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

He felt Ursa’s eyes upon him and he
straightened, focusing back on the door at the end of the hall.

Finally, a muffled clang echoed
through the antechamber. A quartet of panthers accompanied a pair of civilians and
Kirin could tell immediately who was whom. Their very strides gave them away,
as different were they as day from night. He noticed the one, eyes wide and
overwhelmed by the splendor of the Palace. The other however, seemed unmindful
of the gold and ivory and kept her painted eyes fixed on him. Finally, the
guards peeled away, breaking formation with precision, and he was faced with
the two women known to him as the Scholar and the Alchemist. Complete strangers
whose very lives now rested squarely on his shoulders.

He gave a very small bow, cupping
his fist in his palm. A mere courtesy, for he needed bow to no one save the
Chancellor and the Empress. Perhaps not even the Chancellor.

“Fallon Waterford. Sherah al Shiva.
Thank you for coming.”

The Alchemist did not return the
bow, merely lowered her heavy painted lids. The Scholar, on the other hand,
bowed quite formally though not quite perfectly. At his side, Ursa was
scowling.

He straightened to his full height.

“I am Kirin Wynegarde-Grey, Captain
of the Imperial Guard. This is my adjutant, Major Ursa Laenskaya—”

“Wow,” the Scholar interrupted.

He stopped, stunned.

“You have a great voice.”

He turned to her, the tigress, the
Scholar. Fallon Waterford.

“Sidala?”

“I mean, not just that you speak
Imperial so well – I’m still learning myself but your accent. It’s very
old, Old Courts. But you’re a lion so that’s natural I guess. I’ve just never
actually
heard
a lion before or met
one, now that I think about it. There aren’t that many in the University but
I’m sure they’re smart, even if they are so very pretty…”

She snorted with laughter.

“And your name, Kirin
Wynegarde-Grey
? Means ‘unicorn.’ At
least, the
Kirin
part does. It’s
really old, isn’t it? And your sire name, wow. So, do you have any?”

“Any?” He blinked, confounded.

“Yes. Greys?” She was chewing her
bottom lip, deep in thought. “The suffix ‘Grey’ is significant, perhaps
indicating a predilection for grey pelts in your line. Pretty rare among lions,
really. So I was just curious... to see, um, if there were any... um, greys...”

She suddenly seemed to catch
herself, for her eyes grew very round.

“...in in in your line, I mean...”

He released a deep breath.

“There are.”

“Wow,” she said again and she
smiled.

The one called Sherah was eying him
the way a hungry kitten might eye a marzipan.

Ursa was growling.

And for the first time in his life,
the Captain of the Guard felt out of his depth.

“Sidali,”
he began, clasping
his hands firmly behind his back and using the most formal address for them
all. “The Empress has summoned you here, along with the Major and myself, on a
matter of great importance. Therefore, I should not have to remind you that, as
in all things pertaining to the security of the Upper Kingdom, we demand your
absolute discretion. Nothing less than complete and utter dedication to the
work will be accepted. Failure is not an option.

“So first I must ask you if you are
willing to accept this standard, even before the task is made known to you. As
the Captain of Her Excellency’s Guard, I order you all to search your hearts
and your souls and your wills before you answer. If you say no, then go in
peace. No shame shall come to you, no dishonor on your houses. But if you say
yes...”

He studied the three faces spread
before him.

“If you say yes, then nothing less
than your hearts and souls and wills will be demanded of you. Your lives will
be hers and thus, as her Captain, mine. Your deaths, if it come to it, will
also be hers and therefore, mine.”

His blue eyes tried them like fire.

“So, this is the charge. Ursa
Laenskaya, how do you speak?”

“Yes.” Without hesitation.

“Fallon Waterford?”

“Oh yes.” The tigress swallowed,
nodded earnestly. “Yes sir.”

“Sherah al Shiva?”

There was a languid pause. She
arched a black brow.

“Of course.”

Not quite an answer
, he
thought,
but it would have to do.

“Very well. On your oaths, I now
amend your birthrights, granting you status in the Court of Thothloryn
Parillaud Markova Wu, Twelfth Empress of the Fangxieng Dynasty, Matriarch of
Pol’Lhasa,
and Most Blessed Ruler of the Upper Kingdom.”

