The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (31 page)

She
angled downward toward her master, calling him with his falcon’s name. He did
not respond, for his sleep was deep, deeper than any of the past nights. At his
side, the silver soldier lay.
A kindred spirit,
thought Path,
lover
of pigeons and blood.
She lit on a rock high above them and began to tear
at the soft rabbit fur to the still-warm flesh beneath.

Tonight
had been a rare night, for tonight, Solomon had not come.

The Great Wall is unlike anything
in the Upper Kingdom. It finds its source high in the Land of the
Chi’Chen,
protecting even monkeys from the marauding of dogs. It is not known how long
ago it was begun, for truth be told, cats did not begin it. It is said to have
originated in the time of the Ancestors. It is understandable for it is very
well made and architecture is always a true test of culture. This is a fact
well understood by cats and when they undertook to continue the task two
Dynasties ago, they were hard pressed to maintain its integrity. By the time it
guards our borders, the Wall reaches heights of ten men and an army can travel
several horses across. Battle towers are frequent, at least one every hour and
more frequently along disputed borders like
Shibeth
and the
Phun’jah.
So it is said. Few have ever seen it or trodden its stone. I have. It is
marvelous.

For the most part, the work is done
by tigers. Tigers who labor day and night, stoking kilns and making bricks and
carting stone from quarries as far away as
Gizah.
Tigers who lay brick
upon brick, filling gaps with mortar and shaping clay by the ton. Some leopards
work as fine masons, some jaguars as engineers and of course, the project is
overseen by lions. Only lions can keep the sort of order required for such a
task. A few of Sacred blood have positions in the financing and purchasing of
stone, kilns and equipment, but for the most part, the work is done by tigers.

No one is entirely sure why.

Starting
high beyond the easternmost canton of
Xhiangxing,
it winds its way
southward through the Arms of our Mother, the Great Mountains, skirting her
peaks like a leaf on a river. It hems the provinces of
Bhushan, Shibeth
and
Mepal
, only to rise upwards once again, meeting the
Zashkar Pass
in the beautiful, terrible province of
Phun’jah.
There, it is a magical
place of glaciers and waterfalls and deep jungle valleys, a broken place of
salt flats and ruins and dry, dead plains. Where
DharamShallah
is the
roof the known world,
the
Phun’jah
is its breast. Beyond that,
the tigers still work.

 
So, it was with some measure of satisfaction that Kerris saw
it stretched out before him, the gold serpent that was the Great Wall, a flash
of order traversing the unbridled Mountains. He couldn’t help but grin for he
knew Kirin would be pleased. It seemed little this morning had pleased him.

Kerris
had been rudely awakened by the sound of his brother cursing and scrambling out
of the bedroll next to him. It had also been terribly early, Kerris remembered
this distinctly, for the sky was not yet pink and a thin layer of snow coated
the sleepers. He could hear the cursing for some distance beyond the fire and,
not really caring to know the reason, he had started the tea for breakfast.

They
had slept through the night.

For
the first time in many nights, the little party had slept through the night.

“How
could you have heard nothing?” Kirin had growled at the Major after ushering
the pair back to the fire. “You sleep like a hare. You hear everything.”

Ursa
had actually looked confused, something Kirin would have never thought
possible.

“I know, sir. But I, I —”

“Perhaps
there was nothing to hear,” said the Seer in her defense. “Perhaps Solomon was
preoccupied.”

“No.”
Kirin began to pace, his jaw working on some invisible piece of flesh between
his teeth. “No, this is too regular. Too predictable now. I don’t believe
Solomon has any more control over these episodes than we do.”

“And
I think he looks forward to them,” offered the Scholar, sitting by the fire and
munching on several slices of orange. “He sounds so lonely. I think he needs to
talk to us.”

Kirin
whirled on the Seer. “And you remember nothing?”

“I
never do.”

“These oranges are great,” said
Fallon.

She peeled off a slice and tossed
it to Ursa. The snow leopard scowled when it struck her on the chin. She wiped
the juice with the back of her hand.

