The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (60 page)

He arrived before dawn of the
second morning, set about to inspect the horses that had been housed in the
Governor of
Hiran’s
fine stables. The
Governor had prided himself on being quite the horseman, and Agoyian
immediately identified the Captain’s horses from the rest.

One of the first things he said
upon his arrival that morning was that none of the Captain’s horses were
‘pretty.’

Kirin hoped that was meant as a
compliment, as even the remaining Imperial horses were taking on the lean,
hardened look of the desert ones. Here in the stables, he himself had taken the
opportunity to roach manes, trim fetlocks, bind tails, inspect hooves,
everything Kerris had done these past months and he had even commissioned a
full-body massage for each and every animal, as nothing soothed weary muscles
like the feline touch. The Major’s grey mount was slipping again, its breathing
growing raspy and wet once more, and he debated leaving it behind, but she was
insistent that they at least take it with them, allowing it to follow without
saddle. She would ride one of the desert horses, and she had picked out for
herself a fine blue roan with a white snip on the end of its tiny muzzle. They
were strange looking, indeed, but he had to admit they had their strengths.

They had lost a foal as well in
the last days since Kerris had been dismissed from their company. It had
progressively grown weaker and weaker, until one morning, the day before
entering
TheRhan,
they had awakened
to find it dead, lying beside its mother. The mare had not wanted to leave the
foal behind so they had been forced to rope her and drag her from her baby. Her
milk had already begun to dry up, and Kirin was faced with the prospect of
deciding whether or not to find another nursing mare for the paste. Again, that
would have been Kerris’ call.

His little bay friend was still
sound, however, and Kirin found himself growing attached. He hoped it survived
the journey.

Agoyian had inspected all the
horses, checked all the tack, listed the supplies, all with the same wry
expression on his face. A grin that said play but eyes that said steel.
Absolutely confounding.

The second thing Agoyian had said
upon his arrival that morning almost got him instantly killed.

He had called the Major
‘Snowflake.’

The rest of the Imperial party
had joined them very early on, each in their particular desert gear, but of
course, the Major had insisted on her doeskin, and Agoyian had immediately set
about to change her mind. It was during his attempt that the word was uttered,
and Kirin knew enough about people to know that it was not meant as a
compliment. It was only the quick reactions of the Seer as he snatched her up
by the middle and walked away with her, kicking and swearing and furiously
trying to set her claws on spotted flesh, that had kept him in one piece.

He had turned to the Captain,
grinning again, green eyes glittering, and Kirin could almost detect enjoyment
in the danger. For the briefest of moments, Kirin wondered if the man didn’t
sincerely wish to become their seventh ghost.

And so they traveled that day in
much the same way as they had in days previous. Agoyian led the caravan on a
tough little horse that looked more Mongol than either Imperial or desert,
square of conformation and big of bone, and he had to admit it reminded him a
bit of Quiz, the mountain pony. He wondered if it were simply a coincidence or
whether most guides chose tough little horses for a reason. He made his mind up
to ask him at some point.

They stopped at midday, somewhere
out in the middle of a flat, arid plain and Kirin rode up to the jaguar’s side.
The man had slid off his horse and was untacking.

“Why do we stop,
sidi?”

“Well, in these Dry Provinces,
the sun will kill you if you ride all day like this.” He dropped the saddle to
the ground, tied the reins up on the horse’s neck and walked stiffly over to
the cart. “We let the horses rest for a few hours and ride longer at night.” He
pulled a water barrel out of the cart, and Kirin noticed all the horses began
to make snuffling sounds. Agoyian’s Mongolian horse had followed him, and it
plunged its stout muzzle into the barrel, drinking deeply. In fact, it set his
own mouth a-watering.

“Our previous guide did nothing
of the sort,” said Kirin.

“Well then, good thing he’s just
gone.”

“May I remind the Captain that he
sent our ‘previous guide’ away at a set of hot springs?”

All eyes turned to the Scholar,
seated on her red desert horse. There was something unusual in her posture, but
something most definite in her tone.

Agoyian put his hands on his
hips. “Eh? What’s that, then, Sunshine?”

