The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (46 page)

She
was frightened, it was obvious, but so well trained as to mask it beautifully.
Or with beauty. Her skill a weapon, as much as his very swords. She plucked at
her bruised bottom lip. Drawing attention to it and away from the issue.

“He has killed before...”

“As
have I. As, I might presume, have you.”

“I have never killed a lion.”

“Would
you?”

She
did not answer. He narrowed his eyes.

“Would
you?”

“Not
any more.”

“What
is your mission,
sidala?”

“To
assist you in ensuring the survival of the last Seer of
Sha’Hadin.”

“We
have accomplished this. So now? What is your mission now?”

“It...
has not changed.”

“Is
it also your mission to kill the last Seer of
Sha’Hadin?”

“No.”
Emphatically.

“That
is not something the First Mage asked of you?”

“No.
He has not asked me this.”

 
“Not even to ensure Unification?”

“It
would be sacrilege.”

“Answer
the question.”

“Not even to ensure Unification.”

He believed her.

“You
swore an oath in
Pol’Lhasa.”

“Of
course.”

Part
of him wanted to grab her, to shake until the pretense flew from her like
chaff. But even though it would be allowed, honorable even and in keeping with
the code of
Bushido,
he found himself wading in different waters. She
was a koi. Beautiful and cunning and she swam deep. She had not survived so
long by being easy prey.

He
sipped his tea.
The only glass you can polish is your own.

She
sipped her tea. She shifted by his side. She glanced from the brazier to her
candle to her cup.

Still, he sipped his tea.

“Have
you ever,” she began. “Been given orders...orders you were loathe to obey?”

“Of course,” he said, imitating
her, and he smiled. It was met and returned, gratefully. He could have sworn he
saw a glimmer of tears, but she fought them back.

“And
what did you do?”

“Obeyed
them. But that...is
me
. If there is
anything,
anything,
that may in any way compromise this journey, you
must tell me. Now.”

She
looked back into her tea.

Beautiful,
yes,
he thought,
but not a koi
Not a fish. Rather, a hawk, wild and
untamed, used to coursing on its own, now forced to accept morsels from a
master’s hand. She could be tamed, he was sure of it. It was a much better life
for the hawk, receiving safety, shelter and purpose in exchange for freedom.
Yes, it had to be much better.

“My heart, my soul and my will...”
Yes, there were tears again gathering behind her lashes. “Are yours.”

He
finished his tea. That was all he needed to hear.

***

They stood on a knoll, overlooking
the city of
KhahBull.
It’s lights spread out as far as they could see.
It was a huge city.

“You want to go...there?” Her lip
curled even as she asked. She had no desire to go to
KhahBull.

He
cast his eyes up to the sky. The falcon swooped and arched a wing, heading left.

“Left,”
he said with finality. “We are going left.”

He
turned and took a step, then swayed as if pushed by a strong wind. Ursa, fully
expecting this, caught him before he fell.

“Hello? Hey, Captain, are you
there? I have maps...”

“Not
tonight, Solomon,” she said. With a silver hand, she touched the Seer’s cheek.

 
moonlight and silver, he will die in
her arms

And
with that touch, Solomon disappeared. Sireth staggered to regain his footing.

“Major?” he asked, blinking and
obviously disoriented. “Was that Solomon?”

 
“He left.”

“Left?”

“Left,”
she said with finality. “We are going left.”

***

“Are
you following me again,
sidala?
By the Kingdom, if you keep this up,
someone might think you were a-courting me.”

Kerris didn’t pause in brushing the
pony’s shaggy mottled coat. In fact, he didn’t even look up. The heat,
all-to-familiar of late, rushed to her cheeks.

“Sorry,”
Fallon said, “It’s just, well...”

“It’s
past your bedtime, is what it is.”

She
would not give him this, and stayed, pressed into the shadows of the stair.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Ah,
well. On a night like this, who can?” Then after a moment, “Pity.”

“Pity
what?”

“It
might have been nice to think someone was a-courting me.”

