The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (20 page)

“What
else has the First Mage seen fit to tell you?”

“Enough.”

“Riddles.
Again, riddles. You are not being helpful.”

Suddenly,
she was beside him, moving with such lithe grace that it caught him completely
unawares. He had not, in fact, seen her move. She straddled the bench, bringing
her proud Aegypshan face only inches away and the incense that wafted from her
was rich and heady.

“I
can
help you,
sidi.”
Her
golden eyes were intense, almost pleading. “Just say the word.”

For some strange reason, his
thoughts began to grow muddy as she moved closer still, almost sucking his
breath out through his lips. He wanted to pull away but he couldn’t, couldn’t
think, couldn’t breathe. He wanted to...

...he
wanted...

“Tea,
sir. Hot and sweet, and –
oh
.
Sorry!”

“Thank
you,
sidala.”

He broke the closeness as the
tigress placed the mug before him. He cupped it, feeling the heat radiate
through ceramic into his palms. He took a large mouthful, wincing as that same
heat scalded his tongue, bringing him swiftly, fiercely back to reality.

The
Alchemist rose from the bench.

“I will take my leave of you,
sidi.
Your brother should be
waking—”

“No!” he snapped. “No, but thank
you,
sidala.
I myself shall check on
Kerris soon enough. You are dismissed.”

She
nodded slowly, then slunk up the stairs to the middle room.

He
waited until he heard the click of her door before he allowed himself to relax.

“She’s
a little strange, I guess, but I think she means well.”

Kirin
glanced up at the Scholar, sunshine after shadow.

“No,
sidala,
I don’t think she means anything of the sort.” He smiled a
weary smile. “Please, sit. I wish to know your impressions of this matter.”

“Oh.
Well. Alright.” Fallon slid her backside onto the rough wood of the tabletop,
clasping her hands between her knees. “Can I have a sip of your tea?”

He
offered her the mug and she gulped it in hungrily, and gulped again, leaving
her with a wet puma’s moustache. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and handed
the mug back.

“Thanks.
Um, okay, you want to know what I think these ‘spells’ are?”

He
stared into the dregs of his mug. There was nothing left.

“Yes.”

“I
haven’t a clue.”

“Hm.”

“But,
I have a story.”

“I am not surprised. Tell me.”

“Well,
my father used to raise pheasants. Golden crested pheasants. Pretty things.
Nasty personalities, though. Very aggressive. Very stupid. Any way, he had this
prized hen, one he had hand-reared from the shell. He had bred her and was
anxiously awaiting her clutch, when just before she was to lay, she escaped the
pheasantry and was gone.”

She
bugged her eyes at him, as if he should appreciate the seriousness of the
situation. He simply stared at her.

“Now,
I had only six summers when all this happened, and one day soon after, when I
was exploring in the forest, I came across her nest. Father had figured she would
be a bad sitter, being hand-reared and all –”

“Sidala
, does this in any way pertain to
the matter at hand?”

“Oh,
I think so. Maybe. Probably. Just hang on. So, turns out that Father was right.
There it was, a clutch of four perfect eggs, left alone on the jungle floor. I
knew that I should have gone immediately to fetch him, but they were already
starting to crack, so... I didn’t.”

She frowned, and said nothing more
for several seconds.

“And?”

“And?
Oh, I watched. I sat there and watched, as one by one, these tiny prized chicks
struggled to get free from their shells. I wanted to see it happen. I had
always been so curious about it, but one by one, it didn’t happen at all. One
by one, I watched their struggles grow weaker and the shells got the better of
them, and one by one, they died. Until I - I couldn’t stand it anymore and for
the fourth and final chick, I broke open the shell and helped it out onto my
palm. It was all brown and wet and ugly, but it was alive and I had helped it
be free.”

She
turned those earnest emerald eyes on him.

