Kerris grinned. “Yes, I seem to recall something like that.”
“And did we exchange our clothing for monk’s robes and have hot tea and stew in the dining hall?”
“Yes, sidala. We did.”
“And did you snag a loaf of bread from a passing monk? And did I comment on your manners? And did you say that it was something you learned at the Palace? And did I ask you what else you learned? Did it go something like that, Kerris your name was?”
“My, but you have a good memory, sidala,” he laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly how it happened.”
“I know, ‘cause I was there. So, what was your answer then? What else did say you learned at the Palace?”
“Snake charming,” he said, smile fading. “I said snake charming.”
“Exactly. Why? Why would you say that, if there had never been any snake?”
He scratched his chin and sat back, putting pressure on Quiz’s spine and easing the pony into a slow jog.
“Well, you just stop to think about that one, Kerris your name was. Take just a scrap of time and use that little mind of yours for something other than walking, eating and sleeping for a change. Can you do that for me?”
That said, she tossed her head once again, and tightened the laces on her cloak.
Kerris, for his part, continued to puzzle for some time afterwards.
Behind them, rode the Alchemist, humming to herself in strange, exotic keys.
The water on the road was growing worse, rushing in torrents now from the snow-heavy mountain slopes. It seemed to be taking the road away with it, stone by stone, as it poured headlong down the sharp incline and Kirin noticed alMassay struggling to keep even footing. He also noticed his brother, frequently glancing up at the sheer expanse of deadly white, glistening in the mid-afternoon sun above them. He set his jaw, shook his head but before he could make a decision, the Major’s voice snarled from behind.
“Move,” she hissed. “Get going.”
The Seer had stopped his horse, his eyes focused yet far away. Kirin remembered the look from the kitchens the night before. He held up a hand and the rear guard shouted orders to the group in the fore. The winding river of horses ground to a halt.
“I said move!”
“Major, that’s enough.”
The Imperial stallion performed a tight turn-on-haunches to draw up in front of the Seer.
“Sidi?”
Sireth blinked, refocused. “Captain, we must turn around—”
“Kirin!”
Kerris and Quiz were scrambling back up the path toward him. “Kirin!”
It was then that they heard the boom, the faint and distant thunder of ice sheets giving way. High above them, a white spray arose from the mountainside, reaching into the blue sky like the birth of a cloud and it began to shake the very earth beneath them as easily as a child shakes a stalk of bamboo.
“Back!” shouted Kerris. “We must go back! Now!”
“Back!” echoed Kirin, and with great effort, alMassay dug his hoofs into the sloppy, vibrating ground, propelling himself back up the path and forcing the others to do likewise. The Captain threw a glance over his shoulder. The snow was almost upon them.
“Faster! Move!”
With a surge of speed brought only by panic, the horses galloped up the slippery slope, racing to keep ahead of the death that was plummeting toward them. It was the sting of a thousand wasps as tiny crystals of ice cut into Kirin’s neck. He ducked low in the saddle and urged his horse forward.
And then he heard the screams.
First one leopard, then another, crying out for only an instant as their horses were swept from under them, and they themselves were sucked into the charging wall of snow. Arms and legs and finally the Royal Banner carried on above the bank until they too were swallowed up in sheer, blinding white. The Alchemist’s black mare was at full gallop at alMassay’s flank but far behind, the Scholar’s horse was losing ground. The third leopard plunged forward, the roar of the avalanche licking at his horse’s heels and snow cascaded downwards all around him. He reached out to catch the Scholar, scooping her into his saddle just as her horse stumbled and went down. As it fell, it collided with the soldier’s horse and it too lost footing. The snow obliterated sight of them both in an instant.
The thunder was deafening now, as Quiz the mountain pony scaled the mountainside, back up and over the near vertical slope like a monkey, sending shale and bits of snow onto the road. Both pony and rider disappeared into the sleet that preceded the crushing snow.
“Kerris!”
