The Gate of Ivory

by Doris Egan

  I thought about that for a while, then said, "I beg your pardon."

  He smiled, not a teasing smile this time. He lifted my right hand and kissed my fingers with gentle courtesy. To cover my surprise I started to talk quickly. "Magic works; that's obvious. I'm not going to waste my time debating the reality of what I Ve already perceived. I outgrew those sorts of arguments when I was twelve."

  "All right," he said, promptingly.

  "But so far as I can tell, it only works here. Surely if it worked anyplace else, I would have heard about it. And yet I can't believe the laws governing the universe were changed for this one particular planet. That's just… ridiculous."

  "I agree. Although 'ridiculous' and 'impossible' aren't the same thing. Still, I don't like the idea either."

  "So how do you explain it?" I folded my arms and stared at him.

  He began picking up his cards. "How do you explain it?"

  "I don't. I just use it."

  "A good Ivoran answer. As I understand it, the human race did the same with electricity for a long time."

  I wriggled with frustration under the blanket. "That isn't good enough!"

  "No. Well, there are theories."

  Now I froze. "There are? Ran never told me."

  He shrugged. "I doubt if he's studied them; he's very practical."

  "But you have studied them?"

  "Well, I am the theorist of the family—it makes up for having no talent of my own, I suppose.''

  Was I hearing right? "Are you telling me you're not a sorcerer?"

  "My dear, not in any shape or form. What gave you the idea I was? I'm someone who studies sorcery and designs new ways to use it. I can't use it myself, though."

  In a family like the Cormallons it must be like being crippled twice over. "I always assumed… when you helped me study, you knew so much about it…"

  He smiled. "I know more about it than anyone you're likely to meet on this planet. Which makes it lucky for you, Theo, that you come to me with your question. Not that I can actually answer it, mind you, but I can recite more unproven theories than you or any sane human would really want to hear. Shall I start? If you don't stop me I will. Number One:—"

  "Wait a minute. You're not making any of this up, are you? It wouldn't be a funny joke." I saw his face and said, "I'm sorry. I would like to know these theories. Please go ahead and tell me."

  He said, "The most popular one for the last couple of centuries is the genetic engineering explanation."

  "Genetic engineering? Come on, Eln, Ivory hasn't been capable of anything that technically sophisticated, not ever. And I don't see—"

  "Theo. Darling. Lately when you talk your brain seems to disconnect from your vocal cords. Possibly a side effect of your injuries."

  I shut up.

  "What do you know about the Pakrinor?" he asked.

  "I saw a picture of one once," I said cautiously. "But they didn't photograph well. It was pretty blurry." The Pakrinor: the one and only alien species ever encountered by humanity. Date of encounter, somewhere around 100 or 200 post-Spaceflight. A fleet of fourteen ships, first sighted past Jupiter; as they put it, "just passing through."

  "They only stayed on Earth for a few weeks, as I remember. Not long enough for any good information on them, anyway. And as I understand it, the communication level between them and us wasn't all that reliable."

  "So the books say. But they gave us the first practical star drive. Not as good as the present one, but enough to change history. Communication was reliable enough for that.'' He started dealing cards onto the blanket again.

  "What does this have to do with magic? Are you trying to tell me—"

  "I'm trying to tell you that Ivory is a hitchhiker planet."

  I said, finally, "I've heard the phrase…"

  "The star drive," he said, "was not free of charge."

  "No, I understand that quite a few museums were gutted. They traded it for works of art."

  "Works of art, yes." He gave a short laugh. "Not only canvas and stone."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Surely you've read that the aliens took riders along with them. Colonists, who agreed to be set down at the first habitable planet. Nobody wanted to wait for the twenty or thirty years it would take to build the first human starship. Pakrinor ships are big. Freighters, with huge holds. Several thousand people went, not to mention the records and tools and livestock."

  "Yes, I think I did read about it. Wait, you're saying Ivory is one of those lost colonies? You mean people have been here since 200 PS? Great Plato, no wonder there's been genetic drift—we might not even be the same species anymore," I said, and stopped dead.

