The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (56 page)

Sherah al Shiva watched quietly,
golden eyes fixed on the movements of the Captain. She said nothing, merely
watched, plaiting many thin braids in her long dark hair and humming in
strange, exotic keys.

Kerris was on his back, looking
at the clouds.

Ursa smacked him. “Watch and
learn, idiot. It’s your turn next.”

“Why should I fight when I have you,
my love?”

She was about to smack him again,
when the sound of a strike echoed through the little clearing and even Kerris
rolled over on his belly to see.

They had begun.

The Captain had hit first, a
ginger slap of the long sword, blade turned flat in case he actually hit his
target. Wounding the Seer would have been satisfying, poetic justice even, but
ultimately unprofitable, and he knew he would have to make adjustments to his
fighting to ensure there would be no blood. His first strike was easily rebuffed
by a swing of the staff, the hard bamboo making a loud snapping sound
throughout the clearing.

The Seer smiled.

Grinning, the Captain advanced.
Swing, block, strike, parry, they continued thus for several minutes, tentative
at first then growing more sure, the Seer evading all attempts at a blow,
before one end of the staff rebounded off the short sword and flipped to crack
the Captain on the side of the head.

“One point for the Seer,” laughed
Kerris.

“Very well,
sidi,”
said Kirin, rubbing his head with his palm. “I shall no
longer go so easy on you.”

“As you wish, but there is only
one way to beat a rug,” purred the Seer, and his confidence boiled Kirin’s
blood. And so he began again, more quickly now, swinging both long and short,
his movements precise, his skill undeniable. The Seer was forced back, and back
again, and it was only a matter of time before the long sword sliced a thin
ribbon of red by the left side of the Seer’s face, just under the infamous
scar.

“One point for the Captain,” said
Ursa, gloating.

Sireth dabbed his cheek. “That
was close, Captain.”

“I will not hurt you…
much
,
sidi.”
He turned toward the ‘students.’ “The Seer is blind in his
left eye. Therefore, it is a weakness. In any battle, it is not only prudent
but important, to use an opponent’s weakness to your advantage. It could mean
your life.”

The Seer was staring at him, head
cocked, like a falcon.

“Sidi,”
asked the Captain, gripping his blades, stepping back into
the fighting stance. “You have a comment?”

“No. No. Not at all. But thank
you for reminding me of somethings I had forgotten.” And that said, he grabbed
the staff with both hands, assumed the bo stance, and closed his eyes.

Kirin’s heart sank.

It was breathtaking how they went
at it, Captain and Seer, lion and mongrel, pure form and rough art and mutual
skill, as each and every blow from either sword was met with an equal block
from the staff. It was as if the Seer knew his movements ahead of time, which
of course could have been true, given his gifting. Things grew fierce in very
short order, as if all pretense of care had been cast aside and the lust for
battle assumed control. In fact, Ursa became very aware of the increasing
intensity, as she knew her Captain well, and she began to wonder if they had at
some point crossed a line and this ‘demonstration’ had become something more,
perhaps an assumption of the challenge made and accepted so many months
earlier. She wondered if there might not be blood spilled after all.

The Seer seemed to press the
attack onto the Captain’s left, causing him to brace and pivot on the knee that
had been damaged by the rats. Ursa had to admit it was a good strategy, for she
could see the strain on her Captain’s face. Still, after several long claw-biting
minutes, it was clear that the lion had the advantage, being younger, stronger
and in his prime as a soldier, and finally, after both swords and staff had
locked impossibly in perfect balance, the Seer staggered backwards, and dropped
down on one knee, panting.

He laid the bo onto the grass,
out of breath. He smiled. “I yield.”

A cheer went up from the group,
as secretly they all needed the Captain to win. They were all dependent on him
for their very lives. He needed to prove himself in this arena, and naturally,
he had. It was the way of things, and for once, the ‘way of things’ felt very,
very good.

The Captain, on the other hand,
shook his head and extended a hand. “No,
sidi.
It is a draw.”

The Seer raised a brow.
“Preservation of honor?”

“Of course.”

“Unnecessary. But thank you.”

