The Gate that Locks the Tree

by Sharon Lee

  "Of course," Jeeves said, somewhat desperately, "I would not expect the House to admit these persons without knowing who they are. Indeed, as House Security, I would advise strongly against it. I will secure permission to reveal their identities."

  Val Con took a deep breath.

  "Is this not a great muddle, Jeeves?" he asked.

  "It is, sir," Jeeves acknowledged. "Without speaking out of turn, sir, I believe I’ve not seen such a comprehensive muddle for some time. If you like, I will prepare a list of the ten greatest Korval muddles...."

  Miri burst out laughing.

  "Very good," Val Con said evenly. "You will send me the list at your leisure, perhaps with an explanation of the communication methods employed by yourself, the cats, and the Tree. What I wish to know, now, with storm-guests approaching, is: What has produced this particular muddle now?"

  "Again sir, if I may be so bold – imminence is the problem, the now of now if you will. Imminence and commitment."

  Miri straightened up, and stepped to Val Con's side, shaking her head.

  "I’ve had dyed-in-sweater sad sack troops who couldn’t've done that good playing a delay," she said, possibly to Jeeves, possibly to her lifemate.

  Possibly to the cats.

  Or, Val Con thought with a shiver, to the Tree.

  Jeeves rolled backward a inch or two – his sometimes approximation of a bow.

  "Thank you," he said gravely. "Calculation suggested that a solution to this particular muddle might become clear during the course of our discussion. Sadly, it has not."

  "As I mentioned, the difficulty is that between us, the Tree and myself have had to deal with a range of things that are, or might be, imminent. We have discovered that time scales sometimes translate badly – that things which are soon to a cat or a human may not be – as soon to a logic with a long history or a Tree with a vastly longer history."

  He paused.

  "In short form, the Tree and I have pursued, in addition to our primary commitments to Line yos'Phelium and to Clan Korval, commitments to other communities. Other ... persons.

  "As you are aware, I had been much involved in the welfare of cats on Liad, and developed a network there of people with similar interests and necessities. Indeed, I was, through my independent funds and investments, the backbone of several organizations devoted to the welfare of non-humans. When it became obvious that we would be relocating away from Liad I did my best to spin-off such funds and anonymous board positions as appropriate.

  "Meanwhile, of course, and honestly, well begun long before I appeared on the scene, the Tree has had on-going personal and support relationships with a variety of cat families and clans. In person the Tree has followed certain lines of cats. . ."

  "Yes," Val Con said. "We had known as much. After all, there is Merlin—"

  "Indeed, Merlin!" Jeeves said, perhaps too quickly. "But the Tree has not simply followed lines and clans of cats. It has also taken an interest in a line – that is one line – of humans."

  Val Con stood suddenly taller; Miri shifted her weight as if centering herself.

  "I don’t mean to cause distress," Jeeves said suddenly. "But it should be clear that there are ripples to the Tree’s effects, as ripples to my own, and then there is an interference patterns of sorts where your influence, and mine, and the Tree’s, add up to unanticipated entanglements, to anticipated events becoming imminent well before they are expected, and to commitments thus coming due in a ... as you say, sir, in a great muddle."

  There was another pause. The head-ball wavered between orange, and yellow, and the palest of pale rose.

  "What fuels this muddle now is a commitment made – too lightly, on one side – and too firmly – perhaps too firmly – on the other."

  Miri looked at the settled cats, at Lizzy, curled beneath the blanket, and an additional blanket of cats.

  "It's a bad storm," she said, slowly. "Are you sure they're coming in? That they haven't sheltered in town until this blows out?"

  "We are certain that they are traveling to us now," said Jeeves. "In addition to what they hold was our promise, they labor under a constraint of time."

  "Hm. And what's the Tree doing, while you and us're taking care of the hard stuff?"

  "The Tree’s concentration is much divided," Jeeves began – and stopped.

  A dozen or more cats shifted, sat up, stood and stared at one wall of the house as if hearing something beyond the ken of human ears just beyond.

