The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (13 page)

“Your
preparations for tonight?”

“Complete,
sidi.
However...” She indicated the
goblet off to one side, its contents bubbling over one of her many candles. “It
will need to simmer for several hours to boil the ingredients down to the ideal
concentrations. Too little will have no effect, leaving the Seer to the mercies
of his vision and too much, well, too much would not be good.”

“I
see.”

She
picked up a small mortar and pestle, wiping out the contents with a long
speckled finger, and putting it to her tongue.

“Then, it must be cooled. Again,
several hours.”

“It
must be ready by the commencement of the Second Watch. Is that understood?”

Without
waiting for a response, he turned to leave, pausing only slightly when she
purred “Of course.”

He shook his head and left the
room.

She, however, waited until he was
well and truly gone before uncurling her hand, to reveal a slip of dried cobra
skin, withered and crushed into whisper-thin ash. She drew her lips together
and blew it from her fingers.

***

They sat side by side at one of the
great long tables in one of the great long dining halls of
Sha’Hadin
. It
had begun to snow just as they had ridden into the ravine and they were soaked
through to the bones. The lynx Tiberius had kindly offered them robes while
their clothing dried by one of the many hearths in this lowest level of the
monastery and the mugs of hot, sweet tea he had provided had them almost
feeling feline again.

“500
people, can you imagine?” Fallon Waterford was looking around with wide eyes.
“I mean, I can barely manage to feed myself, let alone prepare meals for 500
people. And not just one meal, but lots of meals. 500 breakfasts. 500 lunches.
500 dinners...”

“What
about a snack?”

“Well,
yes, that too. I mean, you can’t have 500 monks sneaking around the larders and
pantries for some midnight peck, now can you? How in the world do they do it?”

“I
meant for me. I’m starving.” Kerris waved a grey hand in the air. “Hello?
Hello, anyone paying attention? Two very important people from the Palace need
food right about now!”

Several
brown-robed monks, hoods drawn, scurried about carrying pitchers and jugs and
plates of goat cheese but no one attended his request. One, however, had the
misfortune of having to go past their table so Kerris lunged for him, snagging
a stick of crusty bread with a long grey claw. He grinned, broke it in half and
tossed piece one to her.

“Good
manners,” said Fallon as she shoved a piece in her mouth. “Very monk-like.”

“It’s
amazing what you learn in the Palace Courts.”

“What else did you learn?”

“Ssssssnake
charming.”

He
slid his hand along the table. She stabbed at it with a fork.

And
they began to laugh like naughty schoolchildren, giddy and weary from their
afternoon encounters until a figure loomed over them from across the table.

“Will
his Lordship be needing a bath?”

Kerris rolled his eyes at his
brother. “Yes, actually. Fill up one of the wine vats, nice and hot. My friend
and I will be taking a little dip.”

Fallon
almost spat out her bread. It was obvious the Captain was not in the mood, for
his hands were on his hips and his brow was low and dark.

“You took out my horse,” he
growled.

“I took out all the horses, Kirin.
You can’t ride all day like that then leave them to stand in a stall for who
knows how long. They’ll seize up. You know that.”

“What
I know is that I needed to speak with the Scholar and she was unavailable.” He
narrowed his blue eyes at her. “The Alchemist said
sidala
was bored.”

“Bored?
Bored?! I - I wasn’t bored, I - I was... I was...”
Finished,
she wanted
to cry,
I was finished!
She sank into the table. “Oh mother...”

“Oh relax, Kirin. She was probably
choking from all the incense in ‘the ‘Chamber of the Dead’.” He waggled his
fingers. “You know how you get those headaches.”

“Right now, Kerris,
you
are
giving me a headache.” He lowered himself onto the bench across from them,
hands folding in front.
“Sidala,
I do
require your services.
If
my brother can bear to be silent for more than
a heartbeat.”

Kerris stuffed the bread stick into
his mouth.

“The Alchemist stated that the
cause of death is Terror. Do you agree with that?”

“Um, well, sort of.”

