The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (34 page)

“I
wonder if they have any cocoa,” said Fallon, and the pair ambled back to the
tower. The leopards, loathe at finding themselves so far from their posts,
slipped away as silently as they had come. Only the Captain lingered a little
longer.

***

breathe in, heartbeat beat beat,
breathe out, heartbeat beat beat, breathe in, heartbeat beat beat deep, breathe
out, heartbeat beat beat, deep dark, beat beat beat, deep dark places, beat
beat beat, shame, beat beat, deep dark shame,
peace,
shame, beat beat,
peace,
calm
anger, shame anger beat beat,
calm and strength, peace,
beatbeat
beat,
peace and strength, strength like steel,
beat beat beat,
like
steel,
eyesone
thousand eyes black robes fire and blood and alchemy

It was like a fist, the way he pushed
her out and Ursa snarled, about to give him a fist of a different sort when the
falcon sliced the air between them. It circled frantically but could not, would
not, land. The Major looked back to the Seer.

His
head was bowed deep into his chest, back rounded, fingers reaching to the
stars.

“It
is not time, not yet time,” she growled. “Solomon, is this you? Solomon?”

There
was no response. The falcon was still circling and she raised a hand to it.

“The Captain! Go find the Captain!”

And knowing nothing of
falcon-speak, she formed a picture of the golden lion in her mind. Path arched
her wing and soared toward the tower.

He
was moaning now, shaking his head and gasping for air. It reminded her of the
first night in
Sha’Hadin,
when Solomon had seized him, so she grabbed his
shoulders, determined to break whatever grip he was caught in. It worked and
she felt the tension drain from his muscles.

“Sha’Hadin...”

“What?” His voice was a whisper, so
she bent in. “What of
Sha’Hadin?”

“Sha’Hadin...”
He looked up at her, his face streaked with tears. “Has fallen.”

***

“It is done.”

Empress Thothloryn Parillaud
Markova Wu could have been carved stone, she stood so still, a statue, silent
and straight and barely breathing. Her elaborate robes fell in razor-edges to
the floor, her golden headdress caught the lamplight, reflected it along the
scarlet walls. The stained glass high above was dark, for it was night, and a
heavy cloak of clouds hid the moon. Across her shoulders, a mongoose raised its
tiny head, its small eyes glittering like black pearls. She stroked its throat
with a thin finger.

“Tell
me again this was necessary, Jet.”

“It
was necessary, Excellency.”

“The transition has been smooth?”

“As
polished glass, Excellency. The brothers are relieved at having order restored.
Some have even petitioned for leave to visit family and friends now that the
monastery is in such good care.”

“Good.
I cannot tell you how much this matter disturbs me.”

“I
am aware, Excellency. However, this is only a temporary solution until the Council,
or some semblance of it, returns.”

She
would not let him see her heart. “They will return, Jet.”

And she waited, for she knew it
would come.

“Of course.”

With
a long breath, the Empress turned to study the man standing directly behind
her. He was an impressive figure, his black and silver robes a startling
contrast to his white striped pelt. Jet barraDunne, First Mage of
Agara’tha,
alchemist and priest and noble council, a white tiger from a line of white
tigers that had served the Royal House for more years than she could recount.
His hair was white-streaked steel, the top roached like a horse’s mane, the
length of it gathered in a long braid down his back. It was impossible to
determine his age, though she knew him to have had more than forty summers and,
as was whispered among the Courts, almost as many wives. His eyes were as white
as the moon.

“Take
heart, Excellency,” he said, his voice round with the accents of the Middle
Courts.
Not at all the voice of a common tiger.
“I have managed to locate
Yahn Nevye from his sabbatical in
Sahood.
He has only been away from
Sha’Hadin
two years and has agreed to assume responsibility for the monastery
for
as long as needed. Naturally, he will stay on to rebuild the Council if
benAramis so wishes.”

“We
should tell them.”

“benAramis
will know.”

“Even
so, I wish to tell them.”

“Of
course.”

The
Empress turned away, folding her hands within her wide sleeves and moving
slowly back towards the throne. He fell in behind.

“Is there word on their party?” she
asked.

“They
have made the Wall at
Sri’Varna.”

