by Andre Norton
Saranna held the wands. But her mind was a chaotic whirl of bits and pieces. She could not think of anything else but troubles, yet those were difficult to place in any order.
Then she dropped the ivory sticks. The music on the terrace had ceased. In the silence of the room, the clatter of the ivory pieces as they struck the lacquered surface of the table seemed almost as loud as a drum.
"It is Yi," the Princess inclined her head a fraction to better read the pattern. "Which denotes advantage in every movement."
The tip of one of the nail casings tapped by the rod farthest from Saranna. A solid one:
"The first nine undivided—for you to make some great movement. The second nine—oracles which cannot be opposed if you stand firm—good fortune. The third six, divided—increase through that which means you evil— with no blame to you. The fourth six, you can be relied upon in the air you will give others. The fifth nine, undivided—you are of sincere heart and this will lead you to such fortune as you have not dreamed. The sixth nine— undivided—ah, here stands one to whom no one shall join, while the evil in that heart will deliver judgment."
For a moment she was silent, her attention given entirely to the wands in their supposedly random pattern before her. That she utterly believed in what she said was manifest. And that belief began to influence Saranna. The confidence of this dweller in the hidden garden was so assertive that she could not deny this as mere superstition and folly.
"It is well. The Old Ones have spoken." The Fox Lady gathered the ivory sticks together, fitted them once more into the fox-patterned box. "Now, younger sister, attend to what I say to you. We have seen what may be, and the reading of the wands was in all ways auspicious. But a faint heart may put to naught the brightest of foretellings. I say this—be strong of heart, trample down your fears even as a Bannerman spurs his horse to trample down the barbarians of the outer Hordes. She who you must strive against is strong of will; therefore, your will must be as steel to the iron of hers.
"There advances soon upon us an hour of judgment. At that time, do you come to me. For scattered forces defeat a general before he does battle. Do you understand?"
"Yes," for the first time Saranna spoke. And then she added in a rush of words. "They—Mrs. Whaley has sent for men to come from the city. They want to shoot the foxes, destroy this garden, all that is in it."
There was no change of expression in the lady's face, which might have been carved from the same flawless and aged ivory as fashioned the wands she had cast to foretell the fortune.
"Rumors of such madness have already been reported, younger sister. Remember, fear you must hold from you as you would avert a sword pointed to your throat when you have a shield in your hand to raise between. When the time comes you shall know it; then you and the younger one must come hither. I have certain powers which are the heritage of the women of my mother's ancient clan. But in times of great danger one standing alone may be as a too-lightly rooted tree facing a storm of wind. I would not be uprooted before my time, and thus you can help in another way—
"Now," she clapped her hands together and out of the shadows beyond the bed the old serving woman came bearing a tray on which were two handleless cups, covered.
The Fox Lady took up one, motioned for Saranna to lift the other. As the girl set aside the saucer lid, she sniffed again that flowerlike odor of the tea.
"Let us sip to fortune and an hour when all debts shall be settled," the Fox Lady said.
Saranna sipped, then drank more deeply. The red and gold, green, blue, all the color of that magnificent room beyond the moon door began to swirl around her. Did that ivory-skinned face before her suddenly sharpen, nose and jaw become another shape, russet fur covering that muzzle, or was that only some fantastic flight of imagination?
16
CHEN-SHOCK
Saranna had a confused dream. She was in her own chamber at Tiensin but there were two people there with her and the room was poorly lighted. They pulled and tugged at her, and, against her will (which seemed dulled so that she could not summon any resistance) they were clothing her in that same drab and shabby dress in which she had traveled from Sussex. Then, when she was fully clothed, one of them supported her while the other pushed a cup so tightly to her lips, that, in sheer discomfort, she opened her mouth, to be choked by a bitter tasting liquid swiftly poured therein.
Between them they then led her, or rather half-dragged her toward the doorway. There was another dusky figure waiting in the hallway. Dimly she heard a buzz of whispering amongst the three now surrounding her. Then that dream ended abruptly after the manner of dreams.
Saranna was first aware of a slight rocking of her bed. The sway reminded her of something else from long ago. But it was so hard to think, to remember. Above her closed eyes was an area of pulsating pain and she felt wretchedly sick. She turned her head on her pillow. The wave of pain answering that movement, slight as it was, made her gasp and then moan. She was so ill—
Mother—where was Mother? She could help—
Now that her head remained still, the pain was not quite so acute. Slowly, Saranna opened her eyes. The bed in which she lay— Where was she? This was not her small chamber in the Sussex cottage. No, the area was even more cramped. And Sussex—she had left Sussex, hadn't she?
Mother— Mother was dead!
Memory was returning in bits and pieces and with it stalked fear. She could already guess that this was no normal awakening. She had gone from Sussex to a ship—
A ship! The foul odors she could smell now, the swing of the narrow bed on which she lay—she was on a ship!
But how could that be? Because there had been houses after the ship—one in—in a city. And then one—Saranna's dulled wits strained to piece together those bits of memory.
Tiensin!
The recalling of that name might have turned a key. Because now flooded back the days—and nights—at Tiensin— with all their perplexities and threats of danger.
