The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (66 page)

But still, sad.

“Sidi,
you seem sad.”

Now he smiled at her, and
wondered ever so briefly if she could actually hear his thoughts. “No,
sidala,
but I can assure you that I will
not be drinking sakeh, or Arak, or any other alcoholic beverage at the
Magistrate’s gathering tonight.”

She laughed, and he almost fell
over with the force of her. He was very grateful for the wall behind his back.

“The Magistrate has arranged for formal
attire for us. His seamstresses have requested a fitting.”

“One more cup of tea and I shall
almost be able to stand.”

She nodded, the smile not having
left her face the entire time. “That I can arrange,
sidi.”
And she rose to her feet, her legs going on and on, her
shape obvious even within the many folds of dark linen that were her
desertwear. She crossed the clay-tiled floor and threw open the draping fabric
that covered the window. The strong
Shiryian
sunlight fell into the room.

***

All the lions in
Shiryia
were invited, that much was a
given. Invited too were all those of Sacred blood, but in such a remote
posting, there were few. The Magistrate, his immediate family, cousins, married
relations of cousins and such. There were tigers, of course – high
ranking tigers in charge of procuring supplies for the garrison and the
construction of the Wall still months away. There were military men as well,
leopards and jaguars and cheetahs, for the military was of supreme importance
in
Sharan’yurthah
and its surrounding
area. There were a few lynx, a few ocelots, a few caracals and sandcats, fewer
snow leopards, (for the thickness of their pelts makes desert life extremely
difficult for such cats) – all people of importance in the city and by
the time the sun was setting, the Riyad and courtyard surrounding the long
reflecting pool was full to brimming with bodies.

The Riyad was very large, with
white-washed pillars punctuating the stained cedar walls of the courtyard. The
ground was a garden of ceramic tiles alternating with squares of green grass,
and both palms and cedars dotted the court, drawing all eyes upwards to the
starry sky above. The few tables were elaborately decorated, and smells of
roasting lamb filled the night air. It was impressive, most impressive in fact
for such a remote city, but that still did not move the heaviness that had now
taken up permanent residence in the Captain’s heart.

He stood in the centre of the
outdoor room, flanked by the Magistrate, an orange man with similar markings to
a tiger, and his equally Sacred wife, a small round woman whose pelt was
liberally splotched with white, orange and black.
Kalih’coh
. She had not stopped staring at him all night. He had
been introduced to every single man, had received bows of every degree of formality
imaginable, had made small talk with every cat, from diplomat to banker, from
general to priest. He nibbled shrimps and goat-feet, pastries and nuts, sipped
spring water from a tall glass, nodded and smiled and engaged in all manner of
polite and courteous behavior.

It was only the Imperial banner
that hung from a high minaret, and Sherah al Shiva in black silk at his side
that kept him in the room.

He had not seen the Major nor the
Seer at all during this gala, and was beginning to despair when he caught a
flash of green out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see Fallon Waterford
dressed in an elaborate thobe of embroidered sateen, her now-wild hair covered
in a stunning head-dress of golden threads, ribbon and beads. Her large emerald
eyes were wide, taking everything in, and Kirin felt a small measure of
satisfaction in the fact that this, of all things, had not changed. What did
cause his heart to thud was the fact that at her side, fingers interlaced with
hers, was his brother in night-blue silk, looking for all the world like he
belonged, right here, right now, in this particular room at the very edge of
the world.

He felt the Alchemist shift,
watched her posture change at the very sight of him. Even the Magistrate’s wife
brightened and he marveled at how Kerris had that effect on women. He wondered
what exactly it was, and, while his brother was most certainly aware of it,
whether or not he cultivated it.

“Kerris.”

The grey lion spotted him, smiled
and angled the young tigress over to where his brother was standing.

“Kirin! Wonderful party, yes? I’m
dying to try some of those shrimps. Huge buggers, aren’t they? I hear they’re
from the western seas.”

“Absolutely!” sang the
Magistrate, bowing to this stranger as he was a friendly sort, and clever,
seeing the resemblance between the lions and not about to offend any of his
guests over trivialities. “We have a special express rider who delivers twice a
week. The fishes as well. I am Antonio Seetharaman Trebanian Yu, Magistrate of
Sharan’yurthah.
I have not had the
pleasure of meeting you,
sidi.
You
are a friend of the Captain’s?” He looked to Kirin as if for clarification.

Kirin provided it. “He is my
brother,
sidi.”

