The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (97 page)

“What?”

The two men stared at each
other, while Tiberius discreetly continued his packing. The boy Rodriego said
nothing, merely finished the buckles and straps that were the tack.

“We’re not going to find a dog.
Tell him the truth.”

“My love…”

“No.
Never.”
She whirled
on him. “You remember what the dogs did. To
both
of us.”

“I remember.”

“I will kill the first dog I
see. And every dog after that. I will kill them before they know they have been
killed.”

“Then I will not let you see
them.” He looked at the jaguar. “Why do you want to come? I have no idea what I
will find.”

“It is a powerful vision.”

“Yes.”

“The girl is important.”

“Agreed.”

“That is all.” He stiffened,
raised his chin. “That is all.”

The Seer shook his head, turned
back to his horse. “Go back to bed.”

“But I need to come.”

“Give me a reason.”

“I owe you no reason.”

“In point of fact, you owe me
your life. Either of us could demand reparation for what you have done. Either
of us could kill you and be justified under Imperial law.”

The jaguar looked down at the
sand and straw floor. The only sound was the snorting of the horses, the squeak
of soft leather and the occasional chirrup of a young falcon. He cleared his
throat.

“Sixteen years ago, when I first
experienced the Sight, hers was the face I saw. She was an infant. I have seen
her ever since.”

“Dogs.
We should kill
them all.” Ursa spat again, turned to tug the girth on her blue roan. It had
been with her since KhaBull. It was a fine lean horse but could never replace
her silver mare.

“That is all.” The jaguar
shrugged. “Truly all.”

Sireth glanced at the boy.
“Rodriego, might I trouble you for another horse?”

“Of course,
sidi.
Certainly,
sidi.”
And he disappeared into the stalls once again.

“The pack horses are ready,
brother,” said Tiberius, his wide hands hidden in his sleeves. “I wish you all
journeying mercies.”

Sireth smiled. “We will need
them. I am sorry for leaving so quickly after we have just returned.”

“It is the way of things.”

“Indeed. Begin to rebuild,
Tiberius. There is a dark day coming and our skills will be sorely needed.”

The lynx bowed as Rodriego led a
sixth horse into the light, passed it into Nevye’s waiting hand.

Ursa leaned into him as she
moved her horse past. “We will be coming to
Nanchuri Glacier
sooner than
expected…Poor little chicken…”

Sireth benAramis merely smiled
as together the three of them led their horses out into the first red streaks
of dawn.

***

he is bound by the wrists to
the stumps of trees and they have beaten him so he cannot stand, blood running
down his face, he can barely see the blades on a flap of deerskin, so many
blades and they laugh and he can smell the drink on their breath as they reach
for his hand

He opened his eyes.

There was a shape silhouetted
outside the rice paper walls.

Ling was asleep, her dark body
all but hidden in the shadows of the pillows. Slowly, quietly, he rolled to his
knees, reaching for the tanto that he kept strapped to his ankle and moved
under the darkness toward the door.

The shape was moving
tentatively, bobbing and swaying as if unsure and Kirin frowned. It was
impossible to guess the size of the intruder, as the only light was from the
candles flickering outside the Prayer Room. He remembered how shockingly easy
it was to move in and out of this level of the Palace and reached a hand to the
sliding doors, heart thudding only once before growing still and steady inside
his chest.

With a swift motion, he rose to
his feet and slid the doors apart, bringing the tanto up to the throat of the
figure.

It was a servant girl, the young
sandcat, and she gasped in surprise and dropped to her knees, forehead touching
the floor.

“Forgive, forgive,” she cried
and he straightened, releasing his breath. Behind him, Ling stirred and sat up.

“Farallah?” she asked and pulled
a slip of silk to her chest. “What is the disturbance?”

“Forgive, please forgive!”

Kirin frowned. It was the maid
girl from the Residence.

“Why are you here?”

“The Chancellor has called a
council, Most Revered Excellency.” The girl did not move her forehead from the
floor. “There has been a falcon from the Wall. Please forgive.”

“Yes,” said the Empress. “Of
course. Let him know that the Shogun-General and I will both attend
immediately. Have Lei-lani set out the Indigo Sunrise.”

“Excellency.”

“With the Star of Dragons
headpiece. Go now.”

“A thousand blessings,” said the
caracal, and she dared lift her eyes for the briefest of moments to the golden
figure towering over her.

She very quickly averted her
gaze.

