The Lost Gate Part 25

Bexoi beckoned to him, and he came. She was almost exactly his height, for she was a tallish woman, and Wad was still boyish, like a gangling adolescent not yet come to his full manly size. She put her hands on both sides of his face and kissed him firmly yet sweetly. It was not the kiss of a queen to her royal subject, or even the kiss of a rescued woman for the hero who saved her. It was the kiss of a lover, and Wad recognized it as such, though he knew not how.

"I accepted my brother's plan for me," she whispered in Wad's ear, "because Prayard is one of the mightiest mages alive, and I wanted his children. But he refuses to give me any. You are a greater mage than he is, my little savior; your seed has more value to me. I want it. I want your baby."

"The King will know it isn't his," whispered Wad.

"I will tell him I scooped his seed inside myself after he left. I've tried it, and it doesn't work, but he'll at least pretend to believe it. He'll hardly dare accuse me of adultery, because that would mean confessing that he hasn't given me his seed, which violates the treaty."

Wad nodded. Her thinking had been more subtle than his own.

She let fall her robe and began undressing him.

"I'm older than you think," said Wad.

"Good. I was afraid you were too boyish to do the job," she whispered.

"I'm older than anyone else alive," said Wad. "I don't know if my seed is still alive."

"If it isn't, then we'll at least take pleasure in the experiment," said Bexoi. "You are the first person in my life that I have trusted. We will make babies together, and we will talk about everything, and no one will suspect for a moment that the wall-climbing Squirrel, the kitchen boy called Wad of Dough, is the father of Queen Bexoi's magnificent, kingdom-inheriting son."

"Or sons," said Wad.

"And daughters," said Bexoi. "But if Prayard stops visiting me, then we'll have to stop too, alas."

"Eluik and Enopp will try to kill any child we have," said Wad. "If Anonoei doesn't try it herself."

She laughed lightly and softly. "The moment I'm pregnant with this baby," she whispered, "I will have her sent away, and the boys too, for dear Prayard won't be able to contradict me. My child will be heir, and the people will rejoice, and if Anonoei remained here they would be outraged. The moment I have a child, her two boys become b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and potential rebels. No, they won't be close enough to our babies to lay a hand on them."

"You've thought of everything," whispered Wad, who by now was in the bed beside her, discovering that his hands knew exactly what to do with a naked woman, even though he had no clear memory of ever being with a woman before.

"I always knew you watched me," said Bexoi. "Now I'm glad I never told the king to have you killed."

"It's always an option, if you get tired of me," Wad pointed out.

"Father me a baby, and I'll never get tired of you." She kissed him into silence.

13.

VEEVEE.

At fifteen, Danny was getting more and more frustrated with the solitude of his life with the Silvermans. It was the same problem he had had at the Family compound when he was younger. He could get a good education by reading whatever he could find on the internet and studying books from the library, so it's not that he was behind his grade level in school. In fact, he was doing college-level work in most subjects, and when Marion and Leslie periodically quizzed him about what he was learning, they always ended up nodding and saying, Carry on. What Danny missed was a.s.sociating with people his age. With friends.

Now that some time had pa.s.sed, he could look back on his a.s.sociation with Eric and realize that the reason he let Eric boss him around was that even though Eric didn't seem to particularly like him, or see him as anything but someone to use, he was the closest thing Danny had ever had to a friend. And now, though he didn't have to deal with cousins who despised him, he still felt like the only prisoner in a minimum-security facility.

He still ran, the way he had run when he lived in the Family compound. Now, though, it wasn't a secret, he wasn't escaping-he had permission. He was running openly on the roads around Yellow Springs. He would run up and down Xenia Avenue, or cut through the fields and run on East Enon Road-or County Road 18A, depending on where you were. That was the worst and best place to run, because it pa.s.sed Yellow Springs High School.

Sometimes, when he ran in the daytime during the school year, he would turn left on the DaytonYellow Springs Road, which ran along the north side of the high school. He would see high school kids running on the track-not the track team, usually, but just kids in P.E. cla.s.s, and he would wonder what it might feel like to have a dozen or two dozen kids running along the same road with him. At such times he would pretend that there was someone with him who would say, "Was that as fast as you can go, slowpoke?" or "I saw the way you jumped over that big puddle, good job." And sometimes he would deliberately splash in puddles as if he were trying to soak an imaginary friend-a prank (of course a prank, wasn't he a gatemage?). Or he'd set himself a goal as if a friend had challenged him.

But there was no friend.

