The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (96 page)

Soldiers had been dogging them
for hours. It was impossible to hide their tracks through the snow and they
were nearing exhaustion. The moon was bright, the laughing moon—goddess
of his people—shone down on a ridge of black rock and so they dropped to
their bellies and crawled to the top to wait, the Enemy’s Wall high above them.

They could hear the grunting of
voices and Naranbataar silently drew his bow, knocking the arrow and praying
his sister would not moan or sing or do any of the other things she did when in
the Sight. He had twenty arrows in his quiver. If this were a full Legion, they
would not be enough.

Three men staggered into view,
trudging through the snow to stare up at the Wall. Legion soldiers, to be sure.
Ears cropped, tails docked, they were wearing thick coats of bearskin and he
could smell the sweet scent of pine tar from their pipes. They were laughing
and one pulled his sword, shaking it like a fist high over his head.

“Here we are, lazy ones!” he
shouted up the mountain to the Wall. “Show us your claws!”

“Ha!” barked another. “They hide
their claws like women!”

“I piss on their claws!” shouted
the third and they all laughed at that.

“I piss on their Wall!”

“Yes! Piss on their Great Wall!”

Beside him, Setse clapped her
hands over her mouth as the soldiers proceeded to do just that. Rani growled at
her to be quiet.

Suddenly, the night was awakened
by a
*whompff*
and a blaze of orange fire from a cauldron high above
like the sun at midday. Distant shouting in a strange and lilting tongue, and
then the rain of arrows from the Wall overhead, pelting the snowbanks and the
rocks and the men down below. The soldiers yelped and dropped into the snow.
They did not move to get up.

And then there was silence once
again.

With hands clasped over her
mouth, his sister began to rock.

“No, Setse!” he whispered and he
hugged her to him to slow her movements. He could hear the strange tongues
shouting once again, pulled her down into a very small huddle as arrows pinged
anew off the rock surrounding them. His sister began to whine under his hand,
then moan, her slip of a body convulsing now in the Sight. There was a thud in
his shoulder and another in his thigh. Pain followed, then heat but he covered
her all the more, feeling his hope drain away like the stars at sunrise.

She stilled, lifted her face,
her blue eye bright and filling with tears.

“Rani?”

“Hush, Setse. Please. Just
once.”

“Rani?”

She glanced down at her fingers,
the clawed tips dark with his blood. She stroked his cheek.

“Rani, I understand…”

“Please, Setse…”

“No, I do. I understand…”

And she bolted to her feet, her
thin arms waving in the moonlight.

“Ulaan Baator! Blue Wolf, Yellow
Cat!” Followed by a string of syllables that sounded like the voices so high
above, in a tongue previously unknown to her, the words of the Enemy.

“No!” he moaned even as he heard
it, the whipping sound of an arrow and the thud of impact and Jalair
Naransetseg, granddaughter of the Blue Wolf, fell back into the snow and did
not move to get up.

He closed his eyes and
surrendered to the bitterness of the night.

And the smell of incense.

***

“Wake,
wake now.”

Sireth
opened his eyes to moonlight and silver glinting through her hair.

“You
are dreaming.”

“No,”
he said and rolled to sitting. The mattress was low and stuffed with straw.
Still only one mattress, as no one had more than they needed at
Sha’Hadin.
He
was breaking many traditions now. “Not a dream.”

From
behind, Ursa slipped her arms around his ribs, covering him like a cloak.

“What
did you see, then?”

“Eyes,”
he said after a moment. “Eyes and an army of blood. Monkeys. Dragons. And a
very young girl...”

She
placed her cheek on his shoulder. It was not affection, he knew. It was
protection. It was her duty and she lived for duty. She lived for him now. He
was her life.

He
turned his head slightly in her direction, smiled. “Shall we pick up where we
left off, my Empress?”

“Pah.
You are old. Again would kill you.”

“That
is true. I’m not a very good husband, I’m afraid.”

“And
I am a terrible wife.”

She
was warm and strong and he loved her very much.

“You
forge the steel, my love. I need you more than life.”