For the first time, alMassay disobeyed his rider, steeling his mouth as the Captain hauled on the reins. For in a flash, Quiz was back on the path, wild-eyed and frantic, with Kerris almost twisted in half, one hand clutching the pony’s mane, the other hand clutching an orange one. Fallon was in mid-air, swinging out from under the blizzard and for the briefest of moments, it looked like Kerris would have her, until the mountain boomed again. Kerris lost his grip and both tigress and lion were sucked into the speeding front, Quiz scuttling off alone.
Without thinking, the Captain leapt from his stallion’s back, hitting the wet, rumbling ground. He flattened his arms and legs to brace himself and still, he slid. When he finally scrambled to his feet, he was just in time to see the body of the avalanche carry on past them, hurling itself off the edge of the mountain and sending a cloud of white raining down to the valleys below. Slowly, the thunder subsided, leaving unnatural silence in its wake and for a long moment, all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, heavy and hurting in the afternoon sun.
Behind him, he heard voices, calling voices, arguing voices, voices snapping orders and voices hotly disobeying. He ignored them all.
Suddenly, someone was beside him, grabbing at his arm.
It was the Seer.
“They’re alive, Captain. They’re alive. Hurry.”
Kirin needed nothing more and with the Major at their heels, the pair of them dove into the deep bank of snow.
***
For a long moment, all Kerris could hear was the sound of his own breathing, heavy and hurting in the afternoon sun. He could feel the cold empty howl of wind on his face and the cold empty expanse of air around his legs as he swung high above nothingness. But what he was waiting to feel - the sickening, sucking sensation of free fall or the sudden, harsh smack of ribs on rock - these he did not feel. He gradually got up the courage to open his eyes, hoping against hope that the last thing he would see would not be the Mother’s Arms, rushing up to give him a bone-crushing hug.
It was not. Rather, what he did see was cliff face, dark and stony, closer then further away, closer, then further away. He was swinging less than an arm’s length away from sheer mountain rock. His hands were aching and he looked up at them. They were twisted around a double strand of thick, braided leather. Reins, he realized. He was hanging on to a strange pair of reins that disappeared up and over the edge of the cliff. It seemed very likely that it was attached to a bridle and equally likely to the head of some horse, dead and buried under a shroud of cold, heavy snow. And finally, with a deep breath, he looked down, way down, to see the bottom of the mountain fall away as if forever, swaying and spinning in dizzying circles below.
And the tigress.
She had her eyes squeezed tightly closed, her arms wrapped around his legs as in a death grip, her face pressed into the back of his knees, squishing his tail with her forehead. Perfectly sensible, he thought dully. He had pulled her out of the snow so she had pulled him back into it.
“Hello down there,” he called out, his voice cracking from the strain. “Hello, sidalady tigress. Can you look up a moment? Please?”
Slowly, she did look up, eyes wide.
“That’s better, isn’t it? See, we’re fine. Really. Quite fine.” He tried to sound nonchalant, as if he often found himself swinging off the edges of cliffs by reins and dead horses. “Um, do you think you can climb?”
“
No. No, I don’t think so. I think I’m fine right here, thanks, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Well, actually, it’s not. We’re in rather a bit of a predicament right now and I don’t think I can haul the both of us back up this cliff without a little bit of help.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She clung to him the way a small child clings to its mother.
The reins gave a small jerk and Kerris swallowed. He could imagine it all well enough. The reins were braided Imperial leather, the finest in all the Kingdom, and the body of the horse itself was a worthy anchor, crushed and pinned by the weight of snow covering it. But the snow was still melting, moving in its inexorable slide to the valley, bringing the dead animal along for the ride.
The reins jerked again.
“Use your claws! Now! Climb!”
She did. Her claws were fine and black and she began to scale him like a tree house, sinking them into cloak and tunic as easily as old bark. As she pulled herself up to his shoulders, she felt them dig into flesh.
“Sorry! Oh, sorry!”