She
said nothing. Truth be told, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Couldn’t
even step off the shore.

“There
you are, Quiz my boy. As clean as you’re going to get.”

With this, he slapped the pony’s
rump and straightened up, tossing the bristle brush into a saddlebag in a
corner of the stall. Quiz snorted and began to turn tight circles before
dropping himself down into the straw. The brown eyes blinked slowly with sleep.

Fallon suppressed a yawn.

“Really,
sidala,
you should
go to bed. Excitement or no, you’ll pay the price for it in the morning.”

“No,
really. I really can ‘not’ sleep. The bedrolls are in the keep,” she yanked a
thumb toward the ceiling. “Upstairs.”

“Aaah.”
He nodded, a shadow of something crossed his face. “Ah, yes, well. I could make
you a bed down here, a little nest, as it were, of your very own. Quiet,
peaceful, undisturbed by lions, or other… lesser animals.”

“I’m
sure it’s not what you think.”

“I’m
sure it’s exactly what I think,
sidala.
I should be happy for him.
Really, I should.”

“It
can’t. It isn’t. He won’t.” She shook her head, thoughts spinning, tumbling,
colliding. “I mean, I don’t know him very well, but he’s so, he’s so, well...”

“He’s
a lion.”

“Exactly.
And she’s a cheetah. I can’t see him even considering it.”

“And
that’s the problem,” he said, “He’s not considering it at all. He’s in love
with someone else he can never have.”

“The
Empress?”

“The
very one.”

“Oh,”
she said. After that, there seemed little else to say.

He
studied her face in the darkness, light from a single torch casting long
shadows across her face. She was too young for this, not even a woman, a kitten
with potential, no more. And yet, she had taken the first step the other night.
Pure Gold
could
have been a tiger. And that said in the presence of
lions. Perhaps, then, just perhaps...

“If
he were considering it,” he began, strolling over and folding his arms as he
leaned against the stair beside her. “What would you think?”

“Who,
me? What would
I
think?”

“That
was the question, yes.”

“Why
would it matter what I would think?”

“You don’t think the opinions of
others matter to our people? You, the proponent of changing all fairy stories
in favor of tigers?”

“But
that was a fairy story.”

“Not
real life.”

“No,
not real life.”

“In
real life, lions court lions, tigers court tigers.”

“Well,
that’s the way of things, isn’t it?”

“And mongrels be damned.”

“No!
That’s not what I meant!”

“What
did you mean, then?”

“It,
it, I,” she huffed, frowned, and suddenly, her emerald eyes flashed at him.
There,
he thought with some satisfaction,
that’s what I want to see.
“I think
that if someone loves someone else, it shouldn’t matter what anyone else
thinks.”

“Really?
That’s a very dangerous idea.”

“I
know. But, but I, I believe it.”

Still leaning against the
stairwell, he turned so that he was facing her and very close. He caught her
with his stare, entangled her in the depths of blue that were his eyes. She
fought him, though, made her own stare defiant and proud, did not pull away at
the brush of his hip. Still, she was a koi, a small, skinny, minnow of a koi,
and he so loved to fish.

“Well, then,” he purred, “If say,
there was ever a time when a lion came a-courting
you,
it would be
fine?”

“It,
it, it,” she swallowed this time, regrouped, tried to parry. “It would depend
on his intentions.”

“Not
yours?”

“Well—“

“Then
say, for the sake of argument, that his intentions were noble. That he wanted
to marry you and be the father of your kittens, what would you say?”

Kittens
Six kittens Six grey striped kittens Oh mother!

She thrust out her chin.

“Then I would say fine.”

His eyes began roving now,
following the stretch of milky white from her throat on down through the laces
between her breasts. Up now, around her face, tracing the tiger stripes with
his gaze, up, up even as they ran into her hair. Over her shoulders again and
back down again. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and this, he seemed
to study with even more interest, and suddenly her ideas about size seemed
irrelevant under his scrutiny.

“Still
fine?”

“Yes,”
she breathed. “Yes, fine.”

His
hand moved up, caught a white-tipped curl, twirled it with a finger.

