He altered his sword stroke so that he might cut at the Winding Snake, but did not adapt quickly enough. Pearl’s snake knew what to do. It entwined the young man’s legs and ankles, making him unsteady. The tactic also had the advantage of rendering him quite reluctant to use his sword, for were he to do so, he would likely slice into his own body.
Nissa was standing in the doorway, her turquoise eyes wide. Pearl wondered just what she was seeing. Did she see a young man stumbling about, waving a sword ineffectually? Did she see the snake that was causing him to stumble, to drop his sword, to tear at his legs with both hands?
Looking on with satisfaction—and catching her breath, for casting a spell from memory with little time to store the ch’i in advance took energy from even the strongest sorcerer—Pearl had a flash of memory. She knew who the young man had reminded her of, and acted upon the impulse.
The green slip of paper with “Tiger” written upon it was still in her hand. She spoke the Dragonfly charm to stiffen it and make it fly straight and true; then she released it.
Seeing it coming, the young man gave a wordless cry of terror, raising his arms as if to defend himself, but Pearl’s dragonfly dodged and darted, driving the paper solidly against the young man’s forehead. The written charm sunk in, vanishing into his flesh, just as Brenda and Riprap had described the Rat charm vanishing into that of Gaheris Morris.
Then a curious thing happened, curious even in this moment when all things were strange. The young man reached into his sleeve and brought out a small crystal sphere, perhaps three inches in diameter. He cupped it in his palms and a leaf-green light shone forth from his hands, filling the sphere, then solidifying within into the shape of a great cat—of a frozen tiger.
Nissa reentered the room. Pearl noted with approval and amusement that the pharmacist’s assistant held a long-legged occasional table in her hands, clearly ready to use it as either weapon or shield.
The young man did not seem to notice either Nissa or Pearl, staring instead at the sphere he cupped in his hands.
“What’s wrong with him?” Nissa whispered.
“I threw his own spell back at him,” Pearl said. “Apparently, the stolen memories are sealed within one of those spheres. The sequence must have been set in advance, and once it began, he could not break it. That is one of the problems with stored spells. Now he is trapped. In a moment, he will probably stop staring at that sphere. I would guess that right now the spell is rewriting his memory to allow for the gaps. I think it best that our unwelcome guest sleep while we decide what to do with him.”
Nissa gestured as if to wallop the young man with the table she still grasped between her hands, but Pearl made a dismissive gesture.
“I think I have one more spell in me, although I will not be good for much thereafter.”
She did the spell called Moon, which among its abilities contains that of bringing sleep. The young man’s eyes closed and he slid to the floor, the sphere that held his memories clasped between his cupped hands.
Nissa helped Pearl lay the young man on one of the beds in Pearl’s room. She returned the occasional table to the hallway, and brought back with her a can of soda.
“You looked exhausted.”
“I am, rather,” Pearl admitted. “It is many years since I cast so many spells in quick sequence.”
“But how did you know his spell would work against him?” Nissa said. “Wasn’t it the spell meant to trap you?”
“Meant to trap the Tiger,” Pearl corrected. She looked down at the crystal sphere and the green tiger within. “From the first moment I saw that young man, I was reminded of someone. Oddly, I did not recognize him in concentration, nor in impulsive anger, but when he was there, struggling to keep his balance and looking all the fool, I knew him.”
“Knew him?”
“Rather, I knew who he reminded me of,” Pearl amended. “Our young visitor looks very like my father did when my father was a young man.”
“Your father?”
“My father,” Pearl repeated, feeling an odd satisfaction. “My father, the warrior Tiger.”
Only Nissa’s faith in Pearl’s arcane abilities made the young woman agree to return to her home and daughter.
“We can’t have your sisters coming to find you,” Pearl said, “and you know they would wonder if you didn’t get home to Noelani.”
“Noreen certainly would,” Nissa said. “She’d be sure I have another boyfriend. She’d snoop and pry. Nadine wouldn’t, but … are you sure he’ll sleep all night?”