  "There is a problem," Jeeves said. "Lives may be in danger. Somewhere on the road. The Tree – "

  But Val Con and Miri, and Talizea too, felt the green presence now, looming and concerned, no hint of amusement in the unease, no hint of surety. Images of dragons, struggling against some unknown problem, failing to take flight, wilting, collapsing, followed by anguish and despair.

  Cats began to gather, to move toward the door, to move down the hall, alert. Val Con was sure he heard a cat’s complaint, strangely distant – the memory, perhaps of such a complaint, voiced by no cat present.

  "The Tree is a private person," said Jeeves, "and there are promises at risk."

  The green glow suffusing human thoughts receded. From without the sound of the wind increased, and with it the intermittent rumble of snow arriving in great lumps at the base of the Tree, having collected and slid down the network of branches.

  ACT FOUR

  Scene One

  Comes a stranger from the storm

  Enter Boss Gotta

  VERTU’S CONCENTRATION was threatening to bring on a headache, the snow was bright, nearly blue in the lights. There was something else at work, too, a kind of green undertone urging her to hurry, as if the top of the hill beckoned with promises of warmth, comfort, food, bed –

  "Slow!"

  There was command in the girl's voice. The dog whined, and the child said, "Malda, malda," and other words in that language that slipped so easily by Vertu's ears.

  However, she had slowed, in response to the tone of command, which had seemed also to speak to that green urging, which felt stronger now – closer, perhaps – but not nearly so focused on speed.

  "Something happened here," Anna said, "something – look!"

  Whatever had happened was a story told by patterns in the snow. Vertu had been following the path broken by some previous vehicle, and here right here there were mounds as if the wakes of two boats had solidified around some uncharted island.

  The weaker track came from what may or may not have been the road to the top, the stronger veered around and ...

  "Fool grocery truck almost hit somebody else, right here," was Yulie’s guess from the back seat. "They weren't so lucky as us – slid all over the place – maybe got kicked off-course."

  "Very slow, please. We must know..."

  That was Anna again, her voice strong and sure.

  "See, this track, not as wide as the truck, goes this way."

  Wind buffeted them with renewed strength, snow pelted the side windows, offering the track Anna pointed to as a better choice.

  Vertu reluctantly let the taxi come to a stop, lights flashing, trying to analyze what she saw on the road and then, closing her eyes and finding not the expected darkness but a kind of green glow beneath her eyelids. She peered through the flow with eyes closed, trying to see the Tree, to orient herself, and to make a plan – preferably a plan that would not further endanger her passengers, the taxi, or herself.

  If she took the left track, she would be aiming to the left of where she felt the Tree stood. If she took the right, she would be too far to the right. In this new snow-bound geography, there was no center road straight up the hill to Korval's house and Tree. Though there should be.

  There should.

  "We must go this way," Anna said, tapping the window insistently, and when Vertu opened her uncertain eyes she felt that perhaps yes, that track might be fresher. The certainty on the girl’s tongue, though, that needed checking ...

&nbs
p; "Can you tell me if this is a wizard’s call, or a guess? Are you dramliza?"

  Anna turned her head, peering into the back seat as if for guidance.

  Mary’s voice was gentle.

  "Anna, are you very sure?"

  "This is the way," the girl insisted, "the Old One is worried, and –"

  She turned suddenly to face Vertu.

  "You see, Miss Vertu. You see the Old One, I can tell. I see the Old One, waiting and worried. Someone – somewhere nearby – is in pain, I see them, too. Another is filled with anticipation, I have some training... we need to go this way."

  Vertu closed her eyes briefly, the green presence closer, insistent. The Old One. Korval’s Tree. She saw it in her mind’s eye, and felt it return her regard, know her warmly as a familiar watcher.

  When she opened her eyes the taxi was already moving. Carefully she guided it along the narrow path, snow crunching under the tires, using the vague snow-filled ruts of the previous passage as a guide.

  "Hurry," Anna said, but there was no hurry here, off the main road and with conditions uncertain. The green presence also demanded hurry – and abruptly acquiesced to Vertu's certainty that she must go slow, and be vigilant.