“Intact?”

“They
have lost four leopards.”

“So
soon? That is not good.” She lowered herself into the ages-old seat, the only
thing simple and unadorned in the room. “I will dispatch one of my falcons at
daybreak. They must know that
Sha’Hadin
is in good care. Then, they can
continue their journey unmindful.”

“Naturally.”

“You
disapprove?”

“Not at all, Excellency. I
understand your concern...” He stared at the floor, a gesture of respect but it
made her study him all the harder. He had no need to finish the thought. He
knew her, knew of the secret places within her, her reticence in choosing a
suitor and the reasons for it. She had held an incomparable standard since
kittenhood in the Imperial Nursery, a kittenhood shared with the brothers
Wynegarde-Grey. He had never spoken of it however, never would, and she trusted
him with this knowledge. It could destroy her.

“Thank
you, Jet.”

“Is
there anything else, Excellency?”

“No.”

“Then
I shall be leaving for the monastery in the morning.” He bowed. “Good night,
Excellency.”

“Good
night, Jet.”

Thothloryn
Parrilaud Markova Wu let her golden eyes roam the Throne Room, now empty save
for the Leopard Guard lining the walls. Lamps and lanterns burned well into the
night, for in truth, they were never allowed to go out and were refreshed daily
with oil and cloth. Three peacocks slept at her feet, their tiny crowned heads
buried in the blue of their backs, their great tails folded and still. She
could feel the rapid, even breaths of the mongoose on her shoulder and knew it
too was asleep. All was quiet in the Throne Room of the Empress. All was in
order.

She missed him.

The wealth of the Kingdom was hers
for the asking, temples of gold, incense and idols, all hers to hoard or give
away. Soldiers and armies and horses, mountains and deserts and jungles, people
by the thousand, hers to command. During her short reign, she (with the help of
Kaidan) had brokered peace with the
Chi’Chen,
forced the
bab’Hundi
back
tenfold in their quest for land along the Aegypshan border and furthered the
Wall like no other before her. It was a noble lineage of Sacred blood, a mantle
of power which she wore so very well.

And yet, she missed him.

“When you return,” she promised the
emptiness. “When you return.”

The emptiness did not answer.

***

The Captain of the Guard shook his
head.

“You are certain of this?”

Sireth threw up his hands and
continued pacing. The disrespect set Kirin’s teeth on edge. He ground them
tightly to rein in his temper.

“Of course you’re certain. Forgive
me. Tell me again what you saw.”

“I
saw
Sha’Hadin
overcome by Alchemy!”

“Are
you speaking from a clear glass,
sidi?”

The
Seer glared at him and steeled his own jaw, apparently as angry with himself as
with the Captain. He took a deep breath. “No.”

“Then
tell me what you
saw.”

“I
saw eyes, and the Cliff of One Thousand Eyes. The seven gates of
Sha’Hadin,
with cats in black robes flowing through, 5 of 5 per gate. I saw soldiers in
black leather filling the Valley of the Seers, carrying swords and spears and
the Standard of
Agara’tha.
I saw the snuffing of torches, the drawing of
chalk circles and the spilling of blood in the Hall of the Seers.” He turned
his face to the Captain. “I saw Tiberius, beaten and weeping in the snow.”

It was like a blow to the stomach and
Kirin battled to keep it from crowding his thoughts. “This could not have been
a future event?”

“No.
They have a different sense.”

He
turned to the Alchemist. She was leaning against a wall, braiding feathers into
her hair.

“Why would
Agara’tha
do such
a thing?”

“We
do not know they have.”

“I
know!” snapped Sireth, tail lashing.

“So
you say.”

“You
knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Did
I?”

“You
may beguile the others, Sherah al Shiva or whatever your birthname was, but you
will not catch me in your games.”

“I
do not play games.”

Fallon
Waterford sat forward, another mug of hot cocoa in her hands.

“I hate to say this, Sireth, but
it’s really just your word against hers. We have no proof that anything at all
has happened to the monastery.”

“I
saw it too,” said a quiet voice and all eyes swung toward the Major.

The Captain put his hands on his
hips.

“You?
How?”