  Eln didn't notice; his thoughts were less personal than mine. "I'm not talking about drift, " he said. "Our stories of that time are very explicit. The Pakrinor regarded one-tenth of their passengers as part of the payment— they kept them, never let them disembark. We don't forget things like that here, no matter how long ago they happened. As for the other nine-tenths… there was a great deal of medical experimentation."

  "Experimentation—''

  "It's too late to prove anything now. Maybe the government really did agree before we left." He paused. "I wonder sometimes what they did to the people targeted for the other hitchhiker worlds."

  We were both silent. Magic as a force to be accessed only by beings of certain genetic background… that took some thinking about. Probably several days at least. I said finally, "I can wait to hear the other theories."

  He laughed. He picked up my hand again and dug his knuckle in playfully. "So be it." Then he said, "Still. If the Pakrinor ever come back… I don't think they'll be made welcome. Quite the opposite."

  "I get that impression. I'm glad we're on the same side, Eln."

  He grinned. "I feel the same way. It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for. "He cut one of his card piles in two and balanced the second one on my left shin. "Hear anything from Ran? He's been gone a week now."

  "He calls Kylla every night. I've spoken to him a few times."

  "Any news?"

  I said, "Why don't you ask him the next time he calls?"

  "Why don't I?" he said. He patted the bump in the blanket that represented my knee and slipped off the bed onto his floater. "Get lots of sleep tonight, Theo-my-darling. We start your exercise program tomorrow."

  "We do, do we?"

  "Forgive me if I presume. But your healer did suggest it. And you need to live more in your body."

  The way I heard it, Eln had not been present when that judgment was made. I said, "You always have to know everything that goes on, don't you?"

  "Lots of sleep, Theo."

  "Right. Lots of sleep."

  He waved and left. Several piles of cards remained perched just out of easy reach. The hell with them, I

  thought, and decided to start on that sleep right now.

  * * *

  In feet there wasn't any useful news from Ran. Or if there was, he wasn't about to reveal it over the Net link. I tabled the matter for the time being and concentrated on the present.

  Which included the matter of exercise. Eln appeared at my door next morning with towels and two wooden staves. It was a shock to me—I hadn't thought he got up before noon.

  "We're going to do sa'ret," he announced, and he handed me a staff.

  Sa'ret: The River. "I think IVe heard of this."

  "Good," he said. "I'm glad Kylla got you a pair of trousers. Put them on, bring your staff, and meet me outside in five minutes."

  "I haven't even had breakfast!"

  "Ah. I'd almost forgotten." He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small loaf of bread. "There's more later if you work hard. Chew as you dress, I hate to be kept waiting." He gave me a mock salute and went out. I glared at him as he went. Was this any way for a hedonist to behave?

  The River. That was my first day, my introduction to the way of movement that was sa'ret. We did the Old River first, the flowing
stretches and bends of a river that wound over well-known lands. And we did the Middle River, the balancer; you use the staff most in Middle River. We finished with the Young River, the current with wild leaps over rock and down canyons. I was sweating hard by that time. It was clear that Eln was not only a better chessplayer, he had a lot more endurance. Particularly since he had to modify the movements so they could be done solely with his arms, using apparatus he had set up in the garden. His verbal instructions to me about what to do with my feet were quick and clear, even as he was twisting on a set of movable bars several meters over my head. His staff rested, an unused talisman, on a perch nearby, while he grasped the bars in its place. His legs were strapped together at the thighs and ankles, giving him a merman look from below.

