Gateway

by Sharon Shinn

  “The whole city is talking!” Mei exclaimed before Daiyu passed out of earshot. “Where can Chenglei be? Has he fallen ill? Fallen drunk?”

  “Consorted with a hired woman who poisoned his drink?” Xiang suggested. Her tone was both acid and eager—this was potentially a tragedy, but it might simply be a scandal, and Xiang and Mei lived for gossip.

  “I suppose someone could have harmed him, and yet—”Mei said.

  “It seems the unlikeliest of the possibilities,” Xiang agreed. “I think we will find that he has either been very indiscreet or veryunlucky.”

  “His position will be compromised,” Mei said.

  “Unless he has a very good story.”

  “But what could that story be?”

  Satisfied, Daiyu continued on up to her room. She was fairly confident that, no matter what theories they proposed, they would never come close to the truth.

  She pushed open the door to her room and found Aurora waiting inside.

  “Daiyu, what did you do?” the blond woman asked in a hushed voice.

  Hastily, Daiyu shut the door and the two of them huddled together just inside the closet, talking in whispers. They had not spoken to each other in two weeks, but all they really needed to discuss was yesterday. Aurora gasped when Daiyu related Chenglei’s plan to flood the river and showed alarm when Daiyu repeated the conversation in the backyard.

  “He said he was going to arrest me,” Daiyu finished up. “I reached for my quartz talisman so I could go home—but he took it from me and opened the pouch. He—he disappeared. But no one saw him go because we were standing at the back of the lawn and all the fireworks were going off.”

  Aurora stared at her. “You sent him away—to your own iteration?”

  “I suppose. I didn’t mean to. Oh, Aurora, is that where he’s gone? To Earth? What will happen to him there?”

  Aurora shook her head in a disbelieving motion. “I have no idea. I don’t even know where he might have ended up. The quartz talisman was calculated for your body, not for his. He could be anywhere—at any time.”

  “Will you and Ombri go after him?” Daiyu asked.

  Aurora nodded. “Yes. If we don’t, he will find a way to wreak damage in your iteration.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Daiyu said.

  Unexpectedly,Aurorahuggedher.“Don’tbesorry.Youwere given a difficult job and you managed to do it, even though you didn’t do it the way we planned.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about Chenglei. But when I talked to him—he was so charming—I actually liked him. And I was pleased that he liked me.”

  “You are not the first person who has fallen under his spell, and, unfortunately, you will not be the last,” Aurora said. “If men like Chenglei were easier to resist, the world—every world—would be a less hazardous place.”

  Aurora patted Daiyu’s shoulder and then stepped back, turning brisk. “Now,” she said, “Xiang will be preoccupied with Mei for a good long while, don’t you suppose? This will be an excellent time for you to leave.”

  “Leave? To do what?” Daiyu said. She felt her face light up. “Can I go to the aviary? Can I see Kalen? I have so much to tell him!”

  “I meant, it’s time for you to leave Jia,” Aurora said gently. “Time for you to go back to Earth.”

  Daiyu stared at her, suddenly feeling stricken. “Home?” she repeated.“Today?”

  Aurora nodded. “We have no time to waste. Ombri and I must go after Chenglei, and we cannot leave until we have seen you safely home.”

  “But I—but now?” Daiyu stammered. “There are so many things left to do—”

  Aurora watched her steadily. “There was only one thing here youhadtodo,andithasbeendone.Itistimeforyoutogo.”

  Daiyu shook her head, slowly, stubbornly, even as a bubbling grief built up in her chest. “I’m not leaving until I say good-bye to Kalen.”

  “Daiyu—”

  “I’m not!”

  Aurora shrugged helplessly. “All right. We will return to the house before we send you on your way.”

  Daiyu was already hurrying out of the closet and over to a small desk stocked with writing materials. “And I have to leave a note for Xiang. I have to make up some excuse, give her some reason. She’s become attached to me, and I don’t want her to be hurt.”

