Gateway

by Sharon Shinn

  “Sure,” said Daiyu. “When do you need me there?”

  “I’ll pick you up at three.”

  After lunch, Daiyu put together an outfit of narrow black pants, a sleeveless gold top, and a pair of black Skechers. She’d learned the hard way that while it was important to look good at events like this, wearing comfortable shoes was even more critical. She was standing outside the town house when Isabel pulled up.

  “You’re my favorite summer intern ever,” Isabel declared. “I can’t think of a single other high school girl who would have been willing to work on a Saturday, especially on such short notice.”

  “I need the extra money,” Daiyu said, surprising herself. “I want to buy a ring.”

  It was always a treat to go down to Grand Avenue and visit the Fox, an eighty-year-old restored movie theater that was now a prime venue for concerts and plays. The cavernous, high-ceilinged lobby was lined with massive terra cotta-colored pillars that seemed to hold up the intricately detailed ceiling; the floor was a slick, reflective marble. Daiyu always thought it deserved its nickname of “The Fabulous Fox.”

  About fifteen booths were set up in the lobby. Daiyu stood behind the Executive Edge table and handed out brochures to the smartly dressed women who circled through, looking for better jobs with higher salaries. Isabel spent her time working the floor or slipping up the wide stairs into the theater to hear her competitors deliver speeches. At five, she disappeared for half an hour to give her own presentation. By six, the networking women were filing over to a buffet line for dinner, and Isabel and Daiyu were headed back out to Isabel’s car.

  It felt like it was 120 degrees inside the black Lexus, and even the high-powered air-conditioning wasn’t going to have an impact anytime soon. “Do you want me to take you back home?” Isabel asked as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Or do you want to come help out at the voter registration booth with me? But that’s strictly volunteer work.”

  Daiyu laughed. “I don’t want to work, but I do want to go to the fair, so if that’s where you’re going—”

  “I have a guaranteed parking spot at the Mansion House,” Isabel said with satisfaction.

  They parked five levels down in the dungeonlike lower recesses of the Mansion House, then climbed up the spiral ramps to the exit and welcome freshair. As they were crossing Memorial Drive toward the fairgrounds, Isabel lifted her eyes to gaze up at the top curve of the Arch, glistening silver even in the waning light of the summer evening.

  “Gateway to the West,” Isabel said. “Prettiest landmark in the whole country, I always think. And I love the view you can get of the city when you ride up to the top.”

  “I never go up in the Arch,” Daiyu said. “I’m a little afraid of heights.”

  Isabel handed Daiyu a twenty and two fives, then strode off confidently toward the north end of the fairgrounds. Daiyu moved more aimlessly. Today there were thousands of people milling around among the tents and booths, eating cotton candy, sipping beer, sweating in the heat, talking, laughing, quarreling, strolling. It would get even more unbearably crowded near true dark, right before the spectacular fireworks displays over the Mississippi that ended the fair every night. Daiyu loved the great constellations of color that reflected in the silver of the Archand painted moving patterns on the broad and restless river.

  She was trying to decide if she was hungry enough to buy herself dinner when a soft voice from the shadows asked, “Got a dollar to spare, miss?”

  Daiyu turned to see an old man standing a few feet away, clearly not wanting to get close enough to alarm her. He was white skinned but smudged with dirt, bald but bearded, wearing way too many clothes on such a hot day. She could catch the odor of urine even though he kept his distance.

  “I do,” she said. Her father encouraged her to give away five dollars to some charitable cause or homeless person every week, and she usually kept one-dollar bills in her pockets, ready to hand out. But she’d dispensed her last single Friday morning, so she handed him one of Isabel’s fives. “There’s a lot of good food at the fair, isn’t there?”

  A smile magically transformed his face. “There is,” he agreed. “I want one of those hot dogs.”

  She laughed. “That sounds pretty good. Maybe I’ll get one too.”

  “Thank you, miss. God bless you.”