She
snorted, telling him he had said a very good thing. She adjusted her position,
slipping her legs round his, sliding her hands through his hair onto either
side of his head. Their tails entwined, silver and sand and she brought her
mouth to his ear.

“Meditate,
now. Find the steel. Become it. I will protect you.”

“I
know you will.”

He
closed his eyes and was gone.

***

The servant girl bowed in the
fashion of women, with the knees and the eyes, as he slipped past her into the
Imperial Residence. He found it remarkable how no one questioned his actions,
how easily he could move in and out of the most Sacred place on earth and he
made a mental note to ask Ling about it sometime. Perhaps, as women, they
simply carried certain agreements, certain understandings, about them. It
was
possible, for he was inexperienced with women and knew little of how they
thought or ordered themselves. It was much easier to believe Ling had threatened
them with death if they spoke of it. That was how a man would handle it if the
roles were reversed.

It was a mystery, but then
again, cats are a mysterious people. Women doubly so.

He was being followed. A spy
most likely or another
kunoi’chi
commissioned by Chancellor Ho. Perhaps
the whole council this time. They would surely be in agreement. He was far too
dangerous now.

It was dark, only a few candles
flickering as twilight stretched blue fingers into the room, turning statues
into shadows, turning chairs into enemies. He strained his ears. Only the sound
of wind chimes, sleeping peacocks, fountains.

He saw her standing at a far
window, made very small by the height and colour of the panes. She was in deep
purple, layers of silk and satin, with a headdress of rich gold. It looked like
the sun rising and he thought it fitting. The sun truly did rise and set with
Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu.

He moved to stand beside her,
noticing a peacock chick asleep in her sleeve.

“They have scheduled your debriefing
in one week,” she said, not looking at him.

He nodded. “I have much to tell
them.”

“They will not believe you.”

“The only glass I can polish is
my own.”

She smiled slightly, her gaze
fixed on the flickering rooftops of the city below. “You sound like a Seer.”

“Two years spent in such
company.” He smiled now at the memory but shook his head. “I cannot convince
them, no matter what I say.”

“The dangers are real.”

“Very. From within and without.”

“The council is not united,
Kirin-san.”

He sighed. “I’ve heard. I am
sorry.”

“This has nothing to do with
you. And everything.”

“I should leave then.”

“No. I forbid it.”

“Ling—”

“I am a bird in a bamboo cage.
They can at least allow me my songs.”

His heart broke for her.

“I have done everything they
have asked of me. I have ruled well. I have furthered the Wall. I have
consolidated the Empire. I have married a man of Sacred blood. I have born a
Sacred daughter. I have never set foot outside of these walls and I will very
likely die never having done so.” She took a deep, cleansing breath. “It is
never enough.”

“You are Enough.”

“Hmm.” She smiled again. “I used
to dream of the time you’d return.”

He smiled too.

“I would dream that I would see
you in a hallway, just a glimpse of mane or tail or that tattered golden sash.
I dreamed I would run to you and you would take my hand and we would flee
together out of the palace and down the One Hundred Steps and disappear forever
in the crush of the city. I could live like a common woman, love an uncommon
man and never have to pick up the burden of government ever again. That is what
I dreamed.”

He thought for a moment.

“I myself have dreamed that
dream,” he said finally. “But it always ends the same.”

She turned now and he was
surprised to see a single tear making a line of silver down her cheek. “How
does it end?”

“With guilt, and shame and a
troop of soldiers dragging me to my death while carrying you back to the Palace
in a palanquin.”

“That’s a terrible dream.”

“Yes.
This is much
better.”

She laughed. It was the song of
sparrows.

“And so I am to accept my cage?”

“For now. But if there is one
thing I have learned in these last terrible two years, it is that life is
strange. Change is inevitable and not to be feared.”

“You have become wise,
Kirin-san.”

“No. Just older.”

She reached up to stroke his
face. He took her hand and kissed it, thinking he was the happiest he’d ever
been in his life and wondering just how long her songs would last.

