The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (124 page)

Kirin lunged but the fire leapt
higher, keeping him out. The villagers shrieked and the Legion attacked but it
was all a dance as she whirled and spun, feet and hands and a flashing dagger.
Naranbataar rushed the circle as well but the flames leapt higher still, roared
louder and he was barred from entering. Throats, bellies, faces and arms, all
was red as she moved, danced between them, evading their swords. The screams
continued and the smell of blood rose in the smoke until the soldiers in the
circle were down.

Slowly, she turned her matted
face. Blood dripped from her dagger and the villagers shrunk back.

“Ugayai, Setse,”
came a
voice from the darkness.
“Zogsoogooroi.”

The Oracle cocked her head at
the sound.

“Uuchlaarai, Setse,”
said
the voice.
“Enh Taiwain.”

She turned. In fact, they all
turned as Yahn Nevye stepped into the light of the fire, an owl on his shoulder
and eyes as white as the moon.

Long-Swift

“Two thousand sleepers all
dead?”

“Yeah,” said Solomon as he
looked up at a very gaunt Tony Paolini of CanShield North, Pukaskwa, Marathon,
formerly known as Sleep Lab 2. “The rats there are brutal. They move in swarms
and the Upper Kingdom has huge walls to keep them out. There were no such walls
in Kandersteg.”

“And you were able to bring
nothing with you?” came the voice of Crystal Claire. She had been the youngest
of them all, a mere thirty year-old when she went under. Now, she looked as old
as Cece. “Why did you take a Humlander? Why not a Griffen or a Chopper?”

“I took what I could get as
fast as I could get it,” he said. “Those rats swarmed nightly and the power was
intermittent. The cells were drained and the hydraulics were busted. Hell, you
had six of you and it still took you almost seven years to get things going. I
had no one else but those cats that came into my head once in a blue moon and
kept me going.”

“The IAR experiments,”
grumbled Portillo. “They played God with the gene code. It was wrong.”

“No more wrong that how
you’re lying to your own people. There’re no contagions out there any more.
There’re no mutagenic viruses turning people into animals. It was a feat of
complex genetic engineering and it was a success.”

“So were the Sandman
projects,” said Washington and Solomon grunted. Kade Washington had always been
bald. “The Arks were goddamn miracles. I just don’t want to see a return to
what got it all started in the first place. We can’t let that happen.”

“Then don’t,” said Solomon.
“That was fear and miscommunication on a global scale. These cats are a people
of integrity and honour. We need to be, as well.”

“The IAR turned people into
animals,” growled Portillo. “We don’t know what other monsters are out there.”

“The IAR is gone, Rico,” said
Solomon. “Let it go. There are civilizations in Asia, thriving complex
civilizations. There are people over there, people and culture and music and
architecture and painting and singing and love and life. They’re proud and
strong and funny and sweet and smart and neurotic and right and wrong. Dammit,
they’re just like us, Rico. They are just like us.”

“They are not human, Jeff.”

“Yeah, maybe they’re better.”

Solomon bit his tongue but it
was too late. He had just crossed a line and an uncomfortable silence fell in
the dark room.

“We will take it under
advisement, Jeffrey,” said Jorgenson, on the last of the five screens. He was
thin, pale and grey, like the paper of a very old book. “But our first concern
is for NorAm and the people of the EUS.”

“There is no more EUS.”

“Jeffery—”

“How about the people of the
world, Tad?” said Solomon. “How about that?”

“We will take it under
advisement.”

“We’re losing comm,” said
Celine and she leaned forward. “We’ll try again once the towers have
recharged.”

And one by one, the five
screens faded to black, leaving the room very dark and very quiet.

Jeffery Solomon sat back, ran
a hand through his bushy hair.

“Please don’t do that,” said
Celine.

“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry. I,
uh, I’m gonna call Damaris.”

Celine raised a white brow.
“You really care about these animals, don’t you, Jeffery?”

“People, Cece, not animals.
Friends. If you can try to remember that, I will try not to shake my fleas on
you. How about that?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you,
Jeffery.”

“And bureaucracy doesn’t
become you.” He rose to his feet. “Hell, we were scientists, Cece. We were in
it for the good of the planet. When did we fall victim to the same petty minded
dogmas that started the goddamned wars in the first place?”

