The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (10 page)

The Captain gritted his molars.

“You are young,
sidi,
to be sitting on Council.”

“And you are young, my friend, to
be Captain of the Imperial Guard.”

“Not
yet forty-nine summers?”

“Forty-five.”

“Ah. Year of the Snake.”

“Yes.”

“And
a Council Member for less than two?”

“What
of it?”

“Well,
you must be powerful then.” Kirin rose to his feet, smoothed out his garments,
allowing his gaze to wander the earthen bowls, now dark, cold, empty. “Indeed,
the Empress maintains your visions are never wrong.”

He
watched the man carefully while appearing not to, watched him grow wary,
guarded. Kirin began to move slowly about the chamber.

“And
why this time, in the Middle of the Watch, not the End? You saw us coming, also
that we would be too late. We arrived before the End of the Watch when the
deaths had previously occurred. It should not have been ‘too late.’”

Sireth
glanced at the Major, as if looking to her for clarification, or of all things,
reassurance.

“I don’t understand—“

“These
assaults
, as you call them, are obviously carried out by a very powerful
soul. Perhaps one that has learned to project such thoughts into older, more
trusting ones. I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to stop an aged heart such as
Mercouri’s, would it?”

“How
dare you?” the Seer growled and for the second time, Kirin saw his tail lash.
He rose to his feet, Ursa a sleek, white shadow.

“How
dare
you
suggest—“

“I
suggest everything. And nothing. It is simply my job.”

“Your
job? Your
job?
I am no fool, Captain, nor am I naive. I know full well
how I am regarded in the Courts of
Pol’Lhasa.
But the Empress Herself
approved my confirmation despite the debates and I admired her greatly for it.
Pray tell me then Captain, how a woman as revolutionary as she, can surround
herself with people who simply ‘do their jobs’?”

“Cut out his tongue,” snapped the
Major. “Then blind him completely.”

The
Captain was not a man who relished his power. Indeed, he bore it in all
seriousness and at this precise moment, when he should have been furious, he
felt strangely calm. With a deep breath, he straightened his back, slid his
palm away from the hilt of his sword. It had gone there of its own.

“As
the Captain of Her Excellency’s Guard and Under Her Absolute Authority, I
hereby abolish the Council of Seven. As a result, Sireth benAramis is removed
from the Office of Council Member and is placed under my jurisprudence.
Responsibility for the running of the monastery of
Sha’Hadin
falls
directly upon my shoulders now and will be so until my order or that of Her
Excellency Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu.”

Sireth benAramis gaped at him, the
look of a man with a dagger thrust through his heart.

“How can you do such a thing? We
have done nothing but serve and serve, then
die
in that service!”

“Major, I order you to accompany
this man to his chamber. See that he sleeps and sleeps well. You are not to let
him out of your sight for an instant. If he resists, you have leave to kill
him. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.”

The Captain turned to regard the
Seer, who was shaking his head in disbelief.

“How
can I sleep? With what you have done, abolishing the Council, bringing
Sha’Hadin
under control of the Army… It is better she kill me now, for I shall in no wise
sleep.”

“I am also no fool,
sidi,
nor am I naive. I wish to believe
you an innocent man. If you are so, then you are in danger and thus in need of
rest and strength for that which faces you tonight. If you are guilty, then you
will die by my hand so you may as well enjoy your dreams, for they shall be
your last.”

Ursa
slunk in at his side, her pale eyes gleaming in the dim light. She stood on
tiptoe, for the Seer was a good head taller than she and she stretched up her
small chin, so her lips were only a breath away.

“Better to be tending goats...”

Sireth
pushed off, his long legs taking him out of the Hall of the Seers in seconds,
his robes billowing, tail lashing. And behind him, the Major, heels clacking
like the rattling of many spears.

For
a long moment, there was silence in the Hall of the Seers.

Kirin
Wynegarde-Grey shuddered and released the breath he had been holding. He had,
within a heartbeat of a heartbeat, almost killed the last Seer of
Sha’Hadin.
The brazen words had deserved it. Even now, he wasn’t entirely certain why he
hadn’t.

