The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (59 page)

She stared at him, not sure
whether she could trust him or not. He would say anything to make her happy.

The Alchemist reached up for her
satin pouch, which somehow seemed a little fuller than before, and brought it
down so she could see her face. True, it was a distorted, red version of her
face, but in it she could see the ‘difference.’ Her hair, which had flowed like
a waterfall from her forehead now leapt like white water, bending and curving
in many directions, curling in and over itself, and in the front, there were
two large streaks of white, pure white, that started at her hairline and bent
and curved and leapt to the tips. It was wild, untamed, dangerous. Not at all
her.

But it was her face that startled
her the most. Like her hands and feet, her face had significantly more white
than before. Around her eyes, nose and mouth, down her throat, the splashes of
white were now broad strokes of it, the orange almost secondary, and she looked
as though her father had been a white tiger. Her now white hand dabbed at it,
touched it, stroked it. It was so very different, and she found herself
suddenly grow weary in the wake of it.

“Sleep, little sister,” purred
the Alchemist, and her long strong hands pushed the tigress back down into the
cart. “Sleep and we will discuss these things later.”

“Five days?” the tigress mumbled
under her breath. “I’ve been asleep for five days. I can’t wait to tell
Kerris…”

And she slipped off to add to the
sum.

There was silence for a
heartbeat, before the Captain wheeled his great Imperial horse away from the
cart and bolted off into the desert.

***

Chancellor Angelino Devine de
Fusillia Ho slipped out of the great gold and blue doorway which was the
entrance to the chambers of the Empress. He closed the door quietly and stood
for a long moment outside in the corridor, his body waving ever so slightly as
if unstable.

Swiftly, methodically, he walked
down the long high-walled corridor, turned and turned again, down innumerable
corridors, down flights of stairs and through innumerable doorways, until
finally he pushed open one door, a black-stained cedar door which was the
entrance to his own chambers, not quite so great, not quite so holy, but his
own nonetheless.

Once inside, he stood for a long
moment before buckling to his knees. He laid hands flat on the floor, and
released breath after breath after breath.

He could not believe it.

He could not believe what she had
told him.

He could not believe he had lived
to see this day.

And he raised his hands to the
ceiling, a smile so wide splitting his already wide face and laughed a silent
laugh, disbelief and praise and thanksgiving all combined as in worship to the
Unknown God of fate and Irony.

The Empress, his dear, beloved,
wildly willful Empress, had agreed to marry.

The
Daraband
was packed that evening, as he sat at a table under one of
its many treed canopies. In fact, the trees in
TheRhan’s
northern business district formed a ceiling of branches
that swept from building to building like netting. Some unfamiliar trees were
flowering now, preparing for late summer fruit and the smell of them made the
night air heavy as with incense.He cupped a large bowl of hot tea and allowed
his eyes to roam the crowds, gritting his teeth at the sheer number of faces.
He had been waiting for some time now, in this packed and bustling
“underground’ marketplace, alone and growing impatient and he wondered how much
longer he would be able to control his rising temper.

With silent grace, a jaguar
slipped onto one of the stools next to him and Kirin looked up from his tea to
study him. A jaguar, one with seven rings on his left ear and very little left
of his right, a stud in one lip and several tattoos branded on his pelt. Older
than himself, younger than the Seer. Slight, steely, street-wise.

A possibility.

“You the Captain, then?” the man
asked, his accent rough and uneducated. Imperial was not his native tongue.
Kirin should have dismissed him at once. But there was something about his
eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “And you? Rhan
Agoyian?”

“Just Rhan. Where you going,
then?” Desert green eyes. Sharp, hard, intelligent.

“To
Shiryia.
The very edge of the Kingdom.”

“Why?”

“That is none of your concern.”

The jaguar named Rhan Agoyian
smiled and pulled out a flask of what was probably sakeh. He took a swig, gave
an exaggerated swallow, and turned those sharp eyes on the lion. “None of my
concern, is it? Then I guess I’m done here.” And he rose from the table, moved
to leave. The Captain reached for his arm.

“Please sit,
sidi.
It is Imperial business, but… I will tell you what I can.”

“Fair enough.”

The man sat back down. Waited.
Kirin took a deep breath, stared into his tea. The night was cooling down, the
nightlife heating up. Lanterns and candles and torches burned from every
crevice, and the smells of roasting meat, smoke and liquor floated on the
breeze. Someone was playing a lone setar, another a tey. There was laughter and
conversation everywhere. Most cats would love this. The Captain, however, was
not ‘most cats.’

Agoyian seemed to sense this. He
shrugged. “Right, listen. You don’t need to tell me nothing. I’m fine with
that. I’m very good at what I do. I can take you to the border, but I won’t go
beyond. That clear?”

“Yes.”

