The Gate of Ivory

by Doris Egan

  I yelled, "Damn it, Eln, go home!"

  He turned back for the last time. From the look on his face you'd think I'd said something funny. "When I remember all the times I said the same thing to you. Listen, Theo, I lied when I saw you in Trade Square. The deal's still open. When this is over, I'll get you another ticket, if you want one." He left.

  It was so unfair. I wanted so much to hate him wholeheartedly. The gods knew I ought to hate him, after what he'd done. Why was it so easy to forget what he'd done, and what he'd tried to do? Not to mention what he would still do if he could… Eln and his sister were very much alike in some ways, I saw suddenly; they were both the sort of people who got away with a lot. I couldn't see Ran doing the things Eln had done and still being loved, still being the favorite. What must it have been like growing up in that family? Why, I couldn't even total up the treacheries Eln had committed, against his brother, against me, against Ran's first card-reader, against (for all I knew) Stepan. There was a jeweler on Marsh Street who still wanted to know where he was.

  So why was it so easy to forget all this? Because he was charming? Did that give him the right to hurt people? Or was it because he hurt so much himself? Sometimes I couldn't look at him without cringing.

  I hadn't stood when Eln came in. I still sat in the shadow of the open door, feeling helpless. Tears were starting down my face. I needed an hour or two of mental collapse, but the patch of light on the floor beside me was gray with the threat of sunrise.

  I got up and walked very quickly toward Ran's room, wiping my face. As I did so, the bells began to toll.

  * * *

  The monk on watch was gone, and I felt a stab of panic. What if Ran was gone, too? I pushed open the door.

  Ran stood there, dressing with the help of two monks. They looked up briefly as I entered. One monk handed him a crimson-and-gold belt, with gold tassels, and he clasped it over his tunic. "Do you think the white outer robe?" he asked them. He looked at me. "What do you think, Theodora?"

  My face must have been a puckered and reddened mess—it always was from the least bit of crying—but Ran was studiously careful to avoid comment. I said, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

  One of the monks got up from where he knelt around the back of Ran's robe and started toward me. Ran said, "No." It was only one syllable, but I could feel the enforced calmness in it. "I'll take care of it. Theodora, I can see you're upset about this, but we did discuss it on the way here—"

  "I didn't know this was what you meant! I'm a tymon, I don't know everything about your stupid culture!"

  "I'm sorry if I was unclear—"

  "And now that I know, I'm telling you it's stupid. "

  Ran said to the monks, "Would you do me the courtesy of waiting outside? I 'm almost done anyway.''

  One of them said, "The procession is supposed to start in ten minutes."

  "I know," said Ran. "I'll be ready."

  They left, ignoring me. I said, "Ran—"

  He cut me off. "Listen, because I don't have a lot of time. It's too late to do anything now. Understand? The contract's been signed. We're both under monastery enforcement. It's past time to back out. With that in mind, do you think it's a good idea to push me into an argument when I've spend the last six hours calming myself down for the duel? I have to be totally in control of myself to get out of here alive, and I am not at my best under pressure. If you want to kill me, getting me upset right now would be a good way to do it."

  I lowered my voice, and forced myself to speak as if I were commenting on the weather. "I really would prefer that you didn't do this. I don't know anything about contracts, but there must be some way of getting out of it. What's the penalty for noncompliance? Confiscation of goods? We've gone without before—"

  "The penalty is death," he said, in an equally disinterested tone of voice.

  It was the strangest argument I have ever had. It was the one I most wanted to win, and the one I tried hardest not to care about when I had it.

  "You can't think of any way out? Tell me the truth," I said, not as if I really wanted to know.

  "Face it, Theodora. It's settled. It will happen." He was pulling on the white outer robe as he spoke. "See if the back is even?" he said.

  I checked. "It looks fine."

  "Was there anything else you needed to say?" he asked.

  For the life of me, I couldn't think of anything beyond grabbing him by the sides of the robe and snouting "Stop this, you idiot." But that didn't seem to be wise, under the circumstances. "Nothing," I said.

