“Is this possible?”
Sireth snorted.
“Yes,” purred the cheetah as she now began to unravel the braid, plait by plait. “It would not take much for such a Soul to focus his thoughts and melt the snow beneath the mass. It was happening anyway. It would simply be a matter of timing.”
Kirin turned back to the Seer.
“Is this true? Are you a firestarter, sir?”
“I am the last Seer of Sha’Hadin. Would you be asking such a question of Petrus Mercouri were he standing in my place?”
“Answer the question.”
Fallon glanced nervously at the faces all around her. The accusation had not been denied and the tension had grown unbearable, but she could think of no way to break it. She tugged at her laces, and waited.
Finally, the Seer smiled. “If I were as you say, Captain, then I would have little faith in these bonds at my wrists, for it would take nothing at all to burn them clean through.”
“Take him upstairs.”
Two of the three guards stepped forward and with a shake of his head, Sireth benAramis allowed himself to be ushered past the Captain. He paused for a brief moment.
“Be careful what and whom you believe, Captain. It is not my soul you are damning but your own.”
Kirin stepped aside and together the three men began the climb up the stairs that led to the upper rooms. Ursa pivoted to follow. The Captain stopped her.
“Major, do not let him out of your sight, but do not touch him. Is that clear?”
She nodded swiftly and was gone, the clacking of heels on hard wood fading up the steps and down the long corridor.
The Captain lowered himself onto a bench, elbows on the table and began to rub his forehead. He had another headache.
With her heart in her throat, Fallon slid off the far table and approached him, nervously tugging a well-tugged lace of her vest.
“Um, sir, I just want to say...”
He glared up at her from under his brow.
“I just want to say that I - I’m sure you’ll do the right thing. Sir.”
“Thank you, sidala.”
“I mean, even if it is hard to understand. It’s not always a distinction that is easy to make.”
“I know.”
“’Cause I know what I heard last night, sir, and I heard a tiger. A tiger, right and sure.”
“I know.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
Immediately, he cursed himself. He was just about to ask her to leave him alone for a while. Confound him and his accursed ‘dark glass.’
“That would be very nice. Thank you, sidala.”
She smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. That left him alone with the Alchemist. At least, she wasn’t humming.
“You seem to know a great deal of this matter, sidala.”
“I know a great deal in many matters, sidi.” It seemed as if she were about to leave it at that but for some reason, she decided otherwise. “Unlike yourself, I was not sent out unprepared.”
“What does that mean?”
“The First Mage is not valued counsel for nothing, sidi. He believes it is his duty to be informed of all aspects of the Kingdom, from the very number of guards in each regiment to the histories of the men sitting on the Council of Seven. How else could he faithfully advise the Empress?”
“How else indeed?” Kirin sat very still, weighing her words against the inner voice that nagged within. “Tell me what you know.”
“I know nothing for fact, sidi, but...”
“Tell me.”
She pouted, picked at her hair, rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“Have you heard how he got his scar?”
“I had never thought it necessary to ask.”
“It is believed that he got it while killing a lion in the National Guard, sidi. Only the intervention of Petrus Mercouri saved his neck from the executioner’s blade.”
It is not my soul you are damning, the man had said, but your own.
The Captain sat back for a long moment, feeling a weight settle onto his shoulders. None of this was good. None of this belonged. He regarded the woman with a frown.
“What else has the First Mage seen fit to tell you?”
“Enough.”
“Riddles. Again, riddles. You are not being helpful.”
Suddenly, she was beside him, moving with such lithe grace that it caught him completely unawares. He had not, in fact, seen her move. She straddled the bench, bringing her proud Aegypshan face only inches away and the incense that wafted from her was rich and heady.
“I can help you, sidi.” Her golden eyes were intense, almost pleading. “Just say the word.”
For some strange reason, his thoughts began to grow muddy as she moved closer still, almost sucking his breath out through his lips. He wanted to pull away but he couldn’t, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He wanted to...
...he wanted...
“Tea, sir. Hot and sweet, and – oh. Sorry!”
“Thank you, sidala.”
He broke the closeness as the tigress placed the mug before him. He cupped it, feeling the heat radiate through ceramic into his palms. He took a large mouthful, wincing as that same heat scalded his tongue, bringing him swiftly, fiercely back to reality.
The Alchemist rose from the bench.
“I will take my leave of you, sidi. Your brother should be waking—”
“No!” he snapped. “No, but thank you, sidala. I myself shall check on Kerris soon enough. You are dismissed.”
She nodded slowly, then slunk up the stairs to the middle room.
He waited until he heard the click of her door before he allowed himself to relax.
“She’s a little strange, I guess, but I think she means well.”
Kirin glanced up at the Scholar, sunshine after shadow.
“No, sidala, I don’t think she means anything of the sort.” He smiled a weary smile. “Please, sit. I wish to know your impressions of this matter.”
“Oh. Well. Alright.” Fallon slid her backside onto the rough wood of the tabletop, clasping her hands between her knees. “Can I have a sip of your tea?”
He offered her the mug and she gulped it in hungrily, and gulped again, leaving her with a wet puma’s moustache. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and handed the mug back.