“Well, we don’t know what our ‘previous
guide’ would or would not do in these Dry Provinces, because the Captain sent
him away only two days outside of
Khanisthan.
He’s implying that either you don’t, or he didn’t, know what you or he, are or
was doing. It’s arrogant assumption, very much like what a lion would imply.”
She smiled at him. “Don’t you think?”

The Captain clenched his teeth
but said nothing. He had no words for her.

Agoyian glanced from lion to
tiger and back again, the steely-eyed grin threatening to split his face.

“Smashing. Absolutely smashing.
I’m so glad I’m here. Right, now everybody untack your horses and let them
drink. We’re going to eat and drink and have a little sleep with our heads
under our saddles, got that? Unless you want the bother of setting up the
tents. Even you, Snowflake. Tuck that pretty little head of yours right under
that stinky old saddle…”

The Seer caught her as she
launched herself from her horse.

Kirin sighed and rubbed his
forehead, wondering if he had not made the biggest mistake of this journey.

***

In point of fact however, it
seemed to work well, this morning and evening method of travel. The mornings,
while hot, were not as hot as midday, and the evenings were definitely
pleasant. They began to fall into another routine, and the tents were now
popped up for heads instead of saddles (which Kirin had to admit were a most
unpleasant way of keeping sun off one’s head.) And finally, after three days of
riding through the western stretches of
Hiran
,
they came upon mountains yet again, a thin pink stretch of peaks far in the
distance, and it was a most welcome site.

It was night now, and the fire
was blazing, illuminating faces with gold and orange and red. Tents were set
up, but they sat in silence, watching the coals sizzle and the wood burn. It was
the silence of exhaustion.

Someone sighed and everyone
turned to look.

It was the Seer, heavy-lidded and
haggard-looking, staring into the flames as if lost in them. The falcon was
perched on his shoulder, hooded for a change and belled. Kirin sat forward,
concerned.

“There is a problem,
sidi?”

“Hmm?”

Ursa whacked him on the arm.
“Wake up, idiot. The Captain is talking to you.”

“Sorry. Yes? What’s that?”

“Is there anything wrong,
sidi?
You have not been looking well
these last days.”

“Ah yes. No. It’s simply the
heat. It’s proving too much for me.”

Kirin glanced around at the
group. If anything, the heat had been worse before
TheRhan,
when, without a guide, they rode for hours straight in the
blazing heat of the summer sun. Now there were clouds that had covered the
skies for days. Now they were nearing mountains.

Fallon rose to her feet, dropped
to the ground beside him, placed a hand on his forehead, his cheek, the base of
his neck. She sat back.

“Yup. Hot.”

The jaguar raised his flask. “You
drinking enough water, friend?”

Sireth grinned. “As much water as
you drink sakeh, friend.”

Agoyian grinned back, shook the
flask. “Ah, but this sakeh is cut with water.”

“Pity.”

The Alchemist raised her tea to
her lips. “Perhaps you are sun-sick,
sidi.”

“And perhaps you have poisoned
me, yet again,
sidala.”

“Enough,” Kirin growled.

“Forgive me, all.
Perhaps
all I need is a good night’s
sleep. And so,” he now rose to his feet, the falcon spreading her wings for
balance but not leaving her perch. “I think that is an idea I shall entertain.
Sleep well all.”

And his long strides took him to
his tent in moments but he paused to remove the hood and Path lifted from his
shoulder and soared into the night sky. The Captain glanced at Ursa as she now
rose to her feet, and she trudged off after him, muttering the entire time.

That silence descended again,
only the hiss and crackle of the fire for music. Finally, Agoyian took a long
swig from his flask and exhaled.

“So that Scar really a Seer,
then? A mongrel like that? Didn’t think that was allowed.”

Kirin nodded. ‘Scar’ was the
name, like Sunshine and Snowflake, which their guide had awarded to the Seer
and, unlike the snow leopard, benAramis seemed quite fine with it. Kirin did
not want to know what the man had taken to calling
him.
At least he did it behind his back.

“He seeing something about that
star?”

