The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (72 page)

Jaw setting, Kirin dismounted as
well. He put his hands on his hips and looked around. The tall, crumbling
buildings, beams exposed in places like the ribs of a half-eaten carcass, vines
stringing overhead, and many birds. They were so high, so free. They could come
and go as they wished, had no Bushido to follow, no code of ethics to dictate
their fates. The heaviness sank back down on him, and he turned to his brother.

“Kerris.”

His brother stared back at him,
that flash of something appearing yet again. It broke his heart. Twenty-four
years of striving. Twenty-four years of conflict. Even now, on the threshold of
the most important event in the history of the Upper Kingdom, on the threshold
of most important event in the life of Kirin Wynegarde-Grey (and ultimately,
the last) and still they could not lay it down. Kerris would never understand.

Perhaps it was for the best.

Kirin shoved the ache far, far
down.

“Kerris, the Seer and I will go
find Solomon. I need you to stay here with the Scholar and the horses.”

Kerris, for his part, turned to
him and stared. Simply stared.

Kirin stepped forward. “The
Major…” For some reason, his throat constricted. It was difficult to speak. He
pushed it deeper. “The Major will watch over you…and the Scholar. You will need
to…to watch over her. There may be dangers here. In this part of the city. Be
alert. Be careful, Kerris. Please be careful.”

There was so much more he wanted
to say.
Set alMassay free. Take care of
Mother. Settle down somewhere with this tigress, raise kittens, be happy
.
But there was a flatness in Kerris’ blue eyes, a curl of the lip that looked
most unnatural on one so animated. It struck like a blade to the heart. He
stopped his heart from racing, stopped his hand from reaching out. He could not
allow himself to be deterred now. So with a deep drawing of breath, he made his
will steel and forced all thoughts of his brother from his mind.

He turned and, with the Seer
leading, headed down the overgrown street deep into the devoured heart of the
city.

Kerris watched him go for a very
long time, before turning in the opposite direction and storming off down an
entirely different street. Fallon sprang off her horse and ran after him,
scrambling through shrubs and shattered stone.

Ursa watched as both parties
disappeared from view. Yet again, she found herself conflicted. Her charge, her
orders. Her charge, her orders. She made a decision, slipped from her mount and
followed.

***

She could hear him muttering as
he walked, but it was difficult to catch up, for he was moving quickly and the
footing was uneven. But finally, he slowed to a stop near a low square
ivy-covered building, with a doorway open to the shadows. He placed a grey hand
flat upon the green wall, and dropped his head, shoulders sagging.

She was puffing as she scrambled
up beside him, reaching her own hand out to touch him, to reassure him, and
also, to keep herself from falling. He didn’t respond for a long time, almost
as if he weren’t aware, but finally he did take it in his and pulled her palm
to his lips. She was surprised. He then pulled all of her to him, her waist,
her hips, her mouth, and he kissed her eagerly, almost desperately and she
thought her bones might break from his grip. She could have sworn she tasted
tears. Finally, his hands and breathing slowed and he held her, simply held
her, swaying slightly as if to music and kissing little kisses on her neck,
forehead, throat. She sank into him, lost every time.

“Where shall we go then?” he
asked, gently stroking her hair from her forehead.

She searched his face for some
clue as to what he was asking. Yes, tears. Most definitely. “What do you mean?
Now?
‘Go then’
now?”

“No, love. When all of this is
over, of all the places in the Kingdom you’ve dreamt of going, where shall we
go?”

“You mean, other than
Pol’Lhasa?”

“Please, any place other than
Pol’Lhasa.”

“Well, I do like the jungle…”

“The jungle it is! Which jungle,
for there are many? The jungles of
Hindaya,
of
LanLandesh
, of
Shiam?
How about
Nam?
Very hot and jungley there…”

“Oh, um, sure. Any of those are
nice, but the university is in
Pol’Lhasa…”

“What about the Eastern Kingdom?
I could show you some amazing
Chi’Chen
jungles
that would take your breath away. They’re wonderful people, monkeys are, once
they get to know you. Very hospitable, very entertaining.”

