The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (17 page)

“Have
the men call off their work. We shall see to our dead, and return to the
monastery. Perhaps by tomorrow, the sun will do this work for us.”

 
“Yes, sir.”

He
turned to leave, but paused to put a hand on her slim, white shoulder.

“Thank you, Major.”

With
a sigh, he trudged up the muddy slope that passed for a road to the circle of
horses and people further up the hillside. The Alchemist had prepared a pot of
tea from one of her many bags of Alchemy stores and warmed it to boiling with
her many candles. She had done it all quietly and it had served to heal frayed
nerves more readily than all the ointments or balms at her disposal. Bundled in
a warm, wooly blanket, the Scholar sat beside the Seer, who seemed to have
taken her under his wing. Kirin crouched down beside them.

“Sidala,
how are you feeling?”

She
shrugged over her mug of hot tea.

“Oh, fine actually. Maybe just a
little wobbly. My claws hurt, though. And I still have bits of snow in my fur.
And I think I might have sprained something. But really, other than that, I
think I’m fine. Really.”

She gave him a valiant smile, and
he noticed her chin trembled, just a little.

“Why? Do I look bad?’

“Yes,
sidala.
You look bad.”

“Oh
mother.”

“You
look fine, my dear. Just a little soggy.”
Sireth patted her hand in almost paternal fashion before turning to Kirin. “Captain,
I’m not certain what you are planning for us, but I don’t think it would be
wise to return to
Sha’Hadin
. Not today. Not with the state of this young
woman, not to mention your brother. It would be inviting disaster.”

“The
Inn, then.”

“It
is closer. Granted, the owners are inhospitable and the ale weak, but the food is
good and the beds are warm. Great sakeh too, real bite to it. Might be just the
trick for soggy, wobbly bones, eh?”

Fallon
beamed at him.

“Yes.
Yes...”

Kirin’s jaw worked as he thought
the specifics through.

“You may be right. We will bury our
dead, and leave immediately. We should make the Inn by sunset.”

“In
about two and a half hours, actually,” Fallon said. “And given the poor
conditions of the roads, and the fatigue of the horses, it might even be four.
Yep, probably four. How will I get there?”

Kirin
stared at her blankly.

“I mean, my horse, he’s, he’s, he
tripped and… He was so slow, so slow...”

Her chin trembled again and she did
her best to stop the tears that were gathering behind her lashes. Such remorse
for that hapless creature was a waste of one’s chi. Nonetheless, it spoke well
of her.

He nodded gravely.

“We
have three pack horses. I will have one readied for you before we leave.”

“Oh.
Thanks.”

“Might
I see your hands?”

“Who?
Mine? My hands?”

“Please,
sidala.”

With a furrowed brow, the tigress
offered Kirin her hands. He took them in his own, noticed that they were still
trembling from shock. Gently, he squeezed the pads of her palms, watched the
claws extend slightly through the tips of her fingers.
As expected,
he
thought. Small, fine and delicate. Sharp, nonetheless.

“My
brother was very fortunate,” said Kirin, releasing her hands. “So were you. I’m
glad you survived.”

She
did not seem to know the appropriate response, so the Captain rose to his feet,
gave her a modest bow and left.

“Was
that a good thing?”

Sireth
smiled at her. “Yes, I believe it was.”

She
wrapped her arms around her knees. “Wow.”

***

The sound of humming met his ears
as the Captain picked his way over the rocks to the second pair. Sherah al
Shiva had her back to him but he could tell from her movements that she was
packing away the various salves and tools she had needed to treat Kerris’
injuries. He shook his head. The woman had proved herself invaluable this last
hour with her strange medicines and welcome brews. Perhaps the Seer had been
right all along. Perhaps his own ‘glass’
was
dangerously dark. He made a vow to consider it at a later date.

“Sidala”

“Sidi.”

Still,
she did not turn.

He
shook his head again.

He passed her by to sit beside his
brother, wrapped in the Alchemist’s black cloak, his normally bright blue eyes
heavy-lidded and sleepy. His dark grey hair was sticking up all over his head.
He smiled as Kirin sat down.

“Hello
Kirin.”