  There!

  A flash of something blue, gone in the snow, then another, ahead.

  Vertu hit the horn in warning against a car coming their way, but there was only...

  A red flash, this time, closer, wilder, maybe too high to be a car, though maybe...

  Rascal barked a sharp warning.

  Anna cried, "Watch out!"

  And Yulie said, "She’s frozen!"

  How Yulie knew the figure in the bright orange wrap, holding lights over her head, was female Vertu didn’t ask. She was too much concerned with stopping the cab safely, and shoving the door open into the swirling snow.

  "We see you! Safety is here!" she called out in Liaden – and had no time to wonder why that language here before she was answered in the same tongue.

  "They’re trapped! I need help, they’re trapped! Follow me!"

  The voice was female, the Liaden pure in Command mode.

  The figure turned and fled away into the snow, flashing the light at them over her shoulder.

  Swearing in Liaden, Vertu threw herself into the driver's seat, slammed the door, and put the cab into gear, following the high-definition boot tracks, and the occasional flash of a red or blue light through the sheeting snow.

  "She says they’re trapped," she told her passengers over the storm. "That they need help."

  "Well, it's happenin' on our side of the toll-booth," Yulie said lightly. "Looks like we're Boss Gotta. Let’s go fetch!"

  Scene Two

  On a snow-filled road, under a snowy sky

  RASCAL BOUNDED INTO the snow as soon as Anna pushed the door open, following the Liaden woman’s trail up to a roadside where the tire ruts disappeared off the lighted edge and down a hill.

  "There!"

  Vertu, Anna, Mary and Rascal stood on that edge for a moment, peering into a snow-swirled scene confused by flashing lights beneath the still accumulating crystalline surface. The woman was floundering down the hill in her light reflecting coat– soon followed by Vertu.

  The car – one of the blue and red-striped cabs prone to stealing fares – was on a steep incline, tail end lower than front, driver-side mostly in the clear, while the passenger side was nearly buried in a snowdrift-covered pile of leafless brush.

  Yulie arrived, and without preamble followed the trail the women had broken. He carried a bag in one hand and turned –

  "Anna, you stay up there, this could be too deep for you. Mary – you come down and gimme a hand."

  "You’ll need me if someone’s hurt!" Anna voice barely made it through the racket of the snow and wind. She was holding two of Vertu’s emergency lights. Rascal charged down the hill after Yulie, casting bounding shadows.

  "We need the light from up there! Stay up there and hold 'em steady! If somebody's hurt, we'll bring 'em to you!"

  Vertu caught up to the woman as they both reached the side of the snowbound car; she saw a determined red face under a hood. The woman spoke, her first words taken by the wind as its toll, then –

  "... blood on the driver, which I wrapped, a leg injury," the woman said, the accent of Solcintra strong . "There is some damage to the foot, also. He cannot walk, I think. And Chelada – she is in the back, unharmed – but she is pregnant and ready tonight!"

  The angle made getting the door open difficult, and the chaos of the interior was not what Vertu had expected.

  In the back was not a woman with a fat belly, but a large multi-colored cat in a travel wagon partly covered by a small rug, wide-eyed and panting. The driver-side front seat was empty, with the floor partly filled with legs stretched from the passenger side. The passenger – or driver it must be! – was awkwardly placed, leaning half on the passenger door and half on the worn seat, bent in a way meant to take strain off of a leg but clearly uncomfortable.

  "We stopped on the edge," the Liaden explained to Vertu, as the others gathered to see what could be done, "then the accident with the leg. When I got out to find help, the wind slammed the door shut; the car slipped off the edge. The snow kept it from sliding too far – but this is far enough!"

  "Can’t walk, I don’t think," the driver was saying to Yulie. "Can’t stay, either. Prolly only got half-hour more heat –"

  "Right. Gotta a notion to haul you outta there. That's first. Then we'll work out how to get you to the top. Here –"

  There came the rustle of a bag being opened, and Yulie spoke again.

