The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (111 page)

“Uguyai,”
growled
Naranbataar.

“C’mon,” said Fallon. “It’ll be
good. We need to understand—”

“No!” snapped Nevye and he
snatched his hand away. She had begun to tug at the glove.

Naranbataar lunged forward and
grabbed his sister by the arm, pulled her away and into the protection of his
side.

“But I just… but Shar hands…”

“Leave me alone!” It was Nevye’s
turn to growl and he turned to leave when Setse began to moan.

“Falling.”

“What?” He turned back. “What
did you say?”

“Falling, falling,
falling,”
she wailed and suddenly, her slim body was wracked with convulsions.
Naranbataar held her tight as the Oracle’s moan rose in pitch until it was a
scream. The door swung open and leopards poured in, swords drawn, staffs aimed
but Nevye spun on them, clapped his hands together and they were flung from the
room with the force of a tsunami, the door slamming shut behind them.
Naranbataar hugged her tightly to stop the flailing of her arms but it was
impossible to stop her legs and the pair of them sank to the floor.

“What is it?” yelped Fallon.
“How can I help?”

Nevye dropped to the floor
beside her, pulled his gloves from his hands and reached for the girl. A
backhanded blow from Naranbataar sent him reeling but he scrambled to his knees
and to her side in a heartbeat. Without waiting, he placed his hands on the
sides of her face and closed his eyes.

Setse gasped and opened hers and
the room became oddly still.

Her thrashing ceased, her screams
silenced and it was only then that Fallon noticed his hands.

The fingers were twisted,
deformed as if hammered by mallets, claws struck out at wrong angles, the
yellow pelt gone from the knuckles and blackened as all bad injuries go. Fallon
was amazed that he could use his hands at all, given their appearance. Soon, as
their breathing became one and he opened his eyes, Setse looked up at him.

“Owls?” she whispered. “And
me?
You bleed…”

She reached her own hand up to
touch his chin. There was blood from where Naranbataar’s fist had struck.

He snatched his gloves and
scrambled to his feet, throwing a look at the tigress before leaving the room.

***

It was quiet in the office of
the Captain of
Shen’foxhindi.

The Shogun-General stood by the
window, waiting for his people, and those not his people, to arrive. He had
taken most of the day to think and plan and think some more and finally he had
summoned all to inform them of their course of action. It was strange, this new
power, and yet not so strange. His whole life had been built around the concept
of unquestioning obedience, of
Bushido
, the Way of the Warrior. It had
only been these last two years, and the awareness of his damned darkened glass,
that had changed things. But he was a different man now, wiser and more
resilient. He desired the input of others. Most especially these.

He had requested the office be
prepared for a council and he looked over the fittings in the room. There were
ten cushions circled around a small brazier of coals, and in the brazier, a pot
for tea and ten cups. Ten hearts and minds and wills about to chart the course
of the Empire. He shook his head. It was madness.

A push of the door and a very
tall figure strode in. Kirin smiled.

“Has it been even a month?”

“Almost,” the Seer grinned,
walked over to his side and they embraced like old friends. “You have been
busy.”

“Indeed. And you were right.”

“Aren’t I always? About what?”

“My reception at
Pol’Lhasa
was
entirely different than what I expected.”

“I’m glad. She was happy to see
you, then?”

He shook his head.
Had he
been such an open book?

“Quite.”

“And Shogun-General now? You
see? What you have endured has only served to make you stronger than you were
before.”

“I still have dreams.”

“You will always have dreams.
Let them shape you, not control you.”

“Hm.” He nodded. “And you? How
was
Sha’Hadin?
Tiberius?”

“Well. Changed. Strange. Not
entirely home anymore.”

“But not bad?”

“No,” and he grinned again. “Not
bad. But not prepared. Not for this.”

“Hm,” Kirin said again. “Ursa? Where
is she?”

“Fitting a uniform or something
like that.”

“Ah, blast. I did promise,
didn’t I?”

“And she’s not one to forget.”

Kirin smiled. The woman had been
his right hand for years. The Seer went on.

“There is a man that has been
travelling with us…”

“A man or a dog?”