The Magistrate’s eyes grew wide.
“Brother,
sidi?
A grey lion? This is
indeed a blessed evening!” He turned to his wife, who had not for one moment
taken her eyes off Kerris. “Come now,
habibtheh,
we must prepare for our announcement.” He held out one hand, she took it
reluctantly, and he bowed again, leading her away from the lions and into the
heart of the crowd.

Kirin turned back to his brother.

“So you decided to stay.”

“Ah, well, yes. I was persuaded…”
He gazed down at the tigress with a look that she adoringly sent back, and
Kirin knew for certain that the young woman was no longer a child.

For some reason, he felt very
sad.

“Then I will need to speak to you
for a moment if I may.
Sidali,
will
you excuse us?”

Fallon straightened. “Oh sure.
Sherah, where are those shrimps? They sound amazing. Can you show me?”

Sherah smiled, but her gaze was
on the Captain. “Of course.” And together the two women moved off as well,
following the Magistrate into the heart of the crowd.

“So, Kerris. Will you ride with
us? Yes or no?”

“Yes, Kirin. I will ride with
you.”

“Very good. We plan to leave
tonight at the end of the second watch.”

Kerris made a face. “Tonight? Our
dear Scholar tells me you were planning to leave in two mornings.”

“She is not coming.”

“Ah.”

“Nor the Alchemist. We have met
our share of death, Kerris. I value these two women far too much now to bring
them into such danger.”

“I see.” Kerris was looking at
the floor, scuffing an imaginary imperfection in the tile with his boot. “What
about Ursa?”

“That is the Seer’s call. Do you
have a problem with this?”

“No,” he said, looking up far too
quickly. “Not at all. Good plan, really. Just the three of us.”

“Yes. So you will need an early
night as well. The Magistrate will likely arrange for you to have your own
room. Unless you wish to bunk with me.”

Kerris stared at him for a long
moment, and Kirin could only imagine the things that were running through his
head. It was impossible to guess with Kerris. In fact, it was confounding.

And so nothing more was said
between the brothers for quite some time and finally the women returned, Fallon
licking her lips and sucking all the last juices out of the crunchy end of a
very large shrimp tail.
Still a child at
heart,
thought the Captain. Although that heart would be broken soon
enough. It was always that way with Kerris.

And there was still no sign of Sireth
or the Major. This had gotten far too complicated for his liking, and he was
about to suggest Kerris leave to find them when the Magistrate’s voice carried
over the crowd and everyone hushed, waiting and polite.

“My dear friends of
Sharan’yurthah,”
he began. “We have been
blessed tonight, and in fact many nights, by our great and glorious Kingdom.
But tonight more than most, for as many of you know, we have been home to
visitors for the better part of this week. They are travelers from the heart of
the empire itself, the Imperial city of
Pol’Lhasa.”

At this, there was a murmur of
approval. All cats loved
Pol’Lhasa.
Most
cats had never seen it, would never see it, but just the idea of it made them
patriotic and proud. It was the way of things.

He continued. “We have with us a
party that has traveled our entire Kingdom on a quest that will render our
Empire safer and more secure than ever before.”

Kerris glanced at him and Kirin
grunted. It was all he had been able to tell the Magistrate, and the man was
doing a fine job in making their ‘quest’ sound legitimate.

“They are true servants of our
beloved and most Sacred Empress and we would like to express our gratitude for
their service in the
Shiryian
tradition
– we will sing for them.”

A cheer went up from the crowd
and a young boy was ushered forward, an ocelot of no more than 10 summers. He
stood for a moment, large yellow eyes taking in the enormity of the crowd and
at first, it seemed as if he might flee, but suddenly, he opened his mouth and
sang, unaccompanied, a sweet beautiful song in Shaharabic. It sounded sad and
noble at the same time. Kirin felt it deeply.

When it was finished, there was a
hush for several long heartbeats, then applause rang out and up, up to the
ceiling. The Magistrate held up his hands and quiet settled back on the crowd.

“And what is more, I have
received a parchment from the holy city of
DharamShallah,
from the Palace itself. It has been delivered via falcon from battle fort to
battle fort, from city to city across our blessed Kingdom.”

This was news to Kirin, so he
turned, fascinated and unprepared.

“This is the Year of the Tiger.
It is a year that is always turbulent and dynamic, and it causes changes that
will be felt for years to come. This year is no different, for it is a year
that will change the course of our Kingdom greatly. At the end of this year, on
pronouncement of Chancellor Angelino Devino d’Fusillia Ho, our Empress, our
beloved most Sacred Empress Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu…”

All in the Riyad held their breaths.
The Magistrate looked around with a large smile, clearly enjoying this moment.

“…is to be married.”