  He was graceful on those bars, as if he were flying. It

  made me feel clumsy. Nor did I really understand what The River meant. It was several weeks before I came to realize that it didn't mean anything, and that that fact didn't matter. I came out every morning after that with Eln, and struggled and sweated while he flew gloriously overhead. But I did learn; at least I had the basic postures and positions down, after what seemed like an eternity but was only a week. A few days later Eln told me to close my eyes while I did it, and stop watching him. Another week went by. Then he put up mirrors all around the practice area; so what was the idea, I asked, am I supposed to watch or not? No answer from Eln, he just smiled and pulled up on the bars. So I did watch. How appalling—I was clumsy. What of it, I was a scholar, wasn't I? I didn't have to do this, did I? I could go in the house right now… I sighed as I shifted to Middle River; what was the use of trying? I closed my eyes and twirled the staff, opened them and watched the mirrors from the corner of my eye.

  I was as graceful as anybody! I stopped utterly short.

  "What's the matter?" His voice came down through the dappled morning sunlight.

  I looked up through the shadow of the bars. I shrugged.

  "Well?" he said.

  I hesitated. "I don't think I was bad that time."

  "You haven't been bad," he said, "since the sixth day."

  We regarded each other. "Well," I said. I returned my feet to Middle River Seven position. As I did so, a leaf let loose from one of the garden trees and floated to the ground. "It's almost autumn."

  "So it is," he said.

  It was over a month since Ran had left to do his "research." It bothered me that he wasn't letting me know just what he was trying to find out. And when I was honest with myself I knew that that wasn't all that bothered me. Grandmother never came to meals anymore, and between her absence and Ran's, and Eln ignoring proper dinnertimes, the dining hall was a sad place. Kylla seemed busy and abstracted. Grandmother was ill, although just what the sickness was was never made clear to me, and from something Eln said I gathered that she didn't even know I was at Cormallon. This was somehow more shocking than anything; I'd been under the illusion that Grandmother knew everything that went on, at least where her family was concerned.

  One afternoon I passed by Grandmother's sun-washed doorway, watching Tagra hand Kylla an empty lunch tray. "I'm glad she's eating, at least," I said to Kylla.

  "Yes, but not much." Kylla swung back her hair out of her eyes, balancing the tray as she moved. Usually she put her hair up when there was work to be done, but she seemed to have little time for amenities these days. She looked tired and worried.

  "What do you care?" said Tagra. She frowned at me and went down the passage.

  "Sorry," said Kylla.

  "I haven't even said anything to her this time."

  "She's probably upset at the time you're spending with Eln. Don't know why—she's got him most nights."

  "What?" I said.

  She leaned against the stone wall. "Could you hold this for a second?''

  "Sure—of course." I took the tray. "You look done in."

  "I'll rest. But first I need to go down to the kitchen and talk with Herel. Come with me?"

  I carried the tray. "… Tagra and Eln?" I said, cautiously, as we went down the stairs.

  "For years," she said, resignedly. "And you'd think she'd relax by now. She's the only person at Cormallon who fits Eln's requirements."

  Which brought up a lot of questions which were none of my business, but which I was quite interested in. While I was thinking how to phrase them we reached the kitchen, and the thought of continuing the subject in front of Herel was just beyond the limits of my indiscretion. Later during my visit I could find no way of slipping into the topic gracefully.

  So there we were: Tagra hated me, Kylla was too busy to talk to, and Eln made me work. I also felt a bit of a fraud. After all, I wasn't doing anything. Just The River for two hours in the morning, and rooting through the library in the afternoons. And for this I was pulling down an enormous salary? Not that anyone else even hinted at such an attitude; on the contrary, they treated me more like a soldier honorably wounded, which just made me feel more uncomfortable.

  So it came as a relief when Ran finally showed up, over a month after he disappeared. Even if I had to leave the safe cocoon of the estate, it was better than marking time in this strained atmosphere… although just why the atmosphere was strained, I could not have said.

  I looked up from a new set I was trying of Young River Six-Three-Two and there he was, standing under a tree in the garden. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and threw down my staff. The garden seemed to tilt for a minute; I knew I really shouldn't stop so suddenly.

  "I didn't mean to interrupt," he said.

  "Too late," I said cheerfully, "you have." And I walked out from under the bars, feeling as though a pressure had been lifted.

