The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (19 page)

Fallon watched them split up into
pairs and head off around the Inn, swords drawn and ready for anything. She
shook her head.
What was she thinking?
These were trained men, the best
there were to be in the Queen’s Elite. She was a skinny little tigress. What
could she hope to accomplish that they couldn’t?
Why couldn’t she ever keep
her mouth shut?

Emerald eyes cast upwards, to a
narrow cart-path that likely led to isolated farms up in the mountains. The sky
was black, the path slick with ice and frozen mud, and to fall from such a
steep angle would most certainly give her more than wobbly legs and snowy hair.
But she remembered how gently the Seer had held her, how like her own father he
had stroked her hair.

She squared her chin and set off up
the path.

***

Kerris
opened his eyes, only to be greeted by large golden ones.

“Hello,
sidalady
cheetah,” he said, smiling. “My, but you have lovely
eyes.”

She
kissed him.

“Well,”
he said, his hands moving completely of their own accord and he pulled her down
onto the bed.

***

Fallon Waterford paused to pace in
a small, tight circle.

“Now, if I was a tiger, which I am,
this would be where I would want to hide. You can see everything from up here,
right down to the Inn - Oh, look, I can see the guards right now.
Hm
. And it would be pretty hard to sneak
up on you from above. Yep, this is where I’d hide. Wow, this is so
beautiful...”

Her
breath was frosting the air in front of her face as she drew her cloak around
her throat and let her eyes linger over the panorama laid out below her. The
mountains in the moonlight, so ethereal yet so very real beneath her boots. One
slip would mean certain death. She could almost see the clouds, springing up
from the valleys like the breath of a dragon. And the star, brighter than any
in the sky, bright as a tiny sun –

A
gloved hand wrapped across her mouth and pulled her down onto the rocks.

***

Ursa
glanced down at the Inn, dark save for a few windows glowing with candlelight.
This was very wrong, she thought grimly, very strange. She hated to see her
Captain upset. He was far too compassionate for his own good. She would have
handled this matter much differently had she been in charge.

Icy blue eyes darted up to his
silhouetted figure. She studied the noble carriage and stoic demeanor as he
picked his way over snow and rock in pursuit of the tigress. Such was the way
with lions. No one ever dared challenge their authority, so on the rare
occasion when a challenge did arise, they were often slower to respond than the
smaller cats. They were often more concerned with ‘why’ a challenge should be
presented in the first place, rather than dealing with it swiftly and without
remorse.

Ursa
never needed to know why.

She
tossed her head and followed her Captain, picking her own way over the rocks.

***

Her heart was racing in her chest,
as the hand tightened across her mouth. She had been pulled down next to an
outcropping of rocks and while a part of her was terrified, the other part felt
warm and secure. She could smell leather. She knew where she was and who it was
that had her.

“Shhh,”
said his voice in her ear, at the same time familiar yet strange. “Can you hear
them?”

“Mmeea
mmoo?”

“The
animals. This place is crawling with animals.”

She
allowed her eyes to dart upwards, for a glimpse of his face. All she could make
out was the beard. The rest was obscured by loose, dark hair. His grip was extremely
tight, and he was breathing quickly, much the same as the night previous, when
in the clutches of the terror that had killed six of his fellow Seers. He was
in those clutches now even as he spoke, for also like the night previous, he
was speaking in the common accent of the tiger.

“The
others are dead,” he was saying, “The cold – it had to be. Something’s
gone wrong. There’s no power. No computers. Nothing. How could this happen?”

Fallon
swallowed hard but, steeling her resolve, reached up with trembling fingers to
lower his gloved palm from her mouth.

“Who
are you?”

“How could this happen? How long
have we been down here?”

“Please,
sidi,
can you hear me? Can you tell
me who you are?”

“Max?”

“No.
My name is Fallon Waterford. I’m a Scholar in the Court of the Empress. Who are
you?”

“What?
You don’t you know? Check your files – I’m there. Hell, I
encrypted
the
damn things.”

“Oh.
Um...” She frowned, understanding the context if not the phrase. “There’s been
a small problem, um, with the um, files.”

He
laughed, a short sharp bark of a laugh.

“Is that what they’re calling it? A
small problem with the files? Six supervisors dead, which means all the Subs
are in limbo, no power, no computer link, no communications whatsoever, except
of course, for you, my friend, whoever you are. And then, to top it off,
there’s all these, these horrible creepy little animals.”