“But what about the university?”

“What
about the university?”

“You
couldn’t stay there, you know. Not with a marriage like that. They would force
you out. All your books and thoughts and philosophies, abandoned. Just like
that.”

“There’s,
there’s more to life than books.”

“True
enough. What about your family? Have all your sisters married tigers?”

This was becoming too much for her.
She could feel the sting of impending tears. She would not let them spill.

“Yes,” her voice small and
struggling.

“And
they have kittens?”

“Yes.”

“You’re
an auntie.”

“...yes...”

“That’s
lovely. Really, it is. I’m sure your parents are very proud.”

“Why are you doing this? What have
I done to you?”

“Well,
you see, I don’t think your parents would be very proud at all of mongrel
kittens. If they don’t ostracize you and your family, then they themselves will
be ostracized. No one will buy your father’s pheasants. No one will buy his
eggs. It will be his ruin. He may lose the family farm. All because of you and
your dangerous ideas.”

The
tears came.

He
almost stopped, he should have. She was right. She did not deserve this. She
was but a kitten herself, and he a cruel, cruel man for torturing her so. But
he was angry now, and tired, and determined to break this young heart early on.
It would spare her, anyway, in the end.

He
wiped her tears with his hand.

“So
it seems, there is yet one more thing you haven’t stopped to think about. But
it does make sense now, doesn’t it? Lions court lions. Tigers court tigers.
Mongrels be damned. It is the only way to be safe and secure in our pure, pure
Kingdom. It is the way of things. Kirin knows this. And now,
sidalady
tigress, so do you.”

He stepped back, gathered her hands
in his, raised them to his lips. Then, he spun on his heel and headed up the steps,
forgetting her in a heartbeat.

“And
you?!”

The
stairwell rang with her anger. It shocked him, her tone. Intrigued him too. He
turned and looked down at her, the torch now casting long shadows across the
other side of her face. He could barely distinguish stripes from tears, as they
ran down her cheeks and into her mouth. But her eyes were blazing and it set
his blood racing.

“What about
you?”
she
snarled. “Do
you
know this,
sidalord
grey lion?”

He
had never seen her angry, let alone furious.
She was,
he thought to
himself,
rather pretty.
Perhaps, he had not been so cruel after all.

“No
one courts grey lions,
sidala.”

And turned one last time, leaving
her to the horses and the pony and her tears.

***

It was the sound of the pipes, at
first, the soft sad trill of hill pipes that drew them. Then laughter and singing,
and the roar and crackle of a late night fire. By the time they approached the
caravans, tucked into the mouth of one of the many caverns that rabbited these
mountains, they had been sighted, and all sound, save the fire, had died away.
There were many faces turned to stare at them.

“Good
evening, my friends,” said Sireth, stopping a distance from the group and
bowing, most formally. His hood was drawn over his head, and with only
moonlight and the long shadows cast by the fire, it was impossible to see his
face. His lion-like tail, however, swayed visibly behind him. Ursa was at his
side, hands on the hilts of her swords, hair blowing in the breeze. Several
men, and some women, rose to their feet.

“Good
evening,
sidi, sidala,”
said one, a barrel-chested man of indeterminate
race, and when he bowed, it was as stiff as it was wrong. He spread wide his
hands.

“We are a peaceful band,
sidalord
lion. Your weapons will not be needed here.”

“Mere
happenstance, I’m afraid. To protect us from bandits. Not become them.”

The
man nodded, and repeatedly glanced at his companions.

“How may we help?”

Sireth
held out his hand. The sliced glove shone bloody in the moonlight.

“Water?” he asked, “And a wrap, if
possible? We will not make
KhahBull
tonight and my palm is aching
badly.”

The
man turned and called out in a strange tongue. Ursa narrowed her eyes.
Shaharabic,
she thought? But wasn’t certain. People scurried to fetch the required items.
They wanted her gone as soon as possible, she knew. Were afraid of her, or more
likely, what she represented. It was the way of things. She tightened her grip
on her swords.