The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (35 page)

He
waved at the leopards, Wing and Per, Luke and Oded as they too bedded down for
the night. With the extra sentries already available from the Wall, the Captain
had given them the night off and Kerris knew they sorely needed it. His brother
could be thoughtless when it came to subordinates, believing that everyone
could function as he did, on strength of will alone. Kirin had remarkable will.

“Not
me,” he said to the stars. “In fact, I don’t have remarkable anything. Just as
well, I suppose.”

He
leaned out over the cornice, feeling the wind upon his face. It was cold and
grumbling, and more than a bit angry. There was a storm coming, he knew it. It
would hit before morning. They would have a hard day of it tomorrow. He pulled
two sticks from his pocket.

Dharma
and
Red.

Odd.

With
a deep sigh, he blew the moon a kiss and started back to the tower.

***

“Power? What do you mean ‘Power?’
Power over people?”

“I mean, just the
power
. I
think I can get the power on. What, don’t tell me you people don’t have
electricity?”

Kirin
frowned. “We have cities.”

“Okay,
fire? You have fire, right?”

“Of
course we have fire. It is one thing of many that separates us from animals.”

“Dogs
have fire,” Fallon whispered and the Captain cut her off with a glance.

“Yeah,
okay, whatever,” said Solomon. “Well, electricity is kind of like fire under
harness.”

“Ah,
a lantern. Yes, we have these.”

Solomon
laughed again. He was in a good mood tonight. This ‘finding of power’ was
obviously a good thing. But it was also very likely an Ancient thing and Kirin
had no wish to be discussing Ancestors tonight, or any night.

“Solomon,
where were you last night?”

“Oh,
that. Well, I’ve had to go deep into the bunker to get the auxiliary generators
up and it took me all night to break into the vaults. This place is crawling
with those rat things. I had to be very careful but I don’t think they are very
smart.”

“They
are not,” said the Major. “But they do have a keen sense of smell, and
excellent hearing.”

“I
thought so. That’s why I was so quiet. When I felt - I don’t even know what to
call it - this connection-thing with you people, I tried to talk to you a few
times but I could only talk in whispers. I heard nothing back, so I gave up and
got on with my work. ‘

Kirin
nodded. So Solomon
had
come but had been very quiet about it. Whether or
not the Major had been drugged, she might not have awakened at all. This did
nothing to prove one thing or the other, nor did it help to alleviate his
concerns.

Solomon went on.

“So, anyway, I think I can get the
power back on, possibly by tomorrow. Then I can get the computers up and
running, maybe get some supper, and find out what it’s like up there.” He
grinned again. “And hey, we’ve got some pretty nifty ATV’s and a Humlander in
storage. Even a couple of choppers, if I’m not mistaken. I’ll be able to meet
up with you folks in style.”

For
some reason, Kirin found himself looking at the Scholar, hoping that she of all
people would understand anything of what this strange soul was talking about.
But she was as lost as he, delighted in the conversation, but lost nonetheless.

“Solomon,
we have to talk to you about maps—”

“Shh!”
The Seer’s eyes darted around the room. “I hear them.”

“Who?
The rats?”

“Yeah!
Gotta go!” Sireth bolted to his feet, scrambling backwards toward the door. “I’ll
talk to you tomorrow night, okay? Tomorrow night!”

“Solomon!
Wait!”

Kirin was on his feet too, as the
Seer spun on his heel and dove for the doorway that led out to the Wall, the
black night and the precarious drop to the ground below. A fall would surely
kill him.

“Major, stop him!”

She
lunged.

Perhaps
it was the last of the drug, working its way through her body. Perhaps it was
the change of clothing, making her more bulky, the Seer less so. Perhaps it was
simply the unexpected nature of the motion, the unforeseen, unforeseeable
action of this foreign soul. What ever it was, something caused Major Ursa
Laenskaya to do something the Captain could never, in all his years’
association with her, remember her having done before.

Major
Ursa Laenskaya missed.

