The Gate of Ivory

by Doris Egan

  Kylla's seat was across from mine, and I decided to copy her table manners with whatever came up. It was prickly-strange watching her. On Pyrene siblings are brought up separately, and I wasn't used to seeing people the same age look so similar. She was very like Ran. Yet somehow what on Ran was quietly masculine, on Kylla was flamboyantly feminine. Her eyebrows were thin and upswept. Two dove-pins held back a mass of black hair, showing delicate ears with gold shell earrings. Gold shine covered her eyelids and swirled on her cheeks. She smiled at me and picked up her fork with her left hand.

  I picked up my own fork with my left hand and had to stop, because there was nothing on my plate. But Grandmother must have already given orders. A gray-haired man appeared beside me with a platter of eggs and some sort of meat; he began spooning out the eggs, the gold band on his wrist showing beneath the sleeve of his robe. Two slices of meat followed onto my plate. Everyone seemed to be waiting politely for me to begin eating. The servingman crossed over to my left to pour tah into my cup. As he bent over, I saw the blue tattoo of a "C" on his leathery right cheek.

  "C"— Convicted criminal.

  Only a small minority of Ivory's criminals actually go to prison, as did the three officials we sent up not long before. Most are taken care of quite simply with an induction into the Imperial Army. In realistic terms this is as much a life sentence as prison would ever be; the blue tattoo never comes off. All deserters and even dischargees from the army were criminals through necessity, severed from reentering society by a mark on the face. It was common knowledge that in the Northwest Sector many of these deserters had banded together, robbing and plundering travelers and small villages. The Emperor could have cleaned out these pockets of bandits, had he troubled to do so, but no one lived in that sector anyway but a few farmers and small ranchers, hardly worth bothering about.

  So I did not miss the significance of the fact that Ran's family chose their servants from army deserters. They were people whose loyalty was assured. They had no ties with the outside world, and nowhere else to go. I realized how lucky I was to be admitted to the house and still be sitting here alive. The Cormallons were breaking at least ten different laws.

  I also realized what I had in common with the deserters, why Ran had chosen me. I had no friends, no relatives, and no ties with any other family.

  Grandmother tapped on her glass. I looked up and saw her watching me. "You must try your tah, my dear. Our neighbors to the south, the Ducorts, grow the tah plants themselves, and the leaves are quite unequaled." Ran was watching me, too, his eyes tense. Don't hesitate about taking any of the food. But I hadn't known my position was this dangerous when he told me that.

  I picked up the cup of cool red porcelain. The tah steamed gently pink inside. It wasn't fair; I had avoided ever drinking tah, no mean feat on Ivory, because it was physically addictive. I now felt it would be nice to live long enough to become addicted. I took a few sips.

  It was delicious.

  Thus began one of the most awkward meals of my life. Ran's grandmother would occasionally initiate a line of conversation, which one of the other four would try to pick up, only to have each topic trail off into silence after a few minutes. At one point Stepan tried to bring up something about a sorcery assignment he was working on at his home in the north. Grandmother looked at him benignly and said, "Family business, Stepan." No one said anything after that.

  At the close of the meal Grandmother said, "Ran, I'd like to speak with you in my room." She was struggling to rise off the cushions, and he came forward at once and took an arm. She said, "It's this business of a personnel exchange with the Ducorts." They were leaving the hall. I started to get up, uncertain about interrupting. Kylla caught my eye and shook her head. I let them go.

  Ane and Stepan were leaving as well. Kylla came around the table to me. "Grandmother's been waiting to pounce on him about this particular business for days

  now. She'd have been annoyed if they were interrupted. If there's something you want or need, let me help you."

  "Right now all I need is a bed, and about twelve hours alone."

  She smiled. "I'm glad it's something easy. There's a room connected with mine, you can sleep there. It was just cleaned this morning, so no one will bother you."