“Blast,”
growled Kirin
and he slid the doors shut.

When he turned back, Ling was
grinning at him.

“I’m certain she will be
discreet, my Kirin-san. Women can be trusted with such intimacies.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and
reached for his clothing, remembering a silhouette of Kerris and two dancers at
the Yellow Scorpion behind a rice paper screen.

“I have spent the last two years
in the company of three very remarkable women,” he said as he stepped into his
boots. “And I have come to believe nothing of the sort.”

She smiled.

“And I am not Shogun-General.
Not yet.”

“You will be.”

“We are dancing on the edge of a
very sharp blade. It is dangerous.”

“Life is dangerous.”

“Not like this.”

“I will have my songs,
Kirin-san.”

He shook his head once again and
as he began to fasten the clasps of the red shervanah coat, he wondered if the
time for singing had finally come to an end.

Shogun-General

Far below them, the fires and
lanterns of Ulaan Baator flickered as the city slept at their feet. Here, so
high on the mesa top of
Khazien
, Mountain of the Khans, the valley
looked as if it stretched on forever. He could see the silver serpent that was
the River Thuul, the white flatness that was the Salt Plains, the cresting
dunes that were the very edge of Gobay. Here, on
Khazien
, Irh-Khan Swift
Sumalbayar was sure he could see the whole world.

He could hear the moaning of the
Oracle in the Khargan’s tent and decided to spend a little more time out in the
cold night air. His breath was smoke as he walked so he tugged the bearskin
higher onto his shoulders. He was a tall man, taller than many of his brothers.
Taller than the Khargan even and that was saying much. But the Khargan was
broader, built more like a bear, his chest the size of two men, his arms the
breadth of three. Yes, he was the size and shape of a bear. So in their youth,
Swift had called him Bear. Everyone else called him Khan.

Khan Baitsuhkhan, First Khan of
Khans, the Khargan. Son of the White Wolf, Father of the Jackal. Ruler of the
Chanyu,
All the Peoples of the Earth.

No one remembered his name, the
name he had been given at birth. It had been changed so many times as his kills
mounted and his power grew. But Swift Sumalbayar, called Long-Swift by the
Khan, had grown up with him. They had killed together. They had found wives
together. They had run many campaigns together. They had been as brothers.

Wives had come and wives had
gone. Brothers remained forever.

Still, he missed his wife.

He sighed. There were many tents
set up now as he walked around the flat top of
Khazien,
gars and yurts
and skins slung from stumps. It had been a year of gathering after the fall of
the Star, as the
Chanyu
prepared for war. On the far side of
the
mountain, the army waited. They were ten thousand and growing and the training
fields were flattened like the tundra under their boots. He toured their ranks
daily as Irh-Khan, Sekond or High Beta, and he was proud of the spirit of the
troops. They would take on the Enemy with relish, bring down their Empire and
their unmerited pride. No, he wasn’t worried about the troops. It was the
killing of the Oracles that disturbed him.

He filled his lungs, feeling the
bitter wind bite the back of his throat and the tips of his ears. Not for the
first time he wished he had cropped them years ago like the other soldiers.
They were bitten with frost now, penance for a lifetime of vanity.

He shook his head, steeling his
nerve for his return to the Khargan’s tent. It glowed with lantern light from
the seams. As he approached, the door flapped open and the Khan himself stepped
out, wiping his hands on a bloodied doeskin.

His hair was the colour of iron
and fell past his face. Woven into it were strands of lion gold and around his
neck, rings of many claws.

“He has nothing,” Khan
Baitsuhkhan growled, tossing the skin into the snow. “Kill him for me and let
the crows pick his bones.”

“The crows are growing fat this
month.”

“Let them.” The big man spat on
the ground. “They are more useful than a thousand Oracles.”

Long-Swift nodded once. “Lord.”

“Lord?” The Khargan looked up
quickly, small eyes shining. “There was a time when I was Bear to you. Since
when do you call me Lord?”

Long-Swift shrugged. “There are
many soldiers. Respect is a pearl of great price.”

The Khan studied him a moment
before nodding. “True enough. You will be Khan soon.”

“Only if we find lions.”

“Oh, we will find lions. Lions
enough to make a hundred Khans.”

“That would be problematic,”
Long-Swift grinned. “Where would we all find wives?”

The Khargan laughed and dropped
a hand on his shoulder.

“Kill the Oracle. Like wives,
there are always more.”

