The Gate of Ivory

by Doris Egan

  He was carrying a box of stuffed rolls and swinging a jar of green tah. He set them on the floor. "Happy Anniversary Day, Theodora," he said.

  "Ran, I'm bored."

  "Sir," he corrected.

  I glared at him. He cleared his throat. "Well, uh, let's see. How much farther have you gotten with the Red Book?"

  "This isn't going to cheer me up, I'll tell you in advance."

  "How does one cast a love spell? People always seem to find that topic interesting."

  "There's no such thing, as you know perfectly well. We can't make people fall in love, it's too complicated. We can only make them fall in lust."

  "And just how is that accomplished? Not the casting, just the effect on the victim."

  "A lust spell creates certain physiological effects in the victim when he is in the presence of the person in question. Increased heart rate, sweating, pupil dilation, and a long list I didn't bother to memorize. Since these are symptoms of sexual attraction, the victim interprets them as meaning he's attracted to this person and behaves accordingly."

  "And that's why-"

  "That's why the victim can't know he's under a spell, or it won't work. He'll feel the same symptoms, but he'll just interpret them as a bunch of artificially caused metabolic changes. And we can do similar things to convince someone that they're afraid of something, or that they're hungry, or angry, or whatever. And come on, Ran, can't I just go out for a day?"

  "You know, it's rather charming," he said, "But although the book won't tell you this, the effects of these spells can be quite long-lasting. A few years ago a rather plain young woman came to me—daughter of Benzet, the architect—and asked me for a love spell for a certain young man. I explained why I couldn't help her, but she said she was willing to take anything I could give. Well, by the time they'd made love a few times and talked together and spent their afternoons together… she told me I could lift the spell, that she had enough memories to comfort her, and she didn't want to tie him down when he might be happy with someone else. So I lifted it. They were married a week later, have a nice farm out on the Ostin road. Didn't seem to make a bit of difference in their relationship, as far as she or I could tell."

  I sighed. "All right, so you don't want me to go out."

  "The effects of a fear spell can also build to such a pitch that, even when removed—"

  "We can celebrate here, I guess."

  "Now, that's a good idea. The smell was beginning to drive me crazy.'' He popped a stuffed roll into his mouth. "It won't be much longer, you know. Take heart."

  "You've found our pyro? Or have you decided there isn't one?"

  "I've decided that if nothing happens in the next three days, there isn't one."

  "Fine. Send me out to get killed."

  "There's no pleasing you either way, is there? Please, have a roll."

  "Thanks." I was hungry. "Are you going to open the tah or leave it there as a conversation piece?"

  "Sorry." He pulled out the stopper. "Sticky cakes are in the bottom of the box."

  I gave myself over to gluttony for a while. By the time I'd gone through half the provisions I was feeling a little sheepish. "Sorry IVe been so short-tempered," I said.

  "Quite understandable," he said politely. "More tah?"

  "No thanks. I'll be pissing all night." I was glad I could match his politeness. It is considered good form, in the better circles of Ivory, to give a physical reason for refusing a host's food. Otherwise it might be interpreted as a lack of trust in your host. That didn't apply to Ran, but still—good manners.

  "That's what holidays are for." He finished the jar. "Kylla should be by later."

  "Tonight? She's in the city!"

  "Tomorrow—she's attending a dance here tonight, she'll be staying as a houseguest of the Ducorts. I may drop in on them later myself, so don't be surprised if you wake up tonight and I'm not here."

  "Stop worrying, I'm not going to panic. I can take care of myself.'' And so I can, except where the people I'm dealing with are bigger, stronger, more numerous, or carrying weapons. That covered just about everyone on this planet, but I was damned if I was going to let it affect my peace of mind, such as it was.

  I turned in early that night. Lying on the cot it suddenly came to me whom Eln had been reminding me of. Not a professor or a politician, either—although, in a sense, it was on Athena that I met him. It would be pleasant to tell Ran how wrong his guesses were, but he wouldn't get the reference anyway. Eln reminded me of Loki. Red-bearded, resentful, entertaining Loki, an aspect of the Terran trickster god. That's an Athenan scholar for you—track down our associations and you'll find they all come out of books.