To
her credit, she did manage to snag a leg but he swung free, striking her jaw
with his heel and sending her back into the Captain. By the time they were
steady, he was out the door. Both she and the Captain were behind him in a
heartbeat.

Blacker
than black against the bright sky, they could hear more than see him and they
were like two arrows bearing down on the fleeing figure. There was another
figure on the Wall before him, there was no mistaking who—

“Kerris!
Stop him!”

The Seer whirled, hesitated but a
moment, then sprang onto the cornice of the Wall, baggy clothing billowing in
the night air. Kirin skidded to a halt, terrified.

“Kerris,”
he called. “Carefully now.”

The
grey lion was within touching distance.

“Solomon,” he asked, looking up
with a mouth full of dumpling. “Is that you?”

“Sh!
The rats! God damn these rats!”

Kerris
threw a glance at his brother and the Major as they moved slowly, tautly, like
coiled springs, towards them. He looked back up at the Seer.

“They
gone?”

“I
think, maybe,
shh...”
He flung his
head wildly around, dark hair whipping in the wind, eyes seeing nothing, not
the Wall, nor moonlight, not the steep deathly drop to the cliffs below.

“You know, that’s not really a good
place for you, or for our Seer. How about you come down here where we can
help?”

He reached up, grabbed the man’s
spotted, un-gloved wrist.

ocean water earth and lightning
forking, breaking the road, breaking it into a thousand pieces

A gasp, a sag, a sharp release of
breath. Sireth blinked, swayed, took a step backwards to steady himself—

“Kerris!”
shouted the Captain.

The
grey lion braced himself as the Seer toppled backward. The stone of the cornice
caught him mid-thigh, scraping his trousers and grey pelt down to the knees. He
yelped but held fast when the Seer struck the stone as he fell. In fact, the
momentum almost pulled the grey lion over the edge with him, but Kerris did
hold with a strength he should not have had.

Within a heartbeat, however, Kirin
then the Major were there with him, pulling the Seer over the cornice and onto
the parapet. Kerris flopped down beside him.

“I
hate this,” the Seer grumbled, rubbing the scrapes along his bearded chin. “I
really, truly hate every aspect of this entire affair.”

“You
hate this,” muttered Kerris, and he too rubbed at the scrapes along his thighs.
“I’m
going to end up a black-and-blue panther by the time this journey
is finished.”

“You
should have let me fall,” Sireth said to Kerris but he was staring at Kirin.
“Then you could have gone home and spared yourself the bruising.”

“Yes, but that would have been
dishonorable, and my brother would have made me clean up the mess as
punishment.” He glanced up. “Kirin?”

The
Captain shook his head, letting his eyes follow the line of torches dotting the
Great Wall. They seemed to go on forever.

“Kirin,
are you alright?”

Four
leopards dead. Bandits, avalanches, icy rivers and now the Wall. He had so
hoped that by reaching the Wall, they would end their trials and ride smoothly,
effortlessly, to the end of this sojourn. He had hoped to kill the Ancestor
with a clean, honorable sword, and return home to his Great House, to his
chamber, to his Empress.

But he knew now that
Bushido
would not allow this, and
Bushido
was his master.

He knew it now, in his heart of
hearts, the only way to serve both Empress and master.

He
would kill the Ancestor, then kill himself. Honor would be restored with his
own death.

He
would not be returning home.

Most Honoured Excellency,

Our party has experienced a
difficult few days, as you have no doubt been informed. I regret to report the
loss of four of your Leopard Guard and I alone bear the responsibility for
this. I cannot shake the fear that they will not be the last casualties on this
remarkable journey.

Your Seer, Sireth benAramis,
claims to have seen a Vision of
Sha’Hadin,
overcome by the brothers of
Agara’tha
.
Since we cannot confirm the truth of this, I humbly request your direction in
this matter. We shall return or continue as you wish. We are yours to command.

For the moment, we continue to
Lahore
.
We await word from you there.

