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

by Dickson, H. Leighton

  “Never been happier. Well, maybe once.

  “Good. Ursa is sharpening her blades as we speak.”

  “Ah Ursa, my flower, my love. Has she killed anyone lately?”

  Kirin grinned as they headed toward the door, his brother a welcome shadow.

  “Say, have you heard the latest adventure of Kaidan? They say he’s conquered Shagar’mathah, you know. Deflowered the virgin peak as it were, left his cloak as a wedding gift...”

  The cedar door creaked closed behind them.

  ***

  “Ursa, my petal! Kirin says you missed me! That you’re practically on your death bed with love for me!”

  Ursa Laenskaya glared down from the back of her horse, eyes narrowed in disdain.

  “If it came between you and a death bed, I would not miss.”

  “I love you too, dearest and gentlest. I just conceal it better. You know how people talk.”

  “I suppose he is necessary, Captain,” she snorted. “We will need someone to clean up after the horses.”

  “Witty and fatal, my love.”

  Kerris bent to the ground, picked up a handful of earth, tossed it into the wind. Bits rained back down, while other bits rose and floated in several directions. Kerris studied it for several moments, before turning to his brother, rubbing his arms and breathing deeply the chilly morning air.

  “So, where’s Quiz?”

  “The stableboy is bringing him out now.”

  “It’s really not fair, Kirin. Quiz only had four hours too, you know. Unlike snow leopards, horses aren’t made of stone.”

  Kirin grinned and mounted up. His brother loved that horse of his. It was a mountain pony, as rugged and wild as the peaks it came from with a long, shaggy mane, an unwrapped tail and a nondescript coat of mottled brown. But the thing was quite the trail horse, as surefooted as a goat, with a remarkable capacity for terrains and an uncanny sense for danger. He was certain Kerris owed the animal his very life many times over.

  He knew the feeling and reached down to stroke the sleek neck beneath him, to rub the stiff roached mane. The horse nickered softly, enjoying the touch. alMassay, his own stallion, was Imperial bred, Imperial trained. Large, powerful, intelligent. More dependable than soldiers, more faithful than men.

  And they would need all the help they could get.

  Straightening up, he let his eyes scan the group assembled in the courtyard of the House Wynegarde-Grey. Eight leopards would accompany them, four ahead, four behind, carrying the Imperial Standard and riding stallions from the Imperial stables. Ursa naturally rode her own, a steel grey mare with teeth as sharp as hers. The Alchemist and the Scholar had been assigned quiet stock horses, for Imperial ones were at a premium in the Upper Kingdom and riding was not a skill known to all. Ox carts, goat traps and foot were still the common modes of travel in cities and villages and on the steep, winding roads that connected them. They would take three geldings to carry supplies, books, weapons and Alchemy stores, while each rider would be responsible for his/her own blankets and cloak. There was no time for a change of clothing, for in theory, they would reach the monastery before one was needed. He nodded to himself. The trip should take ten hours at a steady trot, in time to make Sha’Hadin before the Second Watch. The third falcon had never arrived, signaling the loss of yet another Seer. Two left. Only two. Kirin ground his teeth, unable to shake the feeling that this trip would not end in ten hours, nor the answers found within the cliffs of Sha’Hadin. This was going to take much, much longer.

  “Well well, I must have been very good in my last life. Good morning, sidalady tigress!”

  Kirin glanced up. He shook his head. He should have known.

  Kerris was leaning against the shoulder of Fallon Waterford’s sleepy mount, smiling the smile that had charmed the Royal Courts since his youth. Wide-eyed, the tigress looked all around her as if seeking its true target, which for some reason, could not be her.

  “Me?”

  “You are a tigress, are you not?”

  “Well, yes, yes I am. And wow! I was right. A grey lion!”

  “I am indeed. And you are a clever and spirited girl! I love tigers. They know how to have fun. Not like snow leopards. Or any leopards. Or even most lions for that matter.”

  Beside him, Ursa’s long tail lashed like a whip. Kirin found his fingers curling themselves into fists, quite of their own accord.

