The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (118 page)

Another match came to an end and
the pair bowed, fists to cupped palm. Setse clapped her hands fiercely and
another round with different pair began.

“It’s marvelous, isn’t it?” said
the jaguar. “How they move like that. Like a mongoose and a cobra. So fast. So
sure.”

“Indeed,” said Sireth, eyes
still closed. “They are a miraculous people.”

“It’s a blessing,” the man went
on. “When your body responds as quickly as your mind. Quicker even than your
thoughts.”

“You speak like you know this,”
said Sireth. “Alchemist, Seer
and
Soldier?”

“Oh no,” said Nevye. “No, not
me. Not for a very long time. Forget I said anything.”

There was the crunch of very
high boots on snow.

“Bah,” the Major snorted as she
approached from behind. “This little chicken cannot fight.”

“Ursa,”
said her husband
but she pushed past the jaguar and ducked under the gar.

“Here,” she said. “I want you to
take this.”

And she handed him a dagger. It
had a silver blade and a phoenix carved into the hilt.

He did not take it.

“I told you I didn’t want a
dagger,” he said.

“I may not always be here to
protect you,” she snorted. “And you need protection.”

“This dagger would not have
stopped the arrow.”

“I want you to take it.”

He looked at her for a long
time.

“Take it,” she repeated.

“Ursa…”

“We are in a hostile land and
the dogs have killed you once already.”

“That is not the steel I need
from you.”

“That is all that I can give.”
And she pushed it into his palm with such force that a thin line of red sprang
up along his thumb. It fell from his hand and into the snow.

“Don’t take it, then,” she
growled. “You are being a fool, not a leader.”

There was silence for a brief
moment, only the crackling of the fire and the weight of thoughts and the cold
night sky. He sighed, bent forward, picked up the dagger.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

“I found it in the armory at
Shen’foxhindi.”

His eyes studied the carving. A
phoenix, symbol of life from death, flame from ashes, rebirth, renewal, the
wheel of life.
Fitting,
he thought to himself. He had died and now he
lived.

“Thank you,” he said.

“It is a military blade. You are
not military, but still.”

She was not looking at him, her
pale eyes evasive and he knew she had something weighing on her mind. It would
have been simple to learn it, a mere drifting of a thought but he would never,
not with her. She had not been tamed with their marriage, merely joined.

“Are you done for the night?” he
asked.

“No. In the army, you are never
done.”

“I see.”

“Even a small party of dogs can
be dangerous. Look what they did to you.”

“I should have seen it. I was
distracted. I was searching for something else.”

“They
should have seen
it, then,” she said and gestured toward the jaguar and the Oracle sitting
outside around the fire, watching the matches.
“They
are weak.”

“They
are learning. Not
all of life is as orderly as the army.”

“You defend them again.”

“Never in this world can hatred
be stilled by hatred; it will be stilled only by love and peace — this is
the law of eternal.”

“Brahmin,”
she growled
and her tail lashed. “The law of eternal will still die at the blade of a dog.”

“Have you not had enough of
blood?”

“There is never enough blood.”

“Stay with me tonight.”

“I am working.”

And she turned to leave, ducked
under the flap of the gar. Outside, the Oracle clapped her hands as yet another
match came to an end.

 
“Amazing,” said Nevye. “I can watch them all night.”

“Shar Ma’uul fight,” said Setse
and she sprang to her feet, onto the tips of her toes like a dancer. “Fight me,
Shar! Teach me!”

“Yes, little chicken,” snarled
the Major and she swatted him as she walked past. “Stand up and fight the
little girl.”

“Ursa,”
snapped her
husband from the gar. “That’s enough.”

She whirled back to the fire.

“He
needs to know what it
is like to fight a dog.
He
needs to know what it is like to be beaten by
one. Maybe
then
he’ll pay attention to the arrows of dogs.” She grabbed
him by the back of his robes, hauled him to his feet. “Fight the dog, traitor.”

“No,” moaned Setse. “No hurt
Shar.”

“It’s alright,” said Nevye as he
scrambled to get his feet underneath him. “I understand her anger, I do.”

“I don’t think you do,” hissed
the Major.

“No, I do. Really.”

“Then prove it, little chicken.
Fight me instead.”

