hand in hers, and he moved around so they were side by side. “Stay close,” she said. “I don’t want to get lost.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not planning to lose you.”

  He looked like he was going to add something else, but then a low murmur from down the street caught his attention. He shaded his eyes to look in the direction of the noise, which was building to a muffled roar.

  “That’s Chenglei’s car,” Kalen said. “He’s going to pass right by us. You want to see him?”

  “Chenglei?” Daiyu exclaimed. “Of course!”

  Still holding hands, and trying to be courteous about it, they pushed through the pedestrians to the edge of the sidewalk so they could get a good look. Daiyu glanced at the people nearby, trying to gauge their mood. Most of them looked pretty excited at the thought of glimpsing the prime minister. As soon as the black car pulled into sight, people started murmuring and clapping their hands. A woman bent down to her little girl and pointed at Chenglei. The applause grew louder as the car drew closer.

  And then Chenglei was passing in front of them, sitting on a high seat in the back of what looked like a cross between a convertible hearse and a horse carriage with no horses. Daiyu stared, absorbing as many details as she could. Yes, his features were definitely Chinese, but his pale skin betrayed his Caucasian heritage and, even sitting down, he appeared to be taller than most of the Asians she knew. He was a handsome man, with broad cheekbones and heavy eyebrows that drew attention to his dark eyes. His hair was a deep black except for a streak of gray that waved back from the middle of his forehead, giving him a look of distinction. He leaned forward as he sat on his bench, waving back at the crowd as if he was just as thrilled to see them as they were to see him.

  Daiyu felt her mild sense of disquiet intensify, forming a coil of worry in her stomach. Chenglei didn’t look like a man so terrible that he had to be flung to a different dimension in order to keep a whole world safe.

  As the car pulled out of vi
ew, Daiyu glanced around at the crowds just now dispersing. People were smiling or talking to friends with great animation, still impressed and a little awed. “Everybody seems to like Chenglei,” she observed.

  “A lot of people do,” Kalen answered.

  “What do you think about him?”

  “I never thought about him much until Ombri and Aurora came,” he said. This didn’t surprise her. She figured Kalen had probably poured most of his energy into staying alive; he wouldn’t have had much time to think about high-level politics. Which was too bad—she would trust his assessment of Chenglei far more than she would trust Ombri’s.

  Kalen went on, “I’ve been trying to learn more about him so Iunderstandwhythey’redeterminedtosend himaway.Sofar, the worst thing seems to be the way he’s handling the zaogao fever epidemic in the northwest territories. Some people say he’s not sending enough doctors and supplies to fight the fever. And other people say he’s doing everything he can to make sure it doesn’t spread. Feng says thousands of people are dying because of him—”

  “Who’s Feng?”

  “He’s the son of one of the wealthy families, but he’s been disowned. Every few days you can find him in a park or on the street, delivering a speech about what’s wrong with the government—particularly Chenglei.”

  Daiyu smiled a little as she listened to the description. “He’s a dissident. I’d love to hear him speak. Where can I find him?”

  “I’ll ask around. He might be in hiding right now. But even Feng doesn’t know how bad Chenglei can be, Ombri says. Aurora says there’s no end to the misery he’ll bring to Jia. They say he’s destroyed whole cultures on other worlds.”

  And we’ll have to take their word for it that such a thing is true, Daiyu thought, since we can hardly prove it ourselves. She unconsciously tightened her grip on Kalen’s hand as her stomach clenched even harder. “Well,” she said. “I’m glad I got a glimpse of him. Now at least I know who I’m dealing with.”

  They spent another couple of hours wandering around the city before catching a trolley back to Kalen’s neighborhood. Daiyu couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so at ease with a young man her own age. When she was around the boys at school, she usually felt awkward and unsure of herself; she rarely tried for casual conversation. She knew she had a reputation for being aloof, an impression that was reinforced by her habitually calm demeanor. But she found it easy to talk to Kalen.

  They were still talking as they approached the door to his house and caught the scent of something exotic cooking. “Aurora’shome,” Kalen said as they stepped inside. She let go of his hand for the first time all afternoon.

  Daiyu had been half expecting someone as dark as Ombri, but Aurora was almost his exact opposite. She was only slightly taller than Daiyu, porcelain-skinned, blue-eyed, with utterly straight yellow hair that fell almost to her waist. She looked to be about fifty years old, but Daiyu had to wonder. She had gotten the impression that Ombri, at least, had seen a lot of travel; perhaps the servants were as ageless as the gods.

  “Here’s Daiyu,” Kalen said. “She arrived last night.”

  “Hello,Daiyu,”Aurora said, and her voice was low and restful. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

  “We haven’t seen you for a couple of days,” Kalen said.

  Aurora returned her attention to the meal she was making. “No, Xiang is keeping me pretty busy,” she said. “But that will work to our advantage, I think. She was very excited to hear about Daiyu.”

  Daiyuwasconfused.“Whataboutme?Whoareyoutalking about?”

  “Xiang. The woman who employs me,” Aurora said. She shook some spice into a pot and glanced back at Daiyu. Those blue eyes were truly astonishing. “She is a wealthy, ambitious woman who has no daughters. She has been bemoaning the fact that she is excluded from some of the summer events at the prime minister’s residence because they are designed to introduce young women to society.”