A rush of voices, a spontaneous
cheer from the entire gala of cats present, a roar so loud and happy that it
threatened to rock the moon from her perch. It echoed on and on through the
night, as dancing girls streamed into the courtyard and the music began anew,
whirling and rising on the tail of the breeze. And suddenly the sky was split
with fireworks, red, green and gold streaks of light bursting over their heads.
All eyes were enthralled, enraptured, amazed.

All save those belonging to one
tigress, one cheetah and one grey lion. They were locked on the gold-clad
figure standing perfectly still at the heart of this party. Kirin
Wynegarde-Grey, the Captain of His Excellency’s Guard.

The Captain was undone.

***

I burned it that night, that very last parchment from
Pol”Lhasa
, from the Empress. I had kept it tucked
away since receiving it so many weeks ago and had shared it with no one, not
even my brother. It smelled of lotus and orange blossom. That night, as I sat
alone in my room, I read it over one last time before burning it over the lone
candle until the flame threatened to bite my fingers. I let it drop to the
stone floor, watched it curl into ash and disappear.

“My name is Ling,” was all it had said.

It is good that I will never see her again.

-
 
an excerpt from the journal of Kirin Wynegarde-Grey

***

They slipped away very late that
night, leading the horses from the Magistrate’s stables in silence. Four
travelers set out past the sentry, which was an impressive feline wall lining
the northern border of
Shiryia,
and
into the black night. A mongrel and his guardian, who did not kill herself
because he allowed her to come. A grey lion who had just been given leave to
live by a tigress who had continued to do so, and a gold one who had just died.

And these four travelers did what
no cat in recent or recorded memory (including fabled
Kaidan
himself), had ever done.

They left the Upper Kingdom and
went beyond.

It is a funny thing, our
expectations. The feline mind has many roads, some happy, some sad, but one of
the strangest is the road of the unknown, for it is a road of shadow, not
substance. Perhaps the problem is with our imagination, for cats are, after
all, an imaginative people. We write, we paint, we build, but most of all, we
dream, and sometimes those dreams take us to dark and dangerous places. There
are
dark and dangerous places in this
world, to be sure, but it is our imaginations that take us to those places most
often. Our fears have root in the outside world, but they live full lives
inside of us.

It is a funny thing.

They had ridden northwest in land
that had not changed overmuch from the landscape within the
Shiryian
border. Dry plains, small
mountains, few trees. In fact, they could have been traveling anywhere in the
Dry Provinces for all the monsters, leviathans or dogs they encountered.
Snakes, a few gazelles and a hare or two, were the extent of the enemies met on
this First Road of this New Land, which wasn’t actually a road at all and very
soon, they began to fear that ‘fear’ was a misplaced thing.

They had still not heard from
Solomon.

It was late afternoon and Kerris
sat cross-legged on the dusty ground, a grid drawn in the sand, placing stones
in the squares. Placing them, removing them, then placing them again. He shook
his head and dug in a pocket for a set of sticks with red and gold and black
strings attached at the ends. He fiddled with them for a minute or two, before
shoving them back in his pocket and scrambling to his feet. Turning back to the
direction from which they had come, he scooped a handful of the dirt, let it
trail out between his fingers, studied it as it moved on the faint and very hot
breeze. Finally, he let out a puff of breath, wiped his hands on his trousers
and turned to his brother who, naturally, was standing, hands on hips, waiting.

“Sorry, Kirin.”

The Captain sighed and squinted
into the sun. They had met with a river, a huge wide river set deep in a gorge
that seemed to have no beginning, and apparently, no end. Kerris
Wynegarde-Grey, First Geomancer to the High Court of
Pol’Lhasa,
was confounded.

“The earth says there are
mountains in all directions, and trees and rivers. This river is like the
Shi’pal,
it twists and turns and we may
have even crossed it at one point or another. We need to cross it again
somewhere, but going either way will not lead us where we think we want to go,
which, to tell the truth, we don’t really know, do we?”

“Kerris…” Kirin growled.

The grey lion threw up his hands.
“Well, it’s true! We don’t even know if Solomon is alive or not, and without
that blasted star, it seems we can’t even talk to him anymore.” He glanced at
the Seer. “Am I right?”

Sireth benAramis shrugged. He,
the most powerful Seer of the Council of Seven, had no clue. “I am baffled,”
was all he said. At his side, Ursa Laenskaya snorted. To her credit, she didn’t
hit him.

Kerris continued. “And what’s
worse, you’ve lost our maps!”

“We were attacked—“ began
his brother.

“—Yes, yes, I know. In the
foothills of some not-so-very-big mountains, yes you’ve told me. But honestly,
Kirin, the
maps?”