“I’m sure. That is no normal sleep. It is the Moon. Try pinching the back of his hand.”
Nissa did, and the young man didn’t even stir.
“They could use that trick at the day care,” Nissa said, trying to make a joke of her unease at the man’s lack of response. “Fine. I’ll be back to help you in the morning.”
“By then I will be rested,” Pearl said. “I plan to rebind him, then see what he can tell me.”
“I’ll be back,” Nissa repeated. “You’re going to need help, even if only with explaining to the hotel staff how he got here.”
“I don’t plan on explaining,” Pearl said loftily, but she knew the situation wasn’t going to be resolved that easily. This was a small town in Virginia, not Hollywood, or even San Francisco or San Jose.
The young man slept through the night, as Pearl had known he would. When dawn washed away the last of night, he stirred. Pearl had been awake long enough to shower, dress, and eat what had proved to be a very nice breakfast she had brought up from the hotel restaurant. Now she poured herself a second cup of coffee and watched her young would-be assassin become aware of his surroundings.
As a precaution, she had removed his sword, along with the dagger he had tucked in his sash. Up close, the stylized animals on his robes proved to be tigers. She was not surprised.
Other than disarming him, Pearl had left her guest much as he had been, curious to see what he would do when he awoke in an unfamiliar setting. She had seated herself on a window seat, where she could observe without being readily visible.
He moved, shifted, and then opened a pair of absolutely lovely dark brown eyes. His lashes were long and thick, without being in the least feminine. Her father had possessed lashes like that. Pearl, although hardly less gifted in that department, had always envied him.
The young man’s jet-black hair was worn long, bound up beneath a small cap with a single button. His skin was golden, showing the touch of the sun without the abuses of weathering. His cheekbones were perfect, and his build muscular and athletic while still possessing a certain feline litheness. Pearl guessed his age at between twenty and twenty-five. She was good at estimating ages, but without cultural clues and body language she would not bet any closer.
Those brown eyes were open now, studying their surroundings with increasing apprehension and rising panic. The young man forced himself upright, swinging his feet to the floor. The sound of the springs under the mattress startled him and he froze. His gaze drifted to the tasteful carpet, a dark red figured with curving lines in golden brown. That seemed to fascinate him as well.
Pearl could tell when the Moon’s hold lapsed, for the young man surged to his feet and began to look wildly about. Pearl had told the winds to keep sound from escaping when the young man began to stir. Now she was glad, for he let out a bellow that was part defiance, part fear, and completely without words: the panic of an animal, not of a man.
To this point, Pearl had held very still. Now she set her coffee cup into its saucer with an audible clatter. The young man started at the sound and again when he saw her. His eyes widened as he took in her neat Chanel suit, her tidy, low-heeled pumps, and all the other accessories and accouterments of a modern woman of some years who, while not feeling she necessarily need try to look young, had not decided that age meant she must look decrepit.
“What manner of creature are you?” he asked in his peculiar dialect of Chinese. “Where i
s this place? Into which of the hells have I stumbled?”
“My name is Pearl Bright,” she replied in the same language, “and this is no hell. As for how you came here, I should be asking you. I returned to my room and found you here. What do you have to say for yourself?”
The young man had seen the sword and now he leapt toward it. His lithe grace was admirable, but did him no good. Pearl had adapted a spell for Wriggling Snakes to hold the sword to the dresser. He might grasp it, but he could not lift it, and the dresser was very solid. Cherry, she thought, or walnut.
“Who are you?” Pearl persisted. “What kind of man are you who needs a sword to defend himself against an old woman?”
He stopped in midmotion, before, Pearl noted with interest, his hand touched either sword or matching dagger. His expression turned puzzled, his right hand raised to lightly touch his forehead. Then he raised both hands and stroked his face. He looked down at his robes, studying the elaborate patterns with fascination. At last he looked directly at her.