He glared at her.

“Sorry.” She straightened up on the
bench, pushing her hair off her face. “Okay. Okay.‘Terror’, as she put it, was
definitely a factor in the deaths. A very major factor actually but the actual
physical cause of death,
deaths,
however, would have to be heart
seizure. All of their hearts were the same, all constricted within their
chests. There was some secondary scarring, and the lungs were—”

“Did
you open the bodies? Or the Alchemist?”

“It was Sherah. I think she enjoys
that kind of thing.”

“Lovely,” muttered Kerris through a
mouthful of bread.

“Did you watch her?”

This seemed to take the Scholar off
guard.

“Um, no sir. I didn’t really think
it was necessary. I was in the same room, however, if that makes any difference?”

The Captain said nothing, simply
stared at his hands, jaws clenching and unclenching in concentration. Finally,
he looked up.

“Any evidence of poisons?”

“No sir. No poisons, at least none
that I can trace. No poisons, no crea—” She stopped herself. “No poisons.
Sir.”

“Very
well. What else can you tell me
, sidala?”

“Well...”

“Sidala...”

“Sorry, but I just can’t figure out
this ‘cold’ thing,” she yelped, waving her hands in the air. “I mean I know the
mountains aren’t like the jungle but really, sir, these people really should
invest in some window glass. They were all suffering from extreme frostbite.”

The Captain’s head snapped up.
“Explain.”

“All their fingers and toes were
severely blistered from either extreme heat, or more likely, extreme cold. I
mean, I know they all wear gloves here, but really...”

“This could not be caused by old
age?”

“Not
a chance. Sir. It was exposure, right and sure.”

 
“Right and sure?” asked Kerris. “Is that
like front and centre? Or well and good? Or safe and sorry?”

“More
bread for my brother!” Kirin snapped his fingers and it was on the table within
seconds. “The Seer claims that the vision that falls upon them is like that of
being trapped within a mountain glacier.”

 
“Ooh, that fits!” she exclaimed. “That fits exactly, sir.
That would explain the hearts and the lungs and the fingers and toes...”

She fell into thought, her mouth
open as if awaiting a spoon.

“But then that doesn’t begin to
explain how in the world this, this mountain glacier could kill all six of
them, for six nights running. And all in the Second Watch? I mean, mountains do
not have sundials, sir.”

“I see your point. However, that
question can wait until later. What we must concern ourselves with, first and
foremost—”

“Oh,
there’s another one!” yelped Kerris, before quickly stuffing a fat crust of
bread into his mouth.

“Is
the survival of this last Seer. The Alchemist has combined several medicines
which she assures me will greatly increase his chances.”

Fallon
frowned. “I would be interested in knowing what she’s using.”

Kerris
rolled his eyes but to his credit, his mouth was closed. Kirin glowered at
them.

“Sherah
al Shiva has been chosen by the First Mage of
Agara’tha
, specifically
for her skills in herbs, poisons and their like. The Empress has placed her
trust in the First Mage and therefore, in his choice. Do either of you question
the Empress’ wisdom?”

The
only response was silence.

“Good.
Now, these ‘medicines’ should effectively slow the heart, thicken the blood
and,” he paused as he recalled the Alchemist’s exact words. “Dull the senses.
This should render him less susceptible to the ‘Terror’, as they both have
called it. So,
sidala
Waterford, what
I need from you is some method to curb the cold or the perception of cold,
before it can trigger a killing panic. Can you do this?”

She
sat, chewing the inside of her cheek for several moments before beginning to
talk in a very rapid voice.

“Well the main problem with that is
this thing starts off internally.” She tapped her head. “Then ends up manifesting
itself externally.” She waggled her fingers. “And with whatever ‘medicines’ Sherah
is using, I would hesitate to suggest some other such drug like something to
cause a fever, which would reduce the likelihood of a cold reaction but could
quite easily send his body into convulsions. Not really a desirable response,
oh no no. But if we take the opposite tack and warm the body up externally, the
question now is will this be enough? Will blankets and a good warm hearth be
enough to reach whatever is going on inside?”

