The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (14 page)

“What is your favorite place?”

“I
have none.”

“There
is a place,” he began softly. “Deep in the South and far to the East, where the
jungle grows like none you have ever seen...”

“I
hate jungles. There are too many bugs.” Her words, however, were slower. “I
hate bugs.”

“This
jungle has no bugs. In fact, the trees grow so tall that their tops completely
cover the sky. The only color is green, the green of ferns and limes and moss
and broad leaves. The air is warm and rich and sweet like poppies and
everything smells of rainwater and damp, damp earth. No one lives there. No
towns, no villages, no roads through this particular jungle and the only sound
you hear are the sounds of birds. Beautiful songbirds and chattering macaws and
of course peacocks, with their great fan tails and funny little crowns. In the
middle of this jungle there is a waterfall as high as a mountain. At night, it
pours the moon’s silver. It is said that from this waterfall, come the souls of
white tigers and grey lions, and perhaps even snow leopards...”

There
was no protest, no growl nor rattle of sword. Rather, soft deep breathing in
slow, natural rhythm. She was asleep.

Sireth
shook his head.

“Pleasant
dreams, my wild little Empress. You need them.”

***

Kerris was beginning to enjoy
himself. He had been wandering for hours, still dressed in the great brown
robes of a monk and he had drawn the hood low over his face. He was going
nowhere in particular, simply enjoying the sensation of being on the move. He
walked as the monks walked, with hands folded inside their wide sleeves,
following one long corridor after another, nodding in solemn fashion to every
passing monk he met.

They
weren’t fooled, but he didn’t care. To Kerris, the game was everything.

The
inscriptions and carvings on the walls were intriguing. He had seen many in
similar caves during his lifetime of wandering, and invariably they all led to
some sort of treasure. He prided himself on his treasure-hunting ability, for
he always managed to bring back a trinket or two for the Empress or his mother
or the Queen Mother or Imperial Mother’s Mother. Because of him, they had
stores of treasures, some even dating back to the times of the Ancestors. A particular
favorite had been a small chest, smaller than a saddlebag, which once opened,
produced music. It was strange music, to be sure, not at all like the flat
wailing tones of the tomepipe, or the minor chords of the yangquin. No, this
was like the tinkling of bells, and the Empress had been thrilled. She had
financed his next journey. He had a pocket full of shark teeth and a single,
exquisite pearl, waiting for her in return.

He
was deep in the monastery now, utterly lost but not bothered for the earth here
was friendly, when he caught the faint echo of incense.

“Hmm,”
he mumbled to himself. “I wonder...”

The scent led him deeper, down a
dark curve in the corridor to a half-opened door. Outside that door, a leopard slouched
on a wooden stool, sword across his lap, sleeping. Kerris grinned as he sneaked
past. Kirin wouldn’t hear about this breach from him, hat was certain. It would
mean the guard’s head and Kerris had always maintained that heads worked much
better when attached to necks.

He
slipped into the room.

There were no torches burning, no
oil lamps, only a single flickering flame on a far table.

He
looked again.

Only
the flame. At the end of a wick. No candle.

“Alchemists,”
he snorted and removed his hood.

He was in the Chamber of the Dead.

“Hello? Hello,
sidalady
cheetah? Anyone home?”

There
was a rustle from behind and slowly out of the shadows, came Sherah.

Half-silhouetted
from the small flickering light, her long black hair cascading over her
shoulders, moving like a panther on the prowl, she was magnificent. He puffed
out his breath in awe.

“Sidala.”

“Sidi.
How may I help you?”

She
was still moving toward him.

“I
need your opinion.”

“Opinion?”

“Yes.
I had a little run in with a very unusual snake.”

“Snake?”

She
was directly in front of him now, sliding her strong hands up the folds of his
robe.

“Um, yes. Cobra, actually. Appeared
out of nowhere.”

“Nowhere?”
Up his throat, along his jaw...

“Yes.
We managed to dispatch it, of course. No harm done.”

“We?”...past
his temples, into his hair. He closed his eyes.

“Yes.
The Scholar and myself -
Aiya!”