  "If Ran asks for me—"

  "If Ran asks for you, I'll tell him you've got important business of your own. Don't worry about Ran. In any case, knowing him, he'll probably be snoring himself within five minutes after Grandmother is through with him."

  She took me to the room, another small but pleasant place with green hangings on the walls and a window facing east. A bar of light crossed the bed. "If you want anything I'll be in my study. Just ask one of the gold-bands, they'll take you to me. Pleasant dreams."

  She was gone. I pulled off the robe and dug in under the coverlet. There was an early morning chill in the room and the bed was more comfortable than I remembered a bed could be.

  The bar of light was gone. There was a sound somewhere, like bare feet on stone. I swung my legs down and went to look out the window. It was still light; the sun must be somewhere on the other side of the house. The hanging in the archway across the room swung back and a head appeared. "Sorry. Did I wake you?" It was Kylla.

  "How long was I asleep?"

  "It's almost dusk. You haven't missed supper, though." She came in. "Do Athenans all sleep during the day?" she asked curiously.

  "Only the eccentrics." I looked around for my sandals, found them under the bed. I felt the grime against my fingers when I picked them up. "Sorry, Kylla, I don't wake up very well. Thank you for the bed." I really looked at her for the first time, and was astonished.

  The makeup and bangles of that morning were gone, and it was the first time I'd seen a respectable aristocrat without her public robes. She wore a short tunic and wide blue trousers, and her hair was tied in a thick braid. There was a dagger in a decorated sheath in her belt. One foot was in a short furry boot, the other still bare. She sat down on the bed. "I'm going night hunting," she explained, "anything to get away from doing the records, and the kitchen needs game. If you and Ran aren't going to be busy, maybe you'd like to come along. You can't get much hunting in the capital."

  Great Plato, that incredible fringe of eyelash must actually belong to her. "Er—no, I don't really get to hunt in the city. I don't know what Ran has in mind, though. He might want me for something."

  "Too bad." She got up and went into her room again. I could hear her rummaging around. "I haven't seen Ran since breakfast," she called to me. "I don't know where he is."

  "Oh."

  "If you get bored, try the gallery, or the library. Or there's a bath in the courtyard that's big enough for swimming."

  "Thanks."

  "I'll see you tomorrow." Her footsteps faded away. I went to the narrow window and rested my chin there on folded arms for a while. I saw Kylla's figure appear below with a bow slung on her back. She walked steadily out past the trees, over the hills, until she was too small to follow. Less light was coming in the window now.

  No sense putting it off.

  I made my way downstairs, not sure where I was going. The dining hall was empty. A man with a gold band passed me in the main corridor and as he went by I tried to look without staring for the "C" on his cheek. "Excuse me," I called after him.

  "Yes?" He turned. It was there, all right.

  "Do you know where I can find Ran?"

  "No, I'm sorry, I don't know where he is."

  "Thanks." He went on.

  Well, there was the gallery—whatever that was—and the library. There was also the bath, but I didn't feel like stripping in front of people I didn't know. Especially since sitting with Kylla just now had reminded me of what a comparative ugly duckling I was around here. That's what I would leave Ivory with: an inferiority complex, and chronic back pain. Why were there so few chairs on this damned planet? For the moment my worries about money, dealing with corrupt officials, and murderous aris
tocrats paled before these two considerations.

  My bad mood ended, to my relief, when I saw Ran through the open doorway of one of the rooms I passed. I went in.

  "About time you became conscious," he said. "Take a look at this."

  I looked. It was a rather basic Net linkage terminal, small screen.

  "This is one of the first pieces of the Net to come to Ivory. They brought it straight here off the ship from Tel-lys, and my grandfather put it together. The cabinet's Ivoran, of course."

  That went without saying. It was a complex, over-ornamented border of marblewood, with stars, moons, leaves, faces, and fish all leaping and tumbling together. Though perhaps I was being unfair. The last time I had walked on Foreigner's Row, the Athenan embassy, which I used to find in perfect taste, had seemed rather bare and pathetic beside the carved and decorated exterior of Merchant's Bank.