Kerris gritted his teeth. “Keep going.”
And the reins slipped some more, bringing with them a rush of snow. It struck her and sent her toppling from her perch. Purely by instinct, she lashed out, snagging his shoulders once again and dragging her claws down his back like razors. They were swinging wildly now, spinning high above the chasm, and she felt her fingers, then her hands, then her arms grow warm and sticky.
“...oh... mother...”
“...just... climb...”
She began again, hand over hand, trying desperately to avoid the slices in his pelt. Higher, just a little bit higher, she climbed up until, with one boot balanced on his shoulder, she pushed herself upward, sending a searching hand past the reins, to the very edge of the cliff.
And suddenly her weight was gone from Kerris’ shoulders, leaving the coolness of space in its place. He briefly wondered if she had indeed fallen once again and this time been thoughtful enough not to take half his pelt with her.
Above the howl of the cold empty wind, he could hear voices and soon there was the face of his brother, reaching out over the edge, grabbing his arms in a powerful grip. Kirin was using his own claws now and this time Kerris felt his arms grow warm as blood flowed down into his sleeves.
“Hello, Kirin,” he said weakly.
Kirin said nothing, but gritted his teeth, hanging on as if nothing in the Kingdom could make him let go. A silver set of claws flashed into view, as both Captain and Major hauled the grey coat up and over the cliff edge, into the welcome cold of the snow. Kerris glanced up to see the tigress trembling in arms of the Seer. The man was speaking softly to her, stroking her thick, silky hair. He felt hands on his shoulders, his back, and he let his brother hold him as he sank to his knees.
“I need a very big drink,” he grumbled.
And he closed his eyes under his brother’s soothing hand.
***
Hands on hips, Kirin Wynegarde-Grey oversaw the excavation of snow. It was not a pleasant task, nor a particularly useful one, for the avalanche had buried the narrow, winding road for a great distance beyond. They had been fortunate, he thought darkly. If they had been further along, they could not possibly have outrun the falling ice and all thirteen of them would have been buried along with it. As it was, the four surviving leopards had unearthed two of the dead guards and three of the four horses that had fed their Mother, the Great Mountains. Hopefully it would sate her appetite for a long time to come.
Ursa Laenskaya stood beside him.
“We should be able to clear a path, sir,” she was saying. “The snow is not that heavy.”
“No, Major. The snow is very heavy. We shall succeed only in exhausting our men.”
Kirin glanced up at the sun, now high in its afternoon arc through the sky. He shook his head.
“We shall not see Pol’Lhasa tonight.”
“Perhaps if we enlist the aid of the civilians?“
“Have the men call off their work. We shall see to our dead, and return to the monastery. Perhaps by tomorrow, the sun will do this work for us.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to leave, but paused to put a hand on her slim, white shoulder.
“Thank you, Major.”
With a sigh, he trudged up the muddy slope that passed for a road to the circle of horses and people further up the hillside. The Alchemist had prepared a pot of tea from one of her many bags of Alchemy stores and warmed it to boiling with her many candles. She had done it all quietly and it had served to heal frayed nerves more readily than all the ointments or balms at her disposal. Bundled in a warm, wooly blanket, the Scholar sat beside the Seer, who seemed to have taken her under his wing. Kirin crouched down beside them.
“Sidala, how are you feeling?”
She shrugged over her mug of hot tea.
“Oh, fine actually. Maybe just a little wobbly. My claws hurt, though. And I still have bits of snow in my fur. And I think I might have sprained something. But really, other than that, I think I’m fine. Really.”
She gave him a valiant smile, and he noticed her chin trembled, just a little.
“Why? Do I look bad?’
“Yes, sidala. You look bad.”
“Oh mother.”
“You look fine, my dear. Just a little soggy.” Sireth patted her hand in almost paternal fashion before turning to Kirin. “Captain, I’m not certain what you are planning for us, but I don’t think it would be wise to return to Sha’Hadin. Not today. Not with the state of this young woman, not to mention your brother. It would be inviting disaster.”
