The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (64 page)

It was an Inn indeed, a very
unusual one. It looked like a mongrel itself, a blend of all elements of the
Upper Kingdom, with red walls, black chairs and low tables, but it had cushions
everywhere, so that the tables and chairs were not required. It had beaded
curtains and golden shrines, incense pots and water pipes. Cats of all races
reclined in a riot of color, and even in the low lantern light, it was obvious
that the
Yellow Scorpion
was a
popular place. People lounged, laughed and drank in every corner of the
building, men and women both, although Kirin was certain that there were very
few wives present. In fact, along the many sides of the entrance hall, there
were rooms with rice paper partitions, lit up from the inside so that all
activities within were clearly viewed from the bar, in silhouette.

Kirin made it a point to keep his
eyes off the rice paper partitions as he moved through the tables and cushions
and bodies to the bar.

The Seer had already finished his
first bowl of sakeh, was waving his hand in the air to the tiger behind the bar
for a second. There were stools so he grabbed one and sat, most uncomfortably,
studying the barkeep and the flasks of drink, anything to avoid the rice paper.
The smells were overpowering, incense and sakeh, beef and cat, licorice, one
scent in particular that he could not identify but could guess well enough, all
mingling together and fighting for dominance. There was music here too, playing
from somewhere on the balconied second level, and again he could see cats
moving around upstairs, dancing girls lost in their craft, men lost in the art
of them. It was not his sort of place. He did not feel welcome here.

He looked at the Seer, who was
staring into the clear depths of his sakeh bowl.

“She was very beautiful,” the
Captain said finally.

The Seer looked at him out of the
corner of his good eye. “Another bowl, please,” he said to the tiger and soon,
a third was placed in front of him.

“Do you think that is wise?”
asked Kirin.

“It’s not for me,” and he slid
the bowl over with the tip of a black claw.

“Ah,” said Kirin. “I don’t drink
sakeh.”

“I gave you the choice of
stopping me or joining me. You are doing neither. Besides,” he swiveled on his
stool, propped his elbows on the bar to watch the activities going on behind
one of the particular partitions. “You will need it.”

Kirin shook his head. From the
silhouettes, a man had just enjoyed the company of two women, and the women
were pulling up him from a wealth of cushions on the floor. Somehow, Kirin was
certain the women were not his wives.

“I wish to leave the day after
tomorrow, before dawn,” he said as he watched the shadowy trio dig round the
floor in attempts to find their clothing.

“I know.”

“I wish to leave the Scholar and
the Alchemist behind.” One woman was slipping into loose hareem pants, another
into several layers of skirting.

“I know.”

“We have met death at every turn.
I do not wish to see them injured more than they have been already.” The cholis
next, short-cropped and tight-fitting to enhance their rather remarkable
shapes. He knew he should not be watching this. It was not helpful.

“I know.”

“Now I need only to ask you what
you would have me do about the Major.” Fully dressed now the women showered the
man with kisses, made a game out of hunting for his clothes. All of this in
silhouette. All of this a kabuki. He shook his head again.

“The Major?” Now the Seer was
looking at him, bowl of sakeh balanced in one hand. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Do you wish her to come with us,
sidi?
Or should we leave her as
well?”

He pursed his lips, turned back
to watch the trio. “Why would you ask me?”

Now Kirin turned away. “It
depends on how much you love her,” he said.

Naturally, there was no response
to that.

“You should drink now,” said the
Seer after a moment.

“As I said, I do not drink…” And
the shadow behind the rice paper partition was stepping into a pair of loose
trousers.

He felt his chest tighten.
“…sakeh…”

…pulling on a pair of what looked
to be yak-hide boots. Many pendants flapped in silhouette.

His breathing came in a rush and
with a shaky hand, he reached for the sakeh, downed it in one deep gulp.

“Would you like another?” purred
Sireth.

“Yes, please.”

Laughing and chatting, with a
woman tucked under each arm, Kerris Wynegarde-Grey slid the rice paper
partition open and stepped into the hall.