With
the remains of the mouse hanging from her talons, the falcon was watching him.

***

Two figures arrived at the home of
the Chancellor Angelino Devine d’Fusillia Ho. They were not greeted in the
conventional fashion - that being a message carried by sentry from the outer
wall through the gardens to the house proper. Rather, the Chancellor met them
himself at the gate, clothed in a scandalously lush bearskin cloak and he
accompanied them inside the garden wall. They remained outside under the
careless, sleepy gaze of the moon and the new star, bright as a child of the
sun.

It
was a winter garden, a study in contrasts, expressly designed to be viewed
under a blanket of snow. Hedges and shrubs formed dark accents to geometric
carved stones, the path soft and white. Lanterns burned from many lamp stands
and candles were hidden under bushes and mounds of rock. The high stepped
courts and black winged rooftops of
Pol’Lhasa
were visible from here and
its distant windows flickered with light. This garden was a place of wonder and
secret. The Chancellor did much of his business here.

“Well?”
he said in a quiet voice. One of the figures, clad in sweeping black and silver
robes, motioned to the other in brown at his side.

“This is Yahn Nevye. Yahn Nevye
meet Chancellor Ho.”

The
two men exchanged bows, the man named Nevye’s being deeper, with the formal
fist to palm salute, for he was nowhere near the Chancellor in status. This did
not stop the Chancellor, however, from a bow of his own. Etiquette was one of
the many things that separated cats from animals.

“You
are aware of the situation?” the Chancellor asked.

“I
am, Magnificence.”

“And?”

“It
is a tragedy, Magnificence.”

“This
is not our doing,” said the Chancellor. “We did not cause this. I will have you
know that before we proceed. What has happened is not only tragic, it is
sacrilege, a crime against the Kingdom that we cannot begin to comprehend. I
myself know Petrus Mercouri. He is a dear friend, and cousin to my wife’s
mother. If he dies tonight, if he dies...”

The Chancellor broke off and the
two other men allowed him his silence. A long moment before he took a deep
breath.

“If he dies tonight, then something
I cannot accept will follow. I
will
not accept. It would be worse than
no Council at all. I am led to believe you share my sentiments.”

Nevye glanced at his companion
before nodding.

“What happened two years ago was
also sacrilege, Magnificence. From Untouchable to Brahman. That is unnatural. I
too know and respect Petrus, but his decision has compromised the Council. It
should not have been allowed.” He raised his hands. They were gloved in thick
leather. “I was but one voice.”

“So
you left
Sha’Hadin?”

“Yes,
Magnificence.”

“And since then, you have been at
Agara’tha?”

“Yes, Magnificence. The First
Mage’s dream is upon us.”

“The
First Mage has as many dreams as he has wives,” said Ho. His face was smiling.
His voice was not. “To which of them are you referring?”

The
man in black and silver spread wide his hands. “Indeed, I
have
many dreams, Magnificence. But the first and last, best dream
is to see our Kingdom strong and without compromise. To see our people strong
and without compromise. To see our Empress strong and without compromise. This
situation may serve all three.”

“I
trust you have someone already in place?”

“Of course.”

“Kunoichi?”

“The
best. Perhaps, the very embodiment of this dream.”

The
Chancellor turned to Yahn Nevye. “Is this so?”

“It
is.”

“Very
well. As I have said, we did not cause this, but we can use it. Two of our
worst tribulations will collide in very short order, if they haven’t yet. I
believe we are being tested, being given an opportunity to take
Bushido
to the highest level. We must not fail.”

“But
Magnificence,” Nevye looked nervously at the Chancellor. “None of us is
Shah’tyriah.
We are not warriors.
Bushido
is not ours to serve.”

“We
are all warriors for something,
sidi,”
said the First Mage. His eyes
were as white as the moon. “It merely depends on what we serve.”

“Indeed it does, Jet,” the
Chancellor nodded. “But enough of this. We shall do nothing until tomorrow. One
of the ‘tribulations’ may have already been taken care of tonight.”