She
could feel his grip weaken, as if suddenly the strength were gone from his
muscles. She didn’t dare pull away, however. She knew enough from her ‘Abnormal
Thinking’ studies at the University to bait him. Instead, she too relaxed her
body until he pushed her away, lowering his head in what appeared to be
exhaustion.

“It
doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I’ll probably be dead by morning anyway.”

For
some strange reason, she felt sorry for him, for this strange unknown tiger,
trapped in the Seer’s soul. She reached out a tentative hand to touch his
cheek.

His head snapped up and, clasping
her hand to his face, his eyes grew sharp with focus.

“Kittens,” he gasped. “Six kittens.
Six grey striped kittens.”

Then
suddenly, Sireth benAramis was back, blinking and panting and pulling her hand
away.

“Sidala,
forgive me. I — Why are
we outside?”

A
darker shadow passed in front of the moon, and Fallon glanced up to see a tall,
regal silhouette, a shorter, slimmer one rising by his side.

“Oh
mother,” said the tigress.

“Sireth benAramis, you are under
arrest.”

The sun was chasing the moon back
beyond the mountains, sweeping the darkness away with her golden brooms and
dusting the clouds with brushes dipped in honey. In the Great Mountains, it
seemed that half the Kingdom was sky and that the other half was constantly
reaching to claim it, trying to snare the clouds with her peaks and luring the
heavens downwards into stark, empty valleys. Even still, the sky went on
forever.

A slim, scarlet figure swept
through the halls of
Pol’Lhasa,
as swifly as her slippered feet would
carry her. She had not slept and as the night had marched, watch by watch, into
the breaking of a new day, she found claws as sharp as daggers digging into her
heart.

His
party had not returned to
DharamShallah.

Leopard
guards as still as stone watched her as she carried down the long, high
antechamber to the Throne Room. The great gold and red door opened and she
flowed inside, the many layers of skirt and sash sweeping the marble floor as
surely as servants. The dawn sun sliced down with beams of light and color and
many a day she often felt she could reach out and catch those beams in the palm
of her hand. Today, she brushed right through them toward a far, curtained
corner glowing in tones of scarlet and jade.

The
falcon was still alive.

She
breathed a sigh of relief as it chirruped an early-morning greeting. It was
perched as before on the wrought-iron pedestal, hooded and belled, its tiny
head snapping with quick, sharp movements. She stroked its downy breast.

“Good
morning, dear Path. I trust you slept well.”

From
a deep, embroidered sleeve, Empress Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu withdrew a
slip of parchment. She held it fast as if not daring let it go. Finally, she
brought the parchment to her lips and closed her eyes, letting it linger there
a while longer with perhaps the most intimate of Royal Seals. Ultimately, she
knew it must go and she tied it securely to the banded leg. The bird sprang to
her wrist as she moved to the window.

She
threw it open and removed the hood. With a shrill cry, the falcon lit from her
arm, talon bells jingling and streaked off into the blinding sun of morning.

“You
carry my heart with you, Path of
Sha’Hadin,”
she whispered to the fading
silhouette
.
“Find my Captain. Find him well. It is all that I can hope.”

And
she remained at the window for a very long time.

***

Kerris
yawned and stretched his arms over his head, flexing his grey claws toward the
ceiling. He flexed his toe claws as well, for he was bootless at the moment and
he enjoyed the tingling sensation across the tops of his feet.
Toe flexing
was an odd luxury,
he thought to himself, for since kittenhood, people were
trained to curb that inborn tendency in favor of footwear. Unsheathed pedal
claws made for a very good climb but were generally rather hard on one’s shoes.

 
He sat for a moment on
the edge of his bed taking a moment to orient himself to his surroundings. He
was quite accustomed to waking up in strange places, in even stranger beds. It never
seemed to bother him much for most important things in life were constant no
matter where you found yourself. Such things as the ground below, the sky
above, and breakfast. And, he reminded himself, at least he was waking. That
was more than could be said for some.

