The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom (87 page)

His life, which once had been
remarkable, had been reduced to an adequate disguise.

It was the first time in his life
that he began to understand his brother and the dark places he went. Even as
the steep coastline roared with life, and the trees grew strong all around
them, an unfamiliar blackness whispered secret things into his mind. He wished
he had been that horse, that black, black horse that had died so abruptly on
the road last night. He wished to step out of the Humlander and off the edge of
the cliffs that skirted the sea. He wished to walk away from the others, just
walk and walk and walk until an enemy, the elements or exhaustion claimed him.

He wanted to scream, to fight, to
die. But it was all he could do to sit in this unnatural sun-powered vehicle,
carried along like a bedroll or an extra pair of boots.

At least Solomon wasn’t talking.
He would glance at him from time to time, but thankfully, held his tongue.

The green crumbling buildings
that once had been
Ana’thalya
were
everywhere now, and they were well and truly in the heart of the city. Kerris
trotted the pony up to the vehicle and rapped on the clear glass shield. Solomon
pressed a lever and the large hatch swung upwards.

“So, I think things are safe
enough for now,” he said, the wind tossing his ashen grey hair like the waves
on the sea. “Where do you want to head from here?”

“To the docks,” said Solomon.
“This was a naval port and the Marine Archives were pretty extensive. There are
a lot of buildings we need to check out.”

“For the boat.”

“Yep, for the boat.”

“We could be searching for a very
long while.”

Solomon ran a hand through his
thick tangle of hair. He needed another ‘shave’. “You have a better idea?”

Kerris grinned. “None whatsoever.
Off we go.”

And he threw a quick glance in at
his brother before wheeling the little horse away and disappearing from view.

Solomon looked over at him.
“We’ll be stopping soon, okay?”

The Captain nodded. Stopping
meant a fire, tea and bed. And now for him, a ‘little powdery white thing’ that
made everything go away, if just for a night. And not for the first time, he
wondered what many would do.

***

They began their search of the waterfront
as soon as they entered the city. Ana’thalya was, like many coastal towns,
built almost on top of the waters, with winding roads and long stone steps that
led to and from the rocky shores. It was still a mountain city, however, and
the sea roared against cliffs in some places and dipped into protected beaches
in others. Of the buildings, little recognizable remained, as wind, water,
trees and time worked to erase the Ancestors from history.

It was understandable then, that
they had found nothing of the ‘Marh’eeyen Ahrkhives’ or a boat.

The Major led them in the
deliberate, graceful movements of the Evening Sun Salute, and this night, even
Solomon joined in. He was very clumsy, all arms and legs and knees, but to his
credit, he did his best, laughing at himself in an easy-going manner that kept
the Major from smacking him too hard.

They were on a beach, a stretch
of sand that ran between worn grey buildings and beams of rusted metal that
looked like the bones of a leviathan sticking out of the water. Gulls swept
overhead and little terns ran along the shore, all trying to escape the
swooping and diving of the young falcon. She had been at it all evening and
caught nothing. Kerris, on the other hand, had caught a fine load of fish and
was roasting them over a fire made with driftwood and dried sea weeds. The sea
wind was strong and loud.

“Idiot!” the Major snapped, and
both Sireth and Solomon looked up. “No, not mongrel idiot! Human idiot! Think!
Think! Slow and Graceful. You look like a crippled bear!”

Solomon grinned at the Seer. “I
liked her better when she bowed down at my feet and called me ‘sahidi’.”

The Seer laughed.

“No laughing! Tigress, arch your
back more, like a bow string.”

“Yes, Major.”

“Captain, extend your hands,
wider.”

He sighed, tried.

“No. Wider, like this.”

Again, he tried.

“No. Each finger a separate
element, driven away from each other, yet even as they need—“

“I cannot, dammit!” he snarled.
“They do not go!”

All heads turned to look.

And for a long moment, he stared
back at them, the kheffiyah snapping in the strong wind. He had once been their
Captain. But then again, he had once been a lion.