He knew better than to wish for a compet.i.tion, however, because he knew that if he ever started to care who won, won, then he would always win. While he hadn't made the great breakthroughs as a gatemage that he had hoped for, he had learned to refine and control the techniques he already knew. So he could make a series of tiny gates, by reflex rather than by concentration, that would hurry him along in fine increments, so that to any observer he would seem to be faster than the other runners, but no magic would be visible. If he cared about winning, it would become tempting, if the race was close, to give himself just a little bit of a magical boost. And that would be cheating. What honor would there be in seeming to defeat someone who was actually faster than he was? Yet how could he bear to be bested? So he would never race. If he encountered another runner out on the street, the moment they seemed to be competing with him he would stop and contemplate the scenery for a while, until they were far enough away that compet.i.tion was impossible. then he would always win. While he hadn't made the great breakthroughs as a gatemage that he had hoped for, he had learned to refine and control the techniques he already knew. So he could make a series of tiny gates, by reflex rather than by concentration, that would hurry him along in fine increments, so that to any observer he would seem to be faster than the other runners, but no magic would be visible. If he cared about winning, it would become tempting, if the race was close, to give himself just a little bit of a magical boost. And that would be cheating. What honor would there be in seeming to defeat someone who was actually faster than he was? Yet how could he bear to be bested? So he would never race. If he encountered another runner out on the street, the moment they seemed to be competing with him he would stop and contemplate the scenery for a while, until they were far enough away that compet.i.tion was impossible.

Just because he had had the power of a gatemage, or at least some of it, Danny didn't think it was necessarily right for him to use it. Gating Eric out of Rico's office was necessary, he did not regret that, for it healed Eric and it kept him from getting beaten to death. Using his gatemagery to immobilize Rico was also the right thing to do, he was sure, because it was the only power he had to stop the man from doing more of his murders. But using gates to defeat a high school athlete? To break into people's homes or spy on them? the power of a gatemage, or at least some of it, Danny didn't think it was necessarily right for him to use it. Gating Eric out of Rico's office was necessary, he did not regret that, for it healed Eric and it kept him from getting beaten to death. Using his gatemagery to immobilize Rico was also the right thing to do, he was sure, because it was the only power he had to stop the man from doing more of his murders. But using gates to defeat a high school athlete? To break into people's homes or spy on them?

He was not ashamed of all the spying he had done as a kid, because he hadn't known he was a gatemage then, and he was trying to survive in a compound full of mages who had no qualms about using their their powers against him or anybody else. He had to know whatever he could learn. But now? He never created a gate that would let him see into Marion's and Leslie's room or spy on them when they were talking with each other or with interesting strangers. They would tell him what they wanted to tell him. He was not going to spy on them. powers against him or anybody else. He had to know whatever he could learn. But now? He never created a gate that would let him see into Marion's and Leslie's room or spy on them when they were talking with each other or with interesting strangers. They would tell him what they wanted to tell him. He was not going to spy on them.

But if they asked him to spy on someone else, he would do it in a second, because he would trust their judgment that it was useful and necessary to do so. It hadn't come up, but in his lonely hours he had played through many a scenario in which they really needed one of his skills to save them from some dire circ.u.mstance, and he came through for them.

Such were the fantasies that filled his mind as he ran, as he did his ch.o.r.es. He would see the girls emerging from school buses or getting out of their cars in the morning as he ran past Yellow Springs High, and wonder what it would be like to talk with one of them. "You left your homework on your desk at home? Let me get it for you-here it is."

But then he had darker thoughts, ones he was ashamed of. If he wanted a career as a peeping tom, he could do it from his own bedroom and no one would ever know. He couldn't let himself indulge such fantasies, let alone act them out. Drowthers shouldn't sacrifice their privacy just because he happened to have a little power that gave him access to anything, anywhere. And he knew that if he really cared for a girl, he could never do such a thing to her; and if he didn't really care for her, then-as he learned with Lana-he didn't want to think that kind of thought about her.

So many moral dilemmas he wrestled with-wis.h.i.+ng that they might actually come up in the real world. Wouldn't it be nice to actually know a girl who wasn't his cousin? But it would be so hard to be a real friend to someone his own age without letting them know what he was and what he could do. And that would be the end of the friends.h.i.+p, he was sure. Not because they would reject him, but because he would stop being Danny Silverman-he was using their last name now-and instead be That Kid Who Can Jump Through Gates In s.p.a.ce.

Danny was lost in thought, as usual, when he came loping down Xenia Avenue and saw a middle-aged woman materialize in the driveway in front of his house. In fact, she appeared in exactly the spot where he he had first appeared the night he came to the Silvermans for the first time. had first appeared the night he came to the Silvermans for the first time.