“How
do you feel?”

“Ah,
rather good at the moment. ‘Rah gave me some little powdery thing and a thimble
full of potato wine. She would have me believe that my back is in shreds, and
that you flailed fur from flesh on my arms but really I am not at all
convinced. I feel nothing of the sort.”

“Good.”

Kirin
reached behind his brother, lifting the cloak and torn tunic away from his
spine. Ten long gashes from shoulders to ribs, all bright and oozing with
salve. He noticed her stitching, small and precise, and approved of the fine
white threads she used in her work.

“Well done,
sidala.
These shall heal up quickly.”

“Of
course.”

He
let the fabric drop to his brother’s back and took Kerris’ arm, turning it over
to study her bandaging. Again, neat and precise. Just enough wrap, not too tight.
He nodded silently.

“Well, you’ll live.”

Kerris
grinned sheepishly. “Yes. I suppose I shall.”

“Are
you up for a trip back to the Inn?”

“Will
you pay for the ale?”

“I
will.”

“Unlimited
then,” said Kerris. “Lyn-ling owes me that much.”

Kirin
shook his head once again. Only Kerris could get away with calling the Empress
by her pet name, the name she had been called since a kitten in the Imperial
nursery. Only nursemaids and nannies, and Kerris.

“I believe Her Excellency pays you
well, brother.”

“You
may be right.”

Golden
eyes turned toward them and the Alchemist tilted her head.

“Sidis.
I have finished here. Perhaps I should tend to the dead? Prepare their souls
for the next world?”

Images
of candles and vats of dried organs flashed, unbidden into his mind and Kirin
suppressed a shudder. It was necessary. Many of the Leopard Guard were of the
Old Religions and to deny them final sacraments would diminish the honor of
their deaths. With a sigh, he agreed, and she slunk from their company like a
shadow. Kerris was following her with sleepy eyes.

“She’s
quite the creature, don’t you think? I’ll bet she’s a good cook.”

“A
cook?” Kirin stared at his brother, shook his head. “Yes, Kerris. I’m quite
sure she’s a good cook.”

“Ah,
well. I’m quite enjoying the powdery white thing she gave me…”

“I
don’t care what she gave you, as long as you’re alive.”

Kirin reached out, tried to pat the
ashen grey hair into place. It wouldn’t go. He gave up.

“I don’t know what I’d do without
you.”

Kerris,
however, was not hearing him, finding himself in a warm and twisty world of
snow and powdery white things and his brother’s voice. At the moment, it was a
very good place to be.

***

It was obviously the place to be.

It had no name, this strange
cobbled building with tiled roof, scarlet wash and small, blackened windows. It
had no sign above the door, no crest nor emblem to distinguish it from any
other dwelling on the road to
Sha’Hadin
. To the general populace, it was
known simply as ‘the Inn’ or, to the more poetically inclined, ‘The Inn on the
Roof of the World.’ Perched on the crest of this great, remote mountain, it was
an agora for all sorts of activity, serving both commerce and recreation with
equal, alcoholic measure. Naturally, it was also the epicenter of all matters
illegal, from whoring to the opium trade to bartering in stolen goods. It was
constantly busy, this strange, cobbled Inn and even more so after dark, when
the sun drew her starry blanket to cover her eyes and the impish moon came out
to play.

The
noise and laughter from the Inn died quickly away as the band of strangers
walked through the door. In fact, the smoky room grew suddenly silent, the only
sounds being the clinking of sakeh pots and the thudding of boots as all eyes
turned toward the newcomers. Soon, even those sounds ceased as a young lion of
regal bearing crossed the wooden floor to the bar.

“I
wish to speak to the owner,” said the lion.

There
were three cats behind the bar and two of them fled, leaving a heavy-set tiger
with small, yellow eyes.

“That’d
be me,” said the tiger, in a different tongue.

“Is
Hinyan the tongue of these parts?”

“Maybe.”

“My
name is Kirin Wynegarde-Grey,” he said in Hinyan. “I am Captain of the Guard of
Empress Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu. We are here in her service.”

“Yeah?”