  As soon as he left, she checked her wallet and realized with dismay that she didn’t have any money except the bills Isabel had given her. Fair food could be pricey—she might easily spend ten dollars on a burger and a soda—and would the old woman really sell her the black jade ring for fifteen dollars? Maybe she should buy the ring before making any other purchases.

  She tried to tell herself that she didn’t want the ring, and if someone else had already bought it, she didn’t care. She tried to make herself stop to buy a hamburger before looking for the old woman’s booth, but the line was long and she couldn’t keep her feet still. Before she knew it, she was drifting through the fair again, trying to be courteous as she pushed her way past strangers, stepped around baby carriages, and hurried past all the other booths that lined the fairgrounds.

  There. Sandwiched between a lemonade stand and a funnel-cake vendor. There was the jewelry booth, hardly more than a battered table and a tattered yellow awning. The tiny old woman stood motionless behind the counter, dressed all in black even on this hot evening. She was staring at Daiyu as if she had not taken her eyes off her since Daiyu left the grounds the previous afternoon.

  For a moment, Daiyu felt peculiar again. For a moment, she had the sense that this wrinkled old lady was more dangerous to her than the polite beggar would ever have been. Her hands curled into fists. She remembered the cool, silky weight of the ring against her finger. She stepped over to the booth.

  “You came back,” the old lady greeted her.

  “I guess I did,” Daiyu said. “Do you still have the ring?”

  “Fifteen dollars,” the vendor said.

  The red silk box was already in the woman’s hand.

  As if she had been standing there since the fair opened this morning, waiting for Daiyu to return.

  Wordlessly, Daiyu handed over the twenty-dollar bill that Isabel had given her. She waited until the old woman had given back her change before she slipped the ring on her finger. As she remembered, it was a perfect fit, heavy on her hand, but in a pleasing fashion, calling her attention to it, making her pause to admire it. She twisted it slowly in one complete circle to study the detail of the carving, the dragon’s precisely rendered head, its sleek scales, its stylized feet.

  “I do love this,” she said under her breath. “I don’t know why.”

  “It was meant for you,” the old woman said.

  Daiyu laughed softly. “That’s what it feels like. Well. Thank you. Now I’m going to get myself something to eat and then go home before it gets any more crowded here.”

  “You could do me a favor,” the old woman said suddenly.

  Daiyu blinked at her. How odd. “What?” she asked warily.

  The woman pointed to a tent about twenty yards away if Daiyu walked straight under the great silver wicket of the Arch. “A woman in that booth was interested in one of my necklaces. I told her she could wear it tonight and see if she wanted it. I don’t like to leave my table. Just take it to her—that’s all you have to do.”

  “I suppose I could do that,” Daiyu said.

  “I’d be very grateful,” the old woman said.

  She held up a long silver chain hung with a pendant that looked as fiery as an opal but with a pinker cast. “That’s pretty,” Daiyu said, cupping her hand to take hold of the stone. Oh, what was wrong with her? The instant it rested against her skin, she wanted this piece, too. It felt lighter than the black jade, as if it was porous or constructed of molecules of some lower specific density, and as if those molecules were dancing in her palm. “What kind of stone is this?” she asked.

  The old woman waggled her head from side to side. “Som
e funny name. I don’t remember.”

  “How much is it?”

  The old woman smiled. “It might not be for sale,” she said. “Ask me again if my friend decides not to buy it.”

  “Maybe I will,” Daiyu said, though she couldn’t imagine that this bauble would go for the ten dollars she had left. But Isabel would probably give her a loan, if Daiyu helped her register voters for a couple of hours. She started to add, MaybeI’ll see you later, but just then there was a shrill whizzing sound and then a loud boom that reverberated off the downtown skyscrapers. Daiyu shaded her face with her hands.

  “Fireworks already? It’s not even seven o’clock.”

  The old woman shrugged. “Practice rounds. You go see my friend. Give her the necklace.”

