The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (115 page)

Swiftly, she rose to her feet,
not bothering to wipe her blades. She could hear the tang of steel and knew her
soldiers were dispatching the remnants of the Legion. She moved into the heart
of the camp, let her eyes sweep over their few personal effects, the bedrolls
and weapons, the crackling tents and tin cups. There was a man on hands and
knees, his torso blackened by lightning, attempting to crawl to his sword.
Valor, she thought to herself. Valor and duty. Traits she could appreciate.

Because of that, she took off
his head in one blow.

Her blood was racing with the
passion of battle, her heart as sharp as the sharpest steel. As she moved
through the camp, taking off all the heads that remained attached to bodies,
she knew that she had made the wrong decision at the path to
Sha’Hadin
.
She had likely made the wrong decision at the beach in Ana’thalyia or in the
gypsy camp or in the mountains of
Hiraq
. She was a warrior, only at home
with a blade in her hand. She should not now nor ever be the wife of a priest.

She cast her eyes up to the mountain
where fires were burning on the Wall. She had not stopped to help him. She had
seen him hit by the arrow and still, she had not stopped. Her chest tightened
and she prayed he was still alive. She was a very bad wife.

Find the steel in yourself,
he had said.
For yourself.

She was steel. That was all she
had ever been.

It was
he
that was
changing her, trying to make her soft, vulnerable, useless.

It was
he
who needed a
lesson in steel.

She snarled, hiked her swords
and pushed deeper into the camp.

***

The mouth of the mine was a
crowded bloody mess.

Horses and cats, a monkey and
two dogs and the smell of blood was heavy and hot. The Alchemist had given the
baby to the Scholar, who was sitting with Musaf Summerdale as he gurgled life
out through the arrow in his throat. It was surprising how long it took the man
to die, but after a long while he sputtered, clawing the air with his fingers,
and then he stopped, eyes wide and terrified still. Fallon wept bitterly at his
side, clutching the baby to her chest.

The young captain who had ridden
with Kirin since
Pol’Lhasa,
Haj Li-Hughes, was dead, an arrow piercing
his heart through the uniform. Two other soldiers were dead along with three
horses. The dogs huddled together, the sister shaking and moaning, the brother
holding her, stroking her brow with his hand. Kirin remembered all the times he
would care for Kerris after a night of lightning or drink.

The last Seer of
Sha’Hadin
sat
with his back against the rough stone wall as the Alchemist slowly, carefully
peeled the many layers of brown leather and linen away from the pelt of his
chest. There was little blood – if they did not shatter on impact, arrows
of this sort would not bleed until after removing. She had opened an ominous
dark roll she had been carrying and Kirin saw needles, tubes, sticks and vials.
It all reeked of incense. She smeared a thick line of salve around the shaft.

“We’ve covered this ground
before, haven’t we?” asked the Seer, a weary grin tugging one corner of his
mouth.

“Of course.”

“I never had the chance to say
thank you.”

Golden eyes met brown.

“Wait,
sidi.
If you live,
you may then thank me twice.”

“Agreed.”

Sherah glanced up at Kirin. “You
may help,
sidi.”

“Any way I can,” he said. “How?”

“Removing the arrow will bring
pain and blood. Brace him against the wall so I may work.”

He nodded and knelt down,
grasping the Seer’s hand and using his shoulder to pin him to the wall. The
Alchemist did not wait, did not spare a moment for a deep breath or a dramatic
pause, but swiftly yanked the bolt from the flesh causing blood to spray across
the plates of the
osedeh
. The Seer hissed but Kirin pushed and the
Alchemist set to work.

It was strange and quiet then,
as Yahn Nevye slid down the wall next to Kerris and the Ambassador, both with backs
against the stone. The grey lion looked exhausted, his eyes barely open, hands
draped limply across his knees. Nevye studied him for a moment before the lion
turned his head.

“Yes,
sidalord
jaguar? Is
there something you want? You’re a-looking at me strange.”