“You know my fee?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll not be accepting Imperial
promises. I have a wife and sons back home.”

“I understand.”

“Just answer me a few questions,
and we’ll have ourselves a deal.”

Another deep breath, a long sip
of tea. It felt good in his throat. “I will try.”

“You alone or you have a party?”

“There are 8 of us, plus horses.”

“All Imperials?”

“3 civilians.”

“You from
Pol’Lhasa
then?”

“Yes.”

“How’d you get this far without a
guide?”

His heart thudded once. Pushed
his emotions deep, deep down. “We had a guide. He is no longer with us.”

The jaguar smiled, but his eyes
did not. He leaned forward, wagged a hand in the air. He was wearing fingerless
gloves. He had black claws. “Now see that? That intrigues me. Why is your guide
no longer with you? He dead?”

“No.”

“Just gone, then.”

“Yes. Just gone.”

“A guide leading an Imperial
party, being paid with Imperial coin, just up and leaves. Funny how that
happens.”

“Yes. Funny.”

“How many you start off with,
then?”

Kirin sighed. The evening had
turned to dusk, the sky almost black above the branches. The torches glowed
golden and warm. He felt heavy, like a stone. “Fourteen.”

“Ah. So 5 dead, one just gone.
That about right?”

“Yes. That’s about right.”

“Must be an important trip, to
lose so many and still keep going.”

The man was sharp. Kirin would
give him that. “Yes.”

“Does it have to do with the
star, then?”

Kirin’s eyes snapped up and he
cursed himself for the lack of self-control.
Damn, but he was tired.
He had just told the man everything.

Another smile spread across the
jaguar’s face, and this time, his eyes followed. He slapped the table with the
flat of his palm, glanced around at the fellow drinkers and ‘businessmen’ in
the
Daraband’s
underground market and
then back to the lion sitting next to him.

“I’m in then. But I have
conditions. You agree to my conditions, and I’ll lead you wherever you want to
go. Got that?”

“I do.”

“Half down – I pick it up
tomorrow morning. The other half left at the Governor’s residence for my wife
to collect on the day of the Ghost Festival, you know, in case I become your
seventh.”

“Seventh?”

“Ghost.”

Finally, Kirin met his gaze.
Weighed him, measured him, understood him.

“Those are acceptable terms,
sidi.
We will be leaving in two
mornings, at dawn.” He rose to his feet, his tattered golden sash lifting in
the night breeze. The jaguar grinned.

“That sash, its seen better days,
yeh?”

“As have I,” Kirin managed to
grin back. “Good night,
sidi.
Be
well.”

And he left the crowds and the
canopies and the questions but took the stone with him.

***

The long sun-filled corridor was
filled with the sounds of sharp angry clacking and Sireth turned before
knocking on the door.

“Major, please. Just one moment
more.”

“We have wasted already too much
time. There is no need for sleeping on a morning like this. We should be outside.”

“Major, I have spent more time
outside these past months than all the time in my life. Besides, I am far too
hot to go outside. I’d rather be hot and miserable inside for a change.”

“It is not that hot and you are
lazy.”

“Sometimes. And I shall be lazy
for one more moment. Just…just …please
wait.”

Ursa sighed and folded her arms
across her chest, but to her credit, she leaned against the gold-painted
plaster to wait. Sireth turned to rap gently on the door.

Sherah al Shiva opened it.

“Sidi?”
she purred.

“Are you going into town,
sidala?”

Golden eyes narrowed, looked back
into the room, then back again. “Yes, I believe I will be going into town,
sidi.”

“Good,” said Sireth. “Go now.”

Behind him, Ursa snorted.

The golden eyes grew like steel.
“I do not wish to leave the Scholar. She is still walking in circles.”

“I will take care of the Scholar,
sidala.
Please leave this room now,
or I will wring your neck and stuff you out that big window there. We will
pretend to look for you for a few days, but finally we will give up and
continue our travels in peace.”

Ursa snorted again.

The cheetah’s tail lashed once,
but she quickly composed herself and slipped past the Seer and out into the
Governor’s ornate hall. Sireth stepped into the room she had vacated, turning
back one last time.

“Oh, and be sure to bring back
opium. Lots and lots of opium.” He smiled at her, but his expression was
anything but pleasant.

She nodded. “Of course,” and
padded away, Ursa’s ice blue eyes watching her go.

***

His heart broke when he saw her.

“Khalilah,”
he said softly.

She was sitting on the floor,
back against a rich plum-stained wall, arms clasping her knees. Her eyes were
rimmed with red, for she had been weeping.

He knelt beside her, reached out
to brush a now-white lock of hair from her face. She looked up at him, tears
brimming until they spilt over her lashes and down her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she
moaned. “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

“What could you have done?” he
asked. “We needed you to become well again, and knowing this would not have
been helpful. Would it?”

