The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (126 page)

“Oh,” said Setse and they all
studied the pillar now. “Shar, look. Deer Stone…”

Running up and down the entire
length were etchings. Runes, carvings, symbols that hadn’t been there before
Nevye’s touch. And without exception, all the markings were those of eyes.

“Eye of the Needle, Eye of the
Storm,” said Setse.

“What does that mean?” growled
Kirin.

“We have a very powerful enemy,”
said the Alchemist as she turned and headed for her horse.

***

There was a boom that shook the
earth, causing seven thousand horses to snort and stamp, creating a thunder all
their own. Kerris arced his back and despite the clear blue morning, lightning
flashed across the sky. Kylan was sleeping now on a skin and Fallon swung over
to her husband.

“Kerris, be still. Shssshh,” and
she wrapped her arms around him. “You’re fine now. Shsshhh…”

“Eye of the Needle,” he gasped,
blinking in the bright light of morning.

“Eye of the Storm,” the Seer
finished. “I understand now.”

“Wait,” said Fallon and she
cupped his face, peered into the blue eyes. “What’s this?”

“What?”
groaned Kerris.
“I just want to go to sleep now…”

She peered closer, then glanced
over at the Seer.

“Look at his eyes…”

benAramis leaned forward.

“Damn,” he growled. “Check mine
as well, if you please.”

The tigress released her husband
and peered into the unnatural brown eyes of the Seer.

“Yep,” she sighed. “Same.”

Like a drop of ink spreading in
a pot of clear water, the eyes of both Seer and Geomancer were turning black.

“In the words of the Ancestors,”
Kerris propped himself on his elbows. “What the
hell
is going on?”

“We have a very dangerous
enemy,” growled the Seer and he lashed his tufted tail. “There is indeed a
Necromancer in the camp of the dogs.”

“Wonderful.”

“Can you beat him?” asked
Fallon.

“I’m not sure. Can you pull the
sticks, please?”

The grey lion did as he was
asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of short sticks.

“Five
and
Two.”
He
shook his head. “The sticks are completely unreadable lately. I can’t make any
sense of them. First all colours, then all numbers.”

“Five is death,” said Sireth.

“Or five is just five.”

“I think the numbers are
significant,” the Seer said.

“The Magic is five,” said
Fallon. “But two?”

“Woman,” said Kerris. “Or just
two.”

“Two,” said the Seer. “Two. I
wonder…”

And he closed his eyes and said
nothing for some time.

There was only the wind on the
Plateau of Tevd, the wind and the sound of seven thousand horses, four thousand
cats and two thousand monkeys resting, watching, playing dice by small fires.
Other than those sounds, there was only the wind.

Kerris gazed up at his wife.
“You are so very beautiful, you know that?”

“Well, I’ve been told I have
nice markings.”

“Don’t ever leave me.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Because the Ancestors are
coming and the earth is hungry and I can’t face any of them without you.”

She grinned. “You can’t do
anything without me.”

He reached a hand and drew her
down, not caring that they were surrounded by seven thousand horses, four
thousand cats and two thousand monkeys resting, chatting, playing dice by small
fires. For other than those, they were completely alone with only the wind as
their music.

***

She narrowed her eyes as she
watched her husband deep in meditation and her chest tightened within her. He
was so alone, a mongrel among men. So powerful but foolish in the use of that
power. He could destroy the army of the Khan with a thought, she had told the
monkey, and yet he restrained his power to teach the useless grey coat. To
teach the Shogun-General. To teach her.

Sometimes she hated him.

And yet she missed him.

She felt her eyes begin to sting
and chased it back. She was steel. Steel. The only thing that mattered in this
small useless life was honour and steel. She had known this before she’d met
him. She needed to remember it now.

She had been steel.

Find it in yourself,
for
yourself,
he had said.

She had been his steel.

It is easier for a khamel
to go through the eye of a needle than a proud man to enter the gates of
NirVannah
.

Yes, she was a very proud woman.

