Authors: H. Leighton Dickson
It
was barbed and acerbic, this banter of theirs, and it made Fallon nervous
inside. Whenever two lions argued, she had heard tell, it frequently ended
badly for one. These two had been sparring since the beginning, and she kept
waiting for the flash of claw or show of steel that would inevitably signal the
challenge. She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t happened yet.
“Now
third level would be a possibility,” the Seer continued, “If you were prepared
to be completely open to my Sight. I would know everything about you, every
thought, every memory, every secret, every right and every wrong. Likewise, you
would know the same about me. Are you prepared for such revelation?”
The
Captain ground his molars.
“Level Two should suffice for
tonight. I simply wish to determine if Solomon is still alive.”
“Fair
enough. Give me your hands. We shall begin.”
***
She was magnificent.
In fact, Kerris was not alone in
his observations, for the entire tavern was spellbound. She danced for them all
in the middle of the room, its beaded curtains and satin pillows and smoky
incense-pots a fitting stage for such an exotic show. Somehow, the laces at her
throat and chest had loosened, and her belly flashed against the blackness of
leather. She used her cloak as a veil, hiding and teasing with glimpses of gold
and her hips swayed with the oboe, tambour and hurdy-gurdy rhythms. The patrons
were from all Races, some jaguar, some tiger, some not-quite-certain, and from
all walks and stations as well. But even with such a large, appreciative
audience, she danced for Kerris, and Kerris alone. He lay across a cushion,
entranced.
The
music ended and she fell to the floor, folded backwards on her knees, her face
only inches from his, her lips parted, breath rushing, mixing with his. Upside
down, he kissed her and the tavern cheered.
The
spell was over and the music started up once more, this time a new dancer
taking the floor. The Alchemist rolled over and propped herself up on the
cushion next to the grey lion. She declined an offer of wine from a passing
leopard, opened her palm to show Kerris the gold coins held within.
“Well,”
he grinned as he took another gulp of his ale. “We could go into business, you
and I. You are an alchemist, a magnificent dancer and apparently, a thrifty
little businesswoman as well.”
“And
you?”
“Inspiration?”
“Of
course.”
She smiled and, slipping her hands
into his unruly hair, she kissed him again. He felt his head spinning, his
thoughts leaving in a swirl of incense and passion and truth be told, he didn’t
care overmuch. She tasted good on his tongue, and he was tired of this journey,
tired of his brother, so very tired.
The
tavern door slammed open, chill night winds gusting over the floor and snuffing
many of the candles. Grumbles and snarls could be heard from the tavern’s
patrons, and sharp angry clacking filled the room. A white fist grabbed
handfuls of grey mane, yanking the lion’s head back so that his teeth cracked
against the cheetah’s. He yelped.
“OW!
Ow! Let go! Ursa, by the Chancellor’s beard, let go!”
She
flung her hand away, as if it had been touching a scorpion.
“They have shut the gate, fool.
Your brother wants you back.”
Kerris
shook his head, tried to shake away the vertigo that had suddenly threatened to
overcome him. The Alchemist was already on her feet, cloak draped over her
figure, eyes gleaming at him from under the hood. He wasn’t entirely certain
what had just happened, but he didn’t like the way Ursa was lookng at him.
“Right. Right, let’s go.”
He rose to unsteady feet, began to
sink back down. The Major grabbed his arm with remarkable force.
“You
are drunk! Pathetic.”
“I
don’t believe I am drunk. Am I?”
He looked to Sherah, but she was
already gone, a whisper of black in the crowd. A shadow crossed his line of
vision.
“Our
friend don’t want to leave, Little Sparrow.”
It was a common accent, spoken from
a common tiger, but he was definitely uncommon in his bulk. In fact, Kerris had
only seen two or three men of that size in his lifetime and now that man had
squared off against the Major, looming over her like a behemoth over a
ladybird. “
He’s paid for our drinks, he has,
and we likes his company.”
“And
we likes his dancer,” jeered another voice.
