The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (85 page)

It was Kerris’ turn to snort.

Sireth smiled under the
blindfold. “It appears that death has healing properties.”

“But not your eyes?”

No one snorted now.

“Ah, sadly, no. My vision is more
impaired than ever.”

She swallowed, knelt squarely
before him. “Okay, tell me again how.”

He shook his head. “It is simply
wrong. All wrong. Blurred and distorted. I cannot focus and it makes me ill.”

She nodded. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,
Kahlilah.”

“Close your eyes.”

He sighed but obeyed. Reaching
up, she slid the blindfold up and over his head, tossed it aside. Apparently
death had not healed all the scars, for the one across his brow and cheek was
intact, a vivid white line to remind him of a previous life. She cupped a hand
over each eye.

“Okay, we’re gonna play a game.”
She pulled the hand covering his right eye away. “Open your eyes.”

He took a deep breath, did what
was asked. Blinked several times, then smiled.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Much better!
What have you done?”

“Try it again. Close your eyes.”
And she placed her hand back, waited for him to obey, before one again dropping
the hand that covered his right eye. “Now open.”

“Yes! Perfect. Please, tell me
what you have done.”

“Hush now, I’m not finished. One
more time, just to make sure. Close them again.” He did, and she promptly
cupped the right eye and removed the hand covering the left. Now she was the
one to take a deep breath.

The Major was staring.

“Okay, now open them.” And the
Scholar bit her lip to wait.

The brown eye opened, blinked,
looked around. “Yes,” he said. “It’s the same. Just like before. I can focus.
Everything is sharp, not blurred. Perfect. Thank you.”

And as he talked, she slowly
dropped the right and sat back.

“Ah
no,”
he groaned. “No no no. It’s all wrong. All wrong. Damn…” And
he pressed his palms into his eyes and his tail lashed the ground.

“Blurry,” she said.

“Yes,” he growled.

“Like you’re seeing double?”

“Exactly. Like I’m seeing double.
That’s not the way it’s supposed to be…it’s not…” His voice trailed off.

The Major crouched down to watch.

Slowly, his hands fell away.

Mi-hahn, sitting on a branch high
over their heads, let out a chirrup and cocked her young head from side to
side.

“Oh my,” he whispered, as he blinked
and blinked again. His breathing came quicker. “Oh my, oh my…”

He glanced from the tigress to
the snow leopard and back again. He raised his hands, pulled them away, drew
them closer. Blinked and blinked again, and suddenly, tears sprang into them,
two eyes that could see.

“You
were
healed,” Fallon began, as she wrapped her arms around her
knees and rocked happily back and forth. “Completely healed. But you had seen
with only one eye for so long that you had forgotten what it was like to see
with two. It simply felt…”

“Wrong…” he whispered again.

“Yep. Wrong. I dunno, it may take
some time but I think you’ll get used to it.”

He nodded now, for his throat was
tight and he could not speak. He reached out and clasped her hands smiling at
her through his tears.

The Major stood up, breaking the
spell of the evening. “Time for sleep,” she announced. “Go to bed. Everyone.”

“Major! There is no way I can
sleep! I can see, Major! I can see!”

“Yes, yes, you can see. You will
still be able to see tomorrow. We have a long journey and I have no desire to
be losing time because of your exhaustion. Now sleep.” She lashed her tail
once, ending the conversation. “I will keep watch.”

Sireth benAramis lay down but his
heart was racing and he could not keep his eyes from his hands, the trees
overhead, the stars. He thanked his wife and daughter, Petrus Mercouri and the
rest of the Council and even, to his surprise, Sherah al Shiva, wherever she
was.

Ursa Laenskaya did not sleep, but
watched over her charge with a heart heavy and conflicted, and she resented the
Scholar for her insight and worth.

Kerris Wynegarde-Grey did not
sleep but pondered his own heavy and conflicted heart and felt utterly lost,
worthless and miserable.

Of the four of them, only Fallon
Waterford was able to sleep, and she dreamt that she was the happiest she’d
ever been in her life.

***

He could not sleep.