  I suppose it was something about his sense of humor, and the way he was-part/was-not-part of the family. I

  thought of Ran sleeping in the next room. If Eln was Loki, who did that make him? Thor, I supposed, but he was really too sophisticated for Thor.

  It was a pity, I thought, as I settled sleepily into the mattress, that these metaphors never quite worked out.

  Too much tah can keep you awake, just as everyone says. I woke up twice, the second time apparently irrevocably. I was annoyed with myself. Ran had clients coming in the morning and I would be falling asleep over the cards—the alcove niche was warm and stuffy and lent itself to that kind of thing. A quiet check of the outer room showed me that Ran was gone, doubtless to Kylla's dance. Lack of sleep never seemed to bother him in the morning.

  I resolved to lie motionless on the cot until sheer boredom sent me under. This had never worked before, but there was always a first time. I lay down accordingly.

  Within minutes I began to hear creaks, rustlings, and the other night sounds that are reserved for empty houses. That one was almost like a door opening… that one almost like a footstep… It went on for the better part of an hour. I refuse to give in to this, I thought; I refuse to put on the light.

  Then a hand reached down and grabbed me.

  I don't know when I woke up, but from what I learned later I must have been unconscious for at least half a day. I was in a small, steel-walled room whose metallic anonymity reminded me of the Asuka baths, except that here one could not even begin to guess where the door was. Plato, Athena, and all gods of scholars stick by me now, I thought; I had no idea what was going on but I knew I was in for it.

  It is a tribute to the habit of months that the first thing I did was check to see if I still had my cards. I did. Then I looked around at the drab walls. There might easily be observation equipment, but if so, it was hidden. I took stock of myself—no headache, nausea, or needlemarks. Athena was with me so far. But how had they put me out? Sorcery? No form that I had been taught—it had happened too quickly. I felt the walls, searching for the door; nothing.

  There was a low table on casters nearby. The only other object in the room was the bedroll I'd awakened on; I went over and sat on it.

  After about an hour a seam appeared in the wall opposite. The metal parted and a man came in. Tall, broad, middle-aged, with carefully curled beard and ruby earrings. His robes were plain and white, and his belt was brown leather. He walked like a wrestler.

  "Don't worry," he smiled. "We haven't taken your cards."

  I didn't say anything.

  He motioned to the table. "Won't you sit with me?" There was a cushion beside it; he sat, and I took the floor. His perfume was strong in the tiny room. I recognized the scent—it was one Ran used at times, and it cost more per centiliter than I made in a month. "I gather that you are Cormallon's advisor," he went on. "Either that or his lover, and I tend to think it's the former."

  When I still didn't answer, he said, "You may as well admit it. Why else would you be holding the pack of cards?"

  I said, "I'm Cormallon's pupil. He's instructing me in sorcery and he gave me a deck for my own guidance. What does that have to do with you?"

  ' 'It's a rich deck to give a beginner.''

  "I paid a lot of money for it."

&n
bsp; "I see. Well, I'm going to test my theory." He took out a pipe, a rather gaudy one, no different from the cheap synthawoods on sale in the market but for the silver plate on the stem. Possibly it was a signal, for a boy came in then in short gray robe and scraped knees. He carried tah, one cup, which he set in front of the man. It was insultingly rude. I was his guest, albeit an involuntary one, and there should have been two cups. I ought to have been grateful for one less thing to worry about, but I felt anger, and it surprised me—before this I had only been scared. "It would stand to reason," he said, "that if Cormallon has to depend on one specific person to give his readings, then the power can't be transferred until your death." He was watching for my reactions. I hoped I wasn't giving any.

  "So," he went on, "you're not going to be touched. For the moment. We'll give Cormallon a little time to get nervous, notice he's lost something. Then we'll make our offer: a slight payment to me, the nature of which doesn't concern you, and we'll send back his cards. And we'll kill you, so he can be free to get a replacement. I mean no offense by the last statement; but after all, we can hardly return you. You've seen what I look like."

  "Then why," I said, "did you let me see you?"