  Daiyu waved in lieu of farewell. She had taken three steps away when she heard the woman add, “You be careful, now.” Daiyu turned back in surprise, but the old vendor was crouched under the table, digging through boxes of merchandise. Either Daiyu had imagined the voice, or she’d heard someone else speaking. She shrugged and, holding the pink stone covetously in her hand, she passed under the Arch.

  The world fell apart.

  THREE

  THE GROUND SURGED and shattered under Daiyu’s feet. The twilight sky bloomed to nuclear brightness, then went utterly dark. Blind, she cried out and stumbled to her knees, cutting her palms on a stony surface. She whimpered, but the sound was lost under the ongoing percussion of urgent explosives.

  Then suddenly her vision cleared and the booming noise stopped, and Daiyu lifted her head. Had that been an earthquake? Had a barge on the river blown up when its fuel tank caught fire? Where were the sirens? Where were the frantic onlookers? Why was no one screaming?

  Instead, all she heard was the comfortable, indistinguishable mutter of a cheerful crowd—a few giggles, a high-pitched squeal, the sound of another firecracker detonating, and some appreciative cheers. Someone tripped over her and hastily apologized. A woman’s voice asked, “Is she all right?” and a man’s voice answered, “Drunk, I suppose.”

  Daiyu pushed herself to her feet and gazed around.

  For a moment, she thought she was still at Fair Saint Louis. Here was a brightly colored mob of people gathered on a summer evening on a stretch of land overlooking a river. But . . . but . . . the river was so small, not even half the width of the Mississippi. There were no booths selling sandwiches and soda; there was no smell of roasting meat and fried dough. And the people! Everyone was oddly dressed—not in shorts and halter tops, but in brightly colored shirts over formal black skirts and trousers.

  Everyone was Chinese.

  Daiyu looked around slowly, not believing her eyes. But everyone was Chinese.

  She pivoted swiftly to glance behind her and clapped a hand to her mouth to silence the scream. The Arch was gone! In its place was a towering pagoda-shaped gate made of some sleek ma- terial that looked like red lacquer. It was maybe half the height of the Arch, but its gorgeous color made it equally impressive. More brightly dressed Chinese men and women stood near it, laughing and talking.

  A short report in the air made her gasp, but the whipcrack of sound turned out to be another firecracker bursting over the diminished river. The mob of people murmured and applauded as streaks of green and blue and red rained down.

  “What’s happened to me, what’s happened to me,” Daiyu whispered, turning in a slow circle to take in the rest of her surroundings. The familiar tall buildings of downtown St. Louis—gone—replaced by a crowded, crazy-quilt collection of buildings in stone and wood and steel. The well-tended lawns of the Arch grounds—gone. In their place was a swath of green grass bordered by a broad expanse of gravelly stones laid out in interlocking patterns of light and dark. Yin and yang, Daiyu thought wildly. I’m in China. Somehow she had been flung across thousands of miles to the country of her birth—but that was ridiculous—that couldn’t happen—she must have fallen, she must have hit her head, perhaps she was still dreaming, no part of this day had actually occurred—

  She shook her head but could not shake herself awake. Unaccustomed panic began building inside her chest, crowding the air out of her lungs. She started pushing her way through the throngs, not sure what to do, where to go, but feeling the need for motion. “This is crazy, this can’t be happening—”

  With each phrase, her voice got a little louder. In a minute she would be shrieking and running. Where was she? What cataclysm had overtaken her? “Someone help me,” she panted, pushing past staring girls and curious couples, not pausing long enough to allow anyone to offer comfort or reassurance. “Someone—anyone—I don’t know what’s going on—”

  Behind her, from the direction of the river, came a single resounding boom, so loud that Daiyu froze and let out a little cry. It was followed by such a flurry of explosions that everything else was drowned out. She clapped her palms over her eyes and screamed as loud as she could.

  A hand slapped itself around her right wrist and pulled it away from her face. She was so startled, she stopped screaming and opened her eyes. She was staring at a tall young man, who leaned close enough to yell into her ear over the sound of fireworks.