“I’m sorry,
sidi –“

The jaguar held up his
half-gloved hand. “I know, I know. Imperial business. It’s just odd, is all.”

“This whole trip is odd, don’t
you think?” asked Fallon, her voice and expression sweet but there was
something else there. Again, Kirin sighed. He knew why she was angry. He would
have to speak to her about it sometime soon.

Agoyian’s sharp eyes danced now,
between the Scholar and the Captain. He shook his head but to his credit, left
it alone.“That horse of the Major’s, it’s not good.”

“I know.”

“It’s slowing us down.”

“I know.”

“I can… you know…”

He sighed a third time.
Blast but this journey was long.
“No,
sidi.
The Major and I will handle it in
the morning. It’s an Imperial horse. It must be killed with an Imperial blade.”

“Right.” He was about to say
something more, but Ursa’s voice rang out from the tent.

“Captain,” she called. “Solomon
says to tell you he’s in
Itallee.”

“Itallee?”
Kirin frowned. “What is
Itallee?”

And he too rose to his feet and
left the fire, leaving a jaguar, a tigress and a cheetah sitting quietly, left
to their thoughts.

Above them and unnoticed that
night, the star was glowing and growing very bright.

***

They killed the Major’s horse at
dawn.

One swift thrust with a blade
into its heart and its legs buckled and its body lurched forward, then down.
Ursa remained at its head, hands cradling its long nose, speaking to it as one
might speak to a soldier, giving it courage, giving it strength, giving it
honor. Even as it went down, she stayed, talking and praising until the great
dark eyes grew glassy and still. They allowed her to remain for a moment,
before burning the carcass in the same fashion as a warrior, leaving the pyre
to send smoke and sparks into the first light of morning.

That evening, they arrived at the
foothills of the mountains. Now, all mountains look big to a cat, even a tall
cat like a lion, tiger or cheetah, but in reality, there are big mountains, and
then there are very big mountains. Our Mother, the Great Mountains, are without
rival in all the Upper Kingdom, and most likely all the world, but there are
rumors of mountains far to the north and far to the west that would be a worthy
consort for her. It is foolhardy to believe this. It is most likely a faerie
tale, told by guides to civilians who will believe anything and pay them
handsomely for it.

These were not very big
mountains.

Agoyian had called for a halt as
they reached these first foothills, and Kirin jogged alMassay up to the
Mongolian horse’s side. They dismounted.

“Right,” said the jaguar. “We can
do one of two things.”

“Yes?”

“Well, we can ride through these
mountains, which will take us only a few days and take us into
Hirak
near
Khirakuk,
or head north and meet up with the Wall at
Rayyhath.
Your choice.”

At the mention of the Wall, the
Captain felt a rush sweep up him from the tip of his tail. The Wall. The Great
Wall. Security. Stability. Order.

“The Wall takes us along to
Shiryia?”

“Yeah,” Agoyian nodded. “Follows
these mountains north then west. Stops at a battle fort called
Sri’Verenshir,
pretty close to
Sharan’yurthah.”

“Sharan’yurthah?”

“Yeah,
Sharan’yurthah.
The biggest city on the outmost edge of the
Kingdom. No wall there. Just lots and lots of tigers.”

Kirin set his hands on his hips,
surveyed the peaks and ridges all along the horizon. The Wall. How he wished
Kerris were here. He would surely tell him which way to go, which route to
choose. Not for the first time did he regret sending his brother away.

“Which would you do,
sidi?
For the best time and least
exertion?”

The jaguar surveyed the mountains
now, chewing the stud in his bottom lip. “Well,” he began, “The Wall makes you
the best time…”

“But?”

“But these mountains are full of
bears.
Gowrain
country, it is. If you
head north toward the wall, you have maybe 3, 4 days in constant danger of them
and then safety. If you head through, 2 at most. But then, desert. As I said
before, it’s your choice.”

The Captain looked back at his
party. Looked back at all the horses, the foals, the necessity of the cart. In
his heart of hearts, he wished for the Wall, for some semblance of civilization
in this wild land. But he knew…