She
cast a furtive glance at the Seer before responding.

“He was teaching me to meditate. It
is discipline for the soul.”

“And
you saw this...this ‘taking’ of
Sha’Hadin?”

“Part
of it, yes sir, I did.”

As
if vindicated, Sireth folded his arms and cocked his head, brows raised. Kirin
turned to the Alchemist.

“And you know nothing of this plan
to take the monastery? The First Mage never mentioned anything of the sort?”

“How could I? I am here. They are
there.” She held his gaze, undaunted. “Unlike the Seer, I do not engage in
Soul-Travel.”

There seemed to be something about
her, however, something in her tone or rather,
not
in it. It puzzled
him.

“Well,
let’s look at it this way,” said Fallon. “What would
Agara’tha
have to
gain by taking the monastery? What could Alchemists possibly want with Seers?
Or what would Alchemy need of Farsight and Vision?”

“Unification,”
said the Captain and Sherah’s eyes flashed. “You said so yourself,
sidala.
Unification of the Gifts and the
Arts. An Alliance, as you put it for the good of the Kingdom.”

“What?!
That is ridiculous!” Sireth threw his arms up again.
“Sha’Hadin
would
never accept such a joining!”

“They
may have no choice now,” said Fallon. “And it’s the perfect opportunity. The
Council is abolished, and if I’m right, and I usually am, there are no Elders
left. At least, none that command the Gifts the way the Council did. Right?”

She looked at Sireth. He nodded,
but numbly.

“Sha’Hadin
is vulnerable,
for the first time in generations. Yep, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

The
Captain growled under his breath.
“Sidala?
What are your thoughts?”

She
pulled at the feathers in her hair. Gone were the baiting airs, the sensual
self-confidence that characterized her occupation. In fact, to the Captain, she
almost seemed worried.

“Sherah
al Shiva, answer me. Is it possible that, during our absence—”

“Or
because
of it,” chimed
the Scholar.

“Yes,
or because of it, that the First Mage has seen fit to make a move toward
Unification?”

Slowly,
very slowly, she inclined her chin. “It is possible.”

“I
knew it!” Sireth snapped, a kite in a strong wind. “We must leave at once!”

“No.”

“What?!”

“I
said no. At first light, we will dispatch the falcon. She should make
Pol’Lhasa
in two days time. We shall see what the Empress herself decides.”

“That
is completely unacceptable, Captain.”

“That is not your decision,
sidi.”

“Tiberius
trusted you, respected you. He believed that you had saved
Sha’Hadin.
And now you have handed them, and him, over to the darkness. How could you
betray us like this? Have you no honor?”

Kirin’s
palm slammed the table top with such force that everyone jumped and he loomed
over it like the great lion statues in the palace courts. But when he spoke,
his voice was low, quiet and completely controlled.

“We
wait... on the Empress.”

Sireth
straightened to his full height, stone-faced and seething and when he turned,
Fallon noted that even without the swirling dark robes, he was still
impressive. He strode toward the tower door. And stopped.

Suddenly,
he swung back to the room, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hello, my friends!” said Solomon.
“I’ve got great news!”

***

“I don’t know that I’d call it a
Gift exactly,” said Kerris as he watched from a distance. “More like a bloody
nuisance, wouldn’t you say? I mean, first it’s you, then it’s not you, then
it’s you again. A person could get lost in all those souls, traveling about,
bumping into each other. And what if you did get lost? Could you just pop into
someone else’s body, take him out for a spin, then give him back when it was
convenient? No thank you, I’ll just take the grey pelt myself and get on with
it.”

No
one answered, because of course, he was talking to himself. He had slipped out
of the room as soon as Kirin and the others had appeared and had nabbed the
last bit of cold curried lamb and dumplings. Two of the dumplings he had
pocketed for Quiz, being as they were the pony’s favorite snack. He made a
point to check on the horses, to see that they were bedded down for the night
in a high tower stable. It was ironic, he thought, to see horses sleeping deep
in straw on a brick and stone wall so high above the ground. It was typical of
feline culture to go to such great lengths to demonstrate their mastery over
the natural world. It was in its own way, peculiar. But cats are, after all, a
peculiar people.