The
mahogany floor was cold so he reached under the bed for his yak-hide boots. As
he did so, he noticed his arms, swathed in wraps of fine linen. He tried to
remember the reason for them but somehow it was escaping him. Perhaps he had
gotten drunk. Things like this frequently happened when the ale and rice wine
flowed too freely, which they often did in the company of tigers. Frowning, he
scratched the back of his neck only to find more problems there. Tentative
fingers traced the ruts in his shoulders, his back and again, he had no
recollection of the cause.

It
disturbed him.

He
rose from the mattress and padded to the door, cracking it open ever so gently
so as not to bother the leopard who was likely sleeping at his post. Instead,
he saw no one. On the other hand, he heard many raised voices from the great
room down below, his brother’s among them. It sounded rather touchy and since
Kerris hated business of that sort, he decided that whatever it was that he
wasn’t remembering could probably wait.

He reached into a pocket, pulled
out a stick. ‘Six’ is what it read.

Six.

He
closed the door and went back to bed.

***

“You
hit
me!”

“I’m sorry.’

Kirin swung around. “You do not
deny it, then?”

“How
can I deny what I do not remember?”

“So
you say,” Ursa seethed, pushing her face up into his, lips pulled away from
gritted teeth. “But your fists speak louder than your words, Seer.”

Sireth
benAramis shook his head, lowering his eyes to the floor. He was standing in
the middle of the Inn’s Great Room, hands bound behind his back, the Major
circling him like a shark.

Three of the four leopards were also
present, each with blades drawn and ready. On top of a table nearby the Scholar
sat, knuckles between her knees, her brows knit together in worry. The
Alchemist leaned against a wall, apparently engrossed in braiding her hair with
strands of silver thread.

The
Innkeep had broached the subject of breakfast only once before quickly
disappearing into the recesses of the kitchens.

And
the Captain of the Guard was at the heart of it all.

“Are
you maintaining that this, this spell is the same as that which befell you in
Sha’Hadin?”

“I
don’t know.”

“If
so, where was the cold? Where was the ice?”

“I
don’t know.”

“He’s
lying,” hissed the Major.

“Are
you?”

“No.”

“Why
should I believe you?”

“Because
you want to.”

“I
believe him,” said the tigress.

“Then you are a fool.” The Major
wheeled upon her Captain. “Sir, I demand reparation. He hit me. He does not
deny this. It is my right.”

Kirin ground his molars. The Seer’s
words were true. He wanted to believe. But there it was, the 'darkness’ in his
own glass. If the man was innocent, then he was not the enemy. If he were not
the enemy, then the enemy was still unknown, still at large and still capable
of bringing destruction down on the Upper Kingdom. It was far easier to believe
that this threat could be removed, quickly and cleanly, by the edge of a sword.

Finally,
he nodded.

“It is your right, Major. Vindicate
yourself.”

Like
lightning she struck, her small fist swinging in a fierce arc that connected
with a *
crack
* on the Seer’s jaw. Though considerably taller than she,
the force was sufficient to send him staggering back into two of the guards.
They caught him with well-trained precision.

“Wow,”
whispered the Scholar to the Alchemist. “That was good. I wish I could do that.
I hit like a girl.”

“You
are a girl,” said the Alchemist.

“Oh. Maybe that’s why.”

“An
eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” said Kirin. “Major, the matter is
settled. You no longer have grievance against this man.”

“Yes,
sir.”

She took several steps back,
grinning and grinding her fist into her palm.

Sireth
straightened up, working his jaw back and forth to relieve the stinging.

“Interesting, Captain, how swiftly
justice moves when one is pure of Race.”

“That
has nothing to do with this,
sidi.”

“Oh,
it hasn’t? As I recall, you were sent to
Sha’Hadin
to save, oh do let me
recall…
me!
What will your Empress think when you tell her that,
somewhere along the way, you decided I wasn’t worth saving?”

“She
is
your
Empress as well,
sidi,”
said Kirin.

“I
had thought so,” said Sireth. “Until you abolished the Council.”

”I
saved your life.”

“So
you could take it later. Yes, yes, I’ve been there before.”

“Watch
your tongue,” Ursa growled.

“Captain,
I am not the enemy.”

The exact words.
Kirin eyed
him with renewed suspicion.

“Convince me.”

“Free
my hands and I shall.”

“I
find many things about this matter disturbing,
sidi.
It was you yourself who suggested that we spend the night
here, in this place, a place you seem to have some familiarity with. Moreover,
you did not wish to make the journey to
Pol’Lhasa
at all and here again,
we find ourselves not there. Yes, I find these things disturbing.”