“Sorry. It’s just,” he sighed.
“Well I can’t see you being afraid of anything,
sidi,
especially not
earth. Not when you can do the things you do.”

“Hm.” Kerris leaned his head
back against the stone. “It devours me.”

“What does?”

“The power. The elements. They
all devour me, my mind, my strength, my
chi
. I don’t want any of it. Not
at all.”

The jaguar grunted,
understanding. Bo Fujihara slipped a pipe between his teeth, pulled a match.

“You should have seen your owl
tonight,” he said.

Nevye looked. The bird was
sitting at the mouth of the mine, not willing to fly in lest a falcon chase him
out.

“What do you mean?”

“He was catching arrows.”

“Catching arrows?”

“Yes,” said the monkey, puffing
to light the tobacco inside the pipe. “He was swooping around, snatching arrows
out of the sky

“Why would he do that?”

“Protecting you, I think.”

“Protecting me? Why?”

The bird opened its wings,
hopped in place.

“You Seers,” said Kerris, eyes
closed once again. “You don’t understand anything, do you?”

“Nothing,” said Nevye. “We
understand less of the world than the average cat.”

“That’s the truth.”

Fujihara grinned. “He has your
gloves.”

“I know.”

“What happened to your hands?”

“It’s a sad story.”

“My favourite kind.”

Kerris grinned. “But another night,
please. I’m far too tired for stories. I was just about to make love to my
wife, too. It’s a bugger, life.”

The jaguar continued to study
the owl, which turned its head almost upside down watching him back.

“Give me my gloves.”

The owl blinked one eye.

“My gloves. Give them back.”

The other eye.

Nevye held up his arm, hand
hidden in the folds of his robe. “Please give me my gloves, Hunts in Silence.”

The bird lifted into the air,
swept forward and dropped the gloves between the jaguar’s feet. He circled once
before landing on Nevye’s arm, wings folding across his back.

“Well, look at that,” said
Kerris.

“What a beautiful bird,” said
Bo.

For his part, Yahn Nevye didn’t
dare breathe.

At that moment, Ursa Laenskaya
blew into the mouth of the mine, bringing the cold north wind with her.

“Oh joy,” the grey lion groaned.
“Keep your head low,
sidalord
jaguar. Looks like our Major didn’t get
her fill of blood tonight.”

The jaguar swallowed and tried
to make himself disappear into the wall, but the Major moved past him to stand
over her husband, arms folded across her chest, as the Alchemist worked and
hummed to herself in strange, exotic keys.

The moon is bright, the wind
is quiet,


The tree leaves hang over the
window,


My little baby, go to sleep
quickly,


Sleep, dreaming sweet
dreams.


Kerris looked up. His wife was
sitting cross-legged on the stone, rocking the baby in her arms and singing a
cuīmián
qǔ,
a sweet sleeping song for babies. He rose to his feet, made his
way over. Someone had wrapped the body of Musaf Summerdale in his cloak but his
blood was still fresh on the mine floor. The tears had dried on Fallon’s cheeks
and she seemed very sad.

The moon is bright, the wind
is quiet,


The cradle moving
softly,


My little one, close your
eyes,


Sleep, sleep, dreaming sweet
dreams.

He knelt down beside her,
stroked her lightning hair.

“I want you to go home,” he said
quietly. “I want you to take our nephew and a few of Kirin’s soldiers and I
want you to go home. Please, will you do this for me?”

“It took him so long to die,”
she sniffed. “I would never have thought an arrow could take so long.”

He sighed. She had not been
there in the camp of the dogs a year ago. She had not seen, she had not heard.
She had not witnessed the devastation the dogs had caused, the horrors they had
wrought. She had been in the Humlander with Solomon, safe and burning the dead
and singing.

“Will you go? Please, luv? I
could do this much easier if I didn’t think for every moment that the next
arrow could be yours.”

“It won’t be.”

“Fallon, please.”

She looked at him and broke his
heart. She did that often. He was surprised at how it always grew back,
however, just a little bit stronger.

“It won’t be,” she said again.
“Sireth saw six kittens. Six grey striped kittens.”