  He smiled.

  I thought, Ran, if you ever decide to take revenge on this man, I swear I'll never give you a hard time about it.

  He said, "There isn't anything you'd like to tell me?"

  "About what?" I asked sincerely. He seemed to have the whole story, and he'd be proved right soon enough.

  "Well, then," he said courteously, and stood up, a host taking his leave. I put my palms on the table, shifting my weight to rise also.

  He lifted his sandaled foot and brought it down on the back of my right hand. I rocked back, gasping. I could feel a tear starting down one cheek, and I turned my face aside.

  "Perhaps I'll come back later," he said cheerfully, "and you can run through the cards for me. That would be very enlightening, I'm sure." He paused at the door. "You don't really believe, I hope, that Cormallon won't agree to these terms?"

  I clasped my right hand. Any revenge you want to try, Ran. I set no limits, use your fine imagination. But I wasn't fooling myself. Of course he would agree to the terms. He was an Ivoran. There was no reason not to.

  It felt as though at least a day, and perhaps more, had gone by. My hand was bruised but not broken; it throbbed only when I paid attention to it. I expected my captor hourly, but he had not returned. One meal had been served by the boy with scraped knees, a bowl with an impersonally tasteless grouping of meat and rice. The meat was unidentifiable. I tried smiling at the boy. He smiled back, rather shyly. "You have a name?" I asked. "I'm Theo." He shook his head nervously, his eyes looking toward the door. He never came back for the empty bowl.

  I ran the cards four or five times; there was nothing else to do. They told me that Ran was in danger, which irritated me. I was the one in danger. Ran had a few problems, certainly, stemming from my kidnapping; but nothing he couldn't handle. The Prisoner card kept turning up. "How helpful," I murmured, finding myself talking to the deck. Why not? I'd become obsessed with these painted pieces of cardboard. I ran them daily, ate with them, slept with them, and half the time dreamed about them. I'd been so relieved to find they hadn't been taken. Identifying their safety with mine… it wasn't healthy. And this was what I was, in Ran's eyes, in the eyes of the man with the vulgar pipe. They paid me in gold or they stamped the back of my hand for it, but here my profession was what I was.

  I picked up the cards and threw them against the wall. Let them lay there. Eventually someone, maybe the boy, would come and put them carefully together and send them off to Ran with a note saying I was dead. And Ran would find someone new to test them and know it was true. It was a pity I couldn't burn them, but I had nothing to start a fire.

  Time passed, and finally I gathered them up and put them back in my pouch.

  The lights had gone out. I got up quickly, not knowing what to expect. There was only dark, and silence. Then a seam of gray light appeared where the door ought to be; I moved to a diagonal position across from it. My heart was pounding as though it were about to leap out of my chest. It was lighter outside the door—I could see a man's silhouette on the threshold. Before his sight could adjust to the darkness I ran the space between us and rammed him, head first, in the stomach. He gave a breathless groan. As I did I was thinking, "the eyes— you've got to find the eyes." I was no match for an adult Ivoran and my only chance was to fight dirty, a choice I felt Ran would have approved.

  "Oof," said Ran's voice in the darkness. "Enthus… iastic, aren't you."

  "Ran! What—" I dropped my hands from his face.

  "Never mind. We've got five minutes before the lights come on."

  He grabbed my hand and we started running down the corridor. It was lit with a ghostly gray luminescence, some kind of secondary power source, I guessed. We rounded a corner and ran into a man coming from the other direction, in a gray tunic and cap that seemed vaguely like a uniform. He blinked, startled. His hand went to his side. I kept running, straight into another tackle, and Ran got an arm around his neck as he went over. (I learned this art of the tackle as a child on Pyrene, where we played a game called football. At the time I hated it, but now saw that it did indeed prepare one for life.) "Very nice," said Ran to me, polite as always. He had the man's weapon and was holding it against his cheek. I turned away, not wanting to see how my employer handled the matter.

  I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on something else. This man was wearing a uniform, but I was not well-educated enough to recognize the colors of a family livery. It must be a powerful House, though. Where were we? The Shikibus'? The Degrammonts'?