“Well,” said Sireth slowly.
“There are two men actually, a dog man and a cat man. I was referring to the
cat man. But the dog man is still a man. Yes?”

Kirin said nothing.

“At any rate,” the Seer
continued. “This man is a Seer and a man I may have sworn to kill at some point
or another…”

Kirin raised his brows. “But you
haven’t.”

“No, not yet.
You
might
but I don’t want you to. Not yet.”

“Indeed?” Kirin thought a
moment. “The jaguar? He was meditating on the Wall. I almost trampled him with
my horse. Who is he, this man whom you have sworn to kill but haven’t?”

“Yahn Nevye.”

“I remember you speaking of him
on the Wall at Lahore.”

“Yes.”

“And on the way home.”

“Again yes.”

“Why would
I
want to kill
him, exactly?”

Before benAramis had the chance
to answer, the door swung open and a small figure appeared. Kirin smiled to
himself as Ambassador Bo Fujihara entered the room. He was smoking a pipe and
the sharp scent carried before him like a banner. He crossed the room to stand
in front of them and bowed most formally, fist to cupped palm. Kirin bowed
back, as did the Seer at his side.

“Ambassador Fujihara,” Kirin
began. “Sireth benAramis, Seer of
Sha’Hadin.”

“I have heard much of you,
sidi
,”
said Bo. “It is an honour to meet you finally.”

“And I you,” said the Seer.

“Our Seer is a painter,” said
Kirin.

“How wonderful,” said Bo. “Have
you seen any of the pieces in the Yellow Sun Room of the Palace? They are by
Kai Yamakazi, one of our most celebrated painters.”

“I have yet to set foot in
Pol’Lhasa,
but I will make a point of it should I go.”

The Ambassador bowed again and
his marvelous tail waved like a flag.

The door swung open again and
Captain Oldsmith-Pak entered with a small troop of leopards. Between them, very
much like prisoners, were the dogs. Male and female, for it was hard for Kirin
to think of them as man and woman, as people. To his utter surprise, the
tigress was with them, arms filled with parchments and he shook his head.
Naturally, she would have no problem with her companions. Pure Gold could just
as easily have been a dog in her eyes.

Fallon lit up when she spied
him.

“Captain!” Her emerald eyes grew
wide. “No wait! I mean, Shogun-General. Oh dear! I don’t think I’ll ever get
used to that. It’s far too long. And well, ‘brother’ just seems too familiar.
Can I call you Kirin? Would that be okay? Kiri? Kirinni? Kirin-tin-tin?”

He had not taken his eyes off
the dogs, their awkward movements, their rough clothing, their unnatural eyes,
their teeth.

“Kirin it is, then,” she said
quickly. “This is Jalair Naranbataar and his sister Jalair Naransetseg. We can
call them Rani and Setse.”

The female danced over as if on
the tips of her toes and stared at him with her strange eyes. She released a
long, deep breath.

“Ulaan Baator,” she said. “Kuren
Ulaan Baator.
You save all our people.”

And then she bowed, fist to
cupped palm. He stiffened, feeling the cold rush down from his ears. She should
not bow, not like that. It was dishonourable and he wished with all his heart
that he could kill her for the affront. Bushido might not allow it but no
soldier on the Wall would think less of him. His tail lashed once, the Scales
of the Dragon causing sparks to rain onto the floor and the male dog growled.
Kirin turned to study him. Young, it was obvious, perhaps twenty summers. Full
of pride and confidence and savagery. He could beat that out of him with one
fist.

“Oh, Ulaan Baator,” the girl
moaned. “Not my people…”

And before he knew it, she was
raising her stub clawed hand to his chest. He stepped back, hand instinctively
reaching for his sword, which caused the male to growl again and suddenly, the
Scholar in the Court of the Empress slipped in between them all.

“Now, Setse,” said Fallon. “Let
me show you our Tea Ceremony. Oh look! Pillows! Come with me, let’s sit over
here. I can put these crazy parchments down and we can have another cup of
tea…”

 
“Brother,” said the Seer as he put a hand on Kirin’s arm,
leaned in to his shoulder. “You’ve come very far, but the glass is never fully
clear.”

Kirin grit his teeth and
released a long, cleansing breath. There was only a hint of a growl.