Jet
BarraDunne, the First Mage of
Agara’tha
,
smiled.

“It would be poetry, wouldn’t it,
if they simply took care of each other.”

They
all smiled at that.

***

“She sleeps.”

Sherah al Shiva put a bloody finger
to her lips and turned her eyes in the direction of the Scholar’s table. In the
Chamber of the Dead, the Captain followed her gaze.

It
was almost impossible to see her for the mountains of books and foothills of
paper, but she was there. Head down in her arms, hair splayed in a
multicoloured mat across the wood, slim back rising and falling like a slow,
steady tide, Fallon Waterford was indeed sleeping.

The
Captain smiled a weary smile.

“She is fortunate. I wish I could
do the same.”

“I
can help you,
sidi.”

He shook his head.

“No,
but thank you,
sidala.
What have you discovered?”

Slowly,
the Alchemist rose from her table, stretching her long body like a serpent,
forcing him to watch every arch and curve lest she bite suddenly and kill him
with her poisons. She moved to the row of bodies, six chest cavities exposed,
six rows of livers and hearts and lungs, severed fingers and toes in drying
rings across the table. He cast his eyes up to their faces, for the organs did
not interest him, but the faces, they were another matter.

One
leopard, one lion, two tigers, a serval, and – he moved closer...

One
was Sacred.

“Petrus
Ishak Raphael Mercouri. The Ancient of
Sha’Hadin
.”

He felt a knot in his chest. The
Empress had called him friend.

He
felt Sherah move in behind him.

“Some say he had seen one hundred
summers, perhaps more. That he himself had counseled three Empresses. Pity.”

“How
did they die?”

“Terror.”

His
head snapped up.
The exact word the Seer had used
.

“Explain.”

She
picked up a heart. It looked small and pale in her long, strong hands.

“They were old men. Something
terrified them, stopped their hearts. Stopped their breathing. A dream,
perhaps. Or a vision. We will never know.”

“That
is not the answer I was looking for,
sidala.”

“That
is the only one I can give.”

“No
poisons?”

“No
poisons. No puncture wounds or pinpricks. No deep and hidden bruises that swell
up after hours to block the path of blood. No apparent causes of any sort.”

He
hesitated before touching the ring of fingers, blackened and blistered as if
scorched. Or frozen.

“And these?”

She
shrugged. “Anemia of age. Poor circulation. A mere curiosity, I should think.”

“benAramis
claims there is friction between the Alchemists and the Seers. Is this true?”

Sherah leaned upon the table,
rolling back her head and stroking her long throat.

“There is a mild conflict of philosophy
perhaps, between the Orders. But there are Alchemists who are blessed with
Gifts of Vision, just as there are Seers who practice the Arts of Alchemy. They
are not mutually exclusive disciplines.”

She
turned her golden eyes upon him. They were hypnotic.

“In fact, there are certain
factions within
Agara’tha
that seek the unification of the Gifts and the
Arts. An Alliance, if you will. For the good of the Kingdom, of course...”

“Of
course.” He cleared his throat. “This ‘Terror’ as you have called it. Can you
think of any way to prevent it from claiming its last victim tonight?”

She
seemed to think for several moments, plucked at her bottom lip.

“There are medicines we use,
medicines to slow the heart, thicken the blood, dull the senses. Perhaps a
combination of these...”

“Very
well. Use what you have learned here. I want him alive in the morning.”

He turned his back to her, taking
several long strides as if to leave the chamber of the dead. It was thick with
incense and incense invariably gave him a headache.

He paused a moment.

“Can
the Gifts of Farsight be projected?”

“Sidi?”

“Is
it possible for a living soul to project a vision into the soul of another?”

“Those are two distinctly different
questions,
sidi.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Anything is possible at
the seventh level,
sidi.”

“Even death?”

“Even so.”

He
let his eyes wander over the still sleeping form of the Scholar. He should wake
her, for he was curious as to her conclusions and she was sure to have no
‘conflict of philosophy.’ But he would not. He envied her the peace.