The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (93 page)

“No, not at once. Not entirely.”
She took another breath, turned so he could see her sharp profile under the
moon, the tracks made in her pelt by the tears. “They
will
find us,
Rani. It is only a matter of time.”

“How can they? Do they have an
Oracle with them?”

She looked at him, smiled weakly
through her tears and he marveled at her face. With sixteen summers, she was a
beauty, her hair dark and waving like the dunes, her white and grey pelt soft
as doeskin. She was lithe and graceful, a dancer and she would have had many
suitors already had it not been for her eyes. One as dark as their Mother the
Earth, the other as blue as the sky at midday. She was an Oracle. She would
never have a suitor because of those eyes.

“No,” she laughed softly. “They
do not have an Oracle.”

“Well, that’s sad for them. I
do.”

Jalair Naransetseg, daughter of
Borjigin Jalair, granddaughter of the Blue Wolf, laughed again. Her voice was
like music on the wind.

Her brother, Naranbataar, took a
deep breath, sifting the air for the smell of soldiers. What he caught was
antelope.

She grinned, for she had caught
it too and together, they scrambled to their feet to hunt.

***

He breathed in deeply as the tea
flowed over the lip of first the pot, then the cup, causing the patina of the
clay to gleam and glow. Chancellor Angelino Devine de Fusillia Ho was taking
the very act of Chado to an art and Kirin found himself approving. In fact, he
was transfixed in this gleaming wooden room that served as the Chancellor’s
office. A stick of incense curling in a distant pot, a brazier crackling with
warmth, the sound of tea brewed then poured.

He was tired.

“No,” the Chancellor was saying.
“We have had very little news from your journey. We have had a rather turbulent
year ourselves.”

“Hmm.”

“She is married, our Empress.”
Not even a glance.

“Yes.”

“With a kitten. Prarthana Chiraq
Markova Wu.” And he smiled this time, but without his teeth. “A daughter.
Kalicoh.”

The golden liquid steaming in
the pot.

“It’s unfortunate that you have
missed it all. But I am glad that your mission is finished. It did take rather
a long time.”

Kirin set his jaw. He would not
be baited.

“It
is
finished,” said
the Chancellor and he looked up slightly as he passed Kirin the cup. “You do
know that, yes?”

Kirin took it. “Jet barraDunne
is dead.”

The white hand paused. As good
as a splash, Kirin thought.

“Dead? I see. How?”

“Killed by a would-be Khan
beyond the borders of Shiryia.”

“Would-be?”

Kirin lifted the cup to his
lips. “The lion did not die.”

The Chancellor held his gaze a
long moment before bending back to his tea.

“I understand that benAramis has
returned to
Sha’Hadin.”
He sipped slowly, waiting.

“He and Major Laenskaya will be
setting things to right there soon enough. With or without the assistance of
Yahn Nevye.” There was not even a twitch of a whisker. The man was a master.
“How did you know?”

“Kestrels.”

The Chancellor sat back on his
heels, his long blue silk robes splayed out like water on a shore. His eyes
were deep, heavy pools of gold. “I’m afraid there is no longer a place for you
here at
Pol’Lhasa.
We could not wait on filling a such a position. It
was a matter of national importance. You understand.”

“Of course.” It was amazing how
easily it rolled off his tongue. He could hear her voice in every word, the
quiet humour, the subtle threat. The crush of her night black hair, the flash
of her eyes. “And may I ask who has replaced me?”

“An experienced soldier,” said
the Chancellor, and he set his cup on the bamboo table. “An older, experienced,
married soldier.”

Kirin nodded. It was the way of
things.

The Chancellor continued. “But
I’m quite certain we could find something for you in one of the outer posts.
Sri’
Kirtipur,
perhaps. You will want to stay close to your family home, surely.
How is your mother?”

Kirin leveled his gaze at the
man who had orchestrated all this, these two years of striving and loss. The
man who had contracted a ninjah to have him killed so the Empress would be free
to marry. The man who had caused the loss of his claws, his tail, his mane. He
should have hated him but instead he felt nothing for this little, round,
white-faced man. Nothing at all.