He whirled and strode off, boots
sinking slightly with every footfall in sand.

The Major swallowed, and for a
heartbeat, her chin quivered. She too whirled and strode off, her bare feet
sinking slightly with every footfall in sand.

“Oh my,” said Sireth, glancing
first in the direction of the Captain, then the Major. “I am utterly
conflicted…”

“Go to Ursa,” said Fallon.
“Kerris will go see to his brother. Won’t you, Kerris?”

Poking the fire with a long
stick, Kerris shrugged.

She laid her hand on the Seer’s
sleeve. “Ursa.”

He nodded and followed, his own
sandals sinking slightly with every footfall in sand.

Fallon turned on the grey lion, wrapped
her arms around her ribs.

“Go see to your brother.”

“Why? I can’t help him with his
fingers.”

“It’s not his fingers, Kerris. He
doesn’t know who he is anymore. You of all people, should be able to help him
with that.”

“Me? Of all people?”

“Yes, you. You said the other
night that you killed your father, that you didn’t mean to be you did. And that
you killed your cousin, that you didn’t mean to but you did. And that you
killed that young lioness, that you didn’t mean to but you did. I remember
‘cause I was there. You seem to do many things that you don’t mean to do, and I
don’t really think it’s your luck at all, good, bad or otherwise. I think for
the most part, Kerris Balthashane Wynegarde-Grey, you just don’t care.”

He glared at her from the fire, his
blue eyes glittering and cold.

She steeled her will and pressed
on. “You don’t want him to die, you said as much the other night. But you kill
each other day in, day out, with your words, with your ways, and I believe you
don’t want him to die, but why then Kerris, oh why won’t you help him live?”

He said nothing for a long
moment, then slowly rose to his feet. Instinctively she swallowed, for it was
common knowledge that an angry lion was a dangerous one, but she thrust out her
chin and awaited the blow that would surely come. Instead, he simply walked
past her, paused a moment with a look that killed her now a thousand times
over, and left her standing by the fire. To his credit, he was heading in the
direction of his brother, yak-hide boots sinking slightly with each footfall in
sand.

She released her breath and sank
down to her knees.

***

He found her up the worn stone
steps that led back to the city. The sun had set and she was kneeling in a
patch of thin moonlight, her long marbled hair rising and falling on the
breeze. It was cold, but not too cold, and he could see her breath. The short
sword lay at her knees.

He knelt beside her, but did not
touch.

Her chin, soft and silver, was
still quivering. “I dishonored him. I did not think.”

“You did not mean to.”

“But I did. It was shameful. I am
ashamed.”

He looked down at the short
sword, kodai’chi. “This will not bring his honor back.”

She said nothing. He took that as
a sign.

“He values you, Major. He needs
you. He always has, but especially now. This ritual does nothing but make life
harder on everyone.”

Still, she said nothing, so he
reached out slowly, pushed the sword aside. She made no move to stop him.

“He does not need me,” she said
finally, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes he does. Very much.”

“I am not needed.”

“Major—“ he began but she
hissed at him, cutting him off.

“You do not need me!”

It was as if she had hit him, the
force of her, small as a baby bird, heart of a dragon.

“Oh, Major. That is not true.”

 
“You have your eyes. You have your Alchemy, your new talents
with fire and water and who knows what else. You have your Scholar, who can
figure out any problem with her quick mind and quicker tongue. You have a
falcon who can see enemies and you are Kenshi, equally good with staff and
sword. You have had a wife who has born you a child. I …”

Her voice cracked now, and he saw
her wrestle for words. “I am not able to do the same.”

The images struck him, such a
small girl, so many men, pain and bleeding and scars. It was amazing that she
had bedded him at all.

They sat for a long while in the
moonlight.

“I do not need a child,” he began
softly. “I do not need a falcon. I do not need a sword or a staff or gloves or
any new talents with fire or water. I do not need the quick mind or the quicker
tongue of the Scholar – the grey coat needs her much more than I. Nor do
I need my eyes, for I see far clearer with your hands on me. I do not need even
Sha’Hadin
, my dear beloved
Sha’Hadin,
and I would gladly never
return if it meant I could keep you by my side.”

