The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (6 page)

“Wow,”
he heard the Scholar exclaim from behind, “Where did all this come from.”

For
suddenly and without warning they were in the middle of a marketplace.

Stalls
of flapping leather and booths of bound willow crowded the narrow highway on
all sides, stretching for a good distance up and down both sides of the
mountain, and creating narrower alleys between the shops. Goats and lambs
wandered freely among the stalls, bleating and jingling with the bells of
ownership. Chickens darted between the horses’ legs, the fortunate few still
retaining their heads. The cool mountain air was heavy with scents - steamed
fish, sizzling coals, bubbling vats of fatty stew, all playing havoc with
sensitive nostrils. Wafts of incense struck like fists, only to be replaced by
something even stronger a few paces further.

People
pressed in from all directions, cats of every race speaking in every
conceivable language, congregating right here in the remotest of places,
selling wares from all reaches of the Kingdom. Without exception, their
clothing was drab, layer upon layer of tan linen and brown wool, undyed leather
straps and unpolished buckles. So very different from the pageantry of
DharamShallah
and life in the Palace Courts. Weathered faces watched them as they rode
through the crowds, many with small, rough-hewn pipes clenched between their
teeth, puffing and nodding and following them with wary eyes.

Kirin
felt his own eyes grow sharp. It was his experience that places like these
often bred malcontent and thievery. The crowds did little to allow the Imperial
party passage and he disliked the feeling of bodies scraping along his shins,
had no patience for wares thrust up under his nose as he rode by. One little
nick from a loose blade could maim a horse for life, and he knew that unsavory
reputations could be forged on much less.

“No, no thanks,” the Scholar was
insisting, “Really, it’s lovely but, but I can’t...”

He
twisted in his saddle. Two horses behind, she was surrounded and because of it,
the leopards behind
her
were stalled, unable to force their way further.
Immediately behind him, the Alchemist seemed to be having trouble as well, as
many hands reached up to tempt her with stones and silks and meats of dubious
origin. Worse yet, she was leaning forward, golden eyes gleaming, almost as if
she were tempting them back.

Once again, he cursed the presence
of civilians, sat deep in the saddle and applied pressure to the reins.

Slowly
at first, then with greater force, the great Imperial stallion began to back
up, its haunches and lethal hooves clearing a path unlike any Royal banner as
vendors scrambled to get out of the way. It wasn’t until they were fully beside
the Alchemist’s mare did the Captain snag her bridle and release the pressure,
allowing his stallion its head. Like a spring wound over-tight, alMassay leapt
forward, pulling the mare with him in a powerful lunge that dispersed both
merchants and merchandise in every direction. A leopard followed suit, and soon
both Scholar and Alchemist were free of the mass of bodies that had detained
them. Still, it was not easy going and at some point, he lost count of the
stomped feet and crushed tails and cries of panic from people foolhardy enough
to stay in their way.

After what seemed like ages, the
marketplace was gone and the road so congested became a ghost road once more.

The Captain let out a sigh of
relief. Still riding beside him, the Alchemist smiled.

“You are not accustomed to crowds,
sidi?”
she purred, her eyes smiling with heavy-lidded humor.

“On the contrary,
sidala,
I
am quite accustomed to crowds. I simply do not like them. They are dangerous.”

“People are dangerous, sidi. In any
number.”

He
studied her a moment longer before turning his gaze back to the mountain still
rising into the clouds.

“True enough,
sidala.”

He spurred his stallion forward,
putting some distance between them.

***

“Civilians! I can’t believe this!”

“Ah, Ursa. You are as gentle as a
spring shower.”

She
snorted, her hair almost breaking free of the knot as she tossed her head in
disgust.

“I hate civilians. This is
completely unacceptable.”

Kerris studied the ox-cart directly
ahead of them, askew on the narrow trail, its feathery contents spilling down
the mountainside, its rear wheel rattling desperately over the edge. An elderly
man, a jaguar with bad teeth, was pleading with them for help, chattering in a
broken version of the Imperial Tongue and pointing wildly as if none of them
had seen.