“So
what does it matter, Kirin?” Kerris asked. “Whether Solomon has taken a little
break or whether he forgot, what does it matter? We will reach the Wall by
sunset and if he comes tonight, good. Fine. We can continue to
Lhahore
.
If he doesn’t, then we have a fairly direct route back to
Pol’Lhasa
.
This time,
time
won’t be a factor.”

With
a heavy sigh, Kirin placed his hands on his hips. As usual, Kerris met his
gaze, as undaunted by his brother’s temper as the others were mindful. Finally,
Kirin nodded.

“Yes, Kerris. We will carry on to
the Wall. We will decide our course tonight.”

“Right
then, let’s get cracking.”

And the grey lion sprang to his
feet, leaving the group and its dark
shar
chi
for the company of horses. The others followed suit.

Fallon
sidled up to the Captain.

“These are really great oranges,”
she said as she offered him a slice.

“No
but thank you,
sidala.”

“Really,
you should try one. You need your breakfast, after all.”

“No.
Thank you.”

“She’s
been drugged.”

He
turned slowly back to face her.

“What are you saying?”

“Ursa.”
She popped the slice in her mouth. “She’s been drugged.”

“How
do you know this?”

“Pupils
are still wide. Not sharp little slivers of black like usual. She’s moving
slower too. She would have normally caught the orange I tossed at her. Didn’t
even see it coming.”

“Who
would have done this?”

She
shrugged, still chewing.

“Anybody, I guess. Sherah or
Sireth, most likely. But any one of us could have. Even you.”

His
blue eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Oh,
I don’t know. Maybe she owes you money or something.”

“No.
Why would someone drug the Major? What would that accomplish?”

“Well,
we wouldn’t talk to Solomon, then would we? That would be my first guess. I
can’t think of any other reason. Ursa has always been the first one to wake
when he starts talking, if she even sleeps at all. But that’s only one
possibility. I could be wrong. Maybe she’s just really tired. Now
that
would be scary. Dangerous, really. Well, better get to my horse. I like this
one much better than my old one. My old one was so slow.”

And
so she ambled off, completely oblivious to the state of alarm in which she had
left her Captain. His eyes roved the backs of his party, from the four
surviving leopards to the civilians, from his brother to the Major. And now he
was certain of it too, Ursa Laenskaya was not moving with her customary swift,
bird-like motions. Or was she?

First
expedience, then paranoia.
How many masters would he serve on this journey?

He
shook his head and headed for his horse.

***

It was late afternoon before the
Wall came into full view. It had been, for the most part hidden by the bulk of
the Great Mountains, allowing a glimpse of its snake-like body only now and
again, a thread of gold woven through a basket of bamboo. It seemed small from
far away, but the nearer they rode, the greater, the more impressive, it grew.
Towers could be seen all along its length, battle forts offering the promise of
food and shelter and fresh, clean water. It is common knowledge that tea tastes
all the better when made with fresh water. This is an important consideration.

Kirin
held up a tawny hand, and the trail of horses wound to a stop. He had taken the
fore this day, being short on patience. Now, he jogged alMassay back to the
Seer, pulling up alongside.

“Where is the falcon?”

“Hunting.
Why?”

“Call
her back. I wish to send a message to the Tower guards at
Sri’Varna.”

“Is
that necessary?” Sireth asked sharply. “Soldiers have been known to shoot
falcons.”

“Not
my
soldiers.”

“Not
my
falcon.”

“Call
her back.”

The
man sighed and cast his gaze skyward. In moments, a shrill cry echoed through
the valley and a shadow crossed the sun. The falcon swept over the heads of the
riders, bleating and crying her displeasure, finally chirruping softly as she
settled on her beloved’s arm. The Seer pulled a set of talon leathers and bells
from a goatskin pouch.

“Your
message?”

A
thin scrap of parchment, bound in thread and sealed with Imperial gold, was
passed over and tied securely to the wiry leg. Then, Sireth placed two fingers
over the dark, shiny eyes, and closed his own. Kirin watched this, marveling at
not only how a man could speak to animals but how he did so without words. With
a chirrup and a jingle of bells, the bird lit from his arm, wings capturing the
wind the way a kite breaches the clouds. She was a speck in moments.

“Thank
you,” said the Captain after she disappeared entirely from his sight. “The
guards will have a hot supper awaiting us, a change of clothing, and maps.”