She had come through a gate. More to the point, she had come through his his gate. gate.

He hadn't been touching her or leading her. She had to have found it on her own. Which meant she was a gatemage herself.

Danny glanced around to make sure no one was watching him, and gated to a spot right behind her. He was so fl.u.s.tered that he failed to allow for the fact that he was still running, so he barreled right into her and knocked her down in the driveway.

"Sorry," he said, getting up. "You seemed to come out of nowhere."

"So did you," she said.

"I was just running along Xenia and there you were."

She sat up and looked back the way he indicated. "You're the gatemage," she said. "You just made a gate from there to here."

So she was was a Westilian. And therefore dangerous. "And I'm about to make a gate and stuff you through it," said Danny, "unless you tell me who you are and why you came through my gate." a Westilian. And therefore dangerous. "And I'm about to make a gate and stuff you through it," said Danny, "unless you tell me who you are and why you came through my gate."

"If you want a gate to be private," she said, "then hide it or close it."

Danny said nothing.

She looked puzzled. Then her face brightened. "You don't know how, is that it? You can make them, but you can't hide them or close them?"

His dread was giving way to curiosity. She obviously knew more about gatemagery than Stone or the Silvermans. "I didn't know you could could hide a gate from a Finder." hide a gate from a Finder."

"You can if you're powerful enough. But I'm more than a Finder. I think I'm a Keyfriend! Of course, I didn't know know that until I saw one of your gates for the first time in Was.h.i.+ngton DC. You have no idea how important that was for me." that until I saw one of your gates for the first time in Was.h.i.+ngton DC. You have no idea how important that was for me."

So maybe she didn't know as much as he had hoped. "What are you doing here?"

"Sitting on the gravel of the driveway with my nylons torn to ribbons and my palms and knees skinned and bleeding."

"Sorry," said Danny.

"No you're not," said the woman. "You were testing to see how much I knew about you and whether I meant to kill you."

"Still wondering," said Danny.

She beamed. "Here's what I know. I jumped through a half-dozen of your gates in the DC area, as soon as I saw the first one and realized what it was. You can imagine, it's frustrating being a gatemage at a low enough level that I can't actually make gates myself-because with all the Pathbrothers and Gatefathers murdered whenever they're found, and all the old gates gone, when would I ever even see see a gate? I had no idea what a gate would even look like, despite all my research over the past thirty years. And there I am in a taxi, riding along Wisconsin Avenue, and there's this s.h.i.+mmering off to the right. It's not something I'm seeing, just a heightened awareness of a certain place. Only the place I'm sensing is a gate? I had no idea what a gate would even look like, despite all my research over the past thirty years. And there I am in a taxi, riding along Wisconsin Avenue, and there's this s.h.i.+mmering off to the right. It's not something I'm seeing, just a heightened awareness of a certain place. Only the place I'm sensing is inside inside a church! I'm sensing it through the walls! Naturally, I stopped the cab. Paid him and then hurried over and knew the horrible frustration that even though I could get inside the church, I could not get inside the room where the s.h.i.+mmering was!" a church! I'm sensing it through the walls! Naturally, I stopped the cab. Paid him and then hurried over and knew the horrible frustration that even though I could get inside the church, I could not get inside the room where the s.h.i.+mmering was!"

"I take it you eventually did?"

"In a backward way," she answered. "I found that when I stood in a certain position, I could tell there were two gates. One was the exit point of a gate that took someone into the church, and the other was the entrance point of a gate leading away. I couldn't very well ask a priest to let me into his office, because then he'd see me use the gate-if it was actually a gate and if I was actually a Keyfriend or Lockfriend."

"I see the problem," said Danny.

"Of course, he would probably interpret it as some kind of heavenly visitation. Those Semitics are so eager to believe that their G.o.ds are still talking to them-fourteen centuries after the gates were closed!"

"Semitics? I thought that meant Jews and Arabs."

"The people who follow the Semitic G.o.ds. Jews, Christians, Muslims. The non-Westilians."

In his entire life, Danny had never heard that there were any gate-traveling G.o.ds besides the Westilians. "I always thought their G.o.d was..." But he couldn't think of exactly what he had thought their G.o.d was, because he couldn't remember ever particularly thinking about it at all.

"Really G.o.d?" she prompted, amused.

"A myth. Like Santa Claus."

"You mean... like Zeus? And Thor? And s.h.i.+va? And Hermes? And Pan?"

"I guess I thought that we were the only real ones," said Danny, and then he laughed at his own naivete.