“I don’t know who I am,” he said. “I can’t remember my name, although I know I must have a name. I can’t remember my parents or where I live or where I got this clothing. I can’t even think why I would reach for a sword. Who am I?”
“A good question,” Pearl said. Her cell phone rang, interrupting the conversation. She held up her hand to the young man and answered it.
Nissa was on the other end. “Did everything go all right last night?”
“Fine. He slept like a baby until dawn. He has been awake just a short time now.”
Pearl had spoken in English and noted that the young man did not seem to be able to understand her.
“We have a problem,” she went on. “The memory spell seems to have hit him very hard.”
“Worse than Gaheris?”
“Far worse. My young visitor does not seem to remember anything about himself.”
“He’s faking it,” Nissa said. “He’s trying to cover.”
“I wish I thought so,” Pearl said, “but I don’t think he’s acting. I think he has genuinely lost his memory. If so, we’ve lost our best chance at learning who sent him.”
“You don’t think he’s in it on his own?” Nissa asked.
“Now that I’ve met him, no,” Pearl said. “I’ll explain why later. Are you coming over?”
“I’ve called in to work. Bob understood perfectly why I needed a sudden holiday. All I had to do was promise I would get you to autograph a stack of paraphernalia from his collection.”
“Gladly. Can you leave Lani at home?”
“Yes, if she thinks I’m going to work. She knows the rules.”
“Then come when you can. Meanwhile, I’m going to talk to my young guest. Maybe something I say will jog his memories.”
“Take care,” Nissa warned. “It could be someone will come looking for him—and that someone cannot be counted on to make the same mistakes.”
11
Des’s phone rang early, while Des was over at the stove stirring a pot of rice congee for his breakfast. Reassured by more normal foods available, Brenda and Riprap had promised to try the rice porridge, but it didn’t look very appetizing—especially as Des apparently planned to eat it with hot and spicy pickles.
“Get that for me, Brenda?”
“Sure. Hello. Des Lee’s residence. May I help you?”
“Brenda? This is Pearl Bright. Are Des and Riprap near?”
“Right here,” Brenda replied. “We’re having breakfast.”
“Ask Des if his house phone has a speaker.”
Brenda did and Des nodded. “Sure. Right there.”
When the connection was established, Pearl launched into a report of what had happened the night before.
Remembering how she and Riprap had been ordered not to discuss anything related to magic over the phone or via e-mail, Brenda was impressed how Pearl managed to talk around the fact that magic had evidently been used.
Had anyone been tapping in on the call, they would have thought that Pearl and Nissa had had an encounter with a particularly obsessed fan—one of those who could be dangerous—but certainly not odd beyond the fact that in the shock of his encountering his idol he had somehow lost his memory.
Pearl’s listeners, of course, had the necessary information to fill in the gaps.
When Pearl stopped for breath, Des cut in.
“Pearl, do you think the amnesia is real?”
“I do. My young ‘guest’ honestly doesn’t remember a thing about himself, where he is from, or why he came here. He only speaks a form of Chinese, which is rather a help, as I’m the only one here who understands him, and so he can’t tell anyone that I’m, well, effectively holding him captive. I think the best thing would be for me to drive cross-country to my place in San Jose.”
“You wouldn’t dare fly,” Des agreed. “You couldn’t get him through security, but why go all the way to California?”
“Because I can control everything—including him—much better both in a car and then in my own home,” Pearl replied sharply. “I also have resources in my home that might enable me to figure out how to alleviate his amnesia.”
Riprap leaned toward the phone. “Ms. Bright, would you like me to fly out and join you on the drive? If I understand correctly, Ms. Nita is a young woman responsible for an even younger child. I might be of more help if your ‘guest’ decided to cause trouble.”
“Riprap, I would,” Pearl said. “I hate to interrupt your studies, but Nissa admits to being reluctant to subject Lani to a week where the child would be strapped for hours on end in a car seat. I must say, I agree.”
“But Nissa does want to come to California?” Des asked.