  “Debutante balls!” Daiyu said under her breath. St. Louis had a longstanding tradition called the Veiled Prophet Ball, in which debutantes made their first formal appearances. The History Museum once had mounted an exhibit of Veiled Prophet gowns from decades’ worth of dances, and Daiyu had gone three times to see the display.

  Aurora smiled at her again. “Here they are called Presentation Balls, and the annual one sponsored by the prime minister is the most glittering event of the season. Xiang has never been able to attend, and she is very disappointed that this year she will be left out again.” Aurora scooped what looked like soup from the pot and took a taste. “I wish Ombri would get home. This is ready to eat.”

  “I’ll get the bowls,” Kalen said, and started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.

  “What can I do to help?” Daiyu asked, gesturing toward the bubblingpot.

  “Nothing. Just sit,” Aurora said. She unwrapped a loaf of bread and began slicing it. “So the reason Xiang was excited to learn about you, Daiyu, is that she wants to borrow you.”

  “What?”

  “She wants to pretend you are her niece, take you to the palace, and present you to Chenglei. And I, of course, told her that she could.”

  Not until Ombri was home and they all sat at the table eating bread and soup and something that seemed like cheese, but wasn’t exactly right, did Aurora explain the rest of the plan.

  “I told Xiang that I was expecting a visitor from the northwestern territories—a poor girl, but full-blooded Han, not a worthless cangbai woman like me,” Aurora said. “I said you were coming to the city to try to find work. That you had been educated by a rich uncle who lost interest in you when his own daughter bore a child late in life. So you have no prospects and no connections, and you cannot be expected to have the polish of a city woman, but you are genteel. I think this will explain away any oddness in your language or gaps in your knowledge,” Aurora added.

  “And you want me to pretend Xiang is my aunt so that I can attend the Presentation Ball?”

  “Precisely,” Ombri replied.

  “It’s almost three weeks until the ball,” Aurora said. “That will give Xiang time to drill you in how to behave in society. And to have clothes made, of course.”

  Daiyu laid down her oversized spoon. “Wait,” she said. “You want me to go live with her for a couple of weeks?”

  “Perhaps not quite so long,” Aurora said. “But you’ll certainly have to spend time with her before the ball so that she can coach you in some of the behaviors you will be expected to know.”

  “You could train me,” Daiyu suggested.

  Ombri shook his head. “There are subtleties and nuances that you could only learn from a native.”

  She looked at Kalen for support, and he laughed. “I don’t know how to behave at a society dinner.”

  “You must go live with Xiang, because she is your route to Chenglei’s side,” Ombri said firmly. “Once you have banished Chenglei, you will be free to leave Xiang’s household and return to your own world.”

  “Ah, that’s something we have to explain very carefully,” Aurora said. “Exactly how we want you to send Chenglei home.”

  SEVEN

  AFTER DINNER THE four of them sat on a brightly colored rug spread over the floor, and Aurora laid a selection of items before her. One was a simple piece of shimmering rose quartz about the size of a robin’s egg, polished to a slippery smooth shine. It lay beside a red silk bag with a gold drawstring top. Another was a broad silver bracelet etched with an indecipherable design; it was hinged in the middle, and just now lay open in two connected curves. Next to it was a small scuffed box that looked just big enough to hold the bracelet in its closed position.

  Aurora had pulled on thin white cotton gloves that went all the way up to her elbows, and she tossed a similar pair to Daiyu.

  “Never touch any of the talismans with your bare hands,” Ombri said, his sonorous voice making the prohibition all the more compelling. “They are designed to respond almost instantly to conta
ct with skin. Even if you drop them after only a second or two, the damage will be done. You will already be transported.”

  “Transported where?”

  Aurora pointed at the piece of quartz, and Daiyu picked it upinherglovedhand. For a moment she caught a faint familiar fragrance, as if the stone had been daubed with her father’s aftershave or her mother’s perfume, but then it faded.

  “This piece of quartz is big enough to send you home even if you are nowhere near the gateway,” Aurora said. “The talisman was precisely calibrated to send you back to the exact place and time you were when you left Earth. It will be as if not a single minute has passed.” She handed the silk bag to Daiyu. “Put the quartz inside the pouch and carry it with you at all times,since you never know when you might need it.”

  “If ever you feel endangered, take the stone out of the bag and hold it in your bare hand for a moment,” Ombri said. “You will almost instantly be home—puzzled, confused, but essentially unchanged.”

  Daiyu couldn’t resist rubbing the smooth quartz through the even smoother fabric. It did feel magical, charged with inexplicable energy, although that was probably just the power of suggestion. For a moment, she was horribly tempted to shake the rock into her hand and disappear. She didn’t want to go live with Xiang, an utter stranger; she was far from sure that she wanted to be the means of banishing Chenglei from this world. All she really wanted was to go home, to be with familiar people in a familiar place. To forget that Jia even existed.

  If, in fact, it did. If, in fact, she was not still dreaming.

  It wa sthe first time since breakfast that she had questioned the reality of her new situation. What was even more disturbing was that she had spent very little time all day thinking about her proper world. It seemed—less urgent, perhaps. Less vivid. She had been so content to wander the streets of Shenglang, her fingers interlaced with Kalen’s, that she hadn’t wasted much energy worrying about the city she had left behind.