Now he did reach for her hand,
pelt to pelt, ran his spotted fingers along her silver marbled ones. He pressed
his palms into hers, raised their hands high. “I have all I need with you. With
you I am the man I was meant to be. With you I am steel. With you I am home.”

Through the moonlight, her eyes
glimmered and he thought it looked rather like tears. And for the first time
that he could remember, Major Ursa Laenskaya smiled at him, a wide, happy,
teary-eyed smile, before she launched herself from her knees and pushed him to
the ground, covering his mouth with fierce kisses.

Above them, the young falcon
swooped and danced, announcing her joy and happiness, and as for the cats, they
did not get up for some time.

***

There was a cliff in the way.

“Damn,” he cursed, and hated
himself for the cursing. And so he roared at it, struck it with his fists,
cried out from the pain sent stabbing up his arms, and he hit it again, and
again. The sea roared back at him, splashing him with water and adding insult
to his injuries. He could feel the blood begin to seep out from under the
bandages and into the leather of the gloves but he hit this damned mountain
again and again and again, until there was nothing left in him. He closed his
eyes and turned, leaning back against its rough wet rock. The kheffiyah
snagged, and with another snarl, he yanked it off and threw it in the waves. He
sagged down into the sand, leaned his head back, hissed at the pain, bent it
forward instead.

He wished he were dead.

He did not need to open his eyes.
He could hear footfalls in the sand. Could hear those boots splash into the
surf, could hear the drip and drag of fabric being rescued, and finally his
brother slid down the cliffside next to him.

“Mountains,” said Kerris. “Big
buggers. Very hard to move.”

Kirin released a long breath. He
felt very weak. “I wish I were dead.”

“I know. It doesn’t really ever
go away.”

“What do you mean?”

“That empty sucking feeling that
eats you from the inside out. The Scholar would call it despair. I’m not
entirely convinced. It comes and goes, depending on Dharma.” Kerris shrugged.
“Drinking helps.”

He turned to look at his
brother. “This? This is what you feel?”

“All the time. Ever since I woke
up and everyone was looking at me strangely. I lost my mane and my father and
it was all my fault. It’s a damned bugger, life.”

“I’m sorry. I never knew.” He
dropped his head. “No, that’s a lie. Maybe I did. I simply never wanted to
know.”

“Ah well.”

Now he studied his brother’s face
as Kerris stared out across the waters. Sunshine and stars waxing and waning,
the battle against the darkness that had plagued him for years, and he felt a
pang of regret. It was true, he had never wanted to know. Had never wanted to
wade into the depths of the darkness. It was like a well of black water. He had
feared it, he knew this immediately, and therefore, like so many other things
that he feared, he had dismissed, belittled, chased it away with a word or a
thought, so it might not stain his own glass.

He reached over, plucked at his
brother’s tunic, revealing the long line of stitches. They would be needing to
come out soon. “I’m sorry for this.”

“Me too. It itches like mad
warthogs.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Kerris shrugged again.

“I was angry. And wrong. Very
wrong. You know this, yes?”

It seemed to take several moments
for Kerris to answer. “Well, I do have this annoying habit of poking beehives
with sticks. It’s not surprising I get stung on occasion.”

“Still. I am so very sorry.”

Kerris smiled, held up the
dripping kheffiyah in one hand. “You will need this. I love you, Kirin, but you
are very ugly now.”

Weakly, Kirin grinned.

“How does it feel?”

He couldn’t help it. In another
life, he would have simply answered the question. But now, everything was
turned on its ear.

“It itches like mad warthogs.”

And he started to laugh. Kerris
joined him, and soon the laughter turned, as laughter often does, into tears,
and the brothers sat side by side against a bugger of a mountain on the shore
of a sea, laughing and crying and wishing somehow that life had been very, very
different.

After a time, the laughter
subsided, leaving pebbles of breath in its wake. Kirin looked up at the moon.