The water from this morning had
been cold, and therefore effective in taking down much of the swelling in his
face, and it had actually been refreshing in a way he could never have
imagined. Water was essential for drinking, for washing articles of clothing
and irrigating crops. He had never considered it much beyond that.
Unfortunately however, it had also softened the drying flesh on his head and hands,
awaking the pain that had eased from searing to simply terrible. His jaw was
stiff, likely broken and now healing wrongly, and he couldn’t feel his tail.
The water hadn’t helped with these.

Solomon’s soft snores echoed in
the cavern, only partially muffled by the crackling of the fire. His brother
had gone to find the Seer - his brother and the Scholar, and he had been left
behind to be tended by Solomon. Once, he used to command legions of men, lead
them to and from Imperial postings, send them to and from battlefields. Now he
was left behind to be cared for like an old man, or an invalid. For the first
time in his life, he had been left behind.

He found he simply could not
sleep on his stomach.

Kerris slept on his stomach. Only
little boys slept on their stomachs. Women slept on their sides. Men slept on
their backs. It was the way of things, and he was now forced to be a little
boy, for his bloody, bloody head could not find comfort in the laying down of
it. Even now, as his face rested on his arms, the keffiyah spread out like a
mane across his back, his head threatened to split open, and in point of fact,
he wished it finally would.

He wished he were dead.

He had called for it many times
over since the dogs, and most especially at night, when all he could do was
think, and he wished once again for the darkness of the soul. But now, it was
his own voice that raged the loudest, and always, always at night. He wished
for claws to slit his own throat. His wished for fingers that could grip the
short sword that his brother had left for them. He wished for the hardness of
heart to simply walk out and off the mountain that kept him captive like a bird
in a stone cage.

He sat up, rubbed his eyes with
his palms, tentatively dabbed his face with tender pads. Yes, the swelling had
indeed gone down. He supposed he should be grateful for that, and he glanced
over to where Solomon slept. On his stomach. Naturally.

Through the crevice in the
mountainside, he could see stars, and he slowly, painfully pushed himself to
his feet. The cloth of the keffiyah fell across his shoulders, much like his
hair had done, and he wondered what it looked like, this fabric mane. But it
kept the flies off and gave him something to cover the shame.

“Where you going, Captain?” came
a low, sleepy voice by the fire.

“Outside. I cannot sleep and I
need some air.”

“You’re not gonna kill yourself,
are you?”

“No, Solomon. I am not going to
kill myself.”

“Promise me you’re not gonna kill
yourself.”

“I promise.”

“On your honor.”

I have no honor,
he was about to say, but he bit it off before it
left his mouth. He clenched his jaw, fought the spasm of pain that it sent,
released a long, deep breath.

“Say it. On your honor. Say it.”

“On my honor.”

“Okay. Good night then.”

And the Ancestor rolled over onto
his side. Kirin shook his head and squeezed through the crevice.

He was met by golden eyes and the
smell of incense.

***

They made the Seer ride the pony,
although his legs dragged on the ground. His balance was not good, and it was
clear that it would take some time for him to adjust to his new way of seeing.
The pony did not seem especially impressed by his new rider, and would
frequently turn and snap his teeth at the long, long legs that caught on the
stumps and rocks and rises of the forest floor.

Kerris kept the pace steady and
fast, and they broke only once for a mid-day rest and a meal of dried fish. It
seemed he wanted to get back to the cliff that housed his brother, and he would
do so before nightfall, else leave them all behind. No one grumbled, but it was
almost all uphill, and Quiz, carrying the Seer, was quite winded by the time
they reached the incline that led to the mountain. He was pleased to be set
free for the night, and disappeared into the depths of the forest almost
immediately.

Kerris could not be stopped and
he too disappeared up the slope, not waiting for either Major, Scholar or Seer.
The Seer, for his part, needed considerable help with the climb, for he would
frequently misjudge his footfalls, or his handgrips, and slip or stumble or
lose footing. It was only the steadying hands of both Scholar and Major who
managed to keep him from toppling off the steep slope and down to the rocks
below.