“It seems to me that we have the
same situation here. One by one, something has been killing the Council of
Seven, and I can only think that this... this ‘something’ has been trying to
break out, to break free, just like those chicks, and using the Council to do
it. I mean, who better than such sensitive and powerful souls? So finally, by
helping Sireth survive, we have helped
it
survive and now it is free.
But, like that little chick, it is not safe, its existence not secure. I think
it still needs our help. That little chick died, Captain. Even with all my
help, my ‘valiant efforts’ on its behalf, it just curled up in my palm and
died. This fellow with the voice of a tiger is afraid. He thinks he is going to
die - he told me so last night. And I’m afraid that if he does die, he will
take Sireth and the last of the Council along with him.”

She shrugged, pouted and shook her
head.

 
“I can’t imagine any thing else. Unless of course...”

“Yes?”

“Well,
unless of course, Sireth’s gone completely mad...” She shrugged again. “Either
one.”

Kirin
sat quietly for some time, allowing the echo of her words to sink in. Finally,
he sighed.

“You are wise for one so young,
sidala.
Thank you.”

“Oh,
that’s alright. Don’t mention it. Except maybe to my father. He’s still angry
at me for losing his hen.”

“
Sidala?”

“Oh, didn’t I say? Yeah, I was the
one who forgot to close the pheasantry door. We lost all the pheasants that
night. Just like that. One little mistake and – Poof! No more pheasants.
Yep, he was
pretty
mad...”

“Again,
I am not surprised.”

With that, Kirin rose from the
table and began the climb to the second floor.

***

The sound was the sound of steel on
steel, the slicing and scraping of razor-sharp edges as Major Ursa Laenskaya
crouched in a corner of the drafty room. In her hands were two of the many
daggers she had retrieved from the silver ‘fence’ along the bedframe and she
was busy honing their blades lest they be needed anytime soon. Occasionally,
she allowed her icy eyes to dart to the Seer, silent and seated on the mahogany
floor. She was mapping herself a target area of heart, lungs and other vital
organs. She would carve him like a springbuck, given the chance.

“Does
the sharpening of my blades annoy you, Seer?”

Naturally,
there was no response, for he had not said a word since being ushered back to
the small room. She rose to her feet.

“Did
I hurt you earlier? Perhaps you bit your tongue.”

Again,
nothing.

With
a sneer, she flipped one knife to grasp it by the blade and sent it hissing
down next to the Seer’s knee. He did not flinch. Indeed, it was as if he had
not noticed. She flipped the second in her palm and flung it hard, thudding
into the hollow between his crossed legs.
A good shot
, if she had to
admit it herself. But once again, there was no reaction whatsoever.

She
wanted a reaction.

Her
bootheels snapped like angry dogs as she strutted across the room, crouching
down in front of him. She yanked the first dagger out of the hardwood and slid
it into its sheath. The second she also retrieved but let it roll about in her
palm as if deciding its fate. She regarded the Seer.

“I
should kill you now.”

Finally, Sireth opened his eyes.

“Perhaps
you should, Major. It would seem that your Captain has no taste for bloodshed.
As for me, I am looking forward to seeing Petrus again. We have much to
discuss.”

“Pah!
An old man’s folly. When you die, you die. There is nothing beyond that.
Nothing.”

“Even
that would be preferable to this.”

Ursa
sat back on her haunches, flicking the hilt up and down in her fingers.

“Perhaps I won’t kill you, then.
Perhaps I will just take out your good eye.”

“I
would still see more clearly than you,” he whispered.

She waggled the point of the knife
under his chin.“See, that’s what I hate about people like you.”

“People like me? Mongrel people?”

“Seers.
Scholars. Alchemists. Even grey-coated lions. People who think they are better
than others because some twist of kharma has given them something no one else
has. Making them think they are
more
because of something they didn’t
earn. Judging others as inferior, weak, less.
That’s
what I hate about
people like you.”

“And
here, all along I thought you simply hated the beard.”

“That
too.”

Quite
unexpectedly, the Seer smiled at her and for a fleeting moment, she was
confused. But she rose to her feet, sheathing the dagger into the leather at
her arm. She crossed the room, to take up her position in the corner once
again.

Finally,
there was the approaching sound of boots on hardwood and the door creaked open
under the Captain’s hand.

“Leave
us.”

“Sir.”

