The Gate that Locks the Tree

by Sharon Lee

  "I hear you hiding in the wind. Is this your storm? Is this to deny us? I am here. Chelada is here. We come to claim the boon you have promised since first I saw your glow! Show yourself!"

  Chelada made a small sound, just then, a small sound. In the blanket, a form expanded into the strange world.

  "Listen," said Toragin sharp and low, "your cats are coming. Show yourself!"

  Yes. The fluster was gone, anxiety was gone, and now there was no boundary or border about it. Anger it was, and it flared.

  "Think of something besides yourself. Think about those whose lives depend on your whim!"

  In the dimness she felt the presence, felt a confused contrition. The presence receded slightly, returned, offering a sense of warmth, perhaps of hope, reminiscent of the first time she’d stared out her window into the silhouetted shadow of the Tree and demanded that it see her.

  Patience, she felt she heard from the night. You will be safe. You will be satisfied.

  And then, so understated that she suspected she had not heard it at all.

  Please forgive me.

  Scene Two

  In the shadow of the Tree

  SNOW ON THE WINDSCREEN flashed with the bright glow of lightning inside the storm. Again and now, thunder rolled over the cab, echoing. A bolt of lightning struck close to the car, a weird green glow behind it all, the combination of flashes and sound so overwhelming that Vertu eased the cab to a halt.

  Thunder died away, yet the wind-driven snow remained too thick to see through as the car shook. The passengers said nothing for several minutes, listening to Toragin’s coos and the cat’s undernoises when they could be heard over the storm’s constant rumble.

  Vertu, fearing for alertness, recalled the coffee and, with it, the food.

  "I cannot see to drive at this moment. I can share some food, if you can take coffee – "

  Toragin had water for her and the cat. She declined coffee but accepted a half-handwich; the others were pleased to get something – the recumbent driver in the back being allowed to partially sit up to sip at one of the cups passed to the rear seat.

  Amid thanks and sips it took a moment for Vertu to realize that the cab’s wind-inspired trembling had nearly stopped; indeed, the snow was no longer falling slantwise. Her cab’s lights gained range, though how much was hard to gauge in the soft-edged whiteness.

  "Might be over!" Yulie said, startling everyone else in the near silence.

  Vertu let the windscreen clean itself; now only tiny flakes fell, the density and demeanor of the storm fallen to flurry that quickly.

  "Guess the lightning blew it out," suggested the other cab driver. "Must've been one last huff of wind!"

  Anna spoke then, sounding as certain as a priestess:

  "We are in the Old One's shadow. It knows where we are and has sucked the storm into itself!"

  Despite the outside temperature, now well below frost point, Vertu lowered her window briefly, allowing a few fine crystals of flurry to drift in on a lazy clean-smelling breeze. Peering forward, up the road, she felt that she knew exactly where the Tree was.

  "Ten minutes it’d be from here in dry weather," Yulie volunteered, "might be eight if you was hurrying. Guessing two or three time that now, driving careful. Do that – drive careful, 'cause it’s a heckuva walk in the snow. Even if the wind’s gone."

  Another brilliant crystal of snow flitted into the window before Vertu sealed it.

  "Three," said Toragin. "Three kittens so far. They will want a warm place to sleep tonight."

  The rest of the drive was not uneventful – there was the arrival of the fourth kitten to begin with, and then there was the moment when the cab’s entire structure began to glow, starting with a light misty haze and then with a vivid blueish glow that slowly phased to green.

  "Salmo’s Fire!" Yulie said excitedly. "Salmo’s Fire happens when them electrons gets all into a plasma and settles tight around something that can trade electrons around it. I’ve seen it on quiet nights hanging on 'quipment tips and stuff. My brother had it ball up at the end of his rifle one night when we was out ..."

  Yulie let the sentence die then, like the memory might be best if left unstirred, but everyone in the cab could feel the glow dancing across their skins. Chelada's fourth kitten was born then, enveloped along with her mother in the pulsing green. Vertu felt her hair standing away from her head, and saw motion in the "fire" itself, as if the kittens were, one by one, petted and soothed by the action of the plasma, the final kitten getting an extra helping.