  “I know you’re terrified,” he called. “But everything will be all right. I’ll take you home.”

  And just like that, Daiyu stopped being afraid.

  For a long moment, Daiyu simply stood there, trying to recover her habitual composure. She stared up at the young man. He was thin, Caucasian, and serious; his brown eyes were framed by thick lashes. His hair was dark and curly, his mouth generous, and he wore a single gold stud in each ear. She knew she had never seen him before, and yet he looked familiar to her, as if someone had told her about him and she had been waiting all this time to meet him.

  “Who are you?” she whispered. Her throat felt too raw for normal speaking. “What’s happening to me?”

  “I’m Kalen,” he said. “And you’ve stepped through one of the gateways into another world.”

  Her breath caught, and for a minute she felt panic make another hard charge against her ribs. Another world? One of the gateways? “I don’t understand,” she said, still in that whispering voice. He leaned close enough to hear it over the noise of the crowd and the fireworks.

  “It’s complicated,” he said. “This isn’t the place to explain. Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

  “I fell,” she said. He still gripped her right arm, but she held up her left hand to show him the scrapes.

  “Ouch,” he said. He released her wrist to pull items from a nondescript bag he carried over his shoulder. In a moment he was dampening a scrap of cloth with the contents of what appeared to be a water bottle.

  “There,”he said, gently daubing at her palm. The water was soothing to her raw skin and his voice was soothing to her jangled nerves. “Does that feel better?”

  Only marginally, but the act of compassion lifted her spirits just a little. “Yes, thank you,” she said.

  He dropped his rudimentary first-aid kit into his bag, took hold of her arm again, and urged her forward. They stepped toward the green area, away from the river, away from whatever celebration was going on around the red gate. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you arrived, ”he said.“We only just realized you’d be coming tonight.”

  All her goodwill vanished and she stopped dead. “You were expecting me?”

  He glanced down at her. “Aurora and Ombri have been looking for someone like you for a long time,” he said.

  She jerked her hand free. “Who are Aurora and Ombri? Who are you? What’s happening?”

  “Daiyu—”

  “And how do you know my name?”

  “People have crossed from this time and place to your world, looking for someone like you to make the journey here.”

  She shook her head and put her hands to her face again. “I still don’t understand.”

  “No,”hesaid,surprisingher,“Idon’ treally understand it either. Aurora and Ombri can explain it
better than I can. Let me take you to the house and get you something to eat. I promise you, everything will be all right.”

  For a moment she hesitated. If she truly was in a different world—however impossible that seemed to be—how would she know whom to trust, what to believe? If she followed this stranger to some isolated location, would she suddenly be in mortal danger?

  “I promise no one will hurt you,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “Truly, it will be better if I can get you to the house.”

  She had no reason to trust him. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to summon fear. He watched her gravely, and something in his expression struck her as simply kind. Again she experienced the sense that she knew him already, that he had watched over her at some point when she was injured or in danger. Daiyu was used to meeting strangers; her father brought them home all the time. But she had never before met a stranger who had made her feel this instant sense of connection. She put her hand out again, and he took it with great care.

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  He led her across the greensward and onto one of the streets cluttered with a mishmash of buildings. Traffic was heavy, but it consisted mostly of people on foot or riding contraptions that looked like bicycles crossed with carts. There seemed to be thousands of people crowded into the streets and on the sidewalks. By the time Kalen had turned a couple of corners, Daiyu was hopelessly lost; she couldn’t even orient herself by the placement of the river. She hoped they didn’t have to walk far. She was feeling pretty worn.

  A clattering sound caught her attention, and she looked up to see a long, narrow trolley heading their way, slowing down as Kalen raised a hand to signal it. She couldn’t tell what powered it—not horses, at any rate, and she couldn’t smell gasoline fumes—but she didn’t greatly care. She climbed on behind Kalen and sank gratefully onto a hard wooden bench between Kalen and an older woman.