They could hear shouting long
before they reached the top.

Inside the cavern, the Captain
was sound asleep.

“What do you mean, you found him
like this??!!” Kerris was on his knees beside his brother, and Solomon was
pacing, hands flailing helplessly in the air.

“Outside. I said outside! On the
ledge. He went out for air, and I found him unconscious this morning!”

Fallon slipped in beside them.
Kerris was unpredictable in this state.

“How could you let him go
outside? What if he fell, or jumped, or slipped? You said you would take care
of him! You said –“

“Kerris, wait,” and Fallon laid a
hand on his sleeve. The grey lion closed his mouth, but he was clearly furious.
She reached for the Captain’s hands. The fingers were bandaged now with linen,
thin white strips, fine and neatly bound. “Solomon, did you do this?”

He threw up his pelt-less hands
in the air again. “No! That’s what I’m trying to tell him! I found him, just
like this. His fingers have been bandaged, his tail bound, some of his wounds
stitched, and his head has been rubbed with salve. Look here, this vial was
laying beside him this morning.”

Kerris snatched it from his
hands. It was familiar. They all knew to whom it belonged.

Solomon knelt down. “And he’s
been drugged. Look here, at his pupils…” He propped open the Captain’s lid to
show pinpricks of black. “I don’t know who would do this, or even why –“

“We do,” growled the Major.

“But whoever did this has done
him a huge favor.”

They all stared at him.

“Look, this person bandaged his
fingers. There is no way in hell they’re gonna heal without being bound like
this. It was perfect timing, right after the soak in the river had softened the
flesh, so now he has a chance for them to heal properly. This person also left
a ton of medical supplies… Here look…” The bag was also familiar, a sack of
mysterious ointments and noxious potions. He reached in. “There’s needles and
threads, pills and tonic, fabric, strips of leather. But the main thing…” He
straightened up, released a deep breath as if to compose himself. “The main
thing is the fact that he is sleeping.”

Kerris clenched his jaw. “The
powdery white thing.”

“What?”

“For pain.” He snatched the bag
from Solomon’s hand, dug around inside before pulling out a smaller pouch. He
emptied it into his palm. “They work amazingly well, but they make you very,
very sleepy.”

“He needs to sleep,” said
Solomon. “So if it works, great.”

“What if she’s done something to
him?” he asked, frowning. “What if he wakes up and can’t remember anything?
What if he doesn’t wake up at all?”

“Kerris…” Fallon leaned forward,
but the grey lion rose to his feet.

“Remember what she did to us? To
all of us? This is not ‘a favor.’ It is a dangerous, dangerous thing. I trusted
you, Solomon. You said you’d take care of him!”

Fallon also rose to her feet but
Kerris had taken several steps backwards before turning and escaping from the
cavern and into the night.

Solomon sighed and looked up at
the Major and the Seer.

“Hey,” he said with a weary
smile. “Good to see you two again. Did I ever mention Plan B?”

***

She could see flashes of
lightning in the distance, leaping from cloud to dark cloud and lighting up the
night sky like fireworks. The wind had picked up, and she wondered if he really
did control the storms, or was simply controlled by then.

He was sitting at the very edge,
staring out at the sky, arms draped across his knees. She glanced down at his
hands, ensuring that no sparks were gathering there as she approached and she
contented herself to sit beside him until he found his words.

“She’s calling,” he said finally,
in a voice that men usually reserved for lovers.

“Well,” she grumbled, pushing
locks of hair from her face. The wind was very strong. “Just tell her ‘not
tonight, you’re busy.’”

“I’m busy…” He did not turn to
look at her. “He can’t die.”

“He won’t. Sherah wouldn’t do
that. He’s just sleeping.”

“I really don’t want him to die.”

“I know.”

“I killed my father, you know.”

She’d known that, of course, but
it was the first time he’d admitted it. According to Ursa, it was a thing
gossiped about for many years ‘within the ranks’, in secret whispers and hushed
corners, and she didn’t really know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to, but I did. I
was in my eighth summer. I called the lightning and killed him, right out from
under me.”