***

It had happened once before - he
had left his body only to watch himself from another vantage point, and here it
was, happening again. He watched himself watch his brother, watched himself
watch his brother untangle two pendants from around his neck and slip one over
the head of each woman, watch each woman kiss his brother and walk away,
admiring the shiny ornaments now gracing their collars. Watched himself watch
his brother smile and throw his cloak over a shoulder and turn toward the bar,
only to stop in his tracks as if he’d seen a ghost.

Or a twin.

“Kirin…”

The Captain watched himself
accept the second bowl from the Seer, watched himself throw that also back in
one long swallow, watched himself place it down in an unsteady fashion on the
polished teak bar.
Interesting,
he
thought,
how his hand moved independently
of his will
. Or perhaps, that was the sakeh.

“Kerris.”

First a flash of sunshine, then
the clouds.

He strolled up to the bar. “So,
ah, what, what are you doing here? How is everyone?”

“Broken.”

“Right.”

He could feel it coming on, the
old patterns that kept destroying them over and over again. He felt the rush of
disapproval, felt his heart grow cold, felt his jaw set like a stone. Watched
Kerris see this, grow fearful, defensive, angry, stubborn. In a heartbeat, he
could see the road laid out before them, could hear the condemnation in the
words that he would utter, could feel the sting of them in his brother’s ears
and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would watch Kerris turn and walk
away like he had time and time again and he knew that he was on yet another
Broken Road, right here, right now. A pattern for twenty-four summers, now set
in stone.

Unless that stone too was broken.

“Would you like a drink?” asked
Sireth.

“A what?” Kerris glanced at him,
then back again. “A drink? Kirin, you’re drinking?”

“This is my first bowl. It is
sakeh, but rather strong sakeh, I’ve never had the like. The Seer and I decided
to go out for a drink and ended up here. Although, I suspect he knew where we
were going all along. Actually, I believe this is my second bowl. Is it?” The
words just tumbled out of his mouth. He suddenly didn’t seem to have the
ability to stop them.

Kerris looked at the Seer.
“That’s not sakeh, is it?”

“Yes, it is,” said Kirin.

“No,” the Seer grinned. “Arak.”

“Arak? What is Arak?” Kirin
frowned. “This is sakeh.”

Kerris winced. “How many has he
had?”

“He has in fact had two.”

“You said it was sakeh,” growled
Kirin.

“No. I never said anything of the
sort. You assumed it was sakeh. I never corrected you.” He looked back at
Kerris. “But if you have the time, we do need to talk.”

“Yes, there’s a free table over
there…” He turned to his still frowning brother. “If my brother can manage to
make his way over to it.”

“He said it was sakeh.”

Grinning, Kerris put his hands on
his hips. “By the Kingdom, I think you’re drunk.”

“I am not. Don’t be insolent.”

“Get off your stool then, and
walk with us to that table over there.”

“I just might.”

“Splendid.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Now?”

“Yes, yes Kerris. Fine. Yes.”

He wondered where his legs were,
if they were still attached in the middle somewhere. He couldn’t feel them,
didn’t trust them to carry him over to that table ‘over there.’ But he made a
valiant effort, for he was every bit as stubborn as his brother, watched
himself clutching the stool for support even as he stood, while the room
lurched and rolled around him. Watch the Seer exchange glances with Kerris as
they both slipped an arm under him and helped him to that table ‘over there’,
where thankfully, a chair, a soft cushion and another ‘sakeh’ were waiting.

***

Sireth was on his third bowl of
Arak, a Shiryian beverage with four times the kick of sakeh. He took a small
measure of pride in his cast-iron stomach, his ability to eat or drink anything
and be fine with it. It took a lot to get him drunk. He suspected it was the
same for the grey coat, but as for the Captain, he found more than a small
measure of satisfaction in the way the Arak had hit him so hard. In fact, it
was difficult to maintain a straight face, but he had to, for the subject with
Kerris was serious.

“Ah, I was right then,” said
Kerris, as he puffed away on a Shaharabian water pipe. There was that
‘unidentifiable scent’ coming from it, sharp heavy and organic, like sweet wet
grass. “I wondered what the star was doing, why it was splitting like that and
if it was important in the grand scheme of things. So you haven’t been able to
contact Solomon at all since then?”