  "Miss Vertu, you're smallest. We'll get you in there –"

  "I'm smaller," the other woman said sharply in Terran.

  "You already been in a wreck, saved this fella's life, I'm thinking, then went for a hike inna snowstorm, looking for help. Why not let the rest of us get some work in while you take a rest?"

  The woman looked inclined to argue still. Mary touched her arm.

  "You could do it, no one doubts," she said. "But we are fresher; the work will go quicker, and speed is important, for the cat, and the man."

  The stiff shoulders relaxed somewhat.

  "Yes."

  "All right, then," said Yulie. "Miss Vertu, you climb on in. First thing is to get the cat into this bag. You hand her out to this lady, and then we'll have enough room to work this fella 'round so we can pull him out with these."

  These were blankets pulled from the bag he’d been carrying, still bundled in their sales wrap. He shredded the thin strips in his rush, jammed them in his pocket and handed one to Vertu as she climbed over the door sill.

  Rascal began barking, and jumped back from the car, barking again as snow fell from an overhead branch – and again as the car moved, threatening to slide between two of the snow-covered brush piles it leaned against.

  "Right," said Yulie. "Best get to work."

  Scene Three

  A Rescue

  IN THE END THEY STASHED most of what Yulie, Mary, and Anna had brought with them into the stricken cab to make room for the rescued. With Yulie as center lead, Vertu on the right side, and Mary on the left, they managed to get the impromptu travois, and the driver, over the edge and into Vertu's cab.

  The Liaden woman – Toragin, she named herself – carried a small bag in addition to the one with the quiet cat in it – led the way up the hill with Rascal a presence to her left, managing a steady pace despite the uncertain footing and wind. She accepted Anna's hand as an aid to getting over the edge and stood there, cuddling her cat and her bag.

  Once over the edge, the travois team took a moment to rest. The wounded cab driver was swearing softly and constantly, and Vertu moved slightly away from him, so as to give him the privacy such a rendering of art deserved.

  That put her close to Toragin, who was also speaking – not swearing, Vertu thought, but alternating between murmuring comforting phrases to the cat, and recriminating with someone el
se – or perhaps herself.

  "You told her she would have her kittens under branch. A promise given, and cast away, with no word or care for her. As if you had forgotten!"

  "All right," Yulie called. "All's we got left is the easy part!"

  Mary laughed, and took hold of her side of the blanket. Vertu stepped up, and took hold of hers.

  They reached Vertu's cab, all the worse for the weather, and the rescue. When the passenger's side front door was opened to urge Toragin and Chelada into the warmth, Rascal settled onto the floor at her feet.

  The rest of them dealt with the driver, the final configuration being Yulie, Mary, and Anna sitting together on the back seat with the driver half reclining across their laps. His boots were in Anna's lap, and Vertu saw her nod with satisfaction as Mary twisted to pull the cab's first aid kit from the compartment under the seat.

  Meanwhile, Toragin was next to Vertu, a blanket wrapped around her coat, barely looking up as the heavily burdened cab got cautiously under way. The bag was in her lap, open, and she was looking down at the cat curled there. Rascal sat very quietly, crowded against Toragin's legs as if offering warmth, alert ears and face turned respectfully away from the cat, whose back was turned to him.

  Vertu measured her turn, looking to the end of the road, as determined by the marks their boots and Rascal’s wandering pace had left.

  "If you see something outside I should know about," she said to her passengers at large, "please tell me. Elsewise talk as you need, but not to me, is that understood? I will need to concentrate."

  Those in the back answered in the affirmative, while next to her the mumbling continued, low enough that it did not distract. From the back seat, Anna spoke low and with composure.

  "I will unwrap these wet towels and inspect your hurts. Now, tell me – this part here?"

  "It stings."

  "If I do this ..."

  "Don’t touch it, it already ..."

  "To help, I need to work in two ways. One way will hurt to start, since your muscles have tangled up their needs with your pain. Also, you have been pierced by something, but we’ll need to have good light to see that. We will leave the wrap in place."