***

The drums were loud, stirring
the blood and quickening the heart. It was like nothing else in all the world.
Captain Yuri Oldsmith-Pak set his jaw and studied the line of soldiers forming
a fence along the parapet of the Great Wall
.
The wind was strong and the
night was dark but his archers were skilled. Now they studied the rocks far
below for movement.

“Nothing, sir,” said the Master
of the Bow, shouting to be heard over the drums. “We have killed them all.”

“No,” said the Captain. “Dogs
move like rats. Where there is one, there is a Legion.”

An ocelot appeared at his side,
a long metallic device in his hands.

Oldsmith-Pak snatched it, drew
it up to his eyes. It was a star lens, used primarily for studying the skies at
night but as in all things, the army had afforded it a rather different use.
The Captain swept the lens along the dark mountains, grateful that even with
the heavy clouds, the moon gleamed like a mirror. He paused at the sight of a
single fire, almost unnoticeable in the distance had it not been for the lens.

“A Legion,” he said. “Not two
hours away.”

“A Legion has never come this
close,” said the Master of the Bow. “Villagers, yes, but never a Legion.”

“Light the cauldron and dispatch
a falcon—”

His words were interrupted by a
cry from the watchkeep and suddenly there was light far off to his right. One
after another, alarm fires were bursting into life all along the Great Wall. In
fact, the line of soldiers was watching them too and the boom of the cauldrons
bursting with flame could be heard growing louder over the sound of the drums.

“But that’s white,” said the Master
of the Bow. “Orange is for a Legion, not white.”

“White is for monkeys,” growled
the lion. “It’s coming from the East. There must be a movement of the
Chi’Chen.”

“Two armies in one night?”

“Sir,” another soldier jogged
up. “The watchkeep is asking for instruction. Carry on the white flame or light
the orange?”

Snow clouds were rolling over
them as if rushing to the beat of the drums. Blood was boiling now, hearts
racing and the Captain grit his teeth once again.

“Tell him to light both.”

The Master of the Bow stared at
him. “But such a thing has never been done, sir.”

“We are under attack. I will not
stand on protocol.”

He turned to face the soldier.

“Light them both.”

***

It was early and the sun had not
yet risen in the Valley of the Seers, but in the stone stables of
Sha’Hadin,
there was activity and lantern light and warmth. A young serval, Rodgriego, was
slipping into and out of stalls, preparing five horses to set out at dawn. Two
mounts and three packhorses and Major Ursa Laenskaya’s tail lashed at the
sight.

“No uniform, no boots, no
Imperial horse. This is bad.”

The lynx Tiberius smiled as he
strapped the last pack on the sleepy animal. “I have packed much tea, sister.
You will be well equipped.”

“Pah. I would rather have
boots.”

“You have boots, my love,” said
Sireth and he led his horse out of its stall. Mi-Hahn was on his shoulder,
hooded, wings outstretched as if for balance. “The ones we bought in The’Rhan.”

“The’Rhan is a desert, idiot.
How could they possibly make good boots?”

He smiled.

“And these are desert horses.
You expect them to plod through snow like it was sand? They will be dead by
nightfall.”

“Well,” said Sireth. “I suppose
we could eat them.”

She snorted. “Yes. We may have
to.”

“Is there one for me?”

The voice caused silence to fall
in the stables of
Sha’Hadin
and Yahn Nevye stepped into the warmth of
the lanterns. Mi-Hahn hissed at him.

Sireth smiled. “Ah. So you are
leaving.”

“I have had a vision.”

Ursa snorted again.

“Indeed,” said Sireth and he
stroked the nose of his horse. “Tell me.”

“Eyes. Eyes and fire and a
girl.”

“What kind of girl?”

“An Oracle.”

“I see.” He waited, smiling a
long-suffering sort of smile. “What
other
kind of girl?”

Nevye glanced up, steeling his
jaw. “She’s a dog.”

“A dog?” Ursa spat on the
ground. “Go back to bed, idiot. We aren’t going out in the snow to find a dog.”

“As a matter of fact,” said
Sireth, eyes still locked on those of the jaguar. “We are.”