“Tangles.
You need a brushing.”

“Sorry,
love,” he said, catching her wrists and dislocating her hands from his hair.
“Don’t even own a comb.”

“I
do.”

And suddenly, there was a brush in
her hand. He could have sworn it hadn’t been there seconds earlier.

She grabbed his robe-front and
hauled him over to one of the tables, the one with the odd, burning wick. She
pushed him onto the bench and climbed up to straddle his arms, pinning him from
behind. She sat on the table and began to brush.

“Strange
technique. They teach you this at
Agara’tha
?” he laughed, only half
joking. “So, um, as I was saying, about this cobra...”

“Yes. The cobra from nowhere.”

“The
very one. So, after we killed it, it disappeared. Dried right up before our
very eyes and blew away on the breeze.”

The bristles were hard, biting
against his scalp like claws, but oddly enough, the strokes felt good. She was
intoxicating and he was drinking her in.

“Your problem has a simple answer,
sidi.”

“Has
it?”

“Yes.
It has. The serpent was a vision.”

“A
vision?”

“A
vision. Consider this. We have come to the monastery of the Seers, where the
Gifts of Farsight and Vision have free rein over the souls of men. There are no
cobras in the Great Mountains. So, you see something that could not possibly be
seen which disappears from sight as quickly as it came. The answer is simple.
It was never there.”

“Never? Hm. Well, I’m not –
Aiy!”

Her
hand had twisted his hair, yanking his head back and chin up. She bent low over
him, bringing her face in very close to his and she hovered there for a long
moment, her mouth only a kiss away.

“Never.”

Their breaths were becoming one.

“Never?”

“Never.”
She inhaled him deeply and he felt lightheaded, emptied. “Never.”

And
with that, she rose from the tabletop, freeing his arms from the lock of her
legs and pushed him into the middle of the room.

“There. Your hair is much better.
Now go.”

“Right.
Go. I, I’m going.”

 
A very confused lion
stepped out of the Chamber of the Dead just as the final little wick was
snuffed out behind him. He scratched his head and glanced down at the sleeping
guard.

“Have
you any idea what I went in there for? Any idea at all?”

Naturally,
there was no response so Kerris shrugged and set off down the corridor, back in
the direction he had come.

***

“Well, this is hot.”

 
“Yes,
sidala,”
said
the Captain and he looked up at her. “That it is.”

Fallon Waterford was right. The
kitchens of
Sha’Hadin
were very hot. All seven hearths were roaring with
life, logs soaked in oil to keep them burning well into the night. Over every
fire, pots were bubbling and kettles were steaming, creating within the
high-roofed chamber a veritable rainforest of heat and humidity. Condensation
dripped from blackened beams and the stone floor was slick as if with dew.
Thick woolen blankets were everywhere.

With the help of Tiberius and the
kitchen staff, they had transformed the main galley into a Hiranian steam bath
in the space of three hours. Kirin nodded to himself as he prodded several logs
with an iron poker. It was almost unbearable, this heat, but necessary for the
ordeal which would be upon them all too quickly. He straightened from his
crouch and twisted his long thick hair off his neck. It didn’t help. He pushed
his sleeves up past his elbows, unlaced the heavy brigandine that covered his
chest and dropped it against a wall. Nothing helped. It was brutal.

With
a small smile, he saw that the Scholar had done the same, pulling her hair into
twin braids and loosening every article of clothing. She looked waterlogged but
eager and he admired her resilience.

An
equally soggy Tiberius was waiting beside her.

“Is
everything to your satisfaction, Captain? Do we need more blankets? More lamps?
I can have some sent up from stores.”

“No,
but thank you, Tiberius. This will have to do.”

“Very
good,
sidi.
I have sent for our
brother, Sireth, as you have asked.”

Again,
Kirin nodded and, with hands on hips, surveyed the room.

“I wish all the staff to be
elsewhere tonight. No one is allowed in these rooms until I give the order. Is
that understood?”

“Very
good,
sidi.”

He moved to leave.

“Not
you, Tiberius. I wish your counsel tonight.”