“We
have no time for this. His ox is unhitched. He is safe. I feel no need to lose
our remaining light to save a cart full of chickens. Stay if you want. We’re
moving out.”

Like
a silver-tipped arrow, the Major and her guards struck the trail once again,
she in front, they fanned out behind, picking their way slowly toward the
over-turned cart. The mountain pony did not budge however, its small hoofs
clinging to the sandstone as if frozen. Small, hairy ears pricked and lay back,
pricked and lay back, giving it the impression of a little old man, deep in a
puzzle. Kerris loved puzzles. Quiz hated them.

And
for some reason, Quiz hated this.
This
was
the perfect place for an
ambush,
Kerris agreed silently. The mountain rose up steeply on one side,
and the narrow ledge that had been their trail now flattened out, in a wide,
almost level plateau. Below them, the gradient was less steep, but deadly
still, for to start a fall would surely see it to its stony end. Giant rocks
dotted this section of trail like spikes on the back of a sleeping dragon. The
mountains were full of such stories, of creatures much larger than cats and to
his credit Kerris believed them. He had seen too much not to.

He
scanned those giant stones with narrowed eyes.

He
heard the moan of hollow wind, the drum of Imperial hoofs fading away.

He
studied the elderly man, who suddenly seemed not nearly so desperate for help,
nor nearly as elderly, as he too watched the trio attempting to pick their way
around the cart and get to wider ground.

Make
your move, old man,
thought Kerris, his heart thudding in his throat.
All
three of them are completely defenseless. Now is the time!

As
if reading those very thoughts, the jaguar turned back, fixing the grey lion with
a glare that could freeze blood. There was a flash and something metallic slid
out from a sleeve.

“Ursa!”
Kerris howled as he dove from
Quiz’s back and onto the rocky path, the dagger slicing through the air where
his head had just been.

He
scrambled to his feet towards the great rocks.

Somewhere
high above, another blur of movement and the hiss of arrows being loosed.

The
Major heard it too and threw herself forward on her mount, even as an arrow
thudded into her arm. One of the guards let out a yelp, arching his back as a
bolt from a crossbow pitched him from his horse. Regaining his footing was
impossible and he tumbled head over tail, sliding down shale and bouncing off
rocks in the fall that would never end.

Grey hoofs scrabbled on sandstone
and the Major’s mare pivoted on its back end, tucking up its forelegs and
spinning in place. With the arrow still embedded in her upper arm, Ursa drew
her long sword and charged.

From
behind the huge rocks, the pair of attackers stood and fired again, their
crossbows sending lethal bolts whipping across the distance. Diplomacy had
never been the Major’s strong suit. Her reflexes however were without match and
the lead arrow was deflected easily by her steel. The second sailed hissing
past her cheek. With amazing power in its haunches, her mare took great leaps
up the mountainside, bringing them within striking distance of the bandits. A
scruffy-looking young jaguar raised his weapon and fixed the snow leopard with
point-blank accuracy. Her steel flashed again, locking into the crossbow’s
frame and she forced her mare forward so that the frame was pointing at the sky.
With a cry, she flung wide her arm, sending both crossbow and sword clattering
to the shale. And with another cry, she yanked the bolt from her own arm and
tackled the much larger man with relish.

The
surviving leopard was also charging up the sheer escarpment, bringing his own
steel to bear upon the second jaguar of the pair. Another arrow went wild and
panic seized the man. He turned tail and began to scramble back along the path,
the horse gaining easily and knocking him to the ground. The guard was on him
in an instant.

Kerris, however, had seen none of
this. As was his habit, he was completely unarmed and now pre-occupied in
avoiding the elderly jaguar’s murderous intentions. He had successfully made
the giant rocks his cover, keeping at least one stone face between him and his
attacker, but the man was persistent and Kerris soon found himself running out
of rocks.

He
flattened his back against the last stone, eyes scanning the wide expanse of
plateau left before him. He could run for it, he wagered, for he had always
been fast but in order to avoid the daggers that would likely be sent flying at
his back, he would have to weave and dodge and
that
, he decided, on
this
terrain would be a very bad idea.

