The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (104 page)

“You are a far better politician
than I give you credit for, my love. I am utterly impressed.”

She slipped it in her belt.

“Pack our things,
Kerris-your-name-was. We’re going north.”

***

Sireth benAramis opened his
eyes. There was an owl watching him.

He pushed himself up on his
elbows, looked to the dwindling fire. Ursa was bedded down under her thick yak
hide and the jaguar, Yahn Nevye, sat cross-legged and staring into the flames.
He had still not loosened his knot and his ears were tipped with frost.

“Is that the same owl?” the Seer
asked.

Nevye grunted.

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know.” The jaguar
shrugged, did not look at him. “I don’t speak to owls.”

“Of course not,” said Sireth.
“My mistake.”

He rolled to his knees, reached
for the small pot in which they melted snow and made tea. Ursa grumbled
something at him—he could distinctly make out the word ‘idiot’—and
pulled the hide higher to cover her head. Mi-Hahn was hunting. He could hear
her thoughts echoing from the night sky. She had spied a fat rabbit, was
planning on bringing it to the fire for breakfast. He smiled to himself. She
was nowhere near the hunter Path had been, but still, he could not imagine his
life without her now. She was a wild, happy child.

“I had a dream,” said Nevye,
still looking at the fire. “I think it was a dream. It may have been a vision,
but it was unclear.”

Sireth paused a moment before
dropping the handful of leaves into the pot. Nevye never talked to him like
this, like an equal. He would not disrespect the chance.

“What do you recall?”

“A wolf,” he said. “A blue wolf.
But strange, as if made of painted glass.”

“Painted, yes. And a yellow
cat?”

“You saw the same?”

“Yes.”

“Then it was not a dream.”

“No. A vision, most definitely.”

Nevye frowned, rubbed his arms,
cold. “What does it mean?”

“We will find out tomorrow, I
should think. When we reach the Wall. What else have you seen?”

“The girl.”

“That is all?”

The man’s expression grew
guarded and he looked back into the flames. “Many dogs. An archer. A cheetah.”

“If the Alchemist is there, I
will kill her,” grumbled Ursa from the hides. “Then I will kill all the dogs.
And then both of you.”

Sireth smiled. “Continue.”

“Eyes. Dragons, a monster and a
warrior covered in blood. A figure with white eyes and white hair. ”

“The Yellow Cat. Do you see him
clearly?”

“No. Not clearly. Why? Do you?”

“No. He is the same as the Blue
Wolf. Not real, a symbol.”

“Yes.”

No no no bad bird bad no!

There was a rustle and thump as
Mi-Hahn dropped onto the snow next to the owl. She began to cry in her shrill
voice and beat at the owl with her wings. The owl did likewise and both talons
and hooked beaks were brought to bear before he left the snow and disappeared
into the breaking skies of dawn. The young falcon watched him go, wings spread,
beak open, hissing as feathers drifted down onto the snowy rocks around them.
She began to tear at the body of the rabbit, clearly forgetting her intention
to share.

“Idiot birds.”

As the water bubbled in the
little pot, Sireth gazed at the dawning sky.

“Dawn glow red, Stay in bed.”

Nevye glanced up. The clouds,
their companions for days, were breaking to reveal a sky the colour of blood.

***

In my dreams, I am in the
gar. My arms are suspended from poles and my legs are bound together. They have
pulled out my mane, fist by fist. I have never felt such pain. It has been a
lifetime of pain.

Then, they take my hands,
press my palms so the claws extend and with their crude iron blades, they take
them. One by one, they take my claws and the bones of my fingers with them. The
pain of my head is nothing compared to this.

I do not even feel it when
they take my tail.

These are my dreams. Each
night. Every night. Only this. Even when falling asleep in Ling’s arms, these
were my dreams. And Kerris wants me to go back.

I understand what he is
saying. In my head, I understand but in my heart, in my bones, I cannot accept
it. I try to tell myself he doesn’t know what he’s asking, but I answer myself
that he does. He knows full well and yet he asks anyway. He doesn’t think of
me. He never has.

Fallon comes to me through
the wall. I think she must have a dagger for she cuts open the rice paper and
slips through. I wonder if the guard at my door has seen her or if she is a
dream herself. If she is, then she is the first dream that doesn’t involve
dogs.