She leaned into him. “I think I’d
like to go back to the University.”

“Well, yes, to pack your things,
naturally. But after that.”

“I’d like to finish my studies…”

He cupped her face in his hands.
“But we talked about this, didn’t we? You won’t be allowed back in if you’re
being a-courted by a lion. Not even a Royal one.”

She bit her lip, suddenly aware
of where this was going. “Well,” she said softly, “We could keep it a secret…”

It was the wrong thing, she knew,
as soon as it left her lips, for he shifted in her arms. “A secret?”

“Well, no, that’s not really what
I meant. I meant that, um, maybe we could, um, live somewhere in the city but
that, that I could, you know, go…to the university…on my own… And you, you
could keep going on adventures for the Empress. You know, like the way things
were before, only better…” She sounded pathetic, she knew that as well. He had
warned her about this and she had assured him she was able but now she wasn’t
sure and she watched as the realization played out across his face.
Oh, this was so very bad.

“It’s just, it’s just I’m not
sure, you know? I want so many things. I want to do so many things. I want to
know so many things—“

“It’s all right, love,” he said,
smiling sadly. “I understand.”

“No, no I don’t think you do. I
don’t think I said it right. I want you. I do. I want to be a-courted by you.
But I wish…” For once, Fallon Waterford’s words ran out. She leaned her head on
his chest. “I just wish life was different.”

“So do I.”

She could have sworn there were
fresh tears.

And he took her by the elbows to
move her away from his body, and she let him, feeling all the will drain from
her limbs. He smiled again, but it was different this time, and took several
steps backwards before swinging around and heading back up the street. She
wiped her own tears with the back of her hand, and struck out to follow.

When high on the rooftop above
them, the falcon cried.

***

Kirin cupped a hand over his eyes
and scanned the skies. It was very bright this morning, and it made him wish
for the
keffiyeh
of the desert to
provide a little relief from the sun. He dropped his hand to his hip and turned
to the Seer, who seemed quite content to pick his way over the rough terrain of
the city.

“Sidi,
are we near?”

“Perhaps.”

Kirin ground his molars. He had
lost his patience hours ago, months ago if he was honest, and it was not
something he could afford at the moment.

“Where is the falcon?”

“Ah yes. Path. Well, ah…”
benAramis too looked up to the skies, but finally returned his odd, one-eyed
gaze to the Captain. He clasped his gloved hands together. “I’m a terrible
liar, Captain. I think you know this by now. Path is not here. She is with
Solomon…” and he swung his arm back in the direction they had come.
“That
way…”

Kirin stared at him.

“That
way?”

“Yes.”

“Solomon is
that
way?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why are we
this
way? Why would you take me
away
from Solomon?”

“I am no fool, Captain. You
cannot hide your plans from me. From anyone else perhaps, but not me. You
intend to kill Solomon to protect the Empire, then yourself to restore honor. I
am not going to journey to the ends of the earth and beyond, only to have you
kill two people simply because of a twisted code of ethics. I do not share your
Bushido, Captain. And neither does your brother.”

“Kerris?” He frowned. “What does
Kerris have to do with this?”

And suddenly he knew.

And he turned and bolted back
down the rough and rocky path toward the horses.

***

“Kerris?” she called in a soft,
befuddled voice.

It was the falcon, Path of
Sha’Hadin.
She could tell by the
tattered talon leathers that hung from her thin legs. It’s head cocked from one
side to the other, and it shifted position just above the gaping doorway of the
building.

She peered inside.

“Kerris? I think there’s someone
in here…”

And without waiting for him, she
took first one step, then another, and soon was swallowed by darkness.

***

There was no one with the horses.

“Where are they?!” he growled as
the Seer ambled up behind him.

benAramis made a face. “Ah, well,
yes, perhaps—“

Kirin leaned in, his brow dark
and low. “Tell me now,
sidi.
I will
not ask again.”