“Get
out of my way,” the Major hissed, her pale eyes slivers of glass.
Kerris held up his hands. “One more
round, then and we’re off. Right? Now, where’s my package?” He glanced around
the cushions. “Anybody seen my package?”
“See?
He don’ts wants to leave. He wants to stay. Little Sparrow should goes home to
their own man, push their own around for a time. Leave our friend be.”
“I
said get out of my way.”
“Ah,
there it is. Right, let’s go—”
“Maybe
Little Sparrow can dance too, eh, like the raven?” The tiger moved in closer,
reached his thick fingers to touch her silver hair. “Maybe Little Sparrow dance
for me.”
Kerris
winced and looked away, for he knew it was coming. It was like a child winding
a spring too tight and waiting with terrified glee for the thing to suddenly
snap. Only with Ursa Laenskaya, the snapping was a matter of fact and there was
nothing evenly remotely gleeful about it. She was savage. Her bootheel was a
blur as she hop-kicked in place, sending his huge chin snapping back over his
spine and his great bulk reeled on top of several patrons on cushions. His
companion roared and lunged for her arm, grabbing her and swinging her towards
him. It was a foolish move, for she let him swing her, harnessing his strength
and adding it to her own. Her knee caught him mid-chest, her palm into the
bridge of his wide nose and she landed lightly. He, however, added his body to
the pile of tiger on the floor and did not move to get up.
“Little
Sparrow says no dancing today,” said Kerris as he bundled his package under his
arm and grabbed for one last gulp of ale. Ursa whirled on him and he scrambled
to the door before she could do him any harm.
***
two breaths, merging, two
heartbeats mingling, beating together, united as one, one heartbeat, one
breath, one blood coursing through two bodies, one
Kirin fought the rush of panic as
his every movement, every inner working, fell in with the Seer’s. He had never
enjoyed the loss of control in any area of his life, and this was no different.
It was suffocating, this
AhmniShakra,
but at the same time, strangely
exhilarating, as though he was allowing himself to fall and be caught by
another. Even at this second level, he was out of his depth.
Hush,
said a voice,
focus your thoughts, Breath and Heartbeat, these are your
masters
He
obeyed, quieting his misgivings and surrendering to the single breath, in and
out, and the single heartbeat beat beat that controlled them both. He sank deep
into himself, into the very heart of
Bushido
and deeper still. With a
wonder he had rarely experienced, he felt his soul open like a flower.
Good, said the voice, but no
thoughts now, just be
???
Be
It
required all of his discipline to
just be
like this. Under normal
circumstances, his controlled exterior masked a sharp, active thought-life, the
plannings and overseeings of so many trivial and not-so trivial events that
made up his days. His career was founded on this very ability, to be mindful of
everything, to do what needed to be done when needed and to delegate the rest.
But this place, quiet and peaceful as a candle-lit cavern, was also known to
him. It was perhaps, the very source of his strength. It was, at once, heart
and soul and will, the centre of his being.
Be-
ing.
He
felt a wash of good humour. From himself or the Seer, he could not tell, but he
surrendered all the more, tempted for the briefest of moments to ask for level
3. He felt himself pull back from it, however, knew the Seer felt it too.
Instead, he focused all the more on the shared heartbeat, the shared breathing
and found himself pushing against the Seer’s soul to keep him out.
Suddenly,
that soul disappeared.
It
was very much like the sensation of falling through the ice on the
Shi’pal,
one moment strong and solid, the next simply gone. He found himself falling,
falling into a space of nothing, and even the panic could not pull him out. For
the briefest of moments, he could not breathe, was certain his heart had
stopped too until, as with the
Shi’pal,
he resurfaced, chest aching,
head spinning and he knew in an instant he was not in the tower at
Lhahore.
Far
from it. He was in Swisserland.
***
“Open the gate.”
The sentry guard in the gatehouse
of
Lhahore
peered out through his tiny window.
“Impossible. Go home.”
Major Ursa Laenskaya curled her
hands into fists at her side.