  "Nice," I said politely. "Ran, I'm starving. Is it too early for supper?"

  He pressed a button on the set. "Could somebody there bring me some food? I 'm at the terminal in Grandfather's study… seed-bread, I guess, and cheese and fruit." He looked at me for each one, and I nodded. "Thank you." He released the button and grinned at me. "The first thing Grandfather did was set up a link in the kitchen."

  There was something… easier about Ran, here on his own territory. I sat down on a tasseled pillow to wait for the food. "Would you like to tell me why we're here now?''

  "Oh." He looked uncomfortable. "I suppose you mean here on Cormallon, not here in this room…"

  "Yes, that's what I mean. What's so special about a fire that we had to run off like this?''

  "All right." He swung out of the terminal seat and dropped down on a cushion beside me. He had eyelashes just like his sister, I noticed. "I told you that you weren't the first person to hold your job."

  "I remember." And I knew more than he thought, too. I'd had a lot of time to experiment with the cards. Ran's previous card-reader had been connected with Ran's fortunes, and was therefore accessible to me through the deck. She was twenty years old, beautiful, clever, with a bluestone pendant she never took off. She came from somewhere in the mountains. She was somehow related to Ran. And she was dead.

  "My cousin used to run the cards for me," he said slowly. "She died in a fire. It started quickly, but there was no reason to think it wasn't an accident. I was suspicious, of course. You're supposed to be suspicious. But time went by, I found my replacement… I was very careful with you, you know. You stayed in the alcove and nobody saw you. But nothing more happened, and I decided I was being over-cautious. This matter with Pina came up; it seemed a shame to deprive you of witnessing your revenge. I let us be seen together. But when your room caught fire that very night, it was hard to think of it as a coincidence."

  "You think it was deliberate."

  "It's possible. A sorcerer can easily cause fire from a distance. Spontaneous combustion: it's one of the first tricks one learns."

  My stomach was beginning to feel a little queasy. "Why should anybody care about me? I haven't offended anybody… not anybody important, at least."

  "Nobody does care about you," he said, not conscious of any brutality, only describing the rules of Ivory. "But

  Cormallon has plenty of enemies, like any Great Family. I've even got a few of my own. By now you must know that without the guidance I get from the cards I wouldn't be able to function. There are too many twists, too many enemies—just too many variables in each case to try to work without the edge the cards give me. I'd have been dead my first month as a sorcerer without them. And of course I've never told anyone that I have to depend on someone else to read them for me. If the wrong person became suspicious, wondered why I always take an assistant with me when I travel—well, they might want to test their theory, and leave me without a reader. I'd be working blind, open to any attack—"

  "That's what I've never understood. Why don't you read them yourself? Other sorcerers do."

  "I wish it were possible. I did a stupid thing once, and now I'm paying for it."

  "I don't understand."

  He looked pained, and even a trifle embarrassed. "When I was ten, they took me to see my grandmother. She'd been ill for several years—most of my life at that point—and I barely knew her. It was a formal interview, held right after my tenth year initiation. There was to be a party afterward and I was impatient to get to it. I stood there in my best clothes while she asked a lot of questions and tested my learning in sorcery. Then she made the remark that, since I was the last male to be initiated in the immediate family, she supposed she wouldn't have another boy to test until I got married." He coughed. "I was something of a brat in those days. I told her I didn't like girls, and I was never going to get married. She passed it off as a joke, but I insisted. Even a ten year old in our family is supposed to know his duty."

  He paused, and smiled. "I had a curse put on me. Grandmother said that I didn't have the proper familial respect for women, but I was damn well going to learn. She got out the pack of cards that belonged to my grandfather—the pack you have in your pouch there. She said that when I was given these cards at the age of sixteen I wouldn't be able to read them. I would never be able to read any deck. If I wanted to have the cards read for me, I would have to find a woman to do it. And I would have to keep her happy doing it, because no one else would be able to read for me while she lived."