In Your Service,

Kirin Wynegarde-Grey

The morning had started out angry,
a fact that did not surprise anyone. The sky was so thick with clouds that one
need only reach out over the Wall’s edge, it seemed, to catch one. The sun was
hiding, having conceded the dawn to her rival the moon and their mutual suitor,
the wind, howled madly for them both. Today, he was a strong suitor.

The
pace of the horses was dismal. Along the Wall, smooth straight stretches
alternated with steep steps as it rose and fell with the Mountains. Usually,
horses could maintain a steady trot for the most part but today, a trot was
impossible for in that bouncing two-beat gait, a horse was suspended for a
heartbeat above the ground. Today, the wind was such that, in that heartbeat, a
hoof could easily be snatched from the stone and both horse and rider sent
tumbling over the edge. Today, like their souls, they crawled.

Kirin
tucked his head deep into his hood, once again Imperial gold, fresh and clean
from the garrison town.
At least it wasn’t raining,
he thought darkly.
That would be the ultimate insult, but then again, clouds so often were
insulting. Dog-like they were, constantly reaching for the Kingdom’s skies,
muffling her warm sun and pelting cats with water.

Briefly,
he allowed his eyes to scan the party of horses in front of him. Kerris and
Quiz took the lead, the mountain pony looking very sorry with its head low to
the ground and its wild mane and tail a victim of the gales. A more satisfying
view was that of the Imperial horses, manes shaven, tails bound, plowing
through the gusts like water buffalo through a river. Two leopards in the fore,
followed by Alchemist and Scholar, each clutching cloaks over their heads, one
black, one green. Next, the Major and the Seer, faces forward and uncloaked, as
if daring the wind to beat them. Kirin shook his head.
Ursa Laenskaya -
meditating.
Never would he have thought such a thing. And never would she
have let a man touch her, as surely he must have. A shame he wasn’t Pure. He
would put a stop to it at once.

Finally,
the last two leopards brought up the rear, leading the packhorses behind them.
This way they traveled for hours, passing battle tower after battle tower
before the Captain called a halt at noon.

They
huddled chilled and weary inside a tower keep, sipping hot tea and soup
provided by the keep’s guards. Messages were sent between towers daily via kestrel.
Kestrels were small hawk-like birds, similar to falcons in look and
intelligence. Despite the wind, the kestrels had managed to alert other towers
to the approach of the Imperial party, and preparations had been hastily but
efficiently made to accommodate them, should the need arise.

Kirin
did not find it odd, then, that not a single word passed between them during
the short break for lunch. He hadn’t even needed speak to the tower guards to
be presented with several skins of hot soup for the journey which he accepted
with gratitude and a good measure of pride. He never failed to be impressed
with the consistency of their training. Then again, consistency was the very
heart of
Bushido
. He could not imagine otherwise.

So
again, they set out into the driving wind. It wasn’t long before the Captain
found himself losing track of time. Hours blended and the afternoon crept
forward, a constant struggle against the gale. Once, he saw motion from under
his hood, knew instinctively that a horse had stumbled, and the sharp wave of
danger swept through him. Even alMassay was blowing hard, the sounds rumbling
around his great chest like thunder.
This was madness,
the Captain
thought to himself. They would stop at the next battle tower for the night.

The
wind picked up again, drowning all sound but its wailing, as they neared a
great, unfamiliar mountainside. The Wall rose to meet it, steps mirroring the
steep angle as she prepared herself to climb again. 20 steps then plateau, 20
steps then plateau. With increasing fury, the wind blew, snatching snow from
the rock face and throwing it in bitter circles across the stone corridor. Even
this had become a weapon against them. Kirin could see Quiz begin the
treacherous climb, skittering as his small hoofs fought for traction. 20 steps,
then plateau. The leopards next, a struggle even with greater horses. 20 steps,
then plateau.