“My mother is well.”

“Good. Very good.”

He should not have come.

“Thank you for the tea.”

And he rose to his feet.

“I shall accompany you out,
Captain.” The Chancellor too began to rise, but paused, his wide face smiling.
“I mean
Kirin-san.
Forgive me. Force of habit.”

No, he felt nothing whatsoever.

Together they left the large
wooden room that served at the Chancellor’s office, navigating the many stairs
and hallways that made up the Palace of
Pol’Lhasa
. No one watched him
this time, although many paused to bow to the Chancellor as they passed, fist
to cupped palm. No one bowed to him. No one even noticed him.

Finally, in the Outer Court at
the Red and Gold Door, the Chancellor stopped, allowing Kirin to walk the long
stretch of hall to the door alone. Leopards watched them both, as even now
servants and civilians moved into and out of the Palace. As Kirin walked, he
cast his eyes around the chamber, so colourful and high, beginning to shine in
the first rays of morning. He drank it in, the blackened cedar beams, the
mosaics of glass. Every surface painted with history. The heart, soul and will
of the Upper Kingdom.

He did not belong here anymore.

For the first time, he felt a
pang of regret that he had not turned, so many hours ago, at the tobacconist’s.

Behind him, he could hear the
Red and Gold Door open, cast a quick glance to see a party of women sweep in
from the Palace proper, clothed in colours found in a wildflower meadow. He
turned back to the door and kept walking.

“There you are, Chancellor!
Explain yourself.”

It was like a strong wind, the
way her voice sent people to their knees, palms and foreheads to the floor in
reverence, servants and civilians alike. The Leopards stood straighter, their
weapons poised and at the ready. All sound in the Outer Court ceased. All
breathing stopped.

“There has been a falcon from
Sha’Hadin.
Why was I not informed?”

“Excellency,” said the
Chancellor. “Forgive me, but...”

“But what, Chancellor? This is
unpardonable.”

There was a heartbeat of
pause.
 
He could hear the rustle of
silk.

“Who...?”

His heart thudded in his throat.

“Who is that? Chancellor?”

The door was only steps away but
his feet had turned to stone.

“You with the tattered sash,” he
heard her voice echo like the fall of a baby bird. “Turn. Let me see your
face.”

His fingers, gloved and
clawless, curled into fists of their own accord. He could not breathe. He could
not move.

“Turn.”

His feet were stones.

“Please...”

He turned.

In the center of the women, at
the far end of the great hall, he saw her. Here in a room she had likely
visited perhaps twice in her life. She never left
Pol’Lhasa,
never set
foot outside its painted walls. She was dressed in purples and blues with a
headdress of silver tassels and the women around her were a riot of colour but
her golden eyes were the only things in the room.

He did not bow. He could not
move.

“Captain?”

Slowly and on slippered feet,
she stepped out of the protective circle of women. Chancellor Ho moved but she
raised her hand and he fell silent. She continued toward him.

“Captain,” she repeated. She had
not taken her eyes off him. “You are back.”

“Yes,” he said weakly.

“S
ha’Hadin
has sent a
falcon.”

“Good.”

“Excellency,” hissed the
Chancellor. “This is unsafe.”

“Enough,” she growled back and
her black tail lashed once under her skirts. The people held their breaths as
Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu,
Twelfth Empress of
the Fangxieng Dynasty, Matriarch of
Pol’Lhasa
 and Most Blessed
Ruler of the Upper Kingdom
, moved across the floor like water, like
silk. She stopped directly in front of him.

He could not breathe. Could not
think. Could not look anywhere other than the golden spheres that were her
eyes.

“You have changed,” she said.

“The world has changed,
Excellency.”

“Indeed.”

He felt dizzy, as if the world
had suddenly come to a crashing halt on top of him. As if two years had
suddenly fallen onto his mane-less head.

And the incense of the
tobacconist’s shop was instantly forgotten.

“I see,” she said. “I would very
much like you to tell me about it.”

“I—”

“Now. Come with me.” She whirled
and strode back to the circle of women, and all eyes in the room fell on him
now, the strange man summoned by the Empress. He could feel their stares, their
questions. He was at a loss.