Kirin felt his temper flare, but
he also felt Ursa’s eyes on him, allowed that ice-blue fire to try him yet
again. He shook his head.

“Yes, Kerris. I was not acting
wisely then. I…I was wrong.”

Behind him, the snowy chin rose,
just a little.

The admission seemed to take the
steam out of the grey lion’s rant. He was, by nature, an easy going cat, not
prone to anger or histrionics, preferring life to run along as smoothly as
possible for as long as possible. It was his turn to sigh now.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,
Kirin. But honestly, you really had better think this through. If we go that
way,” he swept an arm west, “We could stumble upon a narrowing of the river, or
a shallowing of the gorge because at some point, it
will
narrow out but then again, we could be going the wrong way and
miss some sort of bridge crossing the river
that
way, at or before some rather large lake…” And he swept his arm east, for
emphasis. But finally, he shrugged. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Geomancy is
not an exact art.”

There was no response. He was
completely right. Without Solomon, they were lost.

“You said we cannot go around
it,” Ursa now, arms folded, tapping her foot in agitation. “Are you so sure we
cannot cross it?”

They all peered over the edge to
look.

The gorge was very deep, its
walls sheer cliff faces, rock-dwelling pines and shale. Just getting down to
the river would be a problem for a cat. The horses would be another matter
entirely.

“Well,” said Kirin. “We may have
to.”

“Oh yes?” Kerris surprised them
all by laughing. “And what if Solomon is waiting for us at that rather large
lake over there, and we manage to survive crossing this river at some point
either east –“ he swept his arm east – “Or west—“ he swept
his arm west – “and keep on going without him? What then?”

“You don’t know there’s a rather
large lake….”

“Oh yes I do but –“

“How do you know?”

“Well, the land says so! This
river is one long, twisty bugger. And look at those mountains on the other
side. That practically shouts ‘rather large lake’, now doesn’t it? But that’s
not the point. The point is, without Solomon, this journey is point
less.
Finding Solomon
is
the point.”

There was quiet for little more
than a heartbeat, before the Seer whirled and walked away, hands clasped behind
his back, bringing a swift and sudden end to the bickering. He walked fifty
paces, crossed his legs and dropped himself to the ground. High above, the
falcon cried, dipped a wing and headed west.

“Lions,”
Ursa snorted, and followed her charge, stopping only to
loosen the tack of the three packhorses accompanying them.

One silver, one gold. Yin and
Yang. Always opposing, always in conflict. It was simply the way of things.

***

The 112
^th
Legion of
Khan Baitsuhkhan had run all day. They could. They were trained to run until
they died if need be. They had run for months now, since the star had changed,
with only a small interruption when the star disappeared. They had been
confused then, unsure of whether to change course, keep on going, or return
home. Fortunately, they had brought an oracle, given to them by their Khan for
success on their journey. He had told them what to do, this oracle, and now, as
the lieutenant jogged up, he could see the creature strapped to the
lieutenant’s back, a load quite unlike any of the packs the others were
carrying.

Like them, the oracle was a dog.

A small dog, to be sure. The size
of a child, with thin coat and bulging eyes and a sickly pallor to his gums, but
a dog he was, and as an oracle, he was revered and despised at the same time.
The others feared him. The leader needed him. He could talk to the other
mystics that had been trailing the star along with them, or sense them, or
whatever oracles did that was so special. It was unnerving, unnatural, but
marvelous at the same time.

The sun was setting and several
of his betas had begun to assemble the fire. They were stopping for the night.

The lieutenant dropped to one
knee.

“Lord,” he said.

The oracle peered over the man’s
shoulder, brown eyes wide and bloodshot. “Lord?” he said in a voice as thin and
threadbare as his coat.

“We are near?” growled the
Leader.

“Yes, Lord. Quite near.”

“I can smell them,” grinned the
lieutenant.

The Leader grunted. They could
all smell them, cats
and
horses less
than three days run from here, and it had set their blood racing. It would all
be over very soon.

“Can you tell if there are
lions?” he asked and the Oracle licked his lips.

“Yes, Lord. Two lions.”

“Good.” He nodded, wiped the
sweat from his brow, and began to unpack for the night.

***

Sherah al Shiva licked her
fingers and snuffed out the candles, one by one, that lit up her chamber.
Finally, there was only one left, on a wick. No candle.

“Wake up, little sister. We must
go.”

“Mmm?” Fallon Waterford yawned
and yawned again, so that her tongue curled inside her mouth. She stretched out
her arms above her head and sat up, blinking slowly. “What?”