  He opened the door, and held it for me to go first.

  The procession started from the main hall. Eln wore dark blue silk, and a white outer robe much like Ran's. Maybe it was his, and maybe the monks spared no expense when other people picked up the fees. Probably cheaper in the long run to have each duelist already decked out in a decent burial robe. Someone handed me a candle.

  I followed directly behind Ran. Someone from Cor-mallon must have met Eln here; a young man in gray, vaguely familiar, walked behind the floater. He couldn't have shown up this late; he must have been here the whole time Ran and I were. Apparently the monks could keep news about outsiders to themselves after all.

  We filed down the halls to the back of the monastery. There seemed to be more than the usual number of monks hanging about in doorways, watching us pass. We did not turn to the stairways, as I expected, but continued out of the building and into a covered tunnel of gray stone that led downward into the hill. By this time there were about twenty of us in the procession; I recognized the abbot and Brother Camery. A half dozen of us on line were women, but I was the only one who looked to be under the age of ninety. The ramp spiraled downward interminably.

  At last we came up against double doors with the sorcery symbol half on each, twins to the ones Camery had shown me last night. The man at the front of the line stopped, reached into a velvet bag, removed a red cap of three cylindrical sections, and placed it gravely on his head. "The Protocol Master," he announced. The doors creaked open.

  As each person entered the Protocol Master would say, "Eln Cormallon, principal. "His witness, Jermyn Cor-mallon."

  "The Master of Novices."

  "Duelmaster and Arbiter."

  "Ran, declared-to-be Cormallon." He put out his hand to stop me.

  "Disarm, please," he said, in a more conversational tone.

  Ran looked back. "She's not wearing anything," he said. "She never wears anything."

  I pulled open my outer robe to show the holster underneath.

  Ran sighed. "Once they start," he muttered.

  "I was nervous," I said. I pulled off the holster and pistol and handed them to the Protocol Master. "What about my knife?" I asked, before anyone else could bring it up.

  "You call that fruit-cutter a knife?" asked one of the witnessing monks after me on line. Monks left the rules of courtesy behind when they dropped their names, and were rude or polite according to whim. They could get away with it because nobody took na' telleths seriously.

  "We're only interested in energy weapons," said the Protocol Master more kindly, seeing my discomfort.

  "They might disrupt the force-patterns inside. That would be most dangerous."

  "Oh," I said, not understanding. He let me pass through the doors.

  I was totally bewildered. We'd gone down, hadn't we? So what were we doing outside, on what appeared to be a hillside? We were standing in what seemed to be some sort of amphitheater, on the edge of the center arena, and around the sides steps rose up to three or four times the height of an Ivoran. Beyond that, I could only see sky.

  The monks filed out into the amphitheater and lit torches around the inner wall. It was still dark down in the arena. I looked around and saw the other monks had gone up into the seats, and as I peered up at them they seemed to become fuzzy and indistinct. I turned slowly around, frowning at the seats.

  "As observers, they are not allowed to intrude on the event." The
voice startled me. It was the Duelmaster-Arbiter, standing beside me. He was a tall man in silver, with an old, old, face. He reminded me of the Old Man of Kado Island, and I liked him, perhaps unreasonably.

  He said, "Do the principals have anything to say to each other? This will be their last chance to do so. No record will be made, either by writing or on tape, of any words spoken now."

  Eln was about to make his way to the other side of the arena. He halted and turned, an expression of polite interest on his face. Ran stopped also. He said, "I have nothing to add."

  "Nor I," said Eln.

  "I trust you're in good health," said Ran.

  "Adequate. I trust you're the same."

  "Yes." He turned. "Duelmaster-Arbiter, I think we've said all there is to say.''

  "Apparently," he agreed. The Duelmaster motioned them to move to their places.