“Ursa,” the Seer rolled to his
knees. “That’s enough.”

“Pretend you’re a monkey and not
a coward and a traitor. Fight me.”

And she hit him.

It was a little hit, just a cuff
to the side of his head. Sireth slipped out from the gar, moved toward his wife
but Nevye held up his hand.

“No, no,” he said, rubbing his
head. “She’s angry. It’s alright. Really.”

She hit him again, this time a
sharp jab to the chest.

“Aiya,”
he grunted.

“Ursa, stop this. Now.”

“Stop, bad cat,” wailed Setse
and her brother appeared at her side. “Bad cat, Rani.”

“This is how we do it in the
Army,” said Ursa. “But of course, you wouldn’t know. You’re not a soldier. Only
an Alchemist and a traitor.”

And her hands struck again and
again and again. Nevye staggered under her blows. Sireth looked to the sky. The
owl, Hunts in Silence, landed on his shoulder, wings wide, beak open.

The silver fist flew one more
time. The jaguar blocked it with his wrist.

“What?” he said, as they all
stared at the sight.

She struck again and again he
blocked.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t…
I don’t know how—”

Again she struck, again he
blocked until they were moving like the Snow, like a cobra and a mongoose and
soon, Yahn Nevye was smiling.

Setse clapped even more
fiercely. “Shar Ma’uul brave fighter!”

Mi-Hahn dropped from the sky
onto the Seer’s opposite shoulder. He closed his eyes as his wife’s high boot
heel sliced upwards. The jaguar caught it easily.

Incredulous, Nevye looked at the
boot in his hand.

He laughed.

The Major was lethal, however,
and using Nevye’s grip as an anchor, she flipped her body into the air, the
second boot heel connecting with the man’s jaw, sending him backwards and into
the snow. The Oracle was at his side in a heartbeat, her brother targeting them
all with arrows. The Major landed on her feet, one hand dipped into the snow
for balance.

“What is going on?” growled the
Shogun-General as he stepped into the firelight.

Both falcon and owl left the
Seer’s shoulders, Mi-Hahn shrieking and chasing the other with furious wings.

“Merely practice,” said Sireth,
opening his brown eyes. “My wife and my friend decided to try to spar like the
Chi’Chen
.
Ursa is a little more skilled, I’m afraid.”

 
“Bad cat,” groaned Setse at her place beside the Monk. For
his part, Nevye remained on his knees, kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

The Major pushed herself to
standing. Her hair was wild and her eyes barely slits in the darkness.

“The Snow are brilliant at
hand-to-hand,” said Kirin. “I am not surprised none of you can compete.”

There was silence from the
company, only the sound of restless horses and the wind and the two thousand
Chi’Chen
bowing to each other.

“Go to sleep, all,” said Kirin.
“We have a long and difficult road tomorrow.”

And he turned to head back to
the fire, where the others lay bedded down for the night.

“He betrayed you,” said Ursa.

“Ursa!”
snapped the Seer.

“He betrayed all of us! He sold
us to Jet barraDunne in Chancellor Ho’s winter garden! You saw it yourself,
husband!” And she flung an arm in the direction of the fire where the Alchemist
sat, eyes golden and gleaming. “Sold us to
kunoi’chi
for a seat in the
monastery!”

Kirin paused.

There was no sound now, no
restless horses, no wind, the
Chi’Chen
had ceased their art, begun
preparation for the long night ahead.

Kirin turned his face to where
the jaguar still knelt, head bowed, in the snow.

“Is this true?”

There was no answer. He looked
at the Seer, who sighed but said nothing.

“Oh, I see. Yes, I see.” Slowly
Kirin turned, took a step toward the bowed cat with the dog at his side. “The
man whom you wished to kill but did not.”

“Captain…”

“The man whom
I
may wish
to kill but shouldn’t. A Seer of
Sha’Hadin
on sabbatical in
Agara’tha.”

The lion towered over the jaguar
and the fire sent their shadows dancing across the mountains. Setse looked up
at him, eyes wide. A cold fire settled into Kirin chest.

“Sidalord
jaguar, did you
know Jet barraDunne?”

Nevye swallowed, nodded quickly,
still looking at the snow.

“Did you do what my Major
suggests? Did you have a part in betraying us to Chancellor Ho?”

