The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (53 page)

“So why are you here, Kerris?
Where is your brother?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I was…” He
paused, thinking, trying to remember why he was here in the first place. “I was
at the ocean, roasting some crabs…”

“The ocean?! Why the hell are you
at the ocean? I thought you were in Afghanistan?!”

“Yes, we were…I don’t know why I
was at the ocean. Perhaps it was a dream… The Seer was there…”

“Oh dear…” And he felt strength
sap from his body (not his body) and he leaned against the palanquin-type thing
for support. “This is impossible.”

For some reason, Kerris felt
sorry for Solomon, monkey or no. He was lost and alone, and needed a friend.
Certainly, he could pull himself out of his own funk to cheer the fellow up.

“So is that the
…Hum…hum…humland…”

“Humlander, yes it is. I think I
can get the thing working. It runs on solar cells, so if I can just roll it
outside, we might just be fine. Getting it outside, however, is another story.
I haven’t been outside yet, and I think there is significantly more overgrowth
than the techies projected.”

Kerris was quite confused, but
then again, there was nothing new in that. Quite a number of things were beyond
him. Even how he could be here, and yet not here at the same time confused him.
How a monkey could get so far beyond Imperial borders confused him. How he
could have been in
Khanisthan,
then
at the ocean, then
Swisserland.
Quite
beyond him
.

“Say, Solomon, how did you get
–“

Suddenly, he was snatched out of
this body with the force of a lightning bolt and sent tumbling back into
darkness, top over tail, spinning and falling, fast yet interminably slow and
dizzying, until he landed in his own body, deep in that sinking pit in the
earth. He gasped for air, which of course, there was none, and the shock of it
all caused tremors to start wracking his body and he couldn’t even cry out
because of it all, and suddenly, always suddenly, the ropes that bound his
hands yanked upwards, yanked his shoulders upwards, dragged his entire body
upwards along the filthy muddy walls and finally into the fresh clean air of dawn.

***

The sun sent yellow daggers into
the courtyard of
Sri’Daolath
and as
the Captain stood waiting, the entire regiment of soldiers lined before him in
perfect formation, casting shadows across the sand. Ursa had handed off their
weary horses into the care of the garrison stables, and stood at his side, tail
lashing in agitation. The Scholar and Alchemist stood even farther behind,
Fallon not entirely sure what she should be doing, Sherah plaiting coins into
her long black hair.

The commander
of the garrison stood in front of him, jaw set, shoulders squared, awaiting
what ever fate might be meted out at the whim of this Imperial Captain.

“Oh,” gasped
the Scholar, and Kirin looked up. Two guards were escorting Kerris and Sireth
towards the courtyard, and truth be told, they both looked terrible. Kerris had
one shoulder tucked under the Seer’s arm, supporting him as they walked, and if
he had to judge, Kirin would say that the Seer had seen the worst of it. In
fact, other than the blood, bruising and the mud, Kerris looked as if he had
spent the day at the beach.

He could tell
the Scholar was longing to rush up to the pair, but to her credit, she held her
ground. He himself was itching to rush to his brother’s side, check him over, fuss
like a hen over a lost and newly found chick, but he too held his stance, until
both men stopped directly in front of him. Despite a split lip and swollen eye,
Kerris smiled, still as brilliant as the sun.

And for the
first time in a very long time, Kirin felt the ease to smile back.

“Are your
injuries serious?” he asked the pair. The Seer was removing himself stiffly
from the grey lion’s care, and his good eye threw a glare at the Captain.

“Nothing that
a soft bed and hard drink won’t cure, Captain,” was the acerbic reply.

Kerris
laughed at that. “Make it two hard drinks and I’m good.”

“You will
demand reparitions?”

“What?”
Kerris was dumbfounded. “Reparitions? Why ever would we demand reparitions?”

“You are a
member of a Royal House. You have been grievously wronged. It is your right.”

“Oh, well… I
don’t know…”

“And you,
sidi?”

“Absolutely,”
growled the Seer.

