by Andre Norton
"It is gone—all gone," she said with a child's wonder.
"It is gone unless you summon it again, for it pictures the evil within you," answered Kung Chu Yueh.
"Now listen well." Her sweep of gaze included them all. "It is not my desire to play your games longer. I and my people wish only to be left in peace, contained within our own small world as the meat is contained safely within the shell of an uncracked nut. My lord's treasures shall be returned to his house, those of his kin shall be left to follow their own path. Between my dwelling and theirs, the door shall be closed—"
"No, please, no!" Damaris cried out.
"But yes, younger sister. 'Teachers open the door, you enter by yourself.' You have lingered nearly too long in the courts of childhood, it is time you walk into the future. I grow old and tired, and elder ones wish to sleep easily among the dreams of years past, not be called to confront problems of the future. For that belongs to you, my younger sisters," now she included Saranna, "not to one such as I. Such good fortune as the Old Knowledge has given me to summon, that do I leave unto you both."
She turned from them, and walked with her dancer's grace across the terrace. Damaris took a step as if to follow and then hesitated. Saranna could guess why. There was about that regal figure now such an air of withdrawal as they dared not intrude upon.
Within the moon door she vanished. And then, for the first time, Saranna saw a screen panel slide across that round opening, shutting them out. Damaris began to cry softly and Saranna went to her.
"Don't," she said. "How do you know—she may change her mind someday. And if you become the woman she thinks you will, then she will want to see you."
"Yes," Damaris smeared the back of her hand across her eyes. "Yes, at least I can hope—"
Gerrad Fowke, leading Honora, had already started back through the torn garden. Saranna and Damaris came behind. But Saranna, seeing how he led and supported Honora, felt desolate and empty. At that moment, she wished that she could also draw shut a moon gate, shut out the life as it was for a dream of illusion.
But when she picked her way across the broken wall, she found him waiting there alone. Honora was moving on around the house, her maid with her.
"I wonder," he was examining the stones which had been torn from their settings to make that opening, "if she expects us to rebuild."
"You believe her then," Damaris asked, "she won't want to see us again?"
"I should think," he returned, "after the activity of this day she would have no wish to see more of the Western barbarians. She has a legendary past, you know. Even in her own country, they speak of her carefully and with deference. One does when one discusses someone with her powers. I would take her at her word, Damaris. Suppose you get ready for the return of the collection; she ought to be sending that back forthwith—“
Damaris put her head on one side, glanced from him to Saranna, with a little of the malicious awareness which she had shown what now seemed weeks ago, though the real time could only be measured in days.
"Very well—" she replied with the ostentatious virtue of one being very good and obedient.
"Honora"—Saranna said as the younger girl hurried on ahead—"she will be all right now."
"Doubtless—for a while. But Honora being Honora will not turn overnight into any pattern of good will," he answered coolly. "She needs a husband to keep her busy, and someplace beside Tiensin where she can play the lady."
"She has that—Queen's Pleasure—" before she thought Saranna blurted out.
"Not Queen's Pleasure—never!" To her vast amazement Gerrad Fowke shook his head. "I am not the kind of man Honora can make and mold. And I am afraid if we were wed there might come sparks and then a roaring fire, or else a hurricane to drive our ship on the lee shore. No, I'll have none of Honora—"
"But she—" Saranna was amazed past prudence.
"Oh, Honora always believes what she wants to. Have you not learned that by now? We shall find her a husband after a while, if she has learned her lesson sufficiently well. No, the lady of Queen's Pleasure will abide there in due time—in due time—" he repeated as if he were Kung Chu Yiieh repeating some spell of noted potency.
Saranna's hands went to her bruised and scratched face. She felt very hot and was sure she was blushing. Could one ever be too happy? Maybe she would discover that—in Gerrad Fowke's "due time."