“No,” said Setse. “Shar Ma’uul
not betray. Shar Ma’uul good. Shar Ma’uul kind.”

“Yes,” said Shar Ma’uul.

It seemed like a very long time
as the lion stood and the jaguar waited but suddenly, the Shogun-General
reached down with his gloved hand and grabbed the Monk by the throat, lifting
him off his knees and into the air. The Oracle lunged after them, but Kirin
swung the man around, drawing him close, face-to-face, blue eyes to yellow.

“Do you know what they did to
us,
sidalord
jaguar? Do you have any idea?”

Nevye said nothing. He could
not, with the Teeth of the Dragon around his throat.

“Was it worth it, the torture of
a Captain of the Queen’s Guard, the rape and torture of a valiant woman, the
torture and murder of the Last Seer of
Sha’Hadin?
Was all that worth the
price of a monastery you no longer run?

“What’s going on?” asked a
sleepy Kerris, now standing with his wife near the others. “Kirin?”

Kirin turned and dropped the
jaguar to the ground, slowly slid the Blood Fang from its sheath.

“No!” shouted the Oracle.

Yahn Nevye bowed his head.

“Kirin?”

Assumed the two-fisted stance.

“Captain?” asked Fallon.

Raised the Fang high into the
air. It’s Khamachada steel gleamed like fresh blood in the firelight.

Yahn Nevye closed his eyes.

The Fang came slicing down,
stopping only inches above the Oracle as she threw herself across the yellow
cat.

There was no sound, not even the
wind. No one dared breathe, not even Jalair Naranbataar, grandson of the Blue
Wolf, whose bow was drawn tight, fixed on the lion with the blood-red sword.

The Oracle looked up at him, her
odd eye shining.

“Kuren Ulaan Baator,” she
pleaded. “You will save our People.”

All eyes now, cat and monkey
both, were upon that sight, as the Fang of the Red Hero held the lives of the
Blue Wolf and the Yellow Cat on the sliver of its blade.

With a long, cleansing breath,
the Shogun-General straightened, returned the Fang to its home.

“Leave,” he said to the jaguar.
“I spare your life this once. If we meet again, I will kill you.”

The jaguar looked up now. There
were stripes alongside the spots on his cheeks.

“Captain,” said Sireth, stepping
forward but Kirin snarled again, cut him off with a palm.

“Leave, jaguar, before I remove
your head.” He repeated, whirling and leaving the group for the distant fire,
where the Alchemist was waiting.

Nevye stayed on the ground for a
long time, trying vainly to restart his breathing. Naranbaatar dropped into the
snow, pulled his sister from the back of the Monk. He wrapped his arms around
her as she began to rock. Her eyes were dull, glazed and her lips were moving,
though no sound came.

Finally, the jaguar struggled to
his feet and looked at the Seer, the Last Seer of
Sha’Hadin.

“I’m sorry,” he said and he
tried to smile. Somehow, it did not find a home on his face. “I’ll—I’ll
go. May I take my horse?”

“No,” said Ursa. “It belongs to
the Upper Kingdom.
You
do not.”

“Take the horse,” said the Seer,
stepping toward him, laying a hand on the brown-robed shoulder. “We
will
meet again, Yahn. Do not despair.”

“My life is despair,” said the
jaguar. “It is nothing new for me.”

The Seer leaned in close, his
voice barely a whisper. “You
know
what we are going to. You need to go
ahead.”

Nevye blinked. “But the
Shogun-General—”

“Is a good man but a warrior. He
needs us. He needs you, but he cannot see what we see. His glass is still
dark.”

Nevye stared at him.

“Trust your owl. It will hunt
for you, it will see for you. Protect yourself from the Eye of the Needle. This
may yet be redeemed.”

Nevye nodded, looked over at
Kerris.

“I should have taken than saddle
in
Shen’foxhindi,”
he said.

With that, he turned and left
the firelight to find the horses.

Kerris shook his head. “Anyone
care to tell me what in the kingdom just happened?”

Naranbataar looked up at him as
he held his sister and laid back his ears.

“Good,” he said in
heavily-accented Imperial. “Shar Ma’uul bad for Setse.”

Jalair Naransetseg said nothing,
merely stared past the snow at her feet, rocking.