  I was not the only one who had stopped suddenly. I'd forgotten Eln. "Theo," his voice came down. I looked up and saw that he'd swung himself over to the platform with his rest-seat. "Cut off my timer," he said, nodding to the floater down below. He usually had it set to rise to the platform after a certain span of time had passed.

  I looked over at Ran, and back up to the platform. "You don't have to stop," I said, "we can leave."

  "Cut off the timer," he repeated.

  I went over and switched it off. When the floater reached platform level, Eln swung into the seat. He pulled off his sweatband and let it fall to earth. Then he took the floater down to safety level and rode it back into the house, without saying another word.

  Ran chose a good-sized boulder off to the side of the practice area and sat down. "We need to talk," he said.

  Was he going to give me a hard time about my being with Eln? I was annoyed with them both. I was beginning to feel that the Pyrene creche setup made more sense than all this family intensity, and I was tempted to say so. Luckily I did not; for, as I found, it was not what was on his mind at all.

  "I've been checking into this sabotage," he began. It was just another example of a moment I was glad I'd kept my mouth shut. "And I can sum up my findings by saying I have no idea who is behind it or why. It's not that I don't have enemies… but what would they have to gain by it? At least twice the attacks were not against me at all, but focused on my card-reader. Why?"

  I said, "Why? You've said yourself that eliminating me would be a neat way of making you vulnerable."

  ' 'That motive only works if the person doing this knows about you. I've been very careful, Theodora. And I've spent the last month checking everywhere and everyone I could think of. The secret is still a secret."

  "The Chief of Police knew… suspected, anyway."

  "And someone had to tell him. I know. And yet, I swear, it's not general knowledge."

  "Eln and Kylla know, I think."

  "Eln and Kylla," he said, dismissing them. "I'm talking about a threat."

  "So this month was wasted effort, then," I said.

  He spoke reprovingly. "Elimination of wrong data is never wasted effort. And there is another possibility I've been considering."

  "Oh?" I had the impression that I wouldn't like
this possibility.

  "Someone tried to kill you because someone doesn't like you."

  "I'm a likable person, Ran."

  "Yes, of course you are. But let's look at—"

  "Besides, that assumes the death of your cousin was accidental."

  "Accidents happen. Let's look at—"

  "And the Police Chief's actions were unrelated."

  "Theodora. Try to think about this possibility rationally for a moment. Don't talk. Just think about it. Yes, the Police Chiefs actions could be unrelated. He could have been making a move on his own—these things happen, you know, they happened before you came here and they'll go on happening."

  I was silent.

  "Well?" he said.

  "I'm thinking, all right?"

  He cleared his throat. "I would like to hear what you're thinking."

  "It's a nice theory, except for one thing—I don't have any enemies. I keep a low profile. I'm polite. Even in the market I always addressed customers by the highest title possible. I don't like to be noticed."

  He said, "You've got at least one enemy, and so do I. Her name's Pina."

  Oops. That was another story. I said, slowly, "She didn't know we were behind her being blacklisted. She knew it was a trick. But she didn't know about us."

  "Possibly she found out. There's no reason to think she's an idiot."

  I was quiet for a moment, then said, "I'm thinking some more."

  "Good. I've been doing that for the last week. After I finished, I asked some questions. Pina's not in the city anymore. Her friends—of which she hasn't many, I might add—think she returned to her birth village."

  "And you've got the name and location of the village."

  "Yes."

  I paused. "Have you been there?"

  "Not yet," he said. "I thought we'd go together."

  Chapter Eight

  I was glad to be leaving Cormallon. It was beautiful, it was peaceful, everyone was very nice to me; and there was something wrong with it. Something in the undertow that I couldn't identify and therefore irritated me. I hadn't felt this way on my previous visit, and didn't know why. Perhaps I'd simply been too unfamiliar with the family to be sensitive to these nuances. Anyway, I was more than willing to accompany Ran on this "business trip." That was the phrase we used to the captain of the Summer Ice to describe our reason for wanting to travel down to Issin at this time of year—and I suppose it really was business, although not, as we claimed, the export business.