  "I don’t do much dreaming but I could think I was dreaming this whole thing!" Again Yulie caught the mood of the cab, but the glow was real, reflecting back into the vehicle from the surrounding snow for several eerie minutes until it faded infinitesimally to normal.

  Vertu’s glance flitted from interior to exterior, the night’s darkness gaining depth as clouds rapidly dissipated; now only the instrument lights lit the interior.

  The darkness outside wasn’t complete since the cab's lights played over the snow covered road and the snow covered vegetation. Vertu glanced up, sensing –

  Yes! There, where that glow was – that was where the Tree waited!

  Toragin laughed. Vertu caught sight of the nursery as the new mother dabbed at the kittens, adjusting herself for their comfort. Toragin’s face was bright in the instrument lights. She gasped as the pinnacle of green was briefly visible between the line of vegetation that flanked the road before it hit another curve.

  "There, that’s the Tree!"

  "Old One!" said Anna, then something in that other language to Rascal, and perhaps to Mary, while Yulie muttered.

  "'splains those pods right good. Darn thing’s got eyes can see all the way to town and more, don’t it?"

  After a pause he went on –

  "Prolly another three minutes, now, to my place. Me an' Mary, Anna an' Rascal'll just get out and walk in – no sense you going all the way in to the house, Miss Vertu, then havin' to come back out again. Been enough o'that recently. This fella here'll be better with the neighbors, and Miss Toragin and her family's got their invitation, and Miss Vertu'll do the smart thing, and let the neighbor take care of her tonight."

  "Yes," said Vertu, thinking that the chances were very good, indeed, that Clan Korval's comms worked. She ought to call Cheever, and Jemmie. . .

  "Here we're comin' up on it," Yulie said. "Just ease to a stop under that twisted tree there. Right, now –"

  He stopped talking.

  Vertu looked out the window, at the so-called driveway.

  "That drift's taller than Anna," Mary commented. "I guess we could toss her and Rascal over it."

  "Don't know how wide is it," Yulie said, sounding momentarily glum. "Not to say that leaves you an' me walking through up to our waists."

  "We can do it."

  "Well, sure, we can do it," said Yulie, rallying. "But do we gotta do it, that's the question."

  There was a moment's silence.

  "Well, no. We ain't gotta do it. We'll just all of us go on up the hill, if Miss Vertu'll still have us, and ask the neighbor do they have room."

  He sniffed.

  "Huh. Not sure where that come from. Like somebody whispered – welcome – inside my ear."

  "An invitation," Toragin said surprisingly, "from the Tree. I have heard such whisperings myself."

  "Guess that'll do until something official turns up," said Yulie.

  Toragin gave a rueful laugh.

  "Perhaps it will, at that," she said.

  ACT SEVEN

  In the Hall of the Mountain King

  Enter Dragons

  THE ROOM WAS FULL OF dragons.

  Given that the room in question was a small, intimate parlor off a side hall with quick access to an outside door, it might be said to have been overfull of dragons.

  There were, for instance, the two curled together on the sofa near the fire. The room had been built to their scale.

  There were, t
oo, those other dragons – dozens and dozens of dragons undertaking an intricate, multi-leveled dance against a glittering sky. Wings brushed wings, dancers wheeling. Here, one or two folded and fell, wings snapping wide with a boom and they rocketed upward, into the dance and through it, seeking the limits of space.

  Green warmth informed the dance – the Tree's regard for its dragons was true. It remembered them all, celebrated their lives and the frequent astonishment of their achievements. Mint scented the air, and Miri saw a wash of green, like leaves between her and the dancers. Beside her Val Con shifted, and she felt him move, wings stirring, as if he would rise from the sofa and join the others in celebration.

  There came the impression of an indulgent laugh; the idea of a kiss upon the cheek.

  The Tree embraced them, and for a moment Miri's senses swam, as she stretched her wings, feeling the starwind fill them, bearing her further up, beyond branches and leaves. She looked to her right where Val Con flew at her very wingtip.