  “My name is Kerris, First Geomancer of Imperial Quests, Caravans and other such travelly things. The roads can be dangerous for lovely young ladies such as yourself. But never fear, I’ll be there to protect you.”

  A high-pitched squeal pierced the courtyard, threatening to shatter old windows and ancient stonework.

  Kerris grinned.

  “But a moment, sidala.”

  Slipping two fingers between his teeth, he whistled, a sharp, shrill whistle that caused everyone to wince at the sound.

  The frantic staccato of hooves on cobbled stone grew louder, and louder still, until a ragged little pony burst out from the stable arches, wild-eyed and flecked with foam. It skidded to a halt only a hand’s breadth from its master, nostrils flared, flanks heaving. It wore no bridle about its head, carried no rope or bit of cold metal between its teeth and the only ‘saddle’ on its back was a blanket tied around it’s belly, as rough and mountain-made as the creature itself.

  Kerris rubbed a crescent-moon of white hair on the little forehead.

  “Hello, Quiz. Sorry to get you up so early. Duty calls, and all that. Still, we’re game for it, aren’t we, old friend. Sure we are...”

  He glanced up at his twin on his shiny Imperial stallion.

  “Well then, dear brother, where are we off to this fine morning?”

  “Sha’Hadin,” Kirin growled. “I trust you know the way.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do. Gloomy place, very serious. No one smiles much there. Don’t really say much, either, come to think of it. Guess they don’t need to, eh?” Again, that smile. “Ah well, at least it’s better than, say, Agarah’tha. Now there’s a place that gives me the chills.”

  “You know Agarah’tha, sidi?”

  A black horse moved forward from the flank of guards, its ebon-clothed rider as foreboding as Death herself. Long, speckled fingers reached up, slowly pulling the hood from her face and heavy-lidded, golden eyes stared down at the lion with a look of obvious intent.

  He could have sworn he heard the sound of a grey chin hitting the cobbles.

  Blast, thought Kirin. This was very bad.

  “Sidalady cheetah.” Kerris recovered smoothly. He always did. “Forgive my harsh words. I meant no disrespect to your Order. I meant only that to an adventurer such as myself, the tunnels of Agara’tha are confounding and frustrating. Not to mention cold, hence... the chills?”

  “Of course, sidi. A misunderstanding.”

  She offered him her hand, turning it palm upwards as he moved to kiss it.

  “Fall In!” The Captain’s voice boomed through the courtyard and everyone snapped to attention. “We must make Sha’Hadin by sunset. Any questions? If not, we head out.”

  There were no questions.

  Grabbing a handful of mane, Kerris swung on to the back of his pony.

  “Right, then. On to Sha’Hadin! Let’s hope they can see us coming!”

  And with that he spurred his heels into the mottled flanks, disappearing out the main gates like a whirlwind.

  Ursa turned her pale eyes to him.

  “Sometimes I very much wish to kill him.”

  “Let’s get to the monastery first, shall we, Major?”

  She seemed disappointed.

  “Fall in!” she cried, echoing her Captain’s order, and the Leopard Guard fell in like a drill team behind her. Sherah al Shiva glided ahead on her lean, black mount, leaving a glowering Fallon Waterford plugging helplessly in her dust.

  Kirin rubbed his brow.

  Three women. One Kerris.

  How on earth would they all survive?


  alMassay moved forward at the slightest pressure, out and under the great stone archway of the House Wynegarde-Grey and into the crisp morning air. Finally, they were on their way, from Pol’Lhasa to Sha’Hadin.

  Pol’Lhasa to Sha’Hadin

  It is interesting to note that the air grows colder the closer one gets to the sky. From the Royal City, it was almost as if the Great Mountains aimed her daggers straight to the heart of the sun. Therefore, one would think the snow should melt away like iron thrust into a blacksmith’s forge. Indeed, most mornings, the peaks glow as if melting, but come noontime, they are as white as the clouds only returning to gold with the approach of sunset. So, it would seem that it is the moon that forges the gold and the sun that forges the silver. Likewise, the higher the earth climbs, the colder the air becomes and it is the very depths of the jungle that brings the scorching heat of midday. It is a mystery.