This was not Tiensin, and it was certainly not the room behind the moon gate which was her last clear recollection. She had drunk tea with the Fox Lady. After that had followed that queer dream. And now she awoke here. Where was she?
The throbbing pain in her head, those waves of queasiness which rolled over her with every movement were so weakening it was hard to think clearly. But she could use her eyes.
They told her that she lay on a very narrow bunk in what must be a small ship's cabin. There were the smells of an unclean place to further upset her uneasy stomach. Such light as there was came from a hooded lantern pegged to a low beam overhead.
There—there was her sea chest! Draped over it her shawl, her bonnet, the creased ribbons dangling. In spite of her sickness and the pain in her head, Saranna began to believe in the reality of what she saw.
Then that queer dream of hers. Someone or ones had half-roused her from a very deep sleep and dressed her. Who were they? Not the Fox Lady and her people, of that Saranna was certain. And why was she on a ship? Where were they taking her—and why?
There was a mug standing on a shelf at the other side of the cabin. Her mouth was so dry—if she only had a drink! Could she reach that? And if so, did it hold something which would alleviate her thirst? She ran her tongue tip over her lips as she stared at the mug.
Thirsty—so thirsty— On board a ship— Though she must have gone to sleep somehow in the house behind the moon door. She began to listen intently, trying to pick up the sound of wind and wave as she had heard it when she had come south.
There were instead small creakings, the slosh of water. And Saranna thought that, though she was clearly afloat, the ship in which she now lay was making no headway. Were they docked? The small spark of hope that thought brought made her move.
As she struggled upward, pain in her head intensified, to bring a moan from her lips. But she had swung her body half off the bunk, clawed at the edge to steady her, that she might not fall to the floor. Nausea surged to wrac
k her.
Only that fear which bolstered her determination got her somehow to her feet. So low was the cabin that she had to bend her head a little. She lurched to the shelf, reached out one hand for the tantalizing mug as she kept the other in a tight hold to balance her on her feet.
Liquid did cover the bottom of the mug, but as she raised it to her mouth the sourish fumes of the stuff made her stomach twist once more, and she dropped it to the floor.
Air—if she could only get into the fresh clean air, that might do her good. Holding on as best she could to the cabin wall, Saranna took four or five small steps which brought her to what was plainly the door. Against that she put her flattened palm, pushed with what little strength she had. To no purpose. She must be locked in!
Why?
Her head hurt so that she could not keep her feet. Now she half-stumbled, half-fell, aiming for the bunk, and landed on her knees, her arms across the stained and rumpled covering upon which she had lain earlier. She was a prisoner here—but why? And who had done this?
It would be very easy to claw her way back up on this noisome shelf, lapse back into unknowing, uncaring unconsciousness. But that she must not do. She rested her head on the surface of the bunk and tried to think in a clear and logical way.
Now she could most vividly recall all which happened in the hidden garden, every word and gesture of the Fox Lady, how she had thrown the wands in that strange manner of foretelling Damaris had called I Ching. And what had been then her urging? Stand firm, hold fear from her—come with Damaris when danger arose.
"But I can't," Saranna whispered. "I can't."
Stand firm, hold fear from her—
She straightened her shoulders, levered herself up and away from the bunk. Now she looked down at her crumpled dress. She forced one shaking hand into the front of her chemisette. It was still there! Whoever had dragged her hither had not taken the fox pendant.
Dragging that out of hiding, Saranna centered her gaze upon it. She was moving by instinct alone, yet there was that which suggested that this was what she must do. Cupping the pendant in her hand, she raised it to her forehead, the seat of that sickening pain. And there she held the piece of jade between her sweating palm and her head.
She began to breathe slowly and evenly. What she was attempting she could not have explained, it was as if her body rather than her mind, obeyed some unconscious order. Now Saranna closed her eyes, tried to picture the Fox Lady as she had seen her first, dancing before her followers, her furred and pointed face turned up to the moon.
Clearer and clearer came that vision. Now the head of the dancer was turned directly to face Saranna. The eyes of the Fox Lady met hers and held, grew larger, larger—filled the whole of the world—
Did the girl make some plea during that meeting of eyes —perhaps even of minds? She was not consciously aware of doing so. Nor was she now still plagued by the miseries of her body. It was as if what she, Saranna Stowell, really was, the element of her true identity, assumed command and the body was fully subject to her.
She arose from her knees. But she still held the pendant in one hand, her left. Now she looked around the room with purpose, knowing just what must be done, and seeking for the tool with which to do it.
Nothing—nothing of what she needed. She turned to her sea chest, threw its contents out upon the floor. Her hand closed upon her second pair of stays. She dropped the pendant, letting it swing from its cord. Her workbox was not there she noted, nor either of the dresses she had worked upon the past few days. She had only her teeth and her fingers.
Working with haste but carefully, she ripped and chewed at the tough cloth. At last that gave in a tear large enough for her purpose and she drew out the wide front busk, the thickest and strongest of those whalebone ribs.
She paid no more heed to the tangle of clothing lying on the dirty floor but gained again the cabin door. With infinite care and all the skill she could bring to bear on the task, she began to force the narrow, but strong strip of whalebone, between the jamb and the edge of the door itself.