Stumbling
and skidding, the party of horses ascended the mountain on the back of the
Great Wall, 20 steps then plateau. In fine weather, this would have been
difficult enough but in this gale, it was misery. Kirin could see nothing of
the others as alMassay struggled with the climb, his view restricted to the
steps directly in front of him. And finally, when he was certain the stallion
would drop from exhaustion, the steps ended and they stood on the rampart of a
large battle tower, Imperial Standard whipping defiant and proud.

Tower
guards met him, taking alMassay and ushering the Captain inside, where he was
greeted with warm blankets and hot tea. His ears were still ringing from the
wind as he surveyed his people, sprawled against the walls of the keep, too
numb to move. He slid down next to his brother.

“Will
tomorrow be the same?”

“Worse,”
muttered Kerris. His eyes were closed, chin to chest, and his night-blue hood
pulled over his head. “Tomorrow, the skies will fall.”

The
Captain had barely placed his empty teacup on the stone floor before he
surrendered to the blackness.

***

blackness, blackness and
candles, books burning, journals, 100 summers of journals burning in circle of
chalk, old eyes weeping, painted walls, painted panthers, scrubbed free with
sulphur and acid, paint burning, searing, golden eyes curling into wet ash,
Tiberius beaten and weeping in the snow

“Captain.”

Noble Tiberius, Wise Petrus,
Sha’Hadin
broken and weeping
in the snow

“Captain?”

He
awoke with a start.

“Yes?”

A
leopard was kneeling before him.

“Sir. The second watch has begun.”

“Thank you.”

With a deep breath, he roused
himself. The coal brazier in the centre of the room cast long flickering
shadows up the tower’s brick walls. His people lay scattered around it like
living mats. Even his own leopards slept with them this night, as deserving of
rest as the others, perhaps more so. The wind howled outside the tiny windows,
but unlike those in
Sha’Hadin,
these had been wisely fitted with the
thickest of glass.

Quietly,
he padded over to the Major. She was awake, her sinewy arms wrapped around her
knees, her hair all but covering her face.

“Major,
have you slept?”

“No.”

“That is not wise. I told these men
to wake us at second watch. They can be trusted.”

“Yes
sir.”

“After
this, you will sleep. I have no desire to be catching you when you fall off
your horse in the morning.”

His attempt at humor fell on deaf
ears. He knew her well, knew her shame of the other night and her fierce desire
to prove her honor in the face of it. Her own
Bushido,
a warrior-way of
a different nature. Still, he understood her well.

“Yes
sir.”

He
looked at the near-by form of the Seer, slumped against a warm brick wall, head
in his arms, sleeping. He deeply wished that the falcon would bring them orders
to come home, to return to
Pol’Lhasa,
or
Sha’Hadin,
and make
things right. Armies and alchemists, these he could handle, but this journey
into an angry man’s soul, this impossible search for a being that could not
exist and finally, this murder of Ancestors, all this was indecorous to him.
Dishonorable. But if it was demanded, it would be done. And he knew the way
Bushido
would demand he handle it. He would take the dishonor upon himself by killing
the Ancestor, then restore it by killing himself. The Empress would be
blameless. It was the only way.

He
did not look at the Major.

“You will not meditate again.”

“Sir.”

She had hesitated before
responding. This disturbed him, perhaps more than all. He was about to say more
when there was motion beside him.

The
Seer was shaking his head. Kirin leaned forward.

“Solomon?”

No response, just shaking.

“Solomon?
It is the Captain. Are you there?”

“Go
away.”

“Solomon,
are you quite alright?”

“I
said go away.”

“What
is wrong?”

The
Seer raised his head, tears streaking the sandy pelt of his cheeks.

“They’re all dead.”

“Major,
leave us.”

He could feel her glance, the
frosty chill of her eyes, but she obeyed, rising and moving out of earshot.
Satisfied, he leaned in closer.

“Who, Solomon? Who is dead?”

“The
stench. I couldn’t - it’s those god-awful rat-things. They smashed all the
units, tore out bits and pieces, I couldn’t...”

Kirin gritted his teeth.