“I
would be honored.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirin
caught a flash of grey. He spun around.

“Kerris!”

“Don’t
mind me, Kirin,” called his brother from the entrance to the dining hall. “Just
popped in to grab another bit of that stew. But well since everyone’s so busy,
I think I’ll just go out and feed the horses. Right? Right.”

Quickly, Kerris disappeared from
view.

“Kerris!
Come here. Now.”

“Why?”

“Because
I said so.”

Eyes
rolling, feet dragging, Kerris shuffled back into the kitchen.

“What?”

“I
want you to stay with us tonight.”

“Why?”

Sighing, the Captain strode over to
his brother, grabbing him firmly behind the neck and ushered him off beside the
door. Still smiling, Tiberius turned his gaze away to one of the hearths.
Fallon, on the other hand, watched with interest, ears straining to hear scraps
of conversation. She had a sudden craving for her father’s popped rice.

“Kerris, a very important thing
will happen tonight,” began Kirin. “I wish you would take this a little more
seriously.”

“There’s
very bad kharma in this room, Kirin. It makes me nervous. Besides, the
horses—“

“There is more to life than horses,
Kerris. You can’t hide yourself away in stables forever. I need you here. I
need your help. Please.”

“But Kirin...”

“Perhaps you can reverse the bad
kharma, Kerris. We need all the help we can get.”

“If I knew how to reverse bad
kharma, Kirin, I would have done it for myself years ago.”

“Please?”

Reluctantly, Kerris trudged toward
the Scholar by the far wall. She cocked her head at him.

“So where were you all afternoon?”

“Oh,
here. There. You know.”

“You
smell of incense.”

“Do
I? And you look like you’ve gone swimming. And without me? I am wounded,
sidala.
To the quick.”

She huffed, but did not respond.

And suddenly, sharp angry clacking
filled the air and all eyes turned to yet another entrance to the kitchens,
where two figures were emerging. One very tall in swirling dark robes, the
other as slim and silver as the swords at her hip.

“Close the door behind you,” the
Captain ordered. “Close all the doors.”

One by one, seven great wooden
doors groaned on their hinges, coming to a close with muffled thuds as the last
of the kitchen staff left the room. The Seer did not pause, however but strode
up to face the Captain of the Guard. Perched on his left shoulder, the falcon
hissed in ill humor.

“Captain,
the Second Watch is almost upon us. We must meet it in the Hall of the Seers.”

“We
shall not meet the Second Watch in the Hall,
sidi.
We shall meet it here.”

“Here?
In the kitchens?” Sireth let his gaze wander over the dripping beams and raging
fires and pots of bubbling water. “Do you plan to cook me after I’m dead?”

“You
shall regret those words at first light of morning,
sidi.”

“I
sincerely hope so.”

Kirin
turned to look at all those assembled. His brow darkened.

“Where is the Alchemist?”

“I
am here,
sidi.”

A
shadow separated from the others in a corner of the room, and Sherah al Shiva
slid in to the firelight. No door had opened, and the room was windowless.
Kirin shook his head.

And
from somewhere, a gong sounded the beginning of the Second Watch.

***

Sireth benAramis eyed the chalice
and the murky liquids held within.

“Drink
that?
Captain, are
you serious?”

“I am always serious.”

“Yes,”
said the cheetah. “It should help.”

“How very comforting, Alchemist.”

He passed the falcon onto Tiberius’
waiting arm and with a deep breath, he snatched the stem from Sherah’s hand,
tossing the entire contents back in one gulp. He gagged instantly, drawing the
back of his hand to his lips to suppress a fit of coughing.

“That is absolutely
vile
.”

“Yes,” Sherah purred. “It is...”

“Um
Sherah, what ‘medicines’ are in that exactly?” asked Fallon, her stripes making
worried wrinkles on her wide forehead. “I mean, the Captain said, and I quote
– ‘Slow the heart, thicken the blood, dull the senses’ – I
remember, ‘cause I was there. I’m wondering what can do all that. I’d really be
interested in knowing the ingredients. That is, if it doesn’t violate some
secret Alchemist’s oath or anything...”