“Very much so,” Pearl said. “She was hesitating before, but now she’s quite certain she’d like to be one of this summer’s interns.”
“I’m surprised she wants to bring Lani,” Des went on.
A new voice cut in, its notes colored with a Virginia drawl. “This is Nissa. I can use the chance to take a California internship as an excuse to get my professors to let me take my exams early. However, my sisters would never believe I’d go away for what might be weeks and leave Lani. Anyhow, I think all that emphasis on secrecy might have made the Thirteen vulnerable. Lani might as well pick up what she can. She’s at the age where she’ll accept anything, and no one will believe her if she talks about magic and spells. They’ll just think she’s mixing up some book I read her with reality.”
“That makes sense,” Des agreed. “Pearl, even if we’re lucky enough to find Riprap an open flight, he can’t get to Virginia immediately. Can you handle things until he gets there?”
“I think we can,” Pearl replied. “Nissa is quite resourceful, and, at least for now, our young visitor is completely overwhelmed. He looked out the hotel window earlier and saw a couple of cars driving by. That nearly sent him under the bed. He’s not a coward, but right now he’s convinced he’s in some supernatural hell. Nissa and I are his closest anchors to reality.”
“That’s weird,” Brenda said. “If it’s the same man, we met him first in a parking garage, I mean. He should know about cars.”
Nissa asked. “Brenda, can you get pictures on your phone?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll send one. Tell us if it’s the same man.”
When the picture came through, Brenda studied it for a minute, then turned her phone so Riprap could see it. He nodded.
“It’s the same fellow,” Brenda said. “He’s not dressed the same, but as best as we can tell from such a small picture, it’s the same man.”
She didn’t mention that the young man looked even better with his hair loosely gathered at the nape of his neck, or the weird mixture of fear and attraction she felt as she looked at him. Covertly, she saved the picture on her phone so she could look at it later.
“Our guest showered this morning,” Nissa said, “and while he was in the bathroom, we took his Chinese clothes. They’r
e sort of noticeable. He wasn’t thrilled with our style of clothing. I’m glad I thought to buy him button-fly jeans—a zipper would have stumped him. He’s not dumb, but he sure isn’t sophisticated.”
Des frowned. “If he’s that naive, he’s not likely to enjoy traveling by car.”
“He’s not going to have much choice,” Pearl replied tartly. “If he will not cooperate, I will compel him.”
Riprap asked, “Do you think he has allies?”
“That’s a pretty good bet,” Pearl said. “There were ‘items.’” Her inflection indicated that these were other than normal, and Des mouthed “probably amulets,” to clarify. “I think the wisest course of action is to assume that our boy is the front man for someone more sophisticated.”
“Any thoughts?”
“Let’s just say I think we may have a return to old troubles.”
“Pearl,” Des said, “we’ll call as soon as we know what flight we can get Riprap on. Let us know what arrangements you make for Nissa.”
“We will,” Pearl said. “Be careful.”
“We will … . Talk with you later.”
Had the world been at all normal, Brenda knew she would have protested against what the others were doing. What Pearl Bright was doing amounted to kidnapping, and probably a bunch of other illegal things. However, the memory of Gaheris Morris’s face as his memory was taken from him, of the vacancy Brenda sensed whenever they talked, seemed to have burned every residue of pity from Brenda’s soul where that young stranger was concerned.
By the next phone call, Pearl and Nissa had christened their amnesiac visitor Foster, which seemed to be appropriate, given his role as their charge. Brenda tried to accustom herself to referring to him by such a prosaic name, and found herself wondering what his real name was. Maybe the spell’s hold on him was like in a fairy tale, and when they learned his true name, his memory would come back to him.
After breakfast, Brenda listened in when Des called his travel agent. “Patricia? Des Lee. I have a friend visiting who needs to get to a small town in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains as soon as possible, family emergency. From what I know of his eventual destination, he might do better to fly into D.C., then drive from there. Can you find me anything—a cancellation, even a good bet at standby?”
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