The dog, Jalair Naranbataar, had
not taken his eyes off him for one moment.

“The others?” asked Kirin,
fixing the dog with a stare of his own. “Kerris? Ursa? The Alchemist?”

“I am here,” said Sherah and
suddenly she was, separating from the shadows, the baby asleep in a sling on
her back.

Kirin shook his head, baffled at
how some things never changed.

He threw one last look at the
dog before moving toward the fire and the tea.

***

“Right Quiz, I think I got them
all.” Kerris rubbed the brushes together, causing a cloud of dust to hover
above the stone floor of the battle tower. He had spent a good part of the
afternoon pulling the sticks, burrs and brambles out of the pony’s tail and
there was a sizable pile on the ground. The pony had tolerated it, largely due
to the occasional marzipan from Kerris’ pocket.
Chi’Chen
marzipan was
known in all the Empires. It was the best marzipan in the world.

There was the sound of boots on
stair and Kerris looked up to see the jaguar, the monk from
Sha’Hadin,
come trotting down. The late sun was strong through the small high windows and
dust could be seen moving in the beams.

“Hello,” said Kerris as the man
peered around through the haze. “You looking for something?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Right.” And he slipped out of
Quiz’s stall, dropped the brushes into a bucket by the wall. “The horses from
Sha’Hadin
are over there.”

The man moved past him into one
of the stalls. The horse made a grumbling sound as it rose to its feet. Straw
fell from its sides and it yawned loud and long. Kerris watched the man snatch
a bridle from the post, glance around at the walls of the stable.

“What are you looking for?”

“His saddle. Where are the
saddles?”

“You don’t need a saddle, you
know. Horses like it quite fine without them.”

The man grumbled, began to look
into every corner, over every stall. Quiz laid back his ears and snapped,
almost catching the spotted tail in his teeth. Finally, he moved back to the
stall and the horse lifted its head and nickered.

“Please just tell me where the
saddles are,” he said, stroking its long nose.

“You going into town?”

“Saddles?”

“Well, yes,” said Kerris
grinning. “There are saddles in town. Out the big gate, through the little
gate, down the road and to your left.”

The jaguar sighed.

“That was a joke,” said Kerris.

The man grew quiet, stood for a
long while by the sleepy horse, stroking its face and simply breathing.

“Say,” said Kerris. “Are you
alright?”

“Have you ever,” the jaguar
began. “Have you ever wanted to just leave?”

“Just leave?”

“Yes. Just get on a horse and go
somewhere, anywhere. A place where no one knows, no one lives, no one sees.”

“Never done anything like that
in my life,” Kerris lied and he leaned against the stall door. “Why? Do you
feel like that now?”

The gloved hands stroked the
horse’s face, just stroked.

“You
can
leave, you know.
You’re not a soldier. No man is your master.”

“Ah, right. That’s right…” The
yellow eyes looked up at him. “What’s your name?”

“Kerris Wynegarde-Grey. Yours?”

“Of course. The brother.” The
man shook his head. “Yahn Nevye.”

“Oh yes. The man who cannot
speak to falcons. Why of course?”

Nevye opened his mouth as if to
say something but the words never came. He shook his head again, turned and
continued to stroke the horse’s face.

“Right,” said Kerris. “Forget I
asked.”

“Are you afraid of anything?”

“Me? Afraid?”

“Yes. Are you?”

Kerris grinned, glanced around
the stables. They were alone and the golden haze was disappearing into
twilight. “How long have you got?”

For the first time in a very
long time, Yahn Nevye smiled.

“I am afraid of a great many
things,” Kerris sighed. “I am afraid of losing my wife and my kittens. I am
afraid of seeing my home again, and at the same time, of never seeing my home
again. I am afraid of not being loved, of growing bored, of growing old. And I
am afraid of the earth.”

“The earth?”

“Yes, of being crushed by the
earth. Of being wrapped in her arms until the breath in my body grows so hot
that I crumble inwards and disappear in a puff of grey fur. We have an uneasy
truce, the earth and I. She terrifies me still.” His quick blue eyes glanced at
the jaguar. “You?”

Nevye sighed, made a face.
“Falling.”

“You’re afraid of falling?”