“There are others?”

“I
got the power on. They scattered like rice, but it’s too late. Too late...”

The utter despair in that voice
gripped him. He was grieving for a man he was bound by duty to kill.
What
could he possibly say to that?

“I’m
sorry, Solomon.”

“Have
you ever thought about killing yourself, Captain?”

“No,”
he lied.

“Me
neither. Until now.”

“Solomon...”

“I
can’t talk, Cap, okay? Just go away this time. Just this once. I - I’ll talk to
you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow.
Promise me.”

“Yeah.”

The
Seer dropped his head back into his arms but Kirin knew the connection had not
yet severed for he was still shaking his head in mourning. He motioned the
Major to return, and rose to his feet. With a deep breath, he moved to one of
the windows, leaned his forehead on the cold pane. Outside, it was as Kerris
had said. The sky was falling.

***

When snow breeds with rain, it
becomes miserable. This is yet another proof for the integrity of the Pure
Races. Even at its worst, snow is cat-like, having a certain nobility of form
and even at its best, the dog-like rain is simply that. Rain. But breed the two
and you have a recipe for anarchy neither Kingdom should ever suffer. So it was
this mongrel sleet than rained down on them the next morning but even still,
under Captain’s orders, they set out.

The Wall provided more of the same,
rising with the mountain peaks, falling into the valleys. The altitudes were so
varied that the architect of this section had chosen to build high, rather than
broad, to level the way as much as possible. Therefore, across this section, a
party could ride only two abreast and there were dangerous low dips in the
geniculated cornice. In fact, it seemed that the mountain wind had ground many
of the bricks smooth over the years since its construction and parts of the
parapet were missing entirely. Soon, Kerris had assured them, they would be
leaving the mountains for more hilly terrain but for the next few days, it
would be like riding a great dancing dragon, never knowing when one might get
slapped off and trampled or caught between its teeth. It would be, Kerris had
assured them, a miserable few days.

The
tower guards had provided them with wet-coats – thick leather cloaks soaked
in oil and hand-rubbed with bee’s wax. They were heavy and smelly but with the
hood laced tight, very effective in keeping pelts warm and dry. They did also
stop the bite of the wind though not its force and the horses slipped and
plodded and fought every step of the way.

This
day, they did not stop for lunch but ate as they willed on the soup and dried
fish they each carried. At one point, they were forced to concede however and
stood their horses in a circle on one of the few plateaus, taking shelter from
the wind. Kirin promised them they would finish early for the night, although
that did little to cheer their cold, wet, buffeted spirits. It seemed they had
grown numb to the world. They set out again.

So,
it was with sluggish reflexes that Kirin noticed far ahead of him, at the base
of yet another set of ascending steps, a strange unusual movement. Movement not
coinciding with the steady plodding of horses or flapping of cloaks. Rather, a
flash of red, a flare of black. It was something that should not have been seen
on this narrow, climbing section of Wall.

Above
the saddle of the Alchemist’s horse, the scarlet pouch, a symbol of unnatural,
otherworldly things, was unraveling, and the Alchemist was reaching for it.

Not
just reaching, but standing, twisting in her saddle even as her horse began
lunging up the steps. Bending her long body, cloak flaring like a cobra’s hood,
she stood in the stirrups to reach behind and over the horse, her inexperience
deadly for she kept one hand on the rein.

“No!”
the Captain shouted but his words were torn from his mouth. Directly behind
her, the Major and Seer were doing likewise, trying to warn her but they too
were deafened by the wind. He tried to urge alMassay faster but the stallion
was putting every effort into simply moving forward. In horror he watched the
mare’s head pull back, nose high in the air, mouth wide. He could see the white
panic in her eye as completely unaware her rider was destroying her balance. To
keep from toppling head-over-tail, the mare swung her haunches across the steep
steps and into the Scholar’s mount, forcing it backwards toward the edge of the
Wall. The Scholar’s horse took several steps back down the steps, reared and
fell.