“Good,” said
the Captain, and he stepped toward the Commander of the fort, and assumed a
stance to address not only him, but the entire company laid out before him
.

“Men of
Sri’Daolath
,” he began. “You are
soldiers to the very core, strong and loyal and true. You are here by choice,
defending a frontier few would deem defendable and that is a noble thing. An
important thing. An honorable thing. The Empress herself will know how
rigorously you defend these parts, she will know and she will be proud of the
men who serve in the garrison of
Sri’Daolath.”

There was a
murmured approval from the men. He waited until it had stilled.

“These are
dark and dangerous days. There are threats to the security of the Upper
Kingdom. Threats from the North, as the dogs continue to make forays into our
sovereign territory. Threats from the Southwest, as the
bab’Hundi
hoards persistently try the integrity of the
Aegypshan
Walls. Threats from rats,
threats from
Gowrain
, threats from
all manner of creatures that desire just a fraction of the glory that is ours
by birth, war and heritage. But there is a threat to our nation that is more
dangerous, more deadly, and more persistent than all these combined…”

He let his
words hang a moment, knowing each and every man was spellbound. He knew his
audience well.

“This one
threat does not emanate from without the Great Wall, and it is a threat that
resides here, right in the very heart and soul of
Sri’Daolath.
It is a threat that turns man against man, cat against
cat, and that is the threat of Presumption, a judging of the nature and the
quality of the blood. Men of
Sri’Daolath
,
it is your duty to carry out the law, and that alone. It is not yours to weigh
a cat’s measure on appearance or circumstance of his birth. Not the number of
spots on his pelt, or the lack thereof. When cat has turned against cat, than
we are no higher than the animals we subject, and we deserve to lose this Kingdom
to dogs, rats, bears or monkeys. In fact, when cat turns against cat, we all
but give the Kingdom over to them.”

There was
silence and wind.

“I will die
before I see our Kingdom lost by our own hand.”

With a deep
breath, he turned to Major Alexander Plantagenet-Khan. “Kneel.”

The man
obeyed, lowering himself to one knee, one hand on the ground, the other across
his thigh, tail stretched out behind him, head bowed. He was prepared.

“Oh no,”
Fallon gasped, and clutched at Kerris’ sleeve.

“Major
Alexander Plantagenet-Khan, this garrison is under your command, and therefore
all that goes on within these walls, and in the entire region of
Daolath’Yar,
is your responsibility. Do
you acknowledge this?”

“Yes sir.”

“As such, do
you accept the demands of reparition that these men claim upon the errors
committed under your command?”

“I do, sir.”

Kirin stepped
aside. “It is undeniable that Sireth benAramis has mixed blood. What is also
undeniable is the fact that he is the Queen’s Seer, one of the Council of Seven
from
Sha’Hadin.
You did not give him
that possibility.”
He handed the Seer
his long sword. “
Sidi,
reparition is
yours.”

Sireth
stepped forward, gingerly took the sword in one hand, bounced it in his palm as
if testing the weight, the balance, the grip. He raised the tip to his eyes,
then swung it in an arc, then another. He paused, raised a brow, turned
slightly to glance at the snow leopard.

“Major, your
sword, if I may?”

She snorted,
but gave it over, hilt first. Her eyes were sharp, her breathing swift. There
would be blood spilled, she was sure of it.

The Seer
tested this sword as well, in his left hand. Rolled it in a slow backward arc,
across the back of his hand. Did the same with the Captain’s, and then the
Major’s, again and then again, until there was a blur of blade and silver and
brown. In fact, he began to spin the sword, swing it over his shoulders next,
around his back, exchanging them hand for hand. It was a dance, man and sword,
and Kirin had to fight a smile, for the man was full of surprises.
Kenshi.
He should have known.

All eyes were
on the spinning blades until with a roar, they sliced down in dual arcs towards
the kneeling man’s neck and stopped, only a whisker above, quivering but
stilled.

No one was
breathing now.

Slowly, with
deliberate force of will, the last Seer of
Sha’Hadin
withdrew the blades, flipped the hilts in his hands and drove the points
deep into the earth at the man’s knee, the silver wavering back and forth in
front of his eyes.

