Nine Gates by Jane Lindskold Page B

do nearly as well if they were concentrating on craning their necks, trying to get a clear look at you.
    Shen half rose as if to join her, but Pearl shook her head.
    “I was there,” she said. “I can answer their questions.”
    Shen stayed and she sensed his relief. If he had been up front with her, he’d have to keep explaining how he didn’t remember even the parts in which he must have been intimately involved.
    Once up front, Pearl studied her audience without appearing to do so. At least for now, she had them. The Thirteen Orphans, true to their original vows, had always kept pretty much to themselves. Therefore, much of what she had to say about the Orphans and their history would be new.
    She swallowed a sigh as she recalled how her efforts to get to know other traditions had been viewed with hostility, both by many of the indigenous traditions she tried to study and by her own people. The Rosicrucians, her neighbors to this day, had been one of the marked exceptions. Their traditions included welcoming the seeker.
    Pearl couched her reply to Renata’s question in a reflective, reminiscent note that would invite sympathy.
    “I can see why you’re worrying about our bringing trouble on you, Ms. Renata. That’s pretty much the response the Thirteen Orphans have always met with. The Exiles left their homelands to preserve those homelands, only to be greeted with fear and suspicion before they had hardly done more than take a few steps on the soil of their new home.
    “Then they were attacked by those who had exiled them. They bravely sought to defend not only themselves, but their new world from contamination. After the attacks ended—as we all hoped, forever—they retired to quiet lives, comporting themselves as very normal citizens.
    “Today, we, the descendants of those original Thirteen Orphans, find ourselves in a strangely similar position to that of our ancestors in those early years following their initial arrival. After many decades of relative peace, we wereattacked by those from the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice.”
    Although many of the members of the Rock Dove Society must have heard some version of this already, still there was an indrawn gasp. Pearl acknowledged it with a slight inclination of her head, and went on, her tone serious.
    “In response to those attacks, attacks that went to the very heart of who we are, we have done nothing but defend ourselves. Yet, here this afternoon, the present echoes the past. Shen and I find ourselves asked to justify our actions when we have done nothing other than that which the least insect would do if placed in a similar situation.”
    Pearl saw an uneasy stirring, marked out a few whose very lack of response showed they were listening only so that they would be permitted to object, and moved to her conclusion.
    “Moreover, we have done nothing that violates the pacts made between our ancestors and your predecessors. What magics we have used were used for self-defense. Nor have we done anything that would draw the attention of the nonmagical to our magics—or to the large presence of magic that is still extant in this world.”
    Pearl could see Shen bending his head forward, burying his face in his hands, but she could not tell if his expression was one of dismay or amusement. Never mind. His reaction would not have changed Pearl’s approach. She and her own had done nothing wrong, and she wasn’t going to offer the members of the Rock Dove Society an edge by starting with apologies.
    Judd Madden had taken a seat in the middle of the front row of the crescent. Now he rose and scanned those still seated.
    “Are there any questions? Yes. Myron?”
    A short, round-bodied man who looked as if he belonged behind the counter of the best sort of Greek diner rose to his feet.
    “Hattie LaTour’s report,” he said, “ended by noting thatalthough you and yours had dealt with the immediate threat to yourselves, another threat may yet emerge. Could