And he pushed past, leaving the
Irh-Khan standing before the flap of a doorway.

He peered in.

The Oracle was as old as he had
ever seen, perhaps sixty. Almost hairless. His eyes and teeth were gone and his
bones stuck out at wrong angles. Killing him would be almost a blessing.

He slipped in to do the Khan’s
bidding.

***

The sound of raised voices could
be heard from a long way down the corridor and Kirin was satisfied to see the
Leopard Guard lining the walls, swords at hips, staffs in hand. He himself
followed several paces behind the entourage of women and there was the expected
hush as the great gold door swung open into the presence of Chancellor Ho and
the council of Ministers.

The Ministers dropped to their
knees, foreheads to the cool mosaic floor. All save the Chancellor, who merely
bowed in his peculiar way, seeming to force his eyes from the sight of the lion
in the company of the Empress. In fact, Kirin was acutely aware of the tension
in the room and wondered how much was because of him and how much because of
the falcon from the Wall.

There was no sound—only
the hiss of oil burning in the lamps and the room glowed with warmth but no
sunlight. She kept them down longer than usual, perhaps to remind them that
even with such a consort, she was still, in fact, Empress.

“Rise,” she said finally. “There
is a falcon?”

“That is not all, Excellency,”
said Chancellor Ho. “Orange and white alarm fires have been struck.”

Kirin felt the world lurch under
his feet.
Orange and white.
Dogs and monkeys. Such a thing had never
happened. In his mind, he could hear the sound of drums. It would be a hard
night for every man on the Wall tonight.

“The falcon,” repeated the
Empress. She revealed nothing in her voice. She was as regal as the Mountains
and just as strong.

Chancellor Ho swept a hand
toward an alcove near a high window and she moved through the room like water,
the women slipping back out the way they had come.
Almost as smooth as
leopards
, Kirin thought grimly. He wondered if any were trained to kill.

The falcon was rugged, larger
than Mi-Hahn and less sleek than Path. It wore the hood and talon leathers of
its profession but no bells. It was an Army bird. It would as likely bite a cat
as serve one and it stretched wide its wings as the Imperial party drew near.
Ling reached out a hand, only the tips of her black fingers visible through the
silks, stroked the creature’s speckled breast. It hissed but did not strike.

“From the Wall?” she asked and
the Minister of the Wall stepped forward.

“From the Gate of Five Hands,”
he said. He was a tiger, unusual for such a common man to have attained such a
rank and therefore impressive. Kirin knew never to underestimate the tenacity
of tigers.

“Five Hands? The
Chi’Chen
Gate?”

“The very one, Excellency. It is
only two days’ ride.”

“Do you have the parchment?”

“Excellency,” said Chancellor Ho.
“These are important matters of state. Perhaps we could ask Kirin-san to wait
outside. With the women.”

Her golden eyes flashed.

“The Shogun-General is privy to
all matters of state.”

“Alas,” said Ho. “There is no
Shogun-General. Not yet.”

“It does not require an act of
state when the rank is forged in a time of war,” she said, keeping her voice
even. “Is that not true, Master Soeng?”

A thin pale man of Sacred blood
stepped forward and Kirin recognized him as the Minister of Archives. He looked
like a slip of paper.

“Most Revered Excellency, may
you live forever. You are, of course, quite correct. According to the Archives,
the very last Shogun-General of the Upper Kingdom was created to honour General
Yasouf Kingston-benMazar under Empress Faisala the Wise. He killed the seventh
Khan of the Lower Kingdom in the Battle of the Weikhan Valley and was accorded
the title with no opposition from the ruling council.”

Ling turned her heavy-lidded
eyes on the Chancellor.

“I am not Empress Faisala the
Wise and, of course, desire unanimous approval from my council. Captain
Wynegarde-Grey has yet to give us his report on his journey in the Year of the
Tiger, including the establishment of a new Khan, the death of six of my Seers,
not to mention the role of Jet barraDunne and the fall of
Sha’Hadin
.
There may be government officials that bear responsibility for crimes against
our Kingdom. Surely you will allow him some leniency, Chancellor? Careers could
be shattered on one word from his mouth.”

Kirin’s heart was thudding as if
he would surely die. With alarm fires racing across the Kingdom, she was
playing a dangerous game with the Chancellor and Ho was a dangerous man. His
wide face split wider and he bowed most formally.