“I am
satisfied,” said the Seer, and took several steps back to join the snow
leopard. She could not bring herself to look at him.

The Captain
smiled wryly. “At a dual of swords,
sidi?”

“Like a rug,
Captain.”

Kirin turned
to his brother. “Kerris?”

“Ah, yes. My
turn?”

Hands clasped
firmly behind his back, the grey lion ambled forward, frowned at the swords
still embedded in the earth. He looked around at the company, the soldiers and
the Seer, the Major and the Alchemist, the worried Scholar and his serious
brother, then he leaned over, bringing his face down very, very close to the
kneeling man’s.

“Kerris…” he
began slowly. “Balthashane…Wynegarde…Grey. That’s my name.” He straightened,
poked himself with a finger. “My name.”

And it was
over. Just like that. Reparitions had been meted and met. Kerris ambled back to
his crew, and the tigress gripped his arm tightly. He let her.

Kirin shook
his head, and when he spoke, it was soft and low, almost as if for the ears of
lions alone. “These men are honorable, are they not, Commander? They do not
repay evil for evil, dishonor with dishonor. It reveals much about a man’s
character how he handles the difficult turns in life. Yes, it says much…”

He raised his
voice. “However, I am charged with the security of the Empress and the defense
of her Kingdom. You will live to tell of this incident and you will tell it
truly, do you understand?”

The man did
not meet his gaze, but he nodded soberly.

“You will
tell them, because they will ask…” Kirin stepped to the lion’s side, pulled his
long sword from the earth, felt the blade flex and the leather mold into his
palm. “They will ask because they will see –“

He reached
for and took the commander’s topknot, the shiny twisted length of mane that is
the glory of all lions, and lion soldiers more so and with one small jerking
motion, he sliced it off and tossed it to the ground under the man’s nose.
There was not a breath anywhere.

He flexed his
grip and stepped away, just one step.

“They will
see and they will whisper –“ And again, two handed this time, one swift
slice, a downward arc, the blade tasting earth yet again, and the commander
choked back a cry, as the tuft of his tail was severed from his body, leaving
behind a twitching tawny shaft, devoid of elaboration, of significance, of
worth.

“They will
all whisper about your dishonor.” The Captain straightened and exhaled. “It
remains to be seen how you will handle that.”

He sheathed
his sword. “You are dismissed from this company, and from the Empire’s service.
Take your horse and personal possessions. Live long in peace but never return.”

No one moved.
Both Ursa and Sherah stood frozen, eyes gleaming at the show of authority in
such few moves. A man’s life, his career ended, all status removed with two
small slips of a blade. The rest of the garrison waited, disquieted and unsure
but subdued and all eyes were fixed on the lions in the courtyard of
Sri’Daolath.

The Commander
struggled to his feet. His dark hair, shorter now than Kerris’, swung into his
face but he made no move to brush it away. He was obviously in some pain, as
while the tuft on a lion’s tail has the appearances of just a puff of hair, it
is still connected by bone and sinew, muscle and tendon. This pain, however,
seemed to go much deeper.

He nodded,
bowed most formally, a feat considering the circumstances and stiffly strode
towards his barracks. Naturally, Kirin did not bow back and his blue eyes
scanned the company. “Who is second?”

A young
leopard stepped forward and bowed. “First Lieutenant Oswald al-Nagarwal, sir.”

Kirin nodded.
“The garrison is yours until the Empress sees fit to send you a lion. Until
then, run it honorably and run it well.”

“Sir.”

With a deep
breath, he turned to his party. “Time for tea.”

***

My dearest Empress,

There is only one thing I wish, for my life
is full and complete, and that one thing is to be allowed, just once before I
die, to call you by your name. It is the most beautiful name in all the
Kingdom, and not only that, but to speak it in your presence, and yours alone,
and that I might speak it again and again in the course of just one day,
without fear of what others might think or say or do. There is much to be given
and received in the speaking of one’s name.

But, perhaps that is three wishes. I am bold
to want so much.

Yours always and only,