“Not at all,” said the Seer.

“Not at all,” repeated the
Captain. He was trying very hard to focus on the conversation. The room was
moving like it was made of snakes.

The Seer smiled. “So I was
wondering if you still had that sundial.”

“Sundial?”

“Sundial,” repeated the Captain.
He was watching the bubbles in the water pipe. They looked like a basket full
of asps.

“The one you gave the Scholar,
the one she gave back.”

“Ah yes. Um, no. I don’t. I gave
it to a young woman…” He glanced at his brother, who did not seem to register
the fact, and he silently gave thanks to whatever cat had invented Arak. “But I
believe she works in this establishment, in some sort of way…”

“What was her name?”

Kerris frowned, bit his lip,
puffed a little more. “Um, well, it sounded something like Star, Starshine,
Stella, Fran, something like that…”

“Fran,” repeated the Captain. The
smoke rose from the pipe like a cobra rising from a basket, hung around Kerris’
head, a python hanging from a tree.

The Seer looked into his Arak.
“Mm. What does she look like, then?”

“Tiny waist, absolutely nothing
there at all. Lots of little jewels in her bellybutton though, scorpion tattoo
in the small of her back, great pawfuls of—“

Sireth cut him off. “How about a
few ways I could identify her with clothes
on?”

“Ah yes, let me think…” Kerris
dropped his chin into his palm, rolled his blue eyes to the ceiling. “Um, long
dark hair…or maybe it was short…She was a jaguar, or a leopard…no, a jaguar. Of
that I’m certain. She had very wide eyes. Green they were, sort of greeny
yellowy gold …”

“These snakes have yellow eyes,”
muttered the Captain. “Blast, but I gave my blades to the Major. I have no way
to kill them.”

Sireth leaned forward. “But she
works here, yes?”

“I think so. Maybe she just comes
here from time to time…”

Sireth sighed, feeling his last
chance at contacting Solomon slipping away. “Is there anything else at all you
can remember?”

“Well, she loved color.”

“Oh?” He sat up. “How so?”

“She was very colorfully dressed.
She was wearing a sari of blue, with a choli of pink and armbands of green. She
wore lots of jewelry as well, which is why the sundial caught her eye…”

This was about as hopeless as
crossing the Upper Kingdom and beyond to retrieve a long dead Ancestor.

“Very well,” he said, rising from
his chair. “Can you see to it that your brother gets back to his room at the
Magistrate’s residence?”

“I can,
sidi.”

“Before dawn, please?”

Kerris grinned and downed the
last of his brother’s Arak in one final swallow. “How about we go now?”

“That would be most appreciated.
The Major would skin me if anything happened to him.”

“I understand completely.” He
stood as well, slipping an arm underneath his brother and helping him to his
feet. “Come along, Kirin. Time for bed. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us.”

“There are far too many snakes in
this establishment,” said the Captain, watching the floor with concerned eyes.
“Honestly, Kerris. Who could run a place like this when you have to step over
so many accursed snakes?”

Sireth watched them go, before
turning his good eye to the crowd, sifting its depths for a flash of color.

***

It took a good half watch to make
it back to the Magistrate’s residence, for the night was warm and the Captain
was heavy. However, Kerris had to give his brother credit, for he did walk most
of the way on his own – he simply needed help to stay straight as opposed
to all over the road (to avoid the snakes, he insisted) and he did pause now
and then to place a hand on a random wall and moan most pathetically. They had
little trouble getting in the gate, for the sentries recognized the Captain at
once, and one of the house servants had led them discreetly to his room.

“Oh blast. Oh Kerris,” he groaned
as his brother lowered him onto the low, dark-wood bed. “Why ever did you let
me do this?”

Kerris crouched beside him on the
floor, began to pull at the laces binding his brother’s boots. “So sorry. My
fault. Won’t let the Seer take you out again.”

Kirin placed both hands on his
forehead, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It feels as though my
head is splitting open.”