“I have packed your things. It is
very late. The city will be shut up for the night.”

“What? We’re going?” Even as she
was asking, she was moving. Ever obedient. “Why are we going?”

“There is bad kharma approaching.
We need to warn the others.”

“The others? You mean, Kerris?”

“Of course.”

The tigress pouted, brows
furrowed, arms wrapped around her chest. Suddenly no longer so obedient. “Oh
no. Oh, I don’t think so. I think I’m going to go home in the morning.”

“No, little sister. We must
finish our journey.”

“Nooo.We mustn’t.”

Almost swallowed by shadow,
Sherah turned around, golden eyes gleaming. “He didn’t want to leave you. He
loves you.”

“No. I don’t think he does. I
don’t think anything of the sort.”

“It is true. The Captain told him
that we would surely die if we continued. He did not wish to see you die.
Again.”

The tigress swallowed now,
tightened her grip around her ribs. “He could have stayed.”

“And let his brother die without
a guide?”

The battle was brief, for the
child was hopelessly in love. It was merciless, to be sure, but necessary. It
was the way of things.

“Here,” said the Alchemist,
handing the Scholar a night-black cloak. “You must wear this.”

“Oh. Okay. How are we going to
get out of the city?”

Holding the burning wick in her
palm, the Alchemist smiled. “I believe I know the way.”

Somehow, Fallon believed that she
did.

***

As four cats bedded down on the
bank of an unknown river, and a pack of dogs bedded down under the moon in the
northeast and two women slipped out of a room in a residence in
Sharan’yurthah
, five cats rode in
through that city’s very gates. Five cats dressed, naturally, in black.

The party swept into the
Magistrate’s residence, cloaks billowing, a most impressive sight. The
Magistrate, for his part, was draped in silken night robes, a long cap dangling
from his orange brow. He had barely the time for slippers, being roused so
urgently in the middle of his deep sleep, and had he not been such an amicable
fellow, he could have been miserable indeed. Instead, he stood in the high
arched agora of his residence, arms folded in on himself, awaiting the party
that had so disturbed his dreaming. He straightened up at the sight of them.

They came like an arrow, one man
leading, and the Magistrate’s breath caught in his throat. A tiger, white as
the moon, so soon after another Imperial party. It
could
have been coincidence.

He bowed, most formally, just in
case.

“Antonio Seetharaman Trebanian
Yu, Magistrate of
Sharan’yurthah.
Welcome to our city.”

 
None of the five bowed.
Bad form, but that was Alchemy.

The white tiger pulled off his
gloves as he glanced around the room. “Jet barraDunne, First Mage of
Agara’tha,
Counsellor to Her Most
Revered Excellency, Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu. I need a cup of tea.”

The Magistrate clapped his orange
hands. “Please, esteemed
sahidis
,
join me by the fire. We shall speak—“

 
“I do not
need
to
speak to you,
sidi,”
said the silver
cat, waving his gloves in the air. “What I
do
need is a cup of tea, a warm bed, and news of the Imperial party led by Kirin
Wynegarde-Grey.”

“Forgive me,
sahidi
. In which order would you like these things?”

barraDunne stared at the smaller
man for a long moment before his face broke into a wide smile, as brilliant as
the stars in the sky. “Well said, most honorable Magistrate! Well said.” He
swept down in a perfect bow, actually dusting the floor with the tip of his
long braid. “I forget myself. Please forgive
me.
A place by your fire would be most welcomed.”

And he stepped forward, placing a
hand on the Magistrate’s shoulder. “And, along with the tea, several bowls of
Shiryian
Arak? My companions here have
never had the pleasure.”

The Magistrate smiled as well.
“The pleasure will be entirely mine,
sahidi.
Come…” And he turned on his heel, marveling at how his luck had changed these
last days and wondering if this was a sign of good things to come.

***

As the party of five swept in
from the stables to the residence, a party of two in secret swept out.

Unlike the Magistrate of
TheRhan,
Antonio Seetharaman Trebanian
Yu was not a keeper of horses. Oh he kept them well enough, but they were not
for him things to be treasured or adored. His stables were adequate, but small.
Army horses were kept in the garrison to the northeast of the city. So, it was
to the stables that Sherah al Shiva and Fallon Waterford went that night,
dressed in their cloaks of deepest black.

These stables, like many stables
in the Dry Provinces, were open to the night sky, little more than fine fences
with limestone posts and clay-tiled floors. There was some shelter, however, to
protect against mid-day sun, but for the most part, the animals slept under the
stars. There was one guard on duty. He rose as the women approached.