And the Seer accepted the offered
hand and was pulled to his feet. As one, they bowed to each other, fist to
cupped palm, and another cheer rang out from the group. Fallon Waterford jumped
to her feet and turned to the snow leopard.

“You can teach me to fight like
that?”

“You?” Ursa grunted. “You are
hopeless.”

“Teach me now. Right now. Give me
a lesson right now. Please, oh please!”

Ursa crossed her arms and
appraised the eager tigress. She made a sarcastic noise in the base of her
throat. Her long marbled tail whapped the ground once, twice, three times.
“Very well. I will give you a lesson. If you fail, you will wash all the tack
and
the horses. Do you understand,
little tigress?”

Eagerly, Fallon nodded her head.

“Very well. Mountain pose. Arms
at your sides. Weight evenly distributed on both your feet. Knees slightly
bent, head up, chin out. Perfectly straight and balanced.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I’ve got it.
Now what?”

Ursa appraised once more. “Now
stand.” And with that said, she turned her back and walked away towards her
Captain and her charge.

“Stand?” called the Scholar. “For
how long?”

The snow leopard did not turn.
“Until I say.”

Unfortunately for Fallon
Waterford, Scholar in the Court of the Empress, the snow leopard did not return
for some time.

***

That day had promised to be a
perfect day.

In fact, if ever a day could be
promised as a perfect day, that day could have been it. The morning had begun
with a remarkable fight between lion and mongrel, to a draw no less. The horses
had grazed then hunted down, cornered and killed a big desert mountain sheep,
which the cats had roasted and shared with feline and equine hunters alike. The
Alchemist had found a bee’s hive and raided it for it’s precious stores,
filling skin after skin of the sticky combs. Kerris had slipped in and out of
the hot springs like a turtle slips in and out of the swamps. And Fallon, poor
over-eager Fallon, stood. Just stood. From early morning to well past noon, she
stood, fearful of the Major’s wrath, aching from tip to tail from holding the
position. No one inquired of her, for they knew her well enough. Indeed, it was
approaching supper and still, she stood.

The Seer was meditating atop an
outcropping of rock, knees folded, arms loose while the falcon slept in a
crevice higher up. From here, he could see the vast expanse of flatness that
was the desert province of
Hiran.
It
was flatter still that
Khanisthan,
flatter and yellower and even more tea-stained than ever. But you could see
anything coming toward you, whether it be storm cloud or caravan, behemoth or
army. Truly, some things were an advantage.

He opened his eyes.

It was growing golden-dim, the
strange sunlight dwindling for hours before true sunset, most unlike jungle or
the Great Mountains. A wind had picked up, and clouds had begun to gather, and
the Seer had the sense of rain. Of storms, actually, although he was no
Geomancer. It was likely only age that sent the aching through his bones.

Of course,
he thought to himself,
it could also be the beating he had received this morning at the hand
of the Captain.
That, he decided, would be with him for days.

Slowly, he became aware of eyes
watching him.

“Yes, Major?” he asked. He
enjoyed the way she was looking at him.

She was poised as if to spring.
“You did well with the bo this morning.”

“Yes.”

“You learned this at the
monastery?”

“Yes.”

“You were trained in the sword as
well.” It was not a question.

“Yes. But I do better with the
staff.”

“Are you sha’Holin?”

“No. Simply Seer.”

“Hm.”

He studied her in the fading
sunlight, her narrowed eyes, so pale, so skeptical, her tiny mouth, pursed in
thought. Her wild curtain of hair, silver and marbled like rough fabric,
lifting and falling in the rising wind. Yes, he thought. A storm was coming.

And suddenly, without warning,
she sprang. Like a falcon diving for a hare, or a carp leaping for a dragonfly,
she was upon him, pinning him to the ground and being the monk that he was, he
did not resist, merely fell back under her to the hard rocky ground. Her arms
were steel cords, her tail lashing, her long straight hair covering his face
and shoulders. Her eyes were fierce, pupils wide, and he feared for a brief
moment that she was about to finally kill him.

Instead, she kissed him.

It was a fierce kiss, more teeth
than anything, and it was done before he even knew what to think. She withdrew
back into a crouch, eyeing him, tail lashing in agitation.

He propped himself up on his
elbows to study her. His lip was bleeding and he wiped it with his glove. He
glanced from her to the glove and frowned.