"That's what all the G.o.ds think," she said, nodding. "Anyway, I'm outside the church on Wisconsin, and now I realize that I can tell where the one gate came from and the other gate led! It took a lot of walking to get to a starting place that didn't require me to break into somebody's house-all the gates. You are a naughty burglar boy, aren't you!"

Danny was about to snap at her, but she held up a hand. "Do you think I'd I'd stay out of people's houses, if I could make gates?" stay out of people's houses, if I could make gates?"

He wanted to protest that it was Eric's idea, but she was going on with her story.

"I didn't mind wearing out a pair of shoes-it was worth it. Because until that day I had no idea whether I was really a gatemage or not! And now I know that I'm a pretty good one! I can open all your gates and I know where they lead before I step through them, and I can even see glimpses of what's going on where they come out. And then it turns out I can actually go go through them! Only one way-the direction you went in-but I'm a gatemage, dammit!" through them! Only one way-the direction you went in-but I'm a gatemage, dammit!"

"So you aren't here to kill me," said Danny.

"Kill you! I want to wors.h.i.+p you!"

"Please don't," said Danny.

"I want to follow you everywhere."

"It seems like you already have."

"You just made made that gate, didn't you? You saw me standing here and you just stopped and made the gate and came through it." that gate, didn't you? You saw me standing here and you just stopped and made the gate and came through it."

"I didn't stop stop and make the gate, I just made it and then realized I was running too fast and couldn't stop, which is why I knocked you down, and I'm sorry." and make the gate, I just made it and then realized I was running too fast and couldn't stop, which is why I knocked you down, and I'm sorry."

"All right then, make it up to me."

"How?" said Danny.

"Make a gate-just a little one-so I can go through it and get that amazing rejuvenation! It will heal me, won't it? My research suggests that gatemages weren't also also healers, it's just that going through a gate heals whatever's wrong with your body at the moment. Certainly I feel healers, it's just that going through a gate heals whatever's wrong with your body at the moment. Certainly I feel wonderful wonderful after gating around after you all day!" after gating around after you all day!"

Danny didn't make the gate. If she was actually an a.s.sa.s.sin-something he could not rule out merely because she said she wasn't-he wanted her to have every disadvantage he could arrange. "Doesn't stop you from getting older."

"I've always wondered. Does going through a gate regenerate lost body parts? I mean, if I lost an ear, then went through a gate, would the ear grow back?"

"I have no idea," said Danny. "But I think not, because a man once lost his thumb when he was halfway through a gate, and when his arm went back through the gate, the thumb was still missing. Though come to think that may not prove anything because he was dead before his hand came back through."

"Well, we need to conduct experiments then, don't we! We need to find out how this thing works!"

Danny didn't like the way she was a.s.suming they were partners now. "I don't think so."

"Oh, we definitely need to know the exact rules of gating. How can we control the process if we haven't codified the consequences of various gatemaking actions?"

"The part I'm disagreeing with is the words 'we' and 'us,'" said Danny. "I don't even know who your half of 'we' is. is."

She blinked. "Oh my. I haven't introduced myself." She thrust out her hand. "I'm Victoria Von Roth, but you have have to call me Veevee." Then, in mid-handshake, she threw her other arm around him and gave him a huge hug. "I love you, strange gatemaking boy! You are the most important person in the world to me!" to call me Veevee." Then, in mid-handshake, she threw her other arm around him and gave him a huge hug. "I love you, strange gatemaking boy! You are the most important person in the world to me!"

"I hope you won't take this wrong, Veevee," said Danny-and it felt weird to call an adult by a nickname without a t.i.tle in front-"but I don't love you. In fact, you terrify me."

"That's just silly, I couldn't hurt a fly."

"You could tell certain people where I am," said Danny, "and they they would certainly kill me." would certainly kill me."

"But anybody anybody can find where you are. Just follow your gates! I admit there were a few interesting side-trips-why in the world did you go to that office in that high school... Parry McCluer?" can find where you are. Just follow your gates! I admit there were a few interesting side-trips-why in the world did you go to that office in that high school... Parry McCluer?"

"You're the only living soul I've ever met who can follow my gates." Then he added, mostly to himself, "Unless the Greek girl can."

"There's a Greek gatemage?"

"Probably a Finder. Maybe someone more like you. I don't know."

"Won't you tell me your name, O handsome young Gatefather?"

"We're not sure I'm a Gatefather. Maybe I'm a Pathbrother-they can make gates, too."

"Name! Name! What do I call you? Sweaty Careless Running Boy?"

"So then you go back through the gates until you find the people who are searching for me in order to kill me, and because you know my name you'll confirm to them them that you know me, and so they'll make you take them to me." that you know me, and so they'll make you take them to me."

"I would never do that!"