 
“I think…” She sighed, tapped on the console with her
fingers. Her sharp eyes grew distant once again. “I think we stopped being
scientists when we woke up. We were leaders then, Jeffery. We had to make
sacrifices and that changes you. Shepherding people changes you. Who is going
to go where, who is going to get the chance to make love and when, who is going
to have children. Who is going to go out into the cold to defrost the comm
tower and who is going to take the front line against a swarm of rats. Making
decisions that affect hundreds, thousands of lives changes you.”

She tightened her lips. “We
went to sleep scientists and woke up politicians.”

He grunted. “It is the way of
things…”

“Yes. I suppose it is.”

“I want to go outside.”

“You can’t.”

“I want to and I can. Come
outside with me, Cece.”

“Jeffery, you’re talking
nonsense.”

“Come outside. Is there a
door? There has to be a door.”

“Jeffery, sit down.” She
reached up to touch the back of her skull. “We have a guest unit on the
property. I can have you escorted…”

“I want to go outside. Your
doors are on pulleys and your windows are dead ArcEyes. You’re cobbling a life
together out of old tech, dead politics and pseudoscience. We wanted so much
better, Cece. We deserve it. It’s a beautiful wor—”

He paused, cocked his head at
her.

“You just called security,
didn’t you?”

“Jeffery, please…”

“You know, maybe the Captain
was right. He said we’d had our turn. He said we had lost the right to rule.
That we had been gone for a very long time and that maybe there was a reason we
were gone. A lion said that, Cece. King of the goddamn beasts.”

“Jeffery, that’s enough…”

“Yeah, Cece, it is enough.”

And he strode toward the
door, swung it open on two guards pointing Dazzlers at his chest.

***

It was two days before the
Khargan’s Ten Thousand came upon the first of the Deer Stones.

It was simply a rock, tall
elongated and chiseled with symbols, but it towered out of the stony plain like
a beacon. It was a remnant of an Ancient time, Long-Swift knew, a time of Ancestors
and war and was the first of many stones that dotted the plateau. It was a good
sign, for the Bear had run them hard since the earthstorm at Jia’Khan and they
needed to rest their bodies before any battle with the cats. Historically,
there were very few battles that had been won against the Enemy. It was largely
attributed to their horses but Long-Swift wondered if it wasn’t due to the fact
that cats were very thorough in their organization of people. Dogs were
autonomous and did not welcome rule of any kind. A khan had to prove himself
repeatedly before any dog would accept him as Lord.

The Bear was spending much time
with the Oracle. Long-Swift had been surprised that the creature had joined
their ranks, as neither Needle nor Storm were built for running. But while they
had lagged behind the army during the day, they always managed to drag their
massive frame into the Khargan’s tent each moonrise. It walked with the
fingerstick now, using it like a cane and the muscle and sinew had hardened
like bone. Their strange syncopated voice whispered, shrieked and groaned all
night and smoke from the gar smelled like burning flesh. The soldiers were not
pleased however, and the Irh-Khan was beginning to hear murmurs within the
ranks.

There was a sweep of wings and
he looked up at the Deer Stone. A raven had landed on the top of the Stone,
stared at him with shiny black eyes. He sighed. A raven at moondown. It was a
bad sign.

The Khargan had asked him to
choose runners and he was debating whether or not to choose himself. There were
no more songs inside his head and he was certain the Singer was weeping. He
wondered at that, wondered what could make such a powerful, elusive, magical
woman weep and he remembered the prophecy of the Oracle.
“Swift as swift,
but one is swifter. Singer of Songs caught by the Lover of the Lover of Lions.
”
The ‘Singer of Songs’ was an obvious reference but the ‘Lover of the Lover of
Lions?’ Who was the Lover of Lions? Who was the Lover of the Lover and what did
any of it have to do with him? It was a mystery. Long-Swift was certain the
Oracle’s brain was as distorted as its flesh.

He shook his head and turned
back to the camp, leaving the Deer Stone and the raven behind.