The
fur on the back of his neck began to tingle.

With
a deep breath, he ducked as a dagger struck the rock where his head had been.
He snagged the wrist, twisted and forced the man face-first into the stone.
Pleased with the effect, he twisted some more until the jaguar yelped and
 
sagged in the grey lion’s grip.

“Please
sidi,
please,” moaned the man. “This was not my idea! It was my sons!
They are so hard on their mother and I, so hard. Right now she sits at home,
weeping. Please,
sidi,
spare her more agony,
please.”

Tears welled up in old, yellow
eyes.

“Drop
your dagger,
sida
lord
jaguar,
and I shall consider it.”

The
rusty blade slid down the rock to disappear into a tuft of dry grass at the
base.

“Pleeese,
sidi…”

Kerris stepped back. He kept one
hand locked around the man’s wrist, but allowed the elder to pull himself into
a shaky stand, free hand clasped over his eyes.

“Thank you
sidi
, thank you
for your kindness...”

The tears streamed down his face
openly now, making glistening brown stripes along his cheeks. The old shoulders
began to heave as shaky fingers reached for Kerris’ tunic.

“Oh, thank you, good and kind
sidalord
grey lion. You are so merciful
to a pathetic old man, so merciful...”

“Yes,
right, well...”

Kerris began backing away. There
was spittle on the old man’s lips and the grimy fingers had hooked his tunic.
He was pulling himself closer.

“You
must be a good son to your father,
sida
lord
grey lion. Not like my sons. They are hard on their mother and
I, so very hard...”

Kerris
tried to dislodge the fingers. He glanced around for Ursa but could not see her
as the hands traveled up his shirt-front, tugging his collar, patting his
cheek...

“But
my sons, my sons are all I have. I have trained them well, no?”

Kerris
cursed his own stupidity for within a heartbeat, those grimy old fingers had
found his throat. Black claws began to extrude.

Without
thinking, Kerris grabbed the old man’s throat in the same manner, his own grey
claws pricking the tawny pelt. He was not entirely certain if he could take
another life so easily, but hopefully he wouldn’t have to find out.

“I
wouldn’t do that,
sidalord
very-ugly-old jaguar. I really wouldn’t do that at all...”

He
smiled his most charming smile, praying that his bluffing skills and fabled
good luck would not fail him now.

“Let’s just see what we have here,
shall we? You are old and a jaguar, your claws are brittle and you likely
cannot flex them as quickly as you did in your youth. I, on the other hand, am
in my prime, aren’t I? A lion and a grey-coat to boot. I’m charmed. You can’t
kill me, but I can quite easily kill you. You will be dead, while I may be only
slightly... inconvenienced.”

It
worked. It always did. He could see it, plain as day, as the old man swallowed
and quickly rethought his plan. Could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes
as he thought and thought some more.

“If
I let go,” the jaguar hissed. “You promise you won’t kill me?”

“I
promise,” said Kerris.

“On
your father’s life?”

“Hm.
How about on his death?”

The old man released a long breath
when suddenly, he gasped and fell forward into Kerris’ arms.

The
sharp tip of a blade appeared out of the man’s tunic, the
force of the steel pushing both lion and jaguar backwards and to the ground.
The blade showed no signs of slowing and continued towards Kerris’ chest like
the tusk of a charging elephant. Only when the tip was firmly implanted in
linen and grey fur did it stop, just short of breaking the pelt. Behind and at
the other end of it, hovering above him, Major Ursa Laenskaya stood grinning.

“Need
help?”

“Doing quite fine on my own,
actually, love,” Kerris said, delicately picking himself off the well-sharpened
point and rolling out from under it. “I had him thoroughly confounded.”

“I’ll
be sure to tell your brother.”

With
a push of her high boot heel, Ursa sent the jaguar’s corpse rolling down the
cliff face. They both watched until it was little more than puffs of sandstone
far, far below.