  Above them, the dance was ending; dragons peeling away from the group, singly, or in small groups, fading into the glittering sky.

  Miri folded her wings, saw Val Con do the same, and opened her eyes a moment later to the fire in the hearth, her head on Val Con's shoulder, and her legs curled beneath her.

  She stretched, and sat up, looking into brilliant green eyes.

  "Gotta say, you're a nice lookin' dragon," she told him.

  He smiled.

  "I return the compliment. We should fly together again – soon."

  "Done," she said and raised tipped her head, considering. The impression of a vast, green regard remained present, and also an undercurrent of what might have been – apprehension.

  "So," she said. "We're loved and respected and the first in the Tree's regard. I read that right?"

  "I believe that is the message, yes," Val Con said. "It must of course be flattering to know that we stand at the pinnacle of the Tree's regard. However, the Tree fails to instruct us with regard to those others who are also held in its regard. It is the duty of those who stand high to care for those who stand lower. As delm, we know this."

  The warm greenness lost some of its depth; Miri felt a little flutter, as if of confusion, and a quick flash of dragons, dancing. The feeling of close green attention faded, somewhat.

  "If I may. . ." Jeeves' spoke from the ceiling grid.

  "Please," said Val Con. "We should like to offer the promise bearer proper honor, and time, as I understand it, is short."

  "Indeed, sir. The taxi has passed Yulie Shaper's house. Scans indicate that the drive is impassable. The house will be asked to guest twelve. I have updated staff."

  "Twelve!" Miri repeated.

  "To be precise, four of those are newly born, and will wish to stay with their mother, who will, I believe, wish to remain with the other promise-bearer. Of the six remaining, four are Yulie Shaper and his party of four – this including Rascal – one is Vertu Dysan, and the other is the driver of another taxi, who has taken injury. I calculate the car will be with us in seven minutes."

  "Time is very short," Val Con said dryly. "Jeeves – sum up, if you will!"

  "Yes, sir. In short – the recent opening of the Tree's horizons, including conversations with various members of the Clutch, access to the Surebleak gestalt, has resulted in the Tree re-evaluating the way it communicates with all of us. As I said before, the Tree realizes that it has made errors in the past. Some – I would say, most – of those errors are so far in the past that the Tree can do nothing to rectify them. It has understood that it must Balance with the promise-bearers now approaching, that to do anything else would be to dishonor the long service of its dragons. This realization, combined with the broadening of its understanding, brought additional introspection. It has become aware that, while it has acted always for the good of Jela's heirs, that – occasionally – it may have worked with too much force, acted with, I will say, hauteur –"

  The feeling of intense green attention was back, so dense Miri worried that the walls might crack.

  "Yes," said Jeeves, "hauteur. The Tree will be making changes in the way it deals with Jela's get – that is a promise, a considered promise. It will also seek to modify and improve its way of dealing with those others who may assist, or serve it in capacity outside the care of dragons."

  He paused; Miri caught the sense that he was listening.

  "Yes. The Tree offers the idea that its dragons are – family, sir. And that the promise-bearers, and those others which assist it in the pursuit of its hobbies are – friends."

  There was a strong sense of affirmation inside the little room – the flames fluttered, as if by a sudden draft. Then the sense of the Tree was gone entirely, and Jeeves spoke once more.

  "The cab is here. I have opened the gate to them."

  "Excellent," Val Con said, rising with Miri. "We will meet them at the side door. Please have Nelirikk attend us. If our wounded cabbie cannot walk, then he can be carried, and given medical attention."

  ACT EIGHT

  Scene One

  The Gate

  Enter Nelirikk and Jarome

  SOMETHING GLITTERED in the headlights. The cab crept forward, out of deep snow into what felt like naked road surface beneath the wheels. The glitter resolved itself into a gate – the gate, wrought metal with leaves and dragons woven along the bars and arches.

  Vertu sighed; heard it echoed by every one of her passengers, save, perhaps, the kittens.

  "Made it," said Yulie. "Wasn't never any doubt, not with Miss Vertu drivin'."