“What…was that?” he asked.

“Idiot. That was a kiss. Not like
you would know.”

“A kiss? That is not like any
kiss I’ve ever had before…”

“Pah. I am not surprised.”

“That was more like an assault.”

He had still made no move to get
up.

“What would you know?”

“I would know a kiss given in
love.”

“Idiot. There is no love.”

“There is only desire and the
sorrow that it brings.”

“Yes.”

He cocked his head.

“Oh yes my wild Empress, there is
desire. And there is sorrow. But there are many many other things. And there is
indeed love.”

“Brahmin.” She spat the word.

He smiled. “Untouchable.”

“That too.”

“I meant you.”

She snarled, and he braced
himself for another ‘kiss’, but it did not come. He rolled up and onto his knees.
First his cheek this morning, now his
lip.
Would he come through this journey with pelt intact? “Come closer.”

To his great surprise, she
obeyed.

“Closer.”

And still she came. They were
knee to knee.

The sky was purple now, leaving
the pink behind in streaks near the earth, last tendrils from the golden light
of the sun. High above them, the falcon chirruped, awake and aroused from the
disturbance and just beginning to think about mice, rabbits, pigeons and her
stomach.

“If
…I loved you,” began Sireth, “I would kiss you very
differently.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Yes,” he continued, pulling at
the fingers of his gloves, one by one. Her breathing changed but her expression
did not. “I would be very deliberate and very careful when I kissed you. And
when I say ‘careful’, I mean, ‘full of care’, like this…”

Gloveless hands slipped to her
chin, gently cupping her jaw as one might cup an egg or tiny bird. His thumbs
caressed her cheeks, stroking the silver hairs downward, with the pelt, and he
marveled at her softness. He bent forward, leaning in to kiss first one brow,
then the other. She closed her eyes as he kissed first one lid, then the other.
She held her breath as he kissed first one cheek, then the other. His lips
moved to hers but did not touch, hovering for a heartbeat, two heartbeats,
waiting for her, waiting…

There.

He released her and sat back,
exhaling a deep cleansing breath.

“That... is how I would kiss
you,” he said, smiling at her.
“If
I
loved you.”

Ursa sat very still for some
time, weighing him in the ice blue measure of her eyes, before pushing to her
feet. “I must go release the Scholar.”

And she turned on her
precariously high boot heels and marched off, leaping and leaping again down
the rounded sides of the bluff.

Once again, Sireth sighed. “Oh
Petrus, I am such a fool. What in the Kingdom am I to do now?”

Naturally, the only answer was
the howl of the wind as the clouds began to block out all traces of sun.

***

Kirin smiled as he watched the
leopards, sitting round the small fire, drinking tea, chatting and laughing
amongst themselves. Wing, Luke and Oded. He was sure those were their names.
Only three of them left now. Just three from eight and he felt his heart sink
at the loss. He rarely lost those under his command, but then again, his was
rarely a battlefield or combat zone. No, he was more diplomat than soldier.
Both stations required trust, intelligence, strategy and skill. Fortunately, he
had those in abundance.

He smiled as he watched Ursa
storm down from the bluffs – odd, the Seer was not with her – and
she cast about looking for the Scholar. He himself had released the pitiful
creature. She had stood in the same position for almost an entire day. Her
muscles were bound to be aching from the trial. He knew she had headed straight
for the hot springs, and while he hated even the suggestion of getting wet, he
did know for a fact that, if a cat could put up with the indignity, hot springs
could do more to sooth sore muscles than anything. He would have to tell Ursa
or she would never forgive the tigress for her ‘failure’ and she would spend
the rest of the journey cleaning tack.

He did not smile however, as he
looked up at the clouds directly overhead. The little canyon was boxed in all
three sides by cliffs, which obliterated most of the sky above, but he could
tell there was a storm coming. Judging from the color and cloud, it would hit
sometime tonight, and he was glad they had set up the tents. Kerris himself had
warned him of the oncoming gale – there would be lightning and he would
need to get his brother nestled deep in his bedroll before it struck. This
storm was expected, therefore could be controlled. Kerris was, in his heart of
hearts, a co-operative cat.