  I followed Ran. For all their surface coolness, there was a great deal of emotion in that moment, emotion of the sort I have never liked, mixed emotion. Hatred beneath good manners is an Ivoran specialty, but here there was something both familiar and repellent to me; it was as though they were too close to each other to breathe and extreme feelings were the only kind left to them. I wondered if such strong and confused emotion was rare, or if I had simply never been close enough to another person to be aware that they were capable of it. I wondered if I were capable of it. I wondered if it would be a good or bad thing if I were. And I wondered fleetingly and for ncf logical reason what my guardian-mother on Pyrene had thought when I left without looking back. It was the first time that any thought of leaving Pyrene which was not tinged with relief had ever crossed my mind.

  I turned with some haste to the Duelmaster-Arbiter. "Where do I go?" I asked him. "What should I be doing?"

  "Stay here on the side, under the pillars. Be ready to help your man if he needs it. Watch everything."

  "That's all?"

  "That's a great deal." He looked down at me. "You're an outlander. Has anyone explained the event to you?"

  "No, Duelmaster, they haven't."

  "Well, it begins when I declare it begun. There are rounds of combat followed by periods of rest; a round lasts about five minutes."

  "Five minutes doesn't seem very long." I said.

  "When two sorcerers are trying to kill each other, five minutes can contain eternity. I've never seen a duel that lasted beyond fifteen."

  I didn't like the bald way he put it. But what I really didn't like was the bald fact of what was happening.

  "I must go out now and read the contract," he said. "There's a bench, if you want to sit."

  "Thank you, I'll stand."

  He moved out into the center of the arena. Ran came over to stand beside me; across the ring I saw Eln and his witness waiting, too. The Duelmaster-Arbiter called, "Attention, principals and witnesses. The contract has been signed and agreed to this day, under the enforcement of Tevachin. All mirror-spells have been stripped.

  No vengeance is contemplated against anyone for anything which may take place today. Let all witness."

  Ran sat down on the bench. I didn't know how he could. The Duelmaster said, "Tevachin attests to the fact that papers have been left with responsible Cormallon parties, absolving Ran Cormallon of any infractions and passing inheritance back to him; these papers to be opened at noon unless word saying otherwise reaches the main estate. Tevachin attests to the fact that arrangements have been made to release one Stepan Cormallon, and to terminate the employment of all other persons, unless word saying otherwise reaches the capital. Let all witness."

  He lifted an hourglass, turned it gently up and down again. The sand, if it was sand, glittered like gold dust. "This is the measure of one round," he said. "When the sand is falling, all rules of the duel apply, and will be enforced by Tevachin. Between, before, and after the rounds you may do as you like—once the first round is over, you are free to leave, if you like, and not come back. But once a round begins, you are bound to stay in the arena until the end. Am I clear?"

  I saw Eln nod, across the way. Ran stood up. "Clear," he said.

  "Ran—" I said, and bit it off. He walked down into the dueling pit. Eln came in from the other side. The Duelmaster came up and stood beside me, briefly touching my hand.

  The arena was a granite hollow, a grainy gray-white surface that sloped to center. The floor was dingy with ancient dirt. "The sun," whispered the Duelmaster to me, and I looked over my shoulder to see the brightness in the east. The top rows of the other side of the amphitheater were exposed in the light, showing threefold nuns swathed in robes against the morning chill. "Now," said the Duelmaster, and because his voice was so low I thought he was still talking to me. There was a muted rumbling of distant thunder that seemed to come from all directions. It fused and intensified until it came to sit underneath the arena. I thought, "earthquake." I wanted to run, but no one else seemed disturbed. I glanced up toward the three nuns, but the top row was dark again; I turned hurriedly to look behind, and the sun was gone. There were no clouds, it was just gone!

  It hit me then at last, far too late. All the figures, all the calculations, all the driving engine of rational thought that made the outrunners of the theme; I'd forgotten that what we were dealing with was magic. As electric power lived in the massive force of water breaking through a dam, as it lived in lightning, the force retains its essence. Ivorans had come to terms with magic, they let it serve them and give them comforts, a wolf-creature tamed to a dog. They took the idea of passion and made legal marriage out of it, and so were able to make daily use of it. And I could see now that they were right to do so; I would rather room with a dog than a wolf. But the dog still had its teeth, and beneath the marriage sheets the bodies and hearts were unchanged.