“We only have two.”

“See?” She tried to smile.
“Sireth benAramais is never wrong.”

“I hope so.” He leaned forward,
kissed her forehead. “I couldn’t live without you. You know that.”

“I know.”

Kerris looked around at the men
and women in the mine, all wounded and hurting in some way or another. He
looked down at the baby, his nephew, child of his brother and the woman he
hated more than anyone in the Kingdom. He should have killed her the other
night, he realized. He should have taken her head off as she knelt but her
blood would have spilled over her baby and that would have been wrong. Besides,
it would not have been good to start a journey of peace with the spilling of
blood.

“Sing,” he said to his wife.
“Sing the
cuīmián qu
again. I think we all could use a little
soothing.”

She smiled at him and her tears
started anew, but she did sing and it was sweet, soft and healing.

The moon is bright, the wind
is quiet,


The night is cloaked in
starlight,


My little one, dream of
morning,


Sleep, sleep, sleep, dreaming
sweet dreams.

And so they passed a very quiet,
sad night in the mouth of the mine, their first night in a new and foreign
land. The moon was bright, the wind was quiet, but no one was dreaming sweet
dreams. In fact, no one slept at all.

***

The falcon returned the next
day with news of the army. They had headed out from
Shen’foxhindi
and we
were to be expecting them very soon. Captain Windsor-Chan was also estimating
that our numbers had swelled to almost six thousand soldiers and a thousand
extra horses. I was unbelievably proud.

The falcon also relayed a
letter from the Empress that had been waiting for me at
Shen’foxhindi
,
sealed in wax and the scent of lotus. I have yet to read it, although every
hair on my body is telling me to do so.

Kerris buried the dead by
calling on sheets of rock to slide down the mountain over top the three horses,
two leopards, the one tiger and the young lion. It was fitting, for while a
basket from the Wall was an adequate means to bring our small team provisions
from above, it was not so adequate for the transportation up of the dead. I
still am a firm believer in honour, no matter what the last years have taught
me.

The Seer himself spent most
of the next days in meditation. The Alchemist’s remedies proved powerful yet
again and I wondered at the breadth of her skills. Salves, potions and
competent stitchery could in no wise work the healing magic that she does. My
chest aches every time I look at her and I am glad I have a letter from Ling.
It will help me remember my choices and the reasons for them.

Major Laenskaya has been in a
foul mood these days, more foul than I can remember in some time. I wonder how
long she will remain content as the wife of a Seer when the heart of a warrior
beats within her. She and the remaining soldiers forayed out to secure the
plateau, counting eighteen dead from the night’s brief but bloody battle. They
also sought out and found the remains of the Legion camp. The cannon had done
some damage but the lightning had killed most and she counted twenty-three
charred bodies twisted on the ground there.

With now the death count at
four cats to forty-one dogs, I wonder how long it will be before our canine
company betrays us.

The Seer, the Oracle, the
Monk, the Alchemist and the Elemental (the Magic, as the soldiers were now
calling them) were sitting together in a circle. Kerris had refused to sit next
to Sherah. They were made to join hands and he refused to acknowledge her in
any way. It was a sentiment I understood well, although perhaps did not share.
The Oracle had made a point of sitting with Yahn Nevye and I wondered at her
strange fascination with him. He seemed uncomfortable with her attentions and
with the constant growls of her brother. This may prove to be an awkward
situation very soon and I will tell him to put a stop to it at once.

They are working on what
benAramis has called a Shield, much the same as what they created the other
night only larger. Protecting six thousand troops would require more power than
I can even imagine, but anything that can serve to halt even a fraction of
those deadly whistling arrows would be a welcomed thing.

I wonder at so many things
but above all, I wonder if Kerris’ path to Unification is the right one. I
can’t see any way out of this that doesn’t involve massacre and blood on all
fronts. But it seems we have started something that cannot be stopped. Once the
mountain comes down, we are committed. For good or ill, for war or peace, we
are committed, and I have never been less committed to anything in my entire
life.