“Maps?”
Kerris brightened as they started on their way again. “Say, do you think
Solomon knows about the Wall? He seems to know about a great many things.”

“Perhaps.”

“Because
if he does, then maybe he could tell us how far along we must travel before
heading north into the Lower Kingdom. If we could make it all the way to
TheRhan,
we’d be well along indeed.”

“Yes.”

“Why
do you think he has a different word for everything, then?”

Kirin sighed, not wanting to be
discussing anything at the moment, least of all Solomon.

“I don’t know, Kerris.”

“Did
he
kill the Seers?”

“I
don’t know, Kerris.”

“I
think he’s a dog.”

“What?”

“I mean, we don’t know for certain
that he’s a tiger, now do we? He just speaks poorly, like so many tigers do.
Dogs speak pitiful Imperial, you know that, if they speak it at all. And for a
tiger to be so far beyond our borders—”

“He’s
not a dog.”

“But
how do you know?”

“Kerris—”

“Was there an expedition I wasn’t
told about?”

This
time, the Captain’s sigh was one of relief. He actually permitted his brother a
small smile.

“No, Kerris. There would never be
an expedition that you wouldn’t be a part of.”

“Because
if there was—”

“There
wasn’t.” He saw his chance to diffuse the conversation, seized it without
hesitation. “You are by far the Empress’ preferred guide. You know that as well
as I.”

Kerris
grunted affably, nodded as his blue eyes scanned the terrain.

“Besides,
who else brings back the little trinkets you do? You have the best nose for
treasure in the Kingdom.”

Another
grunt, another nod, and Kerris shot out his hand, grey palm curling open under
Kirin’s nose. A single shimmering pearl, nestled amongst a sea of shark teeth.

“You
see?” Kirin smiled. “This tiger is lucky indeed, to be rescued by the likes of
you.”

“Hah!
Thicker than honey, dear brother. Save it for Lyn-ling!” He spurred Quiz into a
gallop. “Perhaps she’ll shower you with kisses when we get back!”

“Kerris!”

But he could not resist laughing
and spurred his own horse to catch up, and the party of horses burst forth like
a whirlwind, kicking up a cloud of dust as they went.

***

They came upon the garrison town of
Sri’Varna
at sundown. It was a small community of tigers, leopards,
jaguars and smaller cats, people whose very livelihood was dependent on the
Wall. They were the families of the builders and potters who specialized in
maintaining the great kilns needed for such dedicated work. They were the
farmers and tradesmen who supplied the Wall with food and linens and oil for
alarm fires. Of these provisions, the oil was by far the most important.
Without oil, they were defenseless.

It
was quiet by the time they rode down the only road in town and Kirin found
himself approving. It was sunset, time for quiet reflection and evening tea.
Time for all people of good breeding to be settling in for the night, trusting
the safety of their homes to the Wall and the soldiers who guarded their
borders.
It was a good sign,
he thought to himself,
reflecting the
prosperity and stability of the Kingdom.
And of course, the quality of the
soldiers.

A
door opened from a far garden gate and light poured onto the street. A figure
could be seen silhouetted under the lintel, a lantern swinging the familiar
patterns of welcome. Kirin rode alMassay toward it.

It
was a lion, an elderly one, his mane silver and twisted into a high knot on the
back of his head. His robes marked him as a judge, the highest authority in
these small towns but it was he who greeted Kirin with a deep and formal bow,
cupping fist in one palm.

“Captain
Wynegarde-Grey,” the man said in the Imperial tongue. His accent was classic,
rich like Kirin’s and Kerris’ and for that matter, Sireth’s. “I am Shah Kim
taeKanawae. It is an honor to have you at our garrison.”

“It
is we who are honored,” said Kirin with equal formality but as a lion in the
Court of the Empress, he did not bow. Indeed, he did not even dismount his
horse. “Our party has traveled for many days. We look forward to the amenities
which the Wall can afford us.”

“And
you shall receive them,
sidi,”
he
said, bowing again.

“Thank you then, and good evening.”

With
that, Kirin pulled his stallion back onto the road.

Fallon
leaned over to the black-cloaked figure riding at her side.