“You
intend to blame me for the avalanche, Captain? Was I somehow the cause of
that?”

Kirin felt a pang of guilt, for his
brother had warned him of the dangers that very morning. But he had no
intention of tipping his just hand yet. There was simply too much at stake.
Instead, he merely shrugged.

“Many
things are possible at the seventh level,
sidi.”

“Perhaps
he is a firestarter...”

All
eyes swung in the direction of the Alchemist. She did not look up, however,
seeming quite content to study the braid she had been working on all morning.

“A
firestarter? Explain.”

“It
is as it sounds,
sidi.
One who starts
fires, only…” Now she did look up. “Not by conventional means.”

“Is
this possible?”

Sireth
snorted.

“Yes,”
purred the cheetah as she now began to unravel the braid, plait by plait. “It
would not take much for such a Soul to focus his thoughts and melt the snow
beneath the mass. It was happening anyway. It would simply be a matter of
timing.”

Kirin
turned back to the Seer.

“Is this true? Are you a
firestarter, sir?”

“I
am the last Seer of
Sha’Hadin.
Would you be asking such a question of
Petrus Mercouri were he standing in my place?”

“Answer
the question.”

Fallon
glanced nervously at the faces all around her. The accusation had not been
denied and the tension had grown unbearable, but she could think of no way to
break it. She tugged at her laces, and waited.

Finally,
the Seer smiled. “If I were as you say, Captain, then I would have little faith
in these bonds at my wrists, for it would take nothing at all to burn them
clean through.”

“Take
him upstairs.”

Two
of the three guards stepped forward and with a shake of his head, Sireth
benAramis allowed himself to be ushered past the Captain. He paused for a brief
moment.

“Be careful what and whom you
believe, Captain. It is not my soul you are damning but your own.”

Kirin
stepped aside and together the three men began the climb up the stairs that led
to the upper rooms. Ursa pivoted to follow. The Captain stopped her.

“Major,
do not let him out of your sight, but do
not
touch him. Is that clear?”

She
nodded swiftly and was gone, the clacking of heels on hard wood fading up the
steps and down the long corridor.

The
Captain lowered himself onto a bench, elbows on the table and began to rub his
forehead. He had another headache.

With
her heart in her throat, Fallon slid off the far table and approached him,
nervously tugging a well-tugged lace of her vest.

“Um, sir, I just want to say...”

He
glared up at her from under his brow.

“I
just want to say that I - I’m sure you’ll do the right thing. Sir.”

“Thank
you,
sidala.”

“I
mean, even if it is hard to understand. It’s not always a distinction that is
easy to make.”

“I
know.”

“’Cause
I know what I heard last night, sir, and I heard a tiger. A tiger, right and
sure.”

“I
know
.”

“Would
you like a cup of tea?”

Immediately,
he cursed himself. He was just about to ask her to leave him alone for a while.
Confound him and his accursed ‘dark glass.’

“That
would be very nice. Thank you,
sidala.”

She
smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. That left him alone with the
Alchemist. At least, she wasn’t humming.

“You
seem to know a great deal of this matter,
sidala.”

“I
know a great deal in many matters,
sidi.”
It seemed as if she were about to leave it at that but for some reason, she
decided otherwise. “Unlike yourself, I was not sent out unprepared.”

“What
does that mean?”

“The
First Mage is not valued counsel for nothing,
sidi.
He believes it is his duty to be informed of all aspects of
the Kingdom, from the very number of guards in each regiment to the histories
of the men sitting on the Council of Seven. How else could he faithfully advise
the Empress?”

“How
else indeed?” Kirin sat very still, weighing her words against the inner voice
that nagged within. “Tell me what you know.”

“I
know nothing for fact,
sidi,
but...”

“Tell me.”

She
pouted, picked at her hair, rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“Have you heard how he got his
scar?”

“I
had never thought it necessary to ask.”

“It
is believed that he got it while killing a lion in the National Guard,
sidi.
Only the intervention of Petrus
Mercouri saved his neck from the executioner’s blade.”

It
is not my soul you are damning,
the man had said,
but your own.

The
Captain sat back for a long moment, feeling a weight settle onto his shoulders.
None of this was good. None of this belonged. He regarded the woman with a
frown.