  “It will hurt her no matter when you go and how you do it,” Aurora said. “A note will not change that.”

  But Daiyu was adamant on this point as well. “It will only take a minute,” she said.

  Nonetheless, she sat there for at least five minutes, trying to think up a story that Xiang would accept with relief instead of pain. Finally, she picked up the elegant writing utensil and wrote with great care on the thick, pressed sheet of paper.

  Mistress Xiang:

  I am sorry to grieve you this way, but I must leave you suddenly before I shame you and your venerable name. I have lied to you so long that I am now almost glad to tell you the truth. I am a worthless girl who does not deserve all the attention and affection you have heaped on me. I have fallen in love with a cangbai boy, and he has gotten me with child. Soon this will be evident to everyone. I cannot stay to dishonor you or cause distress to Mei’s noble house, and so I am leaving. Knowing how angry you will be at your servant Aurora, who first brought me to your attention, I have suggested that she leave your house and never return. I beg for nine times nine hundred pardons, but I know I do not deserve one. I wish I had the right to truly call you Aunt.

  Your niece-who-is-not, Daiyu

  Aurora was reading over Daiyu’s shoulder. “Very well put,” she said. “Now, let us go.”

  It was heartbreakingly simple to leave the house. There was little need to pack, since the only items Daiyu had to bring with her were the gold shirt and black pants she had been wearing when she arrived in Jia. Xiang did not unexpectedly emerge from the parlor to demand where she was going; no servants challenged them at the door. Daiyu and Aurora simply walked out the front entrance, strolled down the sidewalk, and soon lost themselves in the bustle of the congested streets. They were a few blocks away from Xiang’s before Aurora hailed a trolley, and they elbowed their way into the crowded aisle for the ride to the riverfront. A change of trolleys, another dreary ride, and they were in the cangbai district where Ombri and Aurora had their house.

  They disembarked and walked the final few blocks. Aurora made no attempt at conversation, for she appeared to be deep in thought, and Daiyu just trudged along beside her, clasping her folded clothes to her chest. Compared to the streets where Xiang lived, this neighborhood seemed even more downtrodden, the tents ragged and pathetic, the standing houses decrepit. Most everyone they passed was cangbai or heiren; the few Han they encountered looked strained and miserable.

  But the thought of leaving this place behind forever was pushing Daiyu into despair.

  The thought of leaving Kalen behind forever. . . .

  It was scarcely noon by the time they arrived at the house. Daiyu looked around eagerly, in case Kalen was there, but it was quickly evident that he was not. She felt her shoulders slump with weariness and disappointment and a mounting sense of loss.

  “Are you hungry?” Aurora asked. “There’s food in the kitchen.”

  “A little. I couldn’t swallow anything this morning. And I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “Well, eat something and then take a nap. I’m going to look for Ombri. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  But Aurora was still gone when Daiyu finished her meal and lay down. She had automatically gone to the small room that had been hers five weeks earlier, and only now did she realize she had usurped Kalen’s place. His clothes were thrown over a chair; his scent lay like a perfume across the bed. Daiyu put her head down, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, comforted by the smell. If she could just take a small part of Kalen back with her to St. Louis—if she could take back just one memory—

  She was so tire
d, she fell asleep instantly, but her dreams were confused and troubling. She struggled through unfamiliar streets, running from someone who chased her, searching for someone who eluded her, while fireworks rained dangerous sparks down from overhead. It was a relief to wake a couple of hours later, feeling only a little rested. Outside her room, she could hear voices murmuring in intense conversation—Ombri and Aurora, excitedly making plans.

  She turned her head on the pillow and saw Kalen sitting on the floor, watching her.

  TWENTY-TWO

  DAIYU WAS FLOODED with happiness, but when she opened her mouth to cry out his name, Kalen put a finger to his lips to enjoin silence. She glanced at the door then back at him, and he nodded. He did not want Aurora and Ombri to know she was awake.