She
allowed him to pass and slipped around behind, grabbing the heavy iron latch to
swing the door closed. As it closed, she heard the singing of steel and she
risked a glance inward. The Captain was advancing on the Seer. He had drawn his
short sword.

The
door thudded shut.

Major Ursa Laenskaya stayed very
still for a long moment, puzzling at this strange new sensation that was
sinking her stomach like a stone. Finally, she shook her head and went down for
breakfast.

***

“Good morning, Kerris your name
was.”

“And
a very good morning to you,
sidalady
tigress.
I hope you haven’t eaten all the wontons.”

“Nope.
Saved the broken ones for you.”

“How
very considerate.” Kerris lowered himself down to the table. “Is there any tea?
I’m starving.”

Fallon
smiled at him, pushing her mug towards him with a slim, orange finger. “Hey,
where’s your tunic?’

He
tugged at the blanket around his shoulders, wondering how in the Kingdom he
could explain without really explaining, for in truth, he hadn’t a clue. “Um,
well, sort of, you know...”

“Look,
I’m really sorry...”

“You
are?”

“I
didn’t even think. I mean I just grabbed and well, you were just sort of
there
and well, you did say ‘climb’, so so I’m really sorry...”

“Right.
Well, if I said ‘climb’ then...”

“Then...”

“Right.”

He
sipped at his tea or rather,
her
tea, perplexed.

“How
do you feel, anyway?”

He
glanced around for the Innkeep, wondering if anyone was going to bring him some
food.

“Well, not too bad really, all
things considered.”

“And
your arms?”

“Funny
thing about arms,” he said, raising them in the air. “Can’t live with ‘em...”

“Can’t
cut ‘em off!”

And
the Great Room was filled with the sounds of sunny laughter.

Major
Ursa Laenskaya stormed down the stairs.

“Inkeep!”
she bellowed as she dropped herself on the bench beside them, “Bring me some
tea!”

Within
seconds, several mugs of hot sweet tea were placed on the table as well as
several platters of flatbreads, fruits and cheese. Pickled fish and strips of
curried lamb were also presented, and soon both Kerris and Fallon were digging
in, hungrily filling the gaps in their bellies as quickly as they could. The
Major, on the other hand, seemed to have no appetite and merely stared at the
mug in her hand.

“I
don’t think we’ll be making the Palace today,” said Kerris with a mouthful of
fish. “So I’m thinking of going into the marketplace. Seems I am badly in need
of a new tunic and cloak. Would either of you lovely ladies care to accompany
me?”

Ursa
slammed her mug down on the table. “No!”

“Well.
Alrighty then.”

“Mother,”
muttered the Scholar as she sunk low into her seat. “She needs something
stronger than tea...”

With
a snarl, the Major pushed herself up and away and began pacing in front of the
Great Room’s main hearth, arms wrapped tightly across her chest. Kerris shook
his head.

“Really
now Ursa, all this is a bit much, don’t you think? I mean, none of this
involves you but you’re tighter than the trigger on a crossbow.”

“Oooh.
Good one,” said Fallon.

“Thanks.
So? Ursa?”

“I
don’t have to tell you anything.”

“True
enough, I suppose. Sorry for caring. Forget I asked.”

The
Major whirled on him, her pale eyes flashing.

“
You
want to know why I’m so
angry.
You?
You spoiled, insignificant
excuse for a lion?”

“Well,
not if you put it that way...”

“Do you really want to know?!”

Kerris
swung around on the bench to face her.

“Alright then, yes. Oh wise,
unspoiled most significant excuse for a snow leopard, pray tell me. What is it
that has made you so angry?”

“Your
brother has just killed the Seer.”

She
got her reaction once again.

“What?”
whispered the Scholar. “What did you say?”

“Oh, Life is not so funny now, is
it, tigress? No smart comeback? No witty turn of phrase? Just
‘What did you
say?’
Surely you can do better than that.”

Fallon
glanced at Kerris, tears welling up in her eyes. She raised a trembling hand to
cover her mouth.

“Would - would he do that?”

“Well,
if Kirin does anything, you can be sure he has a good reason for it.”