The Seer grew still for a moment,
then glanced up at the Captain.

“This way.”

And he struck out down an
entirely different road, with low mossy buildings on either side.

***

“Sidala?”
Kerris peered into the blackness.
“Sidala,
please. These places are dangerous and I am in no mood.”

He saw a shape slip in the
darkness and followed as it pressed itself into a corner.

“Please,
sidala.
You’d best come out of there—“

The shape stepped out of the
shadows and hoisted a thick, rusted pipe high in the air above his head.

Kerris felt his heart leap to his
throat. He could not believe his eyes. He could not move.

“Hey, Kerris,” came Fallon’s
voice as she crunched through the rubble behind him. “I’m sorry. I really
thought I heard some—“

She breathed in sharply, a hand
flying to her mouth.

“Oh mother…”

Shielding the tigress with his
body, Kerris began to back up, stumbling across the broken floor as the figure
advanced, pipe still held high. Within moments, they were both flattened
against the wall, trapped. The pipe began to slice the air in front of them,
making terrible whooshing sounds in the quiet.

Kerris held up his hands, still
pressing the Scholar back against the stone. “Please,
sahidi.
Please.”

“…oh mother…”

“Idiots!” The sound of sharp,
angry clacking filled the building. “I have been looking and looking –“

Major Ursa Laenskaya froze, a
small slim silhouette in the doorway, as she surveyed the scene before her. The
figure whirled and raised the pipe in her direction, shouted something
unintelligible. Her sword clattered to the floor and she immediately followed,
dropping first to her knees then to her elbows, touching the ground with her
forehead in the most formal of bows.

“Sahidi!”

Eyes wide, Fallon peered over
Kerris’ shoulder.

“Solomon…?”

The figure stood still for
several heartbeats before lowering his pipe with a moan.

“What the hell is going on?” said
Solomon.

***

He could not believe what was
going on.

The Seer had played him, had
likely been playing him for weeks, perhaps months, perhaps since the Inn at the
Roof of the World when Kirin had made the dangerous realization of what the
Bushido would demand of him. The Seer had to have known. It was a matter of
course. There would be no way to hide from such a mind as his.

And he cursed himself for it.

The falcon cried as she sailed
into view above the shrubs and broken rock that was the street. She dipped a
wing and circled, and just below her, a party of shapes came into focus,
wavering in the heat of the late morning sun.

His heart sank like a stone.

The Major was leading them like a
sliver arrow, the Scholar on one side, his brother on the other, both with
hands laid on the fourth, a ragged figure in strange clothing. In fact, he was
almost as hairy as a dog, this fourth companion, with a beard that made
Sireth’s look like a mere tiger stripe, and like the Seer, his eyes were as
brown as the earth after a rain. But what he could not take his eyes from was
the man’s pelt. Or lack, thereof.

Skin alone, pale and smeared with
grime, much like the face of a
Chi’Chen
but even more so. The stuff of legend, of history, of ancestry. A forefather.
An Ancestor.

And he could see it now, as
plainly as that lack of pelt, how Kerris and Fallon walked beside him, beaming
with wonder, touching him with awe, with reverence and adoration. He could see
how the Empire would fall, as every cat would flock to see this Ancestor, to
bring homage, to bring worship and loyalty and there would be anarchy in the
streets as Imperial rule was abandoned in favor of an older, more dangerous
way.

His hand fell to the hilt of his
sword.

Solomon walked toward him,
walking very much as a cat walked, and his smile, bright against the filth of
his skin, broadened as he neared. And he did not stop. He continued right up to
the Captain, reaching out his grimy, flat-clawed hands and pulling him into a
great embrace, laughing as he did so. It was so hard to remain detached, to
remain formal or mercenary, with such an amiable soul.

“Solomon,” He tried to remove
himself from the man’s grip. It was difficult. The man did not want to let go.
“Solomon, I am Kirin Wynegarde-Grey, Captain of the Queen’s Guard.”