  Noiselessly, she moved over on the mat to make room for him, and he lay down beside her. She rested a hand on his hip, he settled his palm around the back of her head and drew her close enough for a gentle kiss. She sighed and felt a moment’s utter peace.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  She nodded against the pillow. “Are you?”

  “What happened?” he said. “Tell me all of it.”

  “I heard Chenglei give an order to flood the river. He thought Feng had hidden there among the stonepickers, and he was willing to murder all those people in the hopes of killing Feng. I made Quan drive me to the Zhongbu, and I rang the little bells—”

  “That was you?” Kalen interrupted. “Gabe came running down to the river, demanding to know what had happened. No one could believe he had left the tower empty. No one could guess who had known to ring the bells to save so many lives.”

  “Some people died,” she said. “I saw them get washed away.”

  Kalen rested his forehead against hers. His hand moved down to rest warmly on her back. “So many lived. But I didn’t know you were the one who saved us.”

  “I wanted to tell you—I saw you climb out of the river, helping some woman, and I wanted to run to you—but I had to get back to Quan. I had to get back to Chenglei’s house. I thought no one would realize what I had done. I thought I could keep pretending.Butthenlastnight—attheparty—Chengleifound me alone. He accused me of sounding the bells. He accused me of being a traitor. He said he would ruin Xiang, he would ruin Mei, and I was horrified at all the damage I had caused. I knew I could not be arrested, so I reached for the talisman, and he took it from me and he—and he—he disappeared.”

  “So Chenglei is gone and the people of Shenglang can find a new prime minister—a better one, I hope,” Kalen said. He brushed another gentle kiss on her lips and she felt his mouth smiling against hers. “You have done what they brought you here to do.”

  “Kalen, Aurora says I must go home,” she said. “But I don’t want to go. Not now, not yet.” She moved closer, so she was pressed against him down the entire length of his body. She felt the heat of his skin through the ragged layer of his clothing, the silken layer of hers. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t think I can.”

  He was silent a moment, though his big hand made a slow, stroking motion down her spine. Finally he said, “You always knew you couldn’t stay. And you have so much to go back to. You’ll be glad once you’re home on Earth.”

  “I can’t remember my home,” she whispered. “Any of it.”

  “Your father is a tall man with an easy smile,” Kalen said, the rhythm of his voice soothing, reassuring. “He taught you to do at least one kind act every day. He works with his hands, and he makes beautiful things out of pieces that have been abandoned or thrown away. Your mother is practical and never at a loss. She could organize the world. She isn’t a dreamer like your father, but she’s hopelessly attracted to his dreams. Neither of them has ever loved anything as much as they love you.”

  “How can you remember them when I can’t?”she asked him through her silent sobs.

  “They’re your memories,” he told her gently. “I only held them for you.”

  She moved her hand up, clutched at his face. She wanted to press even closer; she wanted to crawl inside his heart. “What will happen to me, when I cross back to Earth?” she said, desperately afraid. “Will I really forget everything that happened to me here?”

  “It’s all right if you do,” he said. “I’ll hold those memories for you too.”

  Her face crumpled; it was harder and harder to hold back the sound of her crying. “But you’ll be alone,” she said. “All of us gone. I hate to think of you lonely and sad—oh, but that’s better than not being able to think of you at all!”

  “Ssshh,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly. “It will not be so dreadful. I will be happy knowing you are where you’re supposed to be, surrounded by people who love you. I will be happy remembering you came into my life at all.”

  She could not be comforted. Her weeping grew louder, and she wasn’t surprised to hear a knock on the door a moment before Aurora come in. “Is she awake then? Oh—Daiyu—this is why I didn’t want you to come back and make your good-byes—”

  “I’m sorry,” Daiyu sobbed, though she couldn’t have said what she was apologizing for. Maybe nothing more than the inability to stop crying. She heard Ombri’s heavier footsteps enter the room.