Sometimes she hated him. She
never understood him. Always, she missed him.

She wondered how she could slip
back into his bed and if he would let her.

***

It is said that all the
mountains and the rivers of the world are born in
Shibeth.

Kirin could believe it. This
Plateau of Tevd spread forever, or so it seemed. In the very far distance,
mountains gleamed blue and hazy in the thin air, and he wondered if it was a
trick of the light.
Shibeth
was a magical place, a sacred place. He
could believe even the sun and the moon were born here.

“Cradle of the Moon,” said the
Oracle, her head resting on Yahn Nevye’s back.

From the back of his blood bay
stallion, Kirin looked down at her.

“Can you read thoughts,
sidala?”

“Not all,” she said. “Some. I
hear them, not read. I not read.”

And she smiled at him.

He sighed. They were inseparable
now, the Oracle and the Monk and he wondered how long it would be before they
were lovers. No different, he reminded himself, than lions and sacreds and cheetahs
and tigers and mongrels. Love seemed to defy caste, defy Race, even defy
Kingdoms. aSiffh had taken to them like the final piece of a puzzle, had no
problems with either of them on his back. Cat, dog, desert horse. Life was
entirely too strange to wonder anymore.

“There are scouts coming,” said
the jaguar. “Three runners from the Khan’s army.”

“How far out?”

“The Field of One Hundred
Stones. A half-day at most.”

“Have you been here before,
sidi?”

“What? Me?” and Nevye looked at
him. It was difficult seeing him with such eyes. “No. Never. Why?”

“You speak as if you know.”

“Oh, I don’t know anything,” he
said. “But I see so much more than I did before. Everything changes when you
die, I guess.”

Kirin grunted, knowing the Seer
would say the same.

He narrowed his eyes, spying
Naranbataar far ahead on the hazy plain and felt grateful for his vigilance.
For the very first time, he began to allow himself to think that Unification
might be possible. It was a hard road however, he realized. First the Year of the
Tiger spent polishing the glass, next the Year of the Cat traveling through the
Eye of the Needle. Not many men walked this road. Not many men could.

But women, it seemed, were born
on this road.

He turned to look at the
Alchemist. Her head was held high as she rode. She was a proud woman, more
skilled than he could fathom, as mysterious as the moon at midday. But she was
not right, not herself. There was an inky blackness growing across her golden
eyes. He wondered what spells she had needed to cast to bring the jaguar back
from the dead, what toll the Necromancy would take on her.
Just say you wish
it,
she had said. Would she risk such a thing for him? And if so, why?

He looked back to the jaguar.

“Just runners you see?”

“Yes, three runners. But the Ten
Thousand is close behind.”

“You see them too?”

“No. Not really. Would you like
us to try?”

“Us?”

“Setse and I.” And he turned in
the saddle to look at her. “She helps me focus. Like a star lens.”

She beamed at him but Kirin
thought he saw the same inky blackness beginning to spread across her one blue
eye as well. Nevye’s, however, were as white as moons.

“Yes,” he said. “I would like
you to try. See what you can of their actual numbers, their weapons, anything
at all of their strategy.”

“Eye of the Needle,” said Setse.

“Eye of the Storm,” said Nevye.

“And tell me please what that
means, when you find it.”

Kirin watched the man sit back,
place his hands over the Oracle’s hands at his waist. They both closed their
eyes. On her horse beside them, the Alchemist watched, blinked slowly, smiled.

He shook his head, certain he
could trust no one on this road through the Eye of the Needle.

***

She could feel him approach even
before she heard the crunch of his split-toed sandals on the cold hard ground.

“Ursa,” came his voice, rich
with the accent of a lion, wrong for coming out of such a mouth.

She did not turn. She would not.

He smelled of woodsmoke and
leather as he stood beside her to study the horizon.

“I need your help,” he said.

“I am on watch,” she said. “I
cannot help.”

“I need to go to the
Shogun-General and the others.”

“Why?”