Because of her name, he bowed to
them, fist to cupped palm.

As one and likewise, they bowed
back.

And with that, the great red and
gold door at the end of the corridor swung open, summoning them all into the
Court of the Empress.

***

The Throne Room of the Empress
Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu was breathtaking, the most splendid, most
regal, most tranquil court in all of
Pol’Lhasa.
Its walls were
scarlet-stained cedar, with beams of ebony and columns of ivory to support its
high winged roof. Carved timbers ran the length of the ceiling resplendent with
behemoths and dragons, cranes and monkeys, depicting scenes from legend and
myth. Temple chimes sounded in the breeze, brightly colored peacocks strutted
freely within the walls, and banners of blue and gold hung from the very tall
windows. Stained glass painted light from the early morning sky.

From ornate to simple, torches
burned in many lampstands filling the Throne Room with incense and with a
serenity that defied the rushing of feet. Just stepping inside, one felt peace.

A nod as they passed from
Chancellor Angelino Devino d’Fusillia Ho. Quiet, authoritative and brilliant,
he was of Sacred blood and the Right Arm of the Empire. He was also of
Pershan
descent and his lush white pelt was barely contained within his orange and blue
robes. It was accepted amongst the Courts that he knew Everything. His
flat-faced expression was somber as they walked past him toward their matriarch
and they dropped to their knees at her feet.

Like a carving herself, she sat
perfectly still, perfectly straight, upon the ages-old seat, the symbol of
Dynastic power for 12 generations. She had not yet her 22
^nd
summer,
but her golden eyes glowed with wisdom beyond summers. Her lips were painted
red as cherries, high cheekbones dotted with white. With the carriage of a
swan, she was the spirit of the Mountains incarnate, as beautiful as she was
iron, as fragile as she was stone.

And like the Chancellor, she was
Sacred with a pelt as black as night. The Sacred Ones were a small race, a
people thin of bone and delicate of feature, and the many layers of red and
gold that draped her body did nothing to hide the slightness of her frame.

She was glorious.

She regarded them now from that
ages-old seat - the four bowed figures in gold and green, black and white.
Behind and before them, the Leopard Guard waited in absolute stillness and for
several long minutes, not a word was dared spoken until she herself gave leave.

“Rise.”

As one they obeyed and she surveyed
them all the more closely, weighing their very souls in the depths of her eyes.
Perhaps, she allowed her gaze to linger a moment longer on the face of her
Captain…

Yes, it did indeed linger much
longer on her Captain. It was rumored amongst the Courts that he held her heart
in the palm of his hand and that her spirit leapt like a lamb whenever she
looked upon him, like a lamb newborn playing on steep, wonderful, dangerous
slopes.22

“Captain.”

“Excellency.”

“And your brother? The summons was
for him, as well.”

The Captain lowered his eyes.
“Kerris... is traveling, Excellency. I do not know when to expect him home.”

“He is home.”

“Excellency?”

She smiled with her eyes. “Your
brother is charmed in more than coat, Captain. His party has returned to
DharamShallah
this very night. I believe he is presently deep in his bed, dreaming of sea
shells and monkeys.”

“I was unaware, Excellency,” he
replied, gritting his teeth. “I shall send for him at once.”

“No. As I have said, he lives a
charmed life. Let him sleep. But make certain he knows of my good will.”

“He will know, Excellency.”

She offered him her hand. It was as
slim and delicate and completely covered as she. He took it as if to kiss her
many rings, but the rustle of silk told him to wait. She rose from her throne
and began to step down the three steps to the mosaic floor.

“Walk with me.”

She did not withdraw her hand.

Cupping it as one might hold a baby
bird or an eggshell, he fell in at her side, breathing deeply to control the
lightheadedness that suddenly threatened to overcome him. This was an honor
indeed for none but a chosen few were allowed to touch the Imperial person. He
did not need to see the look from Chancellor Ho. He could imagine it well
enough. Certainly, the Green Tea would be buzzing by noon.