***

Naranbataar didn’t know what to
think. It had been two days since the battle for the bridge and everything had
changed. The next morning, the lion had released the villagers of Lon’Gaar,
given them food and provisions and promises of peace and sent them on their
way. He knew they would run straight to the next town to warn the people and
that there would be another ambush waiting for them somewhere, sometime on this
road into Tevd. It was a deathly, anxious feeling and Naranbataar realized that
he himself was not cut out for war.

He didn’t know much of cats but
he could tell the witch was sick. Her eyes, normally the deepest gold, were
shot with black and he wondered if her magic was finally consuming her. It
would make sense. According to his grandmother, witches started off beautiful
but always ended up ugly. A man would be a fool for loving one.

And his sister…

His heart ached at every thought
of her, the memory of her with the dagger and the Legion falling at her feet.
He’d always known it could happen. She was an Oracle, therefore unpredictable,
but she had never, never ever killed before, let alone with such ruthlessness
and skill. He blamed the cats for that. The cats and Shar Ma’uul.

Shar Ma’uul was a new man. They
said that he had been killed by the Legion but the witch had brought him back.
He was healthy and strong. His hands were healed and his eyes, which used to be
the colour of dry grass, were now white as the moon. He spoke the Language of
the People without accent and moved with certainty and ease. But he could not
take his white eyes off Setse and she was drawn even more to him, a ghostly
moth to an unearthly flame.

They rode together now, Setse
and Shar, sharing the lion’s wild young horse, her arms wrapped around his
waist. They slept together, their bodies curled against each other for warmth.
His sister was a virgin, had never taken nor been taken as a lover but now,
with this pairing, Naranbataar didn’t know how long that would last.

Perhaps Shar, not the lion, was
the one who deserved an arrow to the throat.

They were riding out onto the
Plateau of Tevd. It was a good land for running, low hills instead of
mountains, much sunshine and very little snow. The air was thin however and it
took much breathing to fill one’s chest. It was easy to believe this was a holy
land. It was as if even the stones were holding their breath.

He looked up as the sky was
filled with sharp cries and the falcon swept into view. The owl sprang from
Shar’s shoulder and the two birds circled each other, wings beating, talons
extended. Naranbataar shook his head. Birds fought birds while cats and dogs
worked as allies. The world was a strange and unpredictable place.

The falcon settled on the
Shogun-General’s gloved hand. She hissed and jabbed as he pulled a small scrap
of parchment from her thin leg. Naranbataar watched in fascination. He couldn’t
read, few dogs had the skill. He could see how it would be an advantage,
especially in times of war.

“They have made the bridge,” the
lion said and he looked up. “It takes a long time for such a force to move
through the high passes. You cannot stop and start as easily as with a small
party. The logistics are far too complex.”

They all stared at him so he
read on.

“The Seer is working with my
brother and he would like to try something. We will stop now.”

The Alchemist translated but it
seemed to take everything out of her to do so.

Naranbataar shook his head.

“Not good,” he said, using their
complicated words. “Dangerous. Land good for archers.”

The lion nodded.

“You and I will be eyes and ears
while they meditate.”

He understood, didn’t like it.

The cats slid from their horses
and Shar Ma’uul reached up to swing Setse down from the saddle. The man never
wore his gloves now and Naranbataar growled at the sight of the spotted hands
on his sister’s waist. Worse when the cat led her to a stony spot, turned in
circles before dropping to his knees and pulling her down next to him.

He looked at the lion again,
certain they shared the same revulsion. He wondered if the cat would let him go
free if he did kill the yellow one. Worse, he wondered if Setse would go with
him or stay with the cats. Somehow he knew that if he killed Shar Ma’uul, Setse
would take a dagger to him next.

And he did not know what to
think of that.

***

“You?” said the Khargan, and he
lowered the khava from his mouth. “You are Irh-Khan, not some common runner.
Why would you want to do this?”

Long-Swift breathed slowly,
measuring his words. The Storm sat by the fire, all but holding up the ceiling
of the gar with his shoulders. The Needle was out of its pocket for once, placing
and replacing the five eyes in various patterns on the rocky floor. Three eyes
now were puckered and burnt, one was oozing, and they were shot through with a
variety of colours, two blue, one brown, one gold but the fifth was in perfect
form as if freshly plucked from its socket. The colour of that eye was white.
Long-Swift was certain there had not been a white eye back in Jia’Khan.