  They had left the gates of the Royal City many hours ago, and the terrain had not varied much. If anything, it seemed the Great Mountains had grown fiercer, more protective, as they traveled the narrow roads that led to Sha’Hadin. Slopes sheered off sharply from the rocky paths with inclines as steep and dangerous as any cliff, and vegetation was a rare sight amongst the sandstone and granite of the valleys. Snowdrifts were common though, for at this height, the shadows stayed cold even in summer and beginnings of streams would freeze nightly. Kirin knew from experience that, come sunset, even their breaths would be ice.

  But he loved it, he had to admit. Even when the Mountains were at their worst, he would never trade them for any lush jungle or fertile valley in the Upper Kingdom. Here, the air was sweet, the waters cold and the skies went on forever.

  He urged alMassay forward to pull up beside the Scholar. She was panting slightly, looking uncomfortable in her heavy cloak. He knew the feeling. The mid-afternoon sun was hot on their backs even as the air was cool. Breathing quickly became labored and riders light-headed as they maintained the steady climb. The brisk trot of morning had been exchanged for the more realistic jog of noon and all horses seemed to take their cues from Quiz, the mountain pony with the eyes of a falcon and the feet of a goat.

  “How are you doing, sidala?”

  “Oh, well, I guess not too bad, really, all things considered. Why? Do I look bad?”

  He smiled a small smile. “No. But sometimes, the riding—”

  “Oh, I’ve ridden before.”

  “In the University?”

  “No, at home.” She swallowed, panting slightly before she continued. “We had a yak.”

  It was Kirin’s turn to swallow, for a laugh had almost gotten the better of him.

  “A yak? I hear they are... quite the ride.”

  “No. They’re pretty terrible, really. This is much better.”

  “Good.”

  He moved his stallion forward, when her voice stopped him.

  “Do you think we can stop this, Captain? I mean, with the Seers. Do you think we can find out what’s killing them?”

  He let his gaze wander out over the craggy valleys, so very far below them. But in his mind’s eye, he saw Pol’Lhasa, her gardens and beams, her servants and courts.

  “It is our duty.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  alMassay pushed onwards, towards the eerie sound of humming. Ahead, the Alchemist’s black mare seemed to glide along the rocky paths as if its hoofs never touched the ground. Across its wide cantle, several saddlebags lay strapped containing powders and potions, vials and compounds. One small pouch of blood-red satin floated above them all, with strands of spider-silk to keep it from disappearing up into the skies entirely. He had never seen anything quite like it. It whispered unnatural things to his soul.

  “Captain,” she purred, not having turned her head.

  “Sidala. You ride well.”

  “I do many things well, Captain.”

  Good thing Kerris was ahead, he thought grimly. Far, far ahead.

  “Are you able to detect poisons, sidala?”

  “All manner of poisons, sidi. Natural, and otherwise. I have considerable experience with the dead and the dying.”

  “And the living?”

  “Some.”

  “Well. That will have to do.”

  With a good measure of relief, he pushed onward still, drawing up beside the Major’s grey mare. She had twisted her long hair back in a knot, and the cloak she wore was as silver as her pelt. He could see she was irritated, however, and found a good measure of relief in those few things that would never change.

  “Our time is not good,” she growled. “We will not make Sha’Hadin by nightfall.”

  “We only need make the Second Watch, Ursa. Nightfall is not a prerequisite.”

  “I do not wish to be riding these trails in the dark.”

  “Good point. How are your charges?”

  Her hand slipped down to the pommel of her saddle, to the two tiny baskets strapped on either side. A muted chirrup was heard from within the first.

  “This one, Na’rang, seems content enough, but this one...”

  From the other, a hooked beak jabbed at her through the weave, issuing shrill cries and protesting its confinement.

  “... I believe this one has a problem with baskets.”

  Kirin grinned. “Perhaps that one has a problem with you.”

  “Perhaps.” She snorted. “I shall be interested in meeting the man responsible for such an ill-tempered pet.”

  Again, alMassay moved forward, bypassing the four leopard guards riding ahead. They all nodded silently as he swept past, up a particularly steep incline. He leaned forward, easing the weight from his stallion’s back. The powerful haunches engaged and they lunged forward, and forward again, sending tiny bits of shale sliding down the path below.