  I opened my eyes. To my surprise it was hard to do. Hadn't he finished yet?

  He was whispering—no, chanting—in the man's ear. He held him by the shoulders, his head in the'crook of an arm. The corridor seemed to waver; I put out a hand to the wall to steady myself. "Theo!" Ran hissed. I shook my head fiercely. He lowered the man gently to the floor and stood up. "Come on!"

  "There's a grav bank," he got out as we pounded on,

  "at the end… but we need the power… to come back… on time." I could see it in the distance. Suddenly the corridor lit up to full brilliance. "Too soon," he said. "Hurry."

  We reached the end and the grav opened. Ran punched the speed float and we shot up to the roof.

  It was dark and windy. I could see row upon row of aircars—the building must be enormous, I thought. Some of them were huge shapes, like freight trucks. One of the cars had an open door, and Ran motioned me into it after him. "Wait a minute," I said. "This is a—"

  "I know," he said, pulling me in.

  We took off. "Ran," I said, "You're stealing & police vehicle. "

  "What other kind of vehicle could I steal? Theodora, don't you even know where you are?" He stopped fiddling the controls and turned to me in disbelief. "We just broke out of the city detention units, under police headquarters."

  We flew out of the city, through the night. I never seem to travel in the daylight anymore, I thought. I looked over at Ran, sitting at the controls; he wore the rough-weaved uniform of the Imperial jails, gray shorts and overtunic. But a sweet smell was in the car, a scent much like the one I'd recognized on my interrogator. That was a Cor-mallon for you. He would wear the uniform, but he refused to wash off his perfume.

  "Are we going home? Your home, I mean."

  "No." He punched in the automatic. "That direction wouldn't be safe for us right now. We're going to another city. YouVe cost me a fortune in bribes, you know."

  "I didn't expect you to come."

  "I don't know why not," he said, sounding hurt. "When it was my fault you were picked up. I was so damn careful to watch out for sorcery, I forgot about brute force."

  "Why was I picked up? Why should the police care about me? Or you either, for that matter."

  "Well, sorcery is illegal. There are conventi
ons. Painful though following the law may be, sometimes it is enforced—"

  "Don't joke," I said, sounding as irritated as I felt.

  "Where have you been for two and a half years? It's the truth."

  ' 'But everyone uses it. Some of your clients were policemen."

  He was smiling, I suppose at my naivete". It's a strange universe—magic illegal on the one planet where it's known to exist.

  "Still," I said, "If they never arrested you before—"

  "And they haven't arrested me now, not as Ran Cor-mallon. No, there's just one person behind this. The only one who could have the power to lock you in a holding cell and keep it a secret would be the man who runs the place—the Chief of Police. He keeps too tight a rein on his people for it to be anyone else." I described the man who had spoken to me in my cell. He nodded. "I can see his point of view. It would be a three-way success for him: putting a Cormallon out of business and impressing his superiors; getting blackmail payments from me; and using me to ruin other sorcerers. Still, he's taking a lot upon himself… if he is. Maybe it's arrogance, but I don't believe anyone would take on the Cormallons all alone. Damn. I wish I could question him, but as my late father used to say, the one thing you never do is dance around with the cops. Father had a quaint way of expressing himself."

  "So what do we do?"

  "We'll kill him. Safest thing under the circumstances."

  I remembered my promise and said, "Good."

  He smiled, surprised but pleased by this rare evidence of my good sense.

  I said, "But Ran, how did you find me?"

  " 'Sir,' not—oh, never mind. Call me Ran. Stepan picked up that there was something wrong in the room and followed the men who took you. He called me at the Ducorts. Then I had to make a lot of bribes." He began listing them on his fingers. "To get myself arrested under a false name. To make sure my cell was unlocked. To find out where you were—it was sheer luck I got to you so fast, I knew what level you were on but not what cell. To have the power and the first back-up power cut off. There was an extra fee to see that your level was unpa-trolled at the right time, but they did tell me that might not work out perfectly. No amount of bribery would let me bring in a weapon, though. That's a death offense, for the guard and the prisoner both."