  Unpleasant thoughts were going through my head. This was to be a lifetime job? But what about Athena?

  Ran was still talking. "I tested it, of course, when I turned sixteen. The cards were dead to me, their pictures turned up randomly and showed me nothing when I touched them. The first woman I tried was in the terminal ward of the city hospital. She could read them, but no one else could. When she died, I hired Maria. Maria was a distant cousin of mine who wanted to visit the capital and make some money."

  "Ran—"

  "She stayed with me for five years. She hadn't planned on it being that long, although I warned her when I gave her the cards. We ended up hating each other. I had to have her information, and I had to trust what she told me. What could I do? She was family." He took a deep breath. "It was a relief when she died. Then there was the problem of a replacement. I saw you in the marketplace, reading that ridiculous Tarot—no Ivoran, that was clear. I thought my luck had turned."

  "But Ran, what—"

  "Sir. Not Ran."

  I let it pass. Considering the circumstances, it might be best not to annoy him too much. After all, the only people Ivorans were honor-bound not to kill were members of their own families, and that only because there had to be someone they could trust. "Tell me the truth. Just what were you planning to do when I saved enough to book passage home?"

  "Well… I had a few ideas." He grinned. "Raise your salary, for one thing. Force you into debt—that was my second idea—or arrange to have your money stolen. Or prevent you from reaching the ship on time. They're not in port that often, you know, and passage money isn't refunded, so that would really slow you up for a while."

  What fine, nonviolent scenarios. Although if all else fails, the way would have to be cleared for the next reader… "Do we have any work to do right now?"

  "No. Why do you ask?"

  "I'd like to be alone for a while. I've got a lot to think about.''

  "Certainly." He helped me rise like the well-brought-up gentleman he was. He was so damned charming about everything, so sure I knew all the rules of the game, it's all in fun, so sorry if you almost got killed.

  A young woman appeared in the doorway with a bowl of cut fruit and cheese. Her hair was brown and tied back, and her face was lovely in a very clear and young way. I stood up. My stomach was still whirling and standing up made it feel twice as hollow as before. "Thanks," I mumbled as I pushed past her, taking a piece of melon from the bowl. Perhaps I could get it down in a few minutes. I looked into her face when I thanked her.

  Some people are allergic to the ink they use in th
e tattoos. From the midsection of her cheek back to her ear, the right side of her face was a hideously swollen, red-purple mass. She saw my eyes widen, and for a moment I thought she would run away. Then she turned away from me and walked inside, her head high. She set the bowl down with a thud. "Do you need anything else?" she asked Ran.

  "No, thank you, Tagra," I heard him say. "This is more than enough." I fled down the corridor.

  Chapter Four

  I wandered blindly around the house for a couple of hours. Suppertime must have come and gone. I passed few people in the halls, though once I saw the serving-man from breakfast puffing up a flight of stairs with a loaf of bread. Twice I found myself in the inner courtyard, and the second time I sat down on a bench in the colonnade. The water in the pool rippled softly.

  No cinnatree scent here, although the air seemed fresher and cleaner than in the capital. There's something about moving water… I began to wonder just why I'd been upset. My life had been up for grabs since the morning I woke up in an alley. Naturally Ran would take advantage of it; that was what he was. And the game remained to be played out. By the time an Athenan-bound ship touched ground I planned on being ready for it.

  Torches flared up under the pillars. No warning, no one to light them: Cormallon household magic. I went over to inspect one, cupping my hands around the flame. It was almost completely dark now and the courtyard looked suitably barbaric, with the torches mirrored in the black water.

  Across the yard an electric light snapped on and the sound of two women arguing came clearly out the window. There goes the mood, I thought wryly. True, electric light is also quaint… but when you think of torchlight you think of ancient armies, processions, banquets. Electricity, on the other hand, is more likely to bring to mind turbine generators.