She tapped her head again, took
perhaps her second breath in all of that then plunged back into deep, cheek
chewing thought.

So
the three of them sat, very quietly now, all staring at the table, and
wondering if anything they might do, would be Enough.

“Sidis,
sidala.”
It was Tiberius, brown-robed and smiling, the tufts of his ears
peaking out from under his thick silver hair. “We of
Sha’Hadin
cannot
begin to express our most profound gratitude for all your efforts on our part.
But if you would permit, our cooks have prepared a special goat stew for
tonight’s meal. I have had three bowls readied as you decide the future of our
monastery.”

He stepped aside to allow three
monks passage and three wooden bowls were set before them, brimming with
steaming, savory stew. It set their mouths watering instantly.

“Whatever
our fate, we wish you peace and fulfillment. Please enjoy.”

And with a most serene bow,
Tiberius left them to their food.

 
Kerris dug in
instantly, stopping only to toss two bits of bread to his fellow diners.

“See here,
sidala,
goat stew for 500! That’s a lot of goats, don’t you think?”

She wiped the broth from her chin
and smiled at the Captain.

“Your brother and I were debating
the problems of feeding 500 hungry monks three times a day, and then some. I
mean really, not to even mention the amount of meats and vegetables and fruits
and milks, I mean milk. Just imagine the kitchens! Imagine all the pots and
woks and kettles and fires! It would be worse than the jungle at midday! It
would be so incredibly hot—”

As
one, she and Kirin glanced up at each other.

“The kitchens!”

As one, they bolted from their
benches, wooden spoons clattering to the table in a splatter of gravy.

Kerris
watched them go.

“Either of you going to finish
this? No? Well, alright then. Can’t let two perfectly good bowls of stew go to
waste. All those poor little goats...”

And with the tip of a grey claw, he
snagged each bowl and dragged them across the table.

***

Sireth benAramis squeezed his eyes
even tighter. But nothing seemed to help, to be able to distract his mind from
the angry growling and tossing going on in his bed. The afternoon had been
wasted, for it had been impossible to meditate even sitting by the open window
with the snow blowing onto his face, cooling the fears that raged inside him.
Someone else, it seemed, was raging much better.

“Major.
Sleep.”

“I
can’t sleep.”

“You are a soldier. Soldiers obey
orders. Your orders are to sleep. Now, please,
sleep
!”

“It
is cold and this bed scratches.”

Just
like you
, he thought grimly but immediately cursed himself for his lack of
patience. He was accustomed to solitude, to long private hours in
soul-searching contemplation, broken only by others who valued those pursuits
as much as he. But now, to be thrust into the company of this thornbush of a
woman for the last twelve hours without respite, he found himself in need of
all the resources at his disposal to keep himself from scratching back.

“Would
it help if I gave you a robe?”

“No.
It probably itches. That would be worse.”

“What
would be worse, Major, would be to fail to obey your Captain’s orders because
of your stubborn pride. I will not bite you. I will not even look at you. I
simply wish to meditate. In silence. Can you understand that, Major?”

She
sat up, scowling. Her hair fell across her face and her pale narrow eyes peered
out as through tall grass. She looked very, very dangerous.

“I understand. I understand more
than you think,
Seer.
”

She spat the word like a challenge.

He sighed, refusing to take it up,
and turned back to the open window, letting his hands fall loosely into his
lap. He breathed in the snow.

“Mongrel.”

The
snow on his face, the cold mountain air...

“Coward.”

The
snow... the air... the snow...

“Answer
me!”

He
sighed again.

“You
do not seek answers, Major. You seek bloodshed. But shedding my blood will
neither quench your thirst, nor wash away that which eats inside of you like a
python. Not all the blood in the Kingdom can help you with that.”

With
a frustrated snarl and a heavy thump, she tossed herself back onto the
mattress.

The
snow was falling heavily this late in the afternoon, blocking the sun and
turning the sky a dull grey. He closed his eyes and was elsewhere.