Kate Elliott - Spirit Gate

"It is late, uncle. Here on the eve of the Ghost Festival that separates the years, we do not accept worshipers, as I'm sure you know."

He smiled amiably. His voice was clear and courteous and so pleasant that everyone there smiled to hear his apology.

"I am sorry to disturb you. I am not here to worship the Merciless One."

The old woman, as always, was immune to any person's charm. "Then what do you want?" she snapped.

He had a friendly grin, yet there was a quality in his face that made a few of the hierodules shudder and others gasp and feel suddenly like succumbing to tears. Even the ginnies, hiding in the shadows, made their lizard bows as to authority. Even the Hieros, most merciless of all except for the goddess Herself, took a step back, although he made no threatening move and spoke in the mildest voice imaginable.

"You have something I've been looking for, for a very long time. I've come to get it."

The wind sighed through the garden foliage.

She turned to her deputies. "Go and get her," she said in a low voice.

They hurried away with scarcely any noise, for they were trained to move about soundlessly.

"The treasure is mine," she said to the man. "I paid for it, a fair exchange."

"You cannot buy what this is," he said kindly, "and I am sorry if it came into your hands in any manner which led you to believe you could own it."

"Who are you?" she asked.

He raised both hands in the opening gesture of the talking line. "My nose is itching," he said. "Many whispers have tickled my ears these last few nights. Listen!"

Acknowledging his right to speak, they listened.

"This is my tale. It is one you all know."

"Go on," said the Hieros, but now she seemed afraid, and all those who lived under her care and her rule found that her fear rang like a bell whose resonance made their own fears tremble and wake.

He told the story, punctuated by the most basic of gestures, enough to suggest the tale's outlines.

"Long ago, in the time of chaos, a bitter series of wars, feuds, and reprisals denuded the countryside and impoverished the lords and guildsmen and farmers and artisans of the Hundred. In the worst of days, an orphaned girl knelt at the shore of the lake sacred to the gods and prayed that peace might return to her land.

"A blinding light split the air, and out of the holy island rising in the center of the lake appeared the seven gods in their own presence. The waters boiled, and the sky wept fire, as the gods crossed over the water to the shore where the girl had fallen.

"And they spoke to her.

" 'Our children have been given mind, hand, and heart to guide their actions, but they have turned their power against themselves. Why should we help you?'

" 'For the sake of justice,' she said.

"And they heard her. They said, 'Let Guardians walk the lands, in order to establish justice if they can.'

" 'Who can be trusted with this burden?' she asked them. 'Those with power grasp tightly.'

" 'Only the dead can be trusted,' they said. 'Let the ones who have died fighting for justice be given a second chance to restore peace. We will give them gifts to aid them with this burden.'

"Taru the Witherer wove nine cloaks out of the fabric of the land and the water and the sky, and out of all living things. These granted the wearer protection against the second death although not against weariness of soul.

"Ilu the Herald, the Opener of Ways, built the altars, so that they might speak across the vast distances each to the other.

"Atiratu the Lady of Beasts formed the winged horses out of the elements so that they could travel swiftly and across the rivers and mountains without obstacle.

"Sapanasu the Lantern gave them light to banish the shadows.

"Kotaru the Thunderer gave them the staff of judgment as their symbol of authority.

"Ushara the Merciless One gave them a third eye and a second heart with which to see into and understand the hearts of all.

"Hasibal gave an offering bowl.

"Now it so happened that the girl had walked as a mendicant in the service of the Lady of Beasts, and when the other gods departed, the Lady of Beasts remained behind.

" 'They are content,' the Lady said, 'but I see with the sight of eagles and I listen with the heart of an ox, and so I know that in the times to come the most beloved among the guardians will betray her companions.'

" 'Is there no hope, then, for the land and its people?'

" 'One who is an outlander may save them, but I prefer to put my trust in what I know. Therefore, I give to you, my daughter, a second gift, so that ordinary folk who live and die in the natural way can also oversee the law of the land.'

"And she brought out the eagles, so great in size that they might carry a person.

"The girl asked, 'If even the holy guardians can be corrupted, what of ordinary folk?'

"But the Lady of Beasts had already departed.

"Yet Hasibal the Formless One waited half in darkness and half in light, unseen until now.

" 'That is the nature of the offering bowl, child, that it can be full, or empty, or partially full, and yet change in an instant from any of these states to another. Thus do corruption and virtue wax and wane within the heart. Yet it is the dutiful strength and steady hand of those who live and die while about the ordinary tasks of the world that creates most of that which we call good and harmonious.'

"After this, she was alone.

"So the Guardians came to walk in the Hundred. In this manner also came the reeves and their eagles who, with the blessing of the Guardians, established order in the Hundred one village and one clan at a time."

The man's voice ceased.

He lowered his hands to his side.

The Hieros said, more humbly, "Who are you?"

When he did not answer, she said, "The Guardians are lost. Gone."

"No," he said, his voice as calming as the cry of the night-reed. "They are not gone."

He stopped abruptly and lifted his chin, tipped forward onto his toes, seeing a thing as it appeared out of the darkness. Those gathered did not need to look to know what it was, but they looked anyway, because they could not help themselves. They had to look at the young woman who had the pallor of a ghost but the heat and solidity of a living person. The moonlight made her pale hair and creamy skin seem even more uncanny and desirable. She wore a sleeveless tunic, cut short for sleeping. Even at night she wore the cloak, her only possession. The moon's light caught in the folds and ridges of the silverine cloth as she was led into the courtyard, more like a sleepwalker than a waking woman. Her escort pushed her into position and turned her to face the man.

After a moment of silence she looked up and saw him. She saw, who never took note of anyone or anything. She stared at him, and an expression-like hope, like life-transformed her face. Half the assembled gasped, and the other half sighed, and the man shut his eyes and then opened them.

Her lips parted. No one here had ever heard her voice, but she spoke now in a faint, high voice as hoarse as if she had rusted it by choking down too many tears.

"Who are you?"

He offered both hands, palms up and open. "You belong with us," he said. "If you choose to come with me."

At a nod from the Hieros, the deputies stepped back. For the first time, the ghost moved of her own accord. She took one step, and a second, and a third, like a woman waking out of a nightmare who is not yet sure it is really over. She halted at arm's length from him and reached out. But she did not touch him.

She said, "I will come with you."

She lowered her hand, and waited.

"What of my payment?" demanded the Hieros, but everyone there noted that she did not try to stop the slave girl from leaving or the man from claiming her.