Time and dampness were on her side. The wood was warped enough to let the busk slip through the narrow crack. With that much of her purpose achieved, she crouched to listen. There was nothing to be heard but the murmur of water. She was sure she was on a river sloop, and one now docked. Was there some guard on board, or had she, in her drugged state, been deemed so safely captive she was left alone?
She could not continue to wait; time might be of the utmost importance. Now she began to wriggle the busk upward, seeking contact with the bar which bolted her in here. From her journey on Mr. Fowke's sloop she knew such fastenings were simple. She could only hope that this would prove to be of the same nature.
There! The busk had encountered opposition. She had touched the bar. Slow, steadily, using all the pressure she could obtain from the pliant length of whalebone, Saranna began to lever that sealing bar up out of its holders.
This action seemed to take all the time in the world. The girl was wet with perspiration, weak with the effort she was forcing from her body. Then—suddenly, the bar rattled loose!
There was a clatter from without as it fell, sounding to Saranna nearly as loud as the thunderclaps on the night of the storm. She tensed; if there were any guards on board, that would bring them running. However, when she heard no thud of boots or feet along the planking of the deck,' she gave a quick shove and had her door to freedom.
After the gloom of the cabin, the bright light of day half-blinded her. But the air—the good air! Saranna staggered forward, out into the sun. For a moment, she was so glad to be free that she was unaware of anything else save that fact.
And she had been right in her guess. The sloop was tied up at a wharf. As she tottered around to face landward, she saw the hedge-walled alley which led from the water to Tiensin. At least she was still in familiar territory. But she was not safe.
No, those who had taken her from her bedchamber were of Tiensin, or at least they had been given full run of that house. They need only sight her again and—
Saranna crept forward along the deck, watching feverishly for any sign of life ashore. She edged down the plank walk to the wharf. Could she hide out in the garden? She must—! Perhaps she could even reach the hidden garden where the Fox Lady might grant her some refuge. But there were gardeners ever at work around the estate. If she were sighted—
She made the best speed she could to the shadow of the hedge, then edged along that, trying to be alert to any sound, any glimpse of someone at work here. Should she try to reach the road beyond the orchard, and, with that as a guide, head to Queen's Pleasure?
But with Honora here—
That odd strength which had come to her during that moment in the cabin when she had envisioned the Fox Lady seemed to be now fast ebbing. Her head was once more aching cruelly, and her body was so weak she could barely keep on her feet and moving. No, she must discover some hiding place until she was stronger. She could not hope to round the house in the open to reach the hidden garden, not in the full light of day.
In the end she fell and so found a hollow beneath the low spreading limbs of a clipped shrub. There she lay, crouching as small as she might in a dark huddle. Perhaps she fainted; perhaps she slept. But she did not remember much of what followed.
There was something pulling at her shoulder, a voice whispering in her ear:
"Please, Saranna—please! Wake up—wake up!"
Saranna tried to twitch away from that hold, close her ears to that voice. But, both were insistent, and would not let her rest
"Saranna!”
She choked, coughed. Her nose was full of a pungent scent. She opened her eyes. In the dark, someone crouched beside her. She tried to brush away the scent, and her hand struck against that of another. Saranna seized upon a small wrist.
"What—what are you doing?" She sniffed and coughed again. But the irritating scent was waking her, clearing her head. "Damaris?"
; "Yes. Oh, Saranna, where were you? They said—I heard them—you went away with Rufus. Mr. Fowke came and they told him that. He—he was very angry, I think. He would not talk to her after she had Mrs. Parton and Millie out to tell him it was so. And when I went to your room— everything was gone. Except your new dresses. Millie said you gave them to her. But I didn't believe her at all. Millie was awfully afraid. She says she's going to sell Millie, sell her deep South! Then—the Princess—she sent one of her people, told me to hunt in the garden. Saranna, what happened to you?"
"I'm not sure." At least that headache did not wrack her, as it had at her first waking. Rather the pain had subsided into a low throb which was bearable. But she had to gather her wits with firm purpose to understand Damaris' fast gabble of recent events.
"I was on a boat—" Saranna tried to make sense of what had happened. "First—I went to the garden and the Fox Lady. She threw wands and read something about the future." Through the dark, she heard a small gasp from Damaris. "Then we drank tea. And after—there is a queer dream about people dressing me—leading me to a door after they made me drink something nasty. I woke up in the boat and I was sick—"
"How did you get here?"
"I—I don't really know. The pendant—there was something about the pendant made me think in spite of my being so sick. So I got out of the cabin—and then I hid—" At that moment her adventures had once more begun to take on the aura of a dream—rather a nightmare. Yet she was out in the garden in the dark with Damaris crouching beside her.
"She's awfully angry," Damaris whispered. ''She put off the company that was coming. I think she wants to tear down the garden before she has anyone here. Rufus is gone. Maybe downriver to meet those men she sent for. I’ve been listening all I can. She thinks I'm locked up." Damaris gave a soft laugh. "I—I called the Princess and told her about your being gone. It was she who had her people look for you. She said you are part of what must come."