  Finally, they made breast of this climb and Kirin reined in his mount to breathe in the view. It was spectacular, an endless panorama of cliff and valley, snow and shale. Blue sky, bluer than his mother’s eyes and white – the spears and fangs and daggers of the Mother’s Arms, Protectress of the Upper Kingdom. Blue and white. Clarity and purity. Harmony and balance. He nodded, understanding why the Seers chose to locate in these mountains for it seemed that one could see from one edge of the Kingdom to the other all the way to the oceans. Nothing could be hidden from up here, no secrets or plots, no army or ambush, from minds trained to see as a falcon sees, in the endless expanse of dreams and visions. Yes, he could understand it all quite well.

  “Kirin!”

  A flash of grey and mottled brown and the mountain pony scrambled into sight from behind a bend in the rock. In seconds, Kerris was at his side, looking for all the world as though he belonged right here on this particular road in these particular mountains. One would never have guessed he was noble-born.

  “Splendid view, eh? We stopping for lunch?”

  Kirin shook his head. “No stopping today, Kerris. We must make our destination.”

  “Right.” A grey hand fished in his pocket, pulled out a roll of dried white flesh. He offered it to Kirin, grinning. “Shark. Care to try some?”

  “No, thank you. It’s bad enough I’m wearing his tooth.”

  “Kitten.” As he chewed, Kerris waved an arm towards the bend. “Now, here’s where you get to prove why you get your own office in the Palace. Just past that rise, the road takes two paths, one steep and narrow, the other broader, less severe. Come, I’ll show you...”

  Together, the horses jogged forward between the rocky bend. The mountain rising before them was massive, as impressive as Kathandu or Purnannah and its high snowy peak was hidden in cloud. Kirin gritted his teeth. It looked impossible to overcome.

  “Ah yes, but it’s not what you’re thinking,” said his brother. “Sha’Hadin is on the other side. Still a bugger to get to, however. And see there? There’s the low path. Takes you round for a bit of a dip, then a slow, gradual ascent from the base. It’s as well used as you’ll find ‘round here and there’s an inn abo
ut halfway up to the monastery. Great ale on tap. Don’t touch the sakeh. It’ll blow your boots off.”

  “And the high path?’

  He followed Kerris’ finger with narrowed eyes, to a small snowy mound by the main road. He could barely make it out.

  “Starts right there. It’s only wide enough for one horse, and not always then. Very steep, very nasty. Prone to avalanches and mudslides. Rock falls. Bandits. You get the picture.”

  “And the time?”

  “Now, here’s the thing. If all goes well, the high path can shave two, maybe three hours off your travels. If all goes poorly, well you’ll probably be dead so time becomes rather less of a problem.”

  They could hear the scrambling of hooves and the blowing of winded horses as the rest of the party scrambled up behind them. He was not even tempted to ask Kerris’ opinion - he knew exactly which path his brother would take. And had he been alone, or in the company of soldiers without a pair of valuable civilians, he might have done the same. His eyes studied the mountain, its defiant rise, its sheer walls and glacial plateaus. It was folly and Kirin Wynegarde-Grey was no man’s fool.

  He felt Ursa move in beside him.

  “Major, you will take two guards and make your way by the narrow path. It should get you to Sha’Hadin in five hours. Let them know we are on our way and offer them any help they may require. Kerris will accompany you. He has some familiarity with the trails.”

  “We should kill him and follow the pony,” she suggested. Kerris laughed.

  “The rest of us will travel the low route. It’s longer, but safer, and I have no wish to compromise the success of our journey for the sake of a few hours.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “And Major...”

  “Sir?”

  “Do not kill him.”

  She steeled her jaw, disappointed.

  Jabbing her finger at the two foremost leopards, Ursa Laenskaya whirled her horse, making a point of heading out first. The guards fell in at her heels and soon, the three were fading into dark and distant specks, throwing up clouds of dust in their wake.

  “She wants to marry me. She wants to bear my children.” Kerris looked up at his brother. “It’s admirable, isn’t it? Really, it is.”