“There are two Necromancers in
the army of the Khan.”

“Two?”

“One is sharp, the other is
strong. I cannot beat them from a distance. I need to go to them, to wrestle
their minds face to face.”

“If they are strong, they will
kill you.”

“They might,” he said. “Unless
you were my steel.”

Her jaw tightened.

“We could fight them together,”
he continued. “I destroy the mind. You destroy the body.”

She thought for a long moment.

“Where are these pathetic dog
Necromancers?”

“In the tent of the Khan.”

“The Khan of Khans?”

“Yes.”

“The Khargan?”

“Yes.”

She thought for another moment.

“You want us to ride like the
wind on our little desert horses to the battle front of Ten Thousand Dog Soldiers
with their shrieking arrows, make our way into the tent of the Khan of Khans,
and do battle with two Necromancers who are more powerful than you?”

He thought for a moment.

“Yes.”

Finally, she turned.

“Now
I remember why I
married you.”

“Oh please…” His eyes were
shining at her. “It was the beard all along. Admit it.”

“Idiot.”

But she was smiling as she
turned.

***

For some reason, the Field of
One Hundred Stones made him feel sad.

There were hundreds of stones on
a wide earthen mound, more stones than he cared count, most just taller than a
man. But they were old and tipping and worn by wind and time. It reminded him
somehow of death and he wondered if the stones were placed for the Khans of his
people. The Plateau of Tevd. The place where the world was born and old men
came to die.

He had selected two runners to
accompany him, a red dog with a thick coat and a long-nosed cur with legs like
a gazelle. They had made the Stones in good time, less than half a day but he
knew it would take the Ten Thousand two. Moving such a force was problematic.
The men were nearing exhaustion and the Khargan was running them hard. It would
not serve them well once they met the Enemy and their bloodthirsty horses. He
did not need to be an Oracle to see how such a meeting would end.

The sun was beginning his daily
retreat under the blankets of his consort, the goddess moon, and he could see
his breath against the colours of the sky. He looked down as his betas sat with
their backs against the stones, wrapped in yak hide and drinking from their
horns of wotchka. He wondered if the cats sent out runners and if they did,
what they would be doing at night on a starry plain.

He had to admit he missed the
Singer.

Missed the songs in her strange,
elegant language, missed her golden eyes and unnatural profile. Missed the
dreams of her and her long, strong hands. He knew the cats valued their Races,
and so he wondered what race she was. He knew none other than lions and tigers.
He had seen few cats in his lifetime, even running with the Bear.

The moon was waxing, rising
above the distant mountains like the white eye in the Khargan’s tent. He shook
his head. The army was suspicious and muttering and that was a dangerous thing
in an army. This would not end well for any of them if the Needle and Storm
swayed the Khargan’s mind.

He turned to the men.

“I will take first watch,” he
said. “I will wake you when the moon is smiling.”

“Lord,” they said in unison and
he could smell the wotchka from their breath.

He cast his eyes across the
Plateau of Tevd, wishing he could hear the Singer just one more time.

***

Someone was touching his knee.

The Blood Fang awoke, singing
out of its sheath to stop at the throat of the dog before the Shogun-General
even opened his eyes.

“Forgive me,” he growled,
blinking and sliding the blade back home. He was still astride Shenan and it
was dark on the hilly plain. “What is it?”

“Runners,” said the dog. “Three
runners by a Field of One Hundred Stones.”

“Deer Stones?”

He jerked his chin sharply in
the direction of the plain where the tall chiseled stones rose out of the
earth. They had been seeing them now for hours since they had created the
pillar of their own but now there were hundreds, darker than dark, a forest of
petrified trees.

“Ah yes,” he said. “Deer Stones.
Have the runners seen us?”

The dog shrugged.

Kirin reined Shenan to a halt
and the others followed suit.

“The runners are ahead,” he
said, keeping his voice low. “We want to make contact and keep them alive. No
bloodshed if we can avoid it. Is this understood?”