They walked in quiet of the throne
room toward a far curtained corner, glowing in tones of scarlet and jade. The
three women fell in behind, none daring break the spell of the moment. For his
part, the Captain could have held that hand for a lifetime.

“What do you know of the Council of
Seven, Captain?”

“Your Seers, Excellency. Seven men
of learning and wisdom, blessed with the Gifts of Farsight and Vision.”

“It’s a community of 500 or
thereabouts, if I’m not mistaken…” added Fallon Waterford.

She was strolling behind them,
speaking very casually and not seeming to realize her breach of etiquette. She
had not been given leave to speak.

“Mostly acolytes and students, I
think. Some scholars. All who devote themselves to the search for Truth, the
pursuit of the Gifts, and other such monastic endeavors. Simplicity, honesty,
humility, that kind of stuff. Ultimately, only seven are chosen, seven in whom
the Gifts are pure and strong. They advise the Courts on their Visions, and
interpretations of Visions, and so on, from the cliffs of, um...” Her mouth twisted
upside-down as she thought. “From the cliffs of
Sha’Hadin
.”

Ursa was growling once again.

“Indeed, child,” purred the
Empress, “They advise
me
.”

“Oh.” Fallon’s face fell. “Oh
mother...”

The silence was unbearable.

“I see Guru Navheen has trained you
well. He was always insolent with my mother.”

“Forgive me, Excellency! I - I just
–“

The Empress smiled. “Enough, child.
You are, of course, quite correct. The Seers are learned men, gifted and wiser
than most. The Seven are my most trusted advisors and, with present company
excepted, the truest protectors of the Upper Kingdom. These are their
familiars.”

She swept a scarlet-clad arm in the
direction of two falcons, hooded and perched on a simple, wrought iron
pedestal, hearing all but seeing nothing.

Immediately, Kirin’s head snapped
up. Ursa had caught it as well, for her eyes were sharp and shining.

“Two?” he asked, for Ursa would
not. “Only two?”

“The Council of Seven... is dying.”

Again, that unbearable silence.

“How, Excellency?”

“That remains a mystery, Captain.
Each of the past four nights has seen the death of a Council Member, always
near the Close of the Second Watch.

“And the manner of death?”

“Again, a mystery. The first man,
Agis Marelius died in his bed. He had eighty-three summers to his credit, and
the physician declared his death as natural for one so old. But when the second
died, and then the third, all with similar contorted expressions and violent
cries, it became clear that only ‘unnatural’ causes were at work. The falcons
have been relaying messages to and from
Sha’Hadin
as swiftly as they
fly. We expect - no, we
pray
, for the
arrival of another at any time. Perhaps, this curse has not yet claimed a
fifth, this very night.”

Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu
extended her hand to remove the first hood. Small, black eyes blinked several
times before the falcon unfolded its speckled wings and lifted into the air,
exchanging black iron for red silk.

“This is Na’rang, companion of
Petrus Ishak Raphael Mercouri, the Ancient of
Sha’Hadin
, eldest of the
Council and a dear, dear friend. As of last evening, he yet lives. And this,’
She reached for the second hood. “This is Path.”

The second falcon chirruped loudly
as her shiny eyes met sunlight. She too, spread wide her wings, talon bells
jingling, and rose from her perch. She did not follow Na’rang however but
streaked past the Imperial forearm, landing instead on the arm of Ursa
Laenskaya.

All eyes turned to the Major who
stared at the bird in horror. She shook her arm, pushed at its small body,
attempting to dislodge the creature but resulting in a series of angry protests
from the sharp, hooked beak.

Ursa turned to gape at the Empress.

“Why?! Why did it do that?!
Why?!”

“I do not know, Major,” murmured
the Empress. She approached the pair with a curious gaze. “It is most
interesting. Perhaps it is because her Seer is new to the Council. Sireth
benAramis is the youngest ever to sit on the Council of Seven, not having yet
reached the Age of Perfection. Indeed, it is said that his visions are never
wrong.”

Kirin nodded slowly. Most Seers did
not attain Council status until well past sixty summers. But to have
accomplished such before the age of forty-nine was unimaginable. And therefore,
suspect.

“You have not met him, Captain?”