I am sitting by a candle and
she joins me. I think I ask her if Bo Fujihara is expected to pay for both the
window and now the wall. She says, yep, or something like that. Tigers. I am
still believing she is a dream so I am not really listening.

She tells me that they need
troops or Kerris will die. That he, Bo and the
Chi’Chen
army are going
north with or without cats but that without cats, they will all die. And when
the Ancestors come, all the Empires will fall and we will serve the Ancestors
and bring them tea and be petted and made to fight in arenas to kill each other
for sport. I don’t want to hear any of it although I know it to be true.

I tell her I will think on
this.

She asks me about Ling, about
her baby whom I have never seen. She tells me that Kerris is a wonderful
father. I’m sure he is, I tell her. He is just a terrible brother. She tells me
that he wept for days, those first days on the boat and slept with the katanah
clutched in his arms. I call it manipulation. She calls it diplomacy. She
kisses me on the cheek and leaves, back through the hole in the wall that she
made.

I don’t sleep for the rest of
the night, but at least there are no dogs.

- an excerpt from the journal of Kirin Wynegarde-Grey

***

For the first time in days, the
sun graced them with her presence. She did so infrequently in winter, as the
nights were long and the moon was stronger but that morning, she did. The
streets of
Kohdari
were once again filled with horses but twenty times
more since the Gate of Five Hands had been opened and the
Chi’Chen
army
flowed across the bridge and into the city. They had begun the process of
preparing the wall and kestrels had been sent to all battleforts along the
route. Hay and water, tea and bread were being stocked for the trek, although
no riders would leave the backs of their mounts over the next days. The foundry
of
Shen’foxhindi
was a five-day ride along the Wall and nowhere in the
history of the Upper Kingdom had anything been seen near the number of horses
and men riding as was expected now.

It was an exhilarating thing and
Kirin watched it all from the double doors of the Gate. The wind was strong and
as he stood, hands on hips, watching the logistics of preparing such a force,
the flapping banners of both Upper and Eastern Kingdoms filled him with pride.
He was wearing the full yori, his bolt of golden mane flowing from the kabuto
like a banner of its own, and once again he heard the term ‘Khan-maker’
whispered among the soldiers gathered before him.

Bo Fujihara was at the head of
the
Chi’Chen
force astride a small chestnut with beads braided into its
long mane and tail.
Chi’Chen
horses were smaller than Imperial ones, in
fact resembling aSiffh more than Shenan, but still, their tack was impressive,
their armour colourful and gleaming, and it was all the city could do to hold
such a number.

Captain Windsor-Chan stood with
him, supervising the riders, the armour, the swords and the rations.
Kohdari
was, after all, his town, these men—his soldiers. Ambassador Han
stood next to him, hands clasped, eyes roving, praying that the ceremonious
force would leave
Kohdari
without mishap or dishonour. For his part,
Kirin was surprised that there had been no incident as yet, for while there was
no war between the two Kingdoms, there was no easy peace either. Soldiers were
soldiers, no matter what the race.

“Wow, oh, oh wow…”

He turned to see Kerris and
Fallon step under the ebony pillars and through the dancing cranes of the
doors. Both were dressed for warmth and practicality, wrapped in cloaks of bear
and bison. There was little night blue or forest green to be seen and he found
himself missing the little identifying dashes of colour that so characterized
their journey in the Year of the Tiger. Each had a kitten—Soladad perched
on Fallon’s hip and little Kirin slung over his father’s back. A woman from the
village was to accompany the babies on the trek to
Pol’Lhasa,
a tigress
of perhaps forty summers, and she waited in the crowds, horseless and smiling.

“Well,” said Kerris. “This is
impressive. How many are you giving us, then?”

“I will give you ninety of my
Dual Division. The remaining ten will be making the journey back to Pol’Lhasa
tomorrow.”

Kerris nodded. “And we have two
thousand and thirty of our own. That’s decent enough, I suppose.”

Kirin smiled. “Captain
Windsor-Chan has just informed me that once the men of
Kohdari
heard of
this mission, they were all eager to participate. At last count, we have an
additional three hundred and fifty soldiers on top of my ninety.”