She paused at the great Red and
Gold Door, threw a quick glance back over her shoulder.

“Now,
Captain. If you
please.”

He pleased and crossed the floor
to follow her, not sparing a glance for Chancellor Ho as he passed.

***

She shook the snow from her
boots as she slipped into the Lantern Room of the Monastery and paused,
snorting only once. They were still here, the two men sitting cross-legged on
the floor facing each other. They had been for days. One was a jaguar, compact
and strongly-built, his ringed pelt almost completely hidden under heavy brown
robes. The other was of indeterminate breeding and a puma beard circled his
mouth to end with a dark point on his chin. She used to hate that beard. Now,
it and the infamous scar across his left eye were her entire world.

The two were surrounded by the
brothers of
Sha’Hadin
and
Agara’tha
. The crowd had somehow filled
the entire room since she’d left last night. Some were sitting, some kneeling
in the learning pose. Others were standing, pressed along the carved walls as
far as she could see. The room was silent and heavy with the smell of men. They
had been here for three days, these silent, sitting ones, and she could tell at
a glance how the dynamics were playing out. Half the crowd was dressed in robes
of brown, the other clothed in black, each behind or beside one of the two. It
was war, she realized grimly. Disciplined and spiritual, but war none-the-less.

She caught the eye of a lynx and
he quietly made his way over to her.

“Major.” His name was Tiberius
and the tips of his ears poked through his silver hair. He smiled at her. She
growled at him.

“They are still here.”

“Yes,” he said.

“They are stupid.”

“Simply dedicated. Might I
arrange a pot of tea for you? Or some lamb, perhaps?”

“Why?”

“To restore your body and soothe
your soul.”

“My body is strong and my soul
is in no need of soothing,” she scowled and pushed past him, striding over to
the bearded man. He was dressed in robes of brown leather. She leaned in to his
ear.

“End this.”

He did not open his eyes.

“Why?” His first words spoken in
days.

“You are toying with him.”

There was a murmur from those in
black, and the tail of the jaguar twitched once.

“So what if I am? It has been a
restful three days and I have learned much about the state of our monastery.”

“It is boring and my bed is
cold. We have work to do.”

He opened his eyes. Brown, like
earth after a spring rain. Unnatural, but still.

“You are a vision.” And he
smiled.

“I will kill you. And then all
of them.”

“And then what will you do?”

She scowled. “Go back to the
Army. Resume my commission.”

Sireth benAramis took her silver
hand and kissed it before looking around the room at the sea of faces. “My wife
is quite correct. We all have work to do. Yahn Nevye, you are dismissed from
Sha’Hadin
and from the brotherhood of the Gifts. Leave now and never return.”

“What?” The jaguar narrowed his
eyes. “You don’t have the authority.”

“In fact, I do.”

“Jet barraDunne—”

“—is dead.
Agara’tha
has
no First Mage and I know from all of the thoughts in this room that the Order
is directionless and failing.”

Nevye snorted. “You can’t
possibly know all our thoughts. Even you are not that powerful.”

“Oh, I can and I have and I am.”
benAramis smiled. “Tal deHaan over there has stolen bread three nights in a row
from the kitchens. He knows it is wrong, but he is big man and hungry and can
therefore justify his actions.”

Eyes glanced at the man they
knew as Tal deHaan. He shifted but did not meet their gaze.

“Willhem Daniel Po wishes he can
leave to visit the woman he wants for a wife. He knows
Sha’Hadin
has
never allowed women, but thinks it is wrong and is wondering why things cannot
change.” Again, eyes on the cat known as Willhem Daniel Po, but the bearded
Seer simply nodded. “And change they will, Willhem. I promise you that. You may
have a wife yet...”

Murmurs anew, nodding as well.

“I have seen a cheetah giving
birth in Nam, an Oracle of the Lower Kingdom fleeing for her life and the
recent talks of Kaidan in the Land of the
Chi’Chen...”

“Kaidan?”

The Major glared at him but he
kept his gaze fixed on the jaguar kneeling before him.