“We are with the Imperial party
traveling the Wall. We must rejoin our Captain.”
“In
the morning.”
“No.
Now.”
“Sorry,
sidala.
I would be my head if I open
the gate.”
“It
will be another part if you don’t.”
Behind her, Kerris leaned on the
arm of the Alchemist and laughed.
“You are truly terrifying, Ursa my
love. Scare him some more. Just for me.”
Her hand fell to the short sword,
the kodai’chi at her side and for a moment, Kerris actually thought she was
going to gut him. Instead, she bent low and charged the wooden gate that walled
the city. With only the light of the moon to guide her steps, she sprinted and
Kerris almost closed his eyes to avoid the sight of her crashing. Before she
hit, she coiled and sprang, swinging her short blade in a fierce arc, the momentum
carrying her high. The sword stabbed the rough wood and she held fast, drawing
her boots underneath her. Again, she sprang and again she swung, sprang and
swung until she perched atop the gate, hawk-like, under the arched lintel.
She
tossed her sword down at their feet.
“Next.”
Sherah
al Shiva picked it up, turning it in her long, strong hands as if to scry its
magic. Then, she too sprang upwards, her lithe body scaling the gate like a
serpent, long tail whipping beneath her for balance. Soon she too was
straddling the gate, smiling her inviting smile and willing him up beside her.
She tossed him the sword.
Kerris
picked it up, touched the tip with the point of a finger and winced.
“Well now,” he mused. “This looks
far too tough for such a spoiled, insignificant excuse for a lion as myself.”
“Hah.
I thought as much.”
“’
Two
lovely ladies sitting on a gate, One filled with passion, the other filled with
– ‘
well, you know...”
He grinned and slipped the sword
into his boot. He began to back away.
“
’One lonely lion, what’s he
going to do?”
Ursa
glared down at him.
“Get back here, you idiot.”
“Find himself a bar and drink
himself a brew!’”
“Get back here!”
“What? Can’t hear you, my love.
You’re too far up.” And he continued to saunter backwards. “Tell Kirin I’ll see
you all in the morning. Night night!”
He bumped into something and turned
around.
He looked up and up into the
glowering face of a very big tiger and a very large fist came rushing into view
and Kerris remembered little else for the rest of the night.
***
Bright light, garish and white,
flashed across walls of dark moving pictures, walls of moving, flashing greens
and yellows and alarm-reds. He could see fingers -
not his
fingers
- pale and pelt-less, drumming on a steel grey table before moving with many
little, sharp motions over surfaces he could not fathom. He felt himself take a
deep breath -
not
his breath
- and push that pelt-less hand into
his hair -
not his
hair
. He cocked his head -
not
his
head
- and looked out into the garish light.
“Hello?”
Solomon.
“Whoa,
this is different. Cap, is that you?”
Yes
Solomon.
“Uh,
okay. This is wierder than before, you know. This time it feels like you’re in
my head.”
I
may be. It is strange for me too. But we have not heard from you-
“I
know. Sorry. I wasn’t sure if I was worth having you people trek all the way
from Nepal to find a corpse.”
Ah.
You are well, then?
“Sort
of. Alone, though. Most definitely alone. All my people are dead.”
I
am sorry. How many were there?
“2000
subs - sleepers, that is. And 6 of us supers.”
Supers?
“Supervisors. We were supposed to
run the place. We were supposed to be in charge.”
What happened?
“I
don’t know. I think we’ve been down here a lot longer than we were supposed to
be.”
How
long were you...supposed to...be down there?
“Don’t
worry about that. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. But I think there’s been a
malfunction in the satellite. It’s not responding.”
Saddle-light?
“Never
mind. It’s too complicated to give you a tech lesson right now, especially if
you’re at the level I think you’re at.”
I
am at level two for the moment. It seems good enough.
“Huh.
Right. So where are you guys now?”
We
are in a battle tower above the trade town of
Lhahore
in the province of
Phunh’jah.