“The Inn, then.”
“It is closer. Granted, the owners are inhospitable and the ale weak, but the food is good and the beds are warm. Great sakeh too, real bite to it. Might be just the trick for soggy, wobbly bones, eh?”
Fallon beamed at him.
“Yes. Yes...”
Kirin’s jaw worked as he thought the specifics through.
“You may be right. We will bury our dead, and leave immediately. We should make the Inn by sunset.”
“In about two and a half hours, actually,” Fallon said. “And given the poor conditions of the roads, and the fatigue of the horses, it might even be four. Yep, probably four. How will I get there?”
Kirin stared at her blankly.
“I mean, my horse, he’s, he’s, he tripped and… He was so slow, so slow...”
Her chin trembled again and she did her best to stop the tears that were gathering behind her lashes. Such remorse for that hapless creature was a waste of one’s chi. Nonetheless, it spoke well of her.
He nodded gravely.
“We have three pack horses. I will have one readied for you before we leave.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Might I see your hands?”
“Who? Mine? My hands?”
“Please, sidala.”
With a furrowed brow, the tigress offered Kirin her hands. He took them in his own, noticed that they were still trembling from shock. Gently, he squeezed the pads of her palms, watched the claws extend slightly through the tips of her fingers. As expected, he thought. Small, fine and delicate. Sharp, nonetheless.
“My brother was very fortunate,” said Kirin, releasing her hands. “So were you. I’m glad you survived.”
She did not seem to know the appropriate response, so the Captain rose to his feet, gave her a modest bow and left.
“Was that a good thing?”
Sireth smiled at her. “Yes, I believe it was.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Wow.”
***
The sound of humming met his ears as the Captain picked his way over the rocks to the second pair. Sherah al Shiva had her back to him but he could tell from her movements that she was packing away the various salves and tools she had needed to treat Kerris’ injuries. He shook his head. The woman had proved herself invaluable this last hour with her strange medic
ines and welcome brews. Perhaps the Seer had been right all along. Perhaps his own ‘glass’ was dangerously dark. He made a vow to consider it at a later date.
“Sidala”
“Sidi.”
Still, she did not turn.
He shook his head again.
He passed her by to sit beside his brother, wrapped in the Alchemist’s black cloak, his normally bright blue eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy. His dark grey hair was sticking up all over his head. He smiled as Kirin sat down.
“Hello Kirin.”
“How do you feel?”
“Ah, rather good at the moment. ‘Rah gave me some little powdery thing and a thimble full of potato wine. She would have me believe that my back is in shreds, and that you flailed fur from flesh on my arms but really I am not at all convinced. I feel nothing of the sort.”
“Good.”
Kirin reached behind his brother, lifting the cloak and torn tunic away from his spine. Ten long gashes from shoulders to ribs, all bright and oozing with salve. He noticed her stitching, small and precise, and approved of the fine white threads she used in her work.
“Well done, sidala. These shall heal up quickly.”
“Of course.”
He let the fabric drop to his brother’s back and took Kerris’ arm, turning it over to study her bandaging. Again, neat and precise. Just enough wrap, not too tight. He nodded silently.
“Well, you’ll live.”
Kerris grinned sheepishly. “Yes. I suppose I shall.”
“Are you up for a trip back to the Inn?”
“Will you pay for the ale?”
“I will.”
“Unlimited then,” said Kerris. “Lyn-ling owes me that much.”
Kirin shook his head once again. Only Kerris could get away with calling the Empress by her pet name, the name she had been called since a kitten in the Imperial nursery. Only nursemaids and nannies, and Kerris.
“I believe Her Excellency pays you well, brother.”
“You may be right.”
Golden eyes turned toward them and the Alchemist tilted her head.
“Sidis. I have finished here. Perhaps I should tend to the dead? Prepare their souls for the next world?”
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 14