Kerris raised his brows. “Well,
that’s something, then. Thank you both. It says much about the men of this
town.” And he bowed.

Windsor-Chan bowed and Kirin bit
back a wry smile. Kerris was indeed a diplomat at heart. He could speak
‘military’ well enough when needed.

“We will have two hundred feline
riders at the fore and two hundred at the rear,” said Ambassador Han. “It is a
matter of pride and of course, national security.”

“Naturally,” said Kerris but his
attention was fixed on the blood bay Imperial stallion being led onto the
street. He wore tack of ox-blood red, with red and gold tassels at his
browband, breastplate and flank. Over his haunch flapped the twin dragons of
the Fangxieng Dynasty. At his side, young aSiffh danced nervously. He wore no
tack, no saddle, bridle nor halter, not even a rope to indicate ownership. His
large eye was wild, his head high and tossing.

Kerris studied the horses as
they were led directly to the foot of the Five Hands Gate.

“Fine animals, Kirin,” he said.
“Is that your little desert friend? The one from KhaBull?”

“The very one.”

“He’s filling out nicely. Why
are they being brought out?”

“I am coming with you, Kerris.”

Kerris narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Oh, oh I’m so happy,” squealed
the tigress and she swung her daughter high in the air. Kirin was grateful she
didn’t kiss him again.

“Why?” asked Kerris again.

“Because this is a time of unification,
Kerris. I understand that. And there is nothing that unifies our people as the
reinstatement of the Shogun caste. Any Shogun-General would do. You just so
happen to get me.”

Kerris said nothing.

“Besides, if there is war, the
Blood and the Jade Fangs have a proven history as dog killers.” He nodded at
the katanah at his brother’s hip. “As do you.”

Kerris stared at him for a long
moment

“Fair enough,” he said and
turned back to study the wall of horses assembled before him. “I see Fallon’s
painted horse but where’s mine? Am I still expected to tack the horses,
brother?”

There it was again, the
darkness, the challenge. They still lived on this road. Yin and Yang. It seemed
the eternal way of things. Their stars would never change.

Kirin sighed.

“Whistle.”

“What’s that?”

“Whistle, Kerris. Loud and
long.”

The grey lion frowned, slipped
his fingers between his teeth. The sound he produced had been rumored to
shatter glass on occasion, and even experienced soldiers winced, covering their
ears.

The town square was silent save
for the howl of the wind, the jingle of horses, the squeak of leather.

“Again.”

Kerris stared at him again
before repeating the sound. Again, the entire town was silent, straining to
hear something, anything. They had no idea.

And then they heard it, a faint
squeal from outside the city gate. aSiffh whinnied a response and behind them,
Fallon let out a little gasp. Kerris whistled a third time. This time, the
answer was near and growing louder.

“Open the gate,” said Kirin.

“Open the gate!” shouted
Windsor-Chan and the command was carried down the street until they could see
the massive double doors of
Kohdari
groan open and a small, mottled
shape burst through.

Kerris seemed to be holding his
breath.

The crowd of two thousand horses
began to part as if by a knife and finally, Quiz the mountain pony scrambled
into view, snorting and snapping at every equine form in his path, except for
aSiffh. The young stallion nuzzled the pony, who nipped but did not bite.

Slowly, as if in a trance, Kerris
stepped down onto the snowy road.

Quiz rolled his large eye,
snorted again, flanks heaving, sides flecked with foam. His tail was tangled
with sticks, his mane a mass of ice and the whiskers at his muzzle were white
with frost but without reservation Kerris threw his arms around the sturdy
little neck and held as if he would never, ever let go.

Kirin stepped down beside him to
mount his own horse, a blood red soldier atop a blood bay horse.

And suddenly, there was a charge
that rippled through the crowd of soldiers, feline and simian alike. There is
an old saying, “Dawn glow red, Stay in bed.” The sky at dawn had been blood
red. There was a Shogun-General in their midst, wearing a yori of ox-blood red.
He carried the Blood Fang, rode a blood bay stallion. He had made a Khan, then
unmade him. They were traveling as a united group into a land that despised
unity, all because of Ancestors. It was a marvelous, terrible time and they
were all fixed to be a part of it.