“We
need rooms. Four rooms, actually, and the use of your—”

“We’re full.”

Kirin
took a deep breath.

“I say again, we are in need of
four rooms for the night. And stabling for several horses.”

“And
I say again, we’re full.”

The
tiger was grinning, egged on by the snickers of the crowd. He was accustomed to
being a rather big koi in this small pond. Captains and guards and empresses
had little to do with his day-to-day living, up here on the Roof of the World.

The
Captain leaned across the bar.

“I’m afraid I must insist you
accommodate us, sir. You and your guests will be well reimbursed, and you
yourself will be doing a great service for your Queen.”

“Well, why don’t you just tell her
Excellency to get on up here herself. I’d be more than happy to service her in
person...”

That
drew lewd crows from the drunken crowd. The lion was as still as a statue.

“That,
sidi,
was a very bad answer.” He
straightened up from the bar. “Major?”

The
dagger whistled past his head and thudded into the heavy cedar barrels behind
the bar. The Innkeep’s head snapped back, his body also thudding into the
barrels, pinned as it was by the tuft of a black-tipped ear. He screamed and
twisted, trying to pry the silver hilt out of his hair, when a strong, tawny
hand touched his chin.

“Do
not struggle,
sidi,
for if you pull
it out, I’m afraid I will have to ask the Major to pierce the other. Now, do I
have your full attention?”

The
tiger gave a swift nod. A thin line of blood began to trickle down his neck.

“Very good.” Kirin laced his
fingers across the bar. “As I said earlier, we have need of four rooms,
stabling for our horses, and exclusive use of your, your ‘lobby’ just for
tonight. Do you agree? Say yes.”

“Yes.
Yes.”

“Major,
you may retrieve your dagger.” With a slight bow, he nodded to the pinned
Innkeep. “Thank you,
sidi.
We are in
your debt.”

He
turned away from the bar, catching Ursa’s arm as she strode past him. With his
other hand, he stroked a lock of his thick, smooth hair. Several strands were
broken.

“That was close, Major.”

“Sorry,
sir.”

The Captain strode to the centre of
the room, taking a position where all eyes could see.

“Sidis,
sidali.
Thank you for your patience, but I’m afraid I must ask you all to
leave. The Inn is closed for the night.”

Many furtive glances bounced off
his tall Imperial form, but oddly enough, no one moved to obey. He sighed
deeply. Sometimes people confounded him.

His
hand fell to the hilt of his long sword, the
katanah
. It was drawn rarely, for it was rarely needed, but its
presence was a reminder to all not only of his authority, but of his ability to
see that his orders were carried out.

In
a smooth, fluid motion, he flung the sword from its scabbard, sending it
sailing through the air like a shirh’khin, tip over hilt to thud into the wood
of the far door. It wavered a moment, then grew still. Along its blade were
bits and pieces of the various patrons – a lock of hair, a sliver of
fabric, a slice of leather, all skewered into the door like a feline
shish’khebab.

“Iaijutsu,”
breathed the Major. “Well done.”

Kirin
sighed. “Now, I believe the door is that way.”

“Bye!
Good night, now! Thanks for calling! Come again!”

Politely, Fallon held the door for
within seconds, the lobby was empty, save the ten newcomers, and the tiger
behind the bar.

Kirin
turned back to the Innkeep.

“
Sidi,
we have traveled far, and endured much. What do you have on
your menu for supper?”

Swallowing hard, the tiger
disappeared into the kitchens to prepare supper for ten unexpected, uninvited
guests. And for the first time in memory, the Inn on the Roof of the World was
closed for business.

***

In
Imperial once again, the Captain addressed the four guards standing before him.

“You will split your shift,
tonight. One will guard this corridor, for I in no wise trust these people. A
second will guard the stables, for the same reasons. The other two will sleep
and relieve the first at the end of the Second Watch. I leave it to you to
decide amongst yourselves who will take the first shift.”

As
one, the leopards nodded and split into pairs with perfect precision. Kirin
smiled to himself. He was proud of his men, of their dedication to duty and
unwavering commitment to the Empire. He could not have trained them any better.
It weighed heavily upon him that they had lost so many so soon.