“It’s my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault –“

“No,” she was insistent. “He
wanted to go. He said he needed to find his brother. I wouldn’t let him go. It
was my fault. The Captain should have punished me.”

“Khalilah,”
he sighed. He didn’t know what else to say. She had
been inconsolable for days now, since she’d found out.

“It wasn’t his fault. The Captain
shouldn’t have sent him away. It was wrong.”

“I know, but the Captain believes
he was doing the right thing.”

“Well, he wasn’t. I hate him.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. I hate him so much.
I’ve never hated anyone before now. I don’t like it. I don’t like how it makes
me feel. But I hate him. I do. And when I can walk straight, I’m leaving too.”

He saw his opportunity and took
it. “So you are still not walking straight?”

She took a deep breath, swallowed
a few times and shook her head. “Nope. It’s like my right leg is longer than my
left. I keep going in circles. I get dizzy.”

He smiled.

“Sherah checked. My legs are
exactly the same length. Exactly the same! So why am I going in circles?”

“Perhaps I can help?”

“Do you think so?”

He shrugged. “I can try.” He
pulled at the fingers of his gloves, laid them in right angles on the tiled
floor at his knees and slipped his hands into her hair, thumbs to temples,
cradling her skull.

She gasped, and he felt the
struggle of fear and, but he shushed her. “Breathe,
Khalilah,
just breathe. We will restore your balance…”

And so she relaxed, trusting
herself completely and literally, into his hands.

He found her heart, steadied it’s
beating, found her lungs, filled them slowly, deliberately with cool morning
air then released, filled and released, filled and released, cleansing with
each breath, washing away the fears, the anxieties, the furies, releasing and
cleansing with each and every breath. She was imbalanced but not in her legs
and he found that too, correcting and restoring and straightening crooked paths
and crooked thoughts and broken thoughts and broken hearts at broken roads. He
did not open the memory of lightning but saw again the vision of kittens, grey
striped kittens, was tempted to share it with her but refrained, for then there
was also a vision of water, very big water and of man.

He released her and sat back.

“Um, I…I feel better,” she said.
“Thanks.”

He smiled. “Stand up. See if you
can walk.”

She did, pulling herself up and
stretching her arms over her head and then yawned so that her tongue curled
inside her mouth. She took a step, and then another, and then another.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Look! I’m
going straight!”

And she did, very straight toward
the window, spun on her heel, very straight back toward him. Turned in a
circle, performed a little bow, held a hand out for him. Smiling, he pulled on
his gloves and accepted her hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet. She
hugged him.

And he kissed her on the
forehead. “Now, how would you like to accompany the Major and I into the heart
of
TheRhan?
I hear they have
wonderful markets. Perhaps we can find a kz’laki or… a bookshop?”

She grinned, pushing the curvy
white-streaked locks from her forehead. She still wasn’t used to it and it’s
new texture, and it kept falling into her face. “Sounds great. Let’s go.” She
offered him an arm and he took it, and together, they headed for the door.

Rather, they tried to head for
the door.

The Seer was leaning as he
stepped, tilting leftwards, almost as if his right leg were longer than his
left. Almost as if he were walking in circles.

***

The rest of that day was spent as
if the Tao wheel had been flipped, as if black was white, Yin was Yang and
everything was turned on its ear.

The Captain of the Guard spent
the day tending horses.

The Major took her pupil, the
Scholar, to the markets and purchased for her a dagger, a short sword and two
kz’lakis.

The Seer sat on the roof of the
Governor’s residence to try to reestablish his balance and cure himself from
walking in circles.

Their new guide, Rhan Agoyian,
spent the day with Rhajni, his wildly clever wife of seventeen summers and his
four wildly clever sons.

The Alchemist did not, in fact,
go to the marketplace, but rather spent the day in a second storey alcove
overlooking the stables, casting lots and drawing with chalks and for the first
time in her life wishing she were someone she was not.

And Path, the falcon, perched
high above them all, on the peak of a minaret that towered above the city,
watched and waited and somehow knew that, of the ten of them that would be
leaving in the morning, only three would be returning.

***

Kirin Wynegarde-Grey had never
considered himself good at reading people.

Yes, he was a leader of men. He
knew how to command armies of soldiers, how to negotiate treaties with nations,
how to win cooperation within Imperial ministries and how to secure compliance
in individuals. But that was generally due to his complete and utter confidence
in the Bushido, how it compelled peoples of all races and natures to its code
of honor and justice. The Bushido gave order, created peace, made sense. People
never did.

And yet, for all his lack of
‘people skills’, somehow he knew that this jaguar, Rhan Agoyian, liked to live
his life on the edge of a blade.