“Thanks. Um, okay, you want to know what I think these ‘spells’ are?”
He stared into the dregs of his mug. There was nothing left.
“Yes.”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Hm.”
“But, I have a story.”
“I am not surprised. Tell me.”
“Well, my father used to raise pheasants. Golden crested pheasants. Pretty things. Nasty personalities, though. Very aggressive. Very stupid. Any way, he had this prized hen, one he had hand-reared from the shell. He had bred her and was anxiously awaiting her clutch, when just before she was to lay, she escaped the pheasantry and was gone.”
She bugged her eyes at him, as if he should appreciate the seriousness of the situation. He simply stared at her.
“Now, I had only six summers when all this happened, and one day soon after, when I was exploring in the forest, I came across her nest. Father had figured she would be a bad sitter, being hand-reared and all –”
“Sidala, does this in any way pertain to the matter at hand?”
“Oh, I think so. Maybe. Probably. Just hang on. So, turns out that Father was right. There it was, a clutch of four perfect eggs, left alone on the jungle floor. I knew that I should have gone immediately to fetch him, but they were already starting to crack, so... I didn’t.”
She frowned, and said nothing more for several seconds.
“And?”
“And? Oh, I watched. I sat there and watched, as one by one, these tiny prized chicks struggled to get free from their shells. I wanted to see it happen. I had always been so curious about it, but one by one, it didn’t happen
at all. One by one, I watched their struggles grow weaker and the shells got the better of them, and one by one, they died. Until I - I couldn’t stand it anymore and for the fourth and final chick, I broke open the shell and helped it out onto my palm. It was all brown and wet and ugly, but it was alive and I had helped it be free.”
She turned those earnest emerald eyes on him.
“It seems to me that we have the same situation here. One by one, something has been killing the Council of Seven, and I can only think that this... this ‘something’ has been trying to break out, to break free, just like those chicks, and using the Council to do it. I mean, who better than such sensitive and powerful souls? So finally, by helping Sireth survive, we have helped it survive and now it is free. But, like that little chick, it is not safe, its existence not secure. I think it still needs our help. That little chick died, Captain. Even with all my help, my ‘valiant efforts’ on its behalf, it just curled up in my palm and died. This fellow with the voice of a tiger is afraid. He thinks he is going to die - he told me so last night. And I’m afraid that if he does die, he will take Sireth and the last of the Council along with him.”
She shrugged, pouted and shook her head.
“I can’t imagine any thing else. Unless of course...”
“Yes?”
“Well, unless of course, Sireth’s gone completely mad...” She shrugged again. “Either one.”
Kirin sat quietly for some time, allowing the echo of her words to sink in. Finally, he sighed.
“You are wise for one so young, sidala. Thank you.”
“Oh, that’s alright. Don’t mention it. Except maybe to my father. He’s still angry at me for losing his hen.”
“Sidala?”
“Oh, didn’t I say? Yeah, I was the one who forgot to close the pheasantry door. We lost all the pheasants that night. Just like that. One little mistake and – Poof! No more pheasants. Yep, he was pretty mad...”
“Again, I am not surprised.”
With that, Kirin rose from the table and began the climb to the second floor.
***
The sound was the sound of steel on steel, the slicing and scraping of razor-sharp edges as Major Ursa Laenskaya crouched in a corner of the drafty room. In her hands were two of the many daggers she had retrieved from the silver ‘fence’ along the bedframe and she was busy honing their blades lest they be needed anytime soon. Occasionally, she allowed her icy eyes to dart to the Seer, silent and seated on the mahogany floor. She was mapping herself a target area of heart, lungs and other vital organs. She would carve him like a springbuck, given the chance.
“Does the sharpening of my blades annoy you, Seer?”
Naturally, there was no response, for he had not said a word since being ushered back to the small room. She rose to her feet.
“Did I hurt you earlier? Perhaps you bit your tongue.”
Again, nothing.
With a sneer, she flipped one knife to grasp it by the blade and sent it hissing down next to the Seer’s knee. He did not flinch. Indeed, it was as if he had not noticed. She flipped the second in her palm and flung it hard, thudding into the hollow between his crossed legs. A good shot, if she had to admit it herself. But once again, there was no reaction whatsoever.
She wanted a reaction.
Her bootheels snapped like angry dogs as she strutted across the room, crouching down in front of him. She yanked the first dagger out of the hardwood and slid it into its sheath. The second she also retrieved but let it roll about in her palm as if deciding its fate. She regarded the Seer.
“I should kill you now.”
Finally, Sireth opened his eyes.
“Perhaps you should, Major. It would seem that your Captain has no taste for bloodshed. As for me, I am looking forward to seeing Petrus again. We have much to discuss.”
“Pah! An old man’s folly. When you die, you die. There is nothing beyond that. Nothing.”
“Even that would be preferable to this.”
Ursa sat back on her haunches, flicking the hilt up and down in her fingers.
“Perhaps I won’t kill you, then. Perhaps I will just take out your good eye.”
“I would still see more clearly than you,” he whispered.