  “Farewells are always difficult, but there is little to be gained by drawing them out,” he said in his deep voice. The tone was far more compassionate than the words. “Say your good-byes, Daiyu, for Aurora and I cannot linger. We must cross to your iteration as soon as possible. We must discover where Chenglei has gone and what fresh mischief he might have stirred up.”

  Kalen sat up and urged Daiyu to do the same. She knew her face was pinched and blotchy, but she didn’t even care that everyone could see her in such an unattractive state. “Can’t we stay one more day?” she begged. “Can’t we leave tomorrow?”

  “It won’t be any easier tomorrow, I’m afraid,” Ombri said. “For you or Kalen.”

  Kalen tried to draw her to her feet, but she twined her arms aroundhisneck.“Comewithme,”shesaid,suddenlystruckby inspiration. “You don’t have any reason to stay here—follow me to St. Louis.”

  “You won’t remember me in St. Louis,” he said quietly.

  “And he won’t remember you, either,” Ombri said. “I told you that on your first day here. There is something about the Earth iteration that erases a sojourner’s memories of any place he might have been before. Even Aurora and I will need some time to regain a sense of self once we arrive on your world.”

  “Which is why we must find Chenglei as soon as possible,” Aurora said. “Before he regains his full strength.”

  Daiyu turned her back on them. “Come to Earth anyway,” she pleaded, putting her hands up to Kalen’s cheeks. “I’ll find you. I’ll write myself a note! I’ll tell myself to go down to the Arch—the gateway—every day and wait for someone. I’ll describe you. I’ll tell myself to trust you and to be your friend.”

  “Daiyu, it won’t work,” Aurora said.

  “It will,” she said fiercely. “Kalen, promise you’ll come.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers again; his eyes were huge and liquid just inches away. “And what happens to me if you cannot find me?” he said sadly. “What happens to me if you do not remember to look for me, if you do not recognize me when I appear? I am alone in a place I do not understand—”

  “Where you do not speak the language,” Ombri interposed.

  “And where I must appear like a lunatic to the authorities. What happens to me then?”

  He was right. The thought was horrifying. The only thing that could make her wish him to stay behind was the fear of what could happen to him if he tried to follow her. “Then you must stay in Shenglang,” she whispered against his mouth. “And I must try to live without even the memory of you on Earth.”

  “Come, Daiyu,” Ombri said. “We must get you home.”

  Not surprisingly, it took a few more minutes to get ready. Daiyu had to change
into her own clothes, so that she would not be startled, back on Earth, to find herself suddenly wearing a wholly unfamiliar outfit. In addition, despite Aurora’s disapproval, she had to write herself a note trying to explain her adventure. But what could she possibly say? In the end, she merely put down the most important part: “You were briefly transported to another world, and you fell in love with a boy named Kalen. If you ever see him again, he won’t remember you and you won’t remember him, but you should trust him and let him into your life.” She wondered if she would believe the words when she saw them.

  She had managed to keep the silken pouch she had carried the whole time she was in Shenglang. Chenglei had dropped it as he was flung to her iteration, and she had retrieved it from the grass before she rejoined Xiang. In it was the other note she had written to herself, which she discarded now, and the precious drawing Kalen had made of the riverfront. This, of course, she kept. Now she added the smoky brown rock Kalen had found in the river one day, the one decorated with bits of orange and cobalt. He had given it to her; maybe it would help her remember him.

  “I’m ready,” she said finally in a quavering voice, although she wasn’t ready, she would never be ready, she didn’t think she had the strength to make this final journey. But “Good,” Aurora said, and Ombri nodded, and Kalen smiled at her and took her hand.

  “Then let’s go to the gateway,” Kalen said.

  He continued to hold her hand as the four of them walked to the nearest trolley stop, and he held her hand as they sat together on one of the hard wooden seats. His grip was reassuringly tight as they disembarked from the trolley and picked their way across the yin-yang border of stones until they were standing in front of the tall red-lacquer gate.

  “What do I do now?” Daiyu asked, her voice roughened by the tightness of her throat.