“But of course, Excellency. It
would be disrespectful of me to presume anything other than righteous motives
on behalf of our good Captain and soon-to-be Shogun-General. I withdraw my
protest.”

She cast her eyes around the
Throne Room.

“Are we all in accord? Alarm
fires have been struck and I would like to hear the scroll read. When did it
arrive?”

“At the commencement of the
second watch, Excellency.”

Kirin grit his teeth. It seemed
all manner of bad things happened in the second watch.

And yet another minister stepped
forward. Minister of Falcons, Kirin knew. He was a serval and the tips of his
ears rose high above his head. Carefully, he unfolded a very small slip of
parchment and began to read.

“Division of
Chi’Chen
army amassed Five Hands Gate. Monkeys number two thousand. Ambassador Bo
Fujihara diplomatic envoy requests Imperial counsel. Kaidan with him.”

There was silence for barely a
heartbeat before the room began to buzz with comments.
Chi’Chen
Army.
Five Hands Gate. Two thousand men. Not allowed through. Act of war. But for
Kirin, there was only one word that registered, one that shook him to his very
bones.

“Kaidan?”

“But why the orange fire,” asked
the Minister of Arms. “Orange is for dogs.”

“Perhaps someone should be
reminded?”

“Perhaps someone should be
executed.”

“Kaidan?” Kirin asked again.
“Kaidan is with them?”

“Apparently so,” said the serval
before turning to the Minister of Diplomatic Affairs.

“But that is impossible.”

No one was listening. They were
arguing amongst themselves.

“It is impossible.”

“The
Chi’Chen
would not
dare.”

“Ambassador Fujihara grows as
bold as his tobacco.”

“Kaidan?” he asked again.

The Empress turned to him.

“Kirin-san? What of Kaidan?”

He released a deep, cleansing
breath and then another. His head was spinning.
How could this be?

“Kirin-san,” she said again. “I
am the only one in the room. Tell me.”

He nodded, drawing strength from
her great golden eyes. “He went west, west in a ship with Solomon. They were
looking for others. There is no way he could now be east with an army.”

“That was almost a year ago.”

“It makes no sense.”

Quietly, she laid a hand on his
sleeve.

“Solomon. You told me this. This
is the name of the Ancestor, yes?”

“Ancestor?” said Chancellor Ho,
and suddenly, all conversation in the room ceased.

“They were all dead in
Swisserland,” Kirin said. “But he thought there might be more in a place called
Kanadah. It sounded like a very far place. A world away, Solomon said.”

“Ancestor?” said the Minister of
Defense.

“Do you know if they found
others?” asked Ling.

He shook his head. “But if they
did and Kerris is back with an army, then I can only assume it’s a bad thing.”

“There are no Ancestors,” said
the Minister of Archives.

“Oh, most certainly none,” said
the Minister of the Wall.

“Yes,” said Kirin. “There are.”

All the ministers were silent now
and staring, as talk had suddenly moved quite beyond their experience.

With a gust of cold air, the
great red and gold door swung open and a small figure rushed into the room. It
was a boy of perhaps fourteen summers, a courier wearing the uniform of the
Ministry of Falcons and as such, was allowed free access to all parts of the
Palace. He jingled as dropped to his knees and held up a set of talon bells.

“Forgive, please forgive!” he
cried. “There is a second falcon!”

“From where?” asked the
Chancellor.

“The Wall, Magnificence. North
of the foundry of
Shen’foxhindi.”

“North?” said the Minister of
Defense. “The
Chi’Chen
will not be coming from the north.”

“No,” said the Minister of the
Wall. “That would be dogs.”

“The orange fire,” said the
Minister of Diplomatic Affairs.

The Throne Room went silent once
again.

The Empress turned and moved to
the small wooden chair. It was the only thing in the room that was not carved,
painted or layered in gold or jewels. Slowly, she climbed the steps, turned and
lowered herself into the Ages Old seat, the symbol of Dynastic Power for longer
than anyone could remember.

She sat a moment before
responding, her voice as soft as a nest of swallows.

“Ambassador Fujihara and Kaidan
will be allowed passage through the Gate of Five Hands.”

Chancellor Ho moved to speak,
but thought better of it. She continued.

“They and a small party of
diplomats will be escorted to
Pol’Lhasa
by a full regiment of the
Imperial Guard, where I will grant them Imperial counsel. We will afford them
all the honour of a Royal entourage while we discuss matters of peace and war
and Ancestors.”