She waggled the point of the knife under his chin.“See, that’s what I hate about people like you.”
“People like me? Mongrel people?”
“Seers. Scholars. Alchemists. Even grey-coated lions. People who think they are better than others because some twist of kharma has given them something no one else has. Making them think they are more because of something they didn’t earn. Judging others as inferior, weak, less. That’s what I hate about people like you.”
“And here, all along I thought you simply hated the beard.”
“That too.”
Quite unexpectedly, the Seer smiled at her and for a fleeting moment, she was confused. But she rose to her feet, sheathing the dagger into the leather at her arm. She crossed the room, to take up her position in the corner once again.
Finally, there was the approaching sound of boots on hardwood and the door creaked open under the Captain’s hand.
“Leave us.”
“Sir.”
She allowed him to pass and slipped around behind, grabbing the heavy iron latch to swing the door closed. As it closed, she heard the singing of steel and she risked a glance inward. The Captain was advancing on the Seer. He had drawn his short sword.
The door thudded shut.
Major Ursa Laenskaya stayed very still for a long moment, puzzling at this strange new sensation that was sinking her stomach like a stone. Finally, she shook her head and went down for breakfast.
***
“Good morning, Kerris your name was.”
“And a very good morning to you, sidalady tigress. I hope you haven’t eaten all the wontons.”
“Nope. Saved the broken ones for you.”
“How very considerate.” Kerris lowered himself down to the table. “Is there any tea? I’m starving.”
Fallon smiled at him, pushing her mug towards him with a slim, orange finger. “Hey, where’s your tunic?’
He tugged at the blanket around his shoulders, wondering how in the Kingdom he could explain without really explaining, for in truth, he hadn’t a clue. “Um, well, sort of, you know...”
“Look, I’m really sorry...”
“You are?”
“I didn’t even think. I mean I just grabbed and well, you were just sort of there and well, you did say ‘climb’, so so I’m really sorry...”
“Right. Well, if I said ‘climb’ then...”
“Then...”
“Right.”
He sipped at his tea or rather, her tea, perplexed.
“How do you feel, anyway?”
He glanced around for the Innkeep, wondering if anyone was going to bring him some food.
“Well, not too bad really, all things considered.”
“And your arms?”
“Funny thing about arms,” he said, raising them in the air. “Can’t live with ‘em...”
“Can’t cut ‘em off!”
And the Great Room was filled with the sounds of sunny laughter.
Major Ursa Laenskaya stormed down the stairs.
“Inkeep!” she bellowed as she dropped herself on the bench beside them, “Bring me some tea!”
Within seconds, several mugs of hot sweet tea were placed on the table as well as several platters of flatbreads, fruits and cheese. Pickled fish and strips of curried lamb were also presented, and soon both Kerris and Fallon were digging in, hungrily filling the gaps in their bellies as quickly as they could. The Major, on the other hand, seemed to have no appetite and merely stared at the mug in her hand.
“I don’t think we’ll be making the Palace today,” said Kerris with a mouthful of fish. “So I’m thinking of going into the marketplace. Seems I am badly in need of a new tunic and cloak. Would either of you lovely ladies care to accomp
any me?”
Ursa slammed her mug down on the table. “No!”
“Well. Alrighty then.”
“Mother,” muttered the Scholar as she sunk low into her seat. “She needs something stronger than tea...”
With a snarl, the Major pushed herself up and away and began pacing in front of the Great Room’s main hearth, arms wrapped tightly across her chest. Kerris shook his head.
“Really now Ursa, all this is a bit much, don’t you think? I mean, none of this involves you but you’re tighter than the trigger on a crossbow.”
“Oooh. Good one,” said Fallon.
“Thanks. So? Ursa?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“True enough, I suppose. Sorry for caring. Forget I asked.”
The Major whirled on him, her pale eyes flashing.
“You want to know why I’m so angry. You? You spoiled, insignificant excuse for a lion?”
“Well, not if you put it that way...”
“Do you really want to know?!”
Kerris swung around on the bench to face her.
“Alright then, yes. Oh wise, unspoiled most significant excuse for a snow leopard, pray tell me. What is it that has made you so angry?”
“Your brother has just killed the Seer.”
She got her reaction once again.
“What?” whispered the Scholar. “What did you say?”
“Oh, Life is not so funny now, is it, tigress? No smart comeback? No witty turn of phrase? Just ‘What did you say?’ Surely you can do better than that.”
Fallon glanced at Kerris, tears welling up in her eyes. She raised a trembling hand to cover her mouth.
“Would - would he do that?”
“Well, if Kirin does anything, you can be sure he has a good reason for it.”
“But... but, I thought...”
“Maybe you didn’t think at all,” hissed Ursa. “This is not some game that you can play or a little while until you grow tired of it. When you swore your oath to the Captain, you placed your very life in his hands. Did you think that was a game too?”
“I –I...”
“Enough, Ursa. You don’t need to make the girl feel worse than she already does. Besides, if Kirin had to kill anybody, it would be done swiftly. You can believe that. Kirin doesn’t like killing. He never has.”
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 17