  She felt laughter tighten her chest, rising, and deliberately swallowed. Perhaps it was wisest to not laugh yet, she thought.

  For a long moment, they sat there, contemplating the gate, while the gate contemplated them.

  Slowly, then, the sections separated, swinging back with a stately inevitability. Vertu nudged the cab forward, noting that the driveway beyond the gate was in fact clear of snow.

  Carefully, she followed the drive, and when snow again appeared on the surface, she scrupulously kept the cab to the dry surface until the drive ended at a low wall, a lighted door beyond.

  Standing between them and the door were three people in snow coats – two Liaden high, and one very tall – one of Korval's guards, she knew, but was uncertain as to which, with his face hidden in the shadow of his hood.

  "There, now, driver," said Yulie, apparently to the wounded cabbie. "That big fella there, that's Nelirikk. He'll have you outta here and them legs looked at and fixed up before you can say snowflakes are fallin' on my head!"

  "He a medic?" asked the cabbie, sounding nervous.

  "He was a soldier, now security for the Road Bosses," Mary said surprisingly. "He is a field medic, and Anna has already done much of what was needful for you. I think you will find that you can drive, tomorrow."

  "That'd be fine by me," said the cabbie. "S'long's I can get my cab out."

  "You come on over to my place tomorrow, after we're all rested," Yulie said. "Get the snow tractor out and rustle up a couple o'my hands. Haver out in no time."

  Vertu locked the wheel, opened the door, and got out of the cab.

  The three walked forward, and Vertu recognized Korval Themselves.

  She bowed, lesser to greater, and received bows of welcome to the guest in return.

  "Boss," she said, in Terran so that all of her fares would understand what she asked for in their behalf. "The storm brought us to you. We ask shelter, and rest –"

  "And Rascal wants his dinner!" Anna called out, opening the back door and coming to Vertu's side, dog at her heel.

  "Good even, Miri. Good even, Val Con. Nelirikk, come and get Jarome out of the back. He's hurt, and needs to be looked at in good light."

  "Good evening, Anna. Rascal," said Val Con yos'Phelium.

  "Have you done first aid?" Nelirikk asked Anna.

  "I'll show you, but first you need to get him out."

  "Yes," he said, and walked
around Vertu, heading for the back of the car.

  "There's Yulie and Mary, too, we heard," said Miri Tiazan. "And someone with a cat and kittens."

  "I am here, Korval."

  The front passenger door opened, and Toragin stepped out. She advanced, and bowed as one who has been invited.

  "Toragin del'Pemridj Clan Lazmeln, Chelada is with me, and her newborns. She was promised by the Tree itself that she would have her kittens safe beneath its branches."

  "And so the Tree is forsworn," said Val Con yos'Phelium. "We may have you escorted directly to the Tree, with Chelada and the newborn, if that is your wish."

  "Yes," said Toragin, and paused as a burst of cursing at the back of the cab told the progress of Cabbie Jarome's extraction.

  "I will need a basket, or a box," Toragin said, turning back to Korval. "Right now, the kittens and Chelada are on the floor, in a blanket."

  "Right," said Miri Tiazan, and tipped her head. "Jeeves, need us some kitten transport."

  "Yes, Miri," a mellow voice spoke from the air. "I will bring it."

  There came another burst of swearing, and a gasp. Rascal barked, once, and here came Nelirikk, Anna and the dog beside him, Jarome flung over one broad shoulder in a field carry.

  The door opened as they approached, and they vanished within. A moment later, a man-high cylindrical object, with a bright orange ball where a man's head might have been exited by the same door, holding a basket in one gripper, and a blanket in the other.

  It approached and extended the basket.

  "Will these suffice?"

  Toragin considered. The basket was deep and wide enough for all five cats. The blanket would make a soft nest.

  "Thank you," she said. "I will be a moment."

  She turned back to the cab.

  From the back of the cab now came Yulie and Mary. They passed Toragin, and approached, Yulie with a grin on his face.

  "Some kinda storm," he said affably. "Get 'em like that at the old home?"