  They were still in the arena, like standing stones, in their white silk robes. Then Eln moved somehow—I couldn't see it, but there was a flash of midnight blue from his tunic in the midst of all that white and gray— and he rose into the air; and all at once there was an eagle there, a huge thing only a few wing-beats from the bottom of the pit. And not quite an eagle, for the claws were enormous. I was too startled for a second to look at Ran, and when I turned back to him I saw a blood-red dragon, at least ten meters from top to tail, its narrow head stretched into the air. The jaws opened and a stream of fire jetted out, scorching the eagle. It backed up hurriedly, the feathers on one side turning a grayish black.

  "Oh, gods," I said weakly. I heard the Duelmaster's voice, as though from very far away, saying, "Yes, mythical creatures are always best for a beginning. Use them while you have the strength, that's the strategy."

  I must have groaned. He said, "Are you all right, little outworlder?''

  "How can this be happening?" I asked.

  He said proudly, "Tevachin has the greatest dueling arena in all the world. It has been used for nothing but magic for the last fifteen hundred years, and all the thoughts of generations of monks and nuns have gone to building its power. I'd like to see a transmutation of such size and speed as that eagle was be tried in any other arena! And I don't care how good the sorcerer is."

  The eagle was circling the dragon, looking for an opening. Another approach, another stream of flame. "Eagles aren't mythical," I said dully.

  ' 'I beg your pardon?'' asked the Duelmaster.

  I grasped his robes and tugged. "Is any of this actually happening?" I begged.

  "You should really enroll in the morning novitiate's class on the nature of reality," he said. "However, I know what you mean, and the simple answer is no, it is not. Like all simple answers that is a lie; but it's the best I can do for you, child."

  "What happens," I said, "if the eagle kills the dragon?"

  He seemed faintly surprised. "Why, I don't know, out-worlder. Are you asking me to speculate on the change in linear events that occurs when one person dies? As someone who appears to be acquainted with both the dueling parties, you should know better than I."

  The last st
ream of fire hadn't gone as far as the others, and the eagle hadn't seemed to have minded it as much. Now it stooped for a run at the dragon's side. The dragon swivled its neck around, but too slow and too late; a rip ran through its hide, tail to throat. Blood started to drip, starting at the tail. The blood was black.

  The eagle made another run, still avoiding the head. This time it didn't pull back at the final moment, and the force of the collision knocked the dragon half over. Another slash of the talons. A futile stream of fire, way off target; the dragon was immobilized. The eagle began to slash at the underbelly, pulling out the guts onto the floor of the pit.

  And suddenly the dragon was gone. On the other side of the pit stood, of all things to find on this planet, a grizzly bear. It stood three meters tall, brown, a perfect copy of what I'd seen in the Zoo of Past Species on Athena.

  It growled. The eagle beat its wings, just once, and seemed to compress itself into a ball; when it opened out again, it was a lion in mid-spring, heading for the bear. It was hard to follow this phase of the combat; for a moment I wasn't even entirely sure who was what. But the golden blur was Eln, and the snarling mass of fur was Ran. They rolled down the side of the pit, brown and gold, and streaks of red.

  "I thought the dragon was dying," I said to the Duel-master.

  "Each one can change as often as he likes—that's generally whenever he's losing. The opponent must transmute to follow. Until, of course, the loser has no strength left to change. Then he must stay to face the consequences."

  The bear's fur was matted, but I couldn't tell whose blood it was. It tried to swipe at the lion, but they were too close; still, there were strips of red on the lion's back. As I peered closer, trying to see what was happening, the lion fastened its teeth on the bear's throat and shook it. The bear's head moved back and forth, its paws waved feebly—and it escaped in a flash of silver. An arc of shining metal, like a spit seed, and a fish was flying through the air. The floor of the pit was covered now in a foggy sort of water.

  I let out my breath. I hadn't realized I was holding it.