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

by Dickson, H. Leighton

  It was very dark up there on the tower, with only purple moon and starlight for guidance. But he saw movement and rushed toward it, black and silver against purple. She was pushing herself up from the stone floor, and at the sound of his boot, looked up through her tangle of hair. Their eyes met. It was his undoing, for there was blood at her mouth, and a sob tore from her throat when she saw him. He knelt beside her and gathered her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” she pleaded. “I’m so sorry for this.”

  And she buried her face into his chest.

  Several long moments he held her, until finally her weeping began to subside. He brushed the hair from her forehead, wiped the tears from her kohl-rimmed eyes.

  Standing directly behind them, Fallon Waterford watched, her arms wrapped around her ribs, and frowned.

  “You are safe, now,” said the Captain. “No one will hurt you.”

  She nodded and took a deep breath, touched the corner of her mouth with tender fingers. The Captain did likewise.

  “What happened?”

  Fallon couldn’t help but wonder at the tone in his voice. She could also hear footsteps, faint at first, but frantic, growing louder as they raced up the tower steps. Kerris leapt up through the hatch behind her, pausing only to orient his eyes to the darkness of the sky. And he too bolted to the cheetah’s side.

  “What happened?”

  Sherah looked from brother to brother, chin trembling, tears threatening to spill once again over her lashes. Instead, Kirin helped her to her feet. She leaned against his arm, and Kerris stepped back.

  “What happened?” he asked again.

  “Not out here,’ said the Captain. “Let’s get her inside.”

  His brother nodded and together they led the woman to the hatch, Kerris sliding down first to take one hand, his brother going through last, keeping the other.

  Leaving the Scholar alone on the roof under the last of the purple sunset.

  ***

  “Where are you going?” Ursa shouted down the dark stair.

  He didn’t answer, but he was headed to the lower level, she knew. Where they kept the horses.

  So, she stopped when she came there and watched as he moved with swift, angry motions. He found his saddle, snatched it up. Then the bridle, then the horse he had ridden since that third morning so long ago at Sha’Hadin. He threw the reins over the great wide neck of the beast and led it out of its stall.

  “Where are you going?” she asked again.

  “Away.”

  “That’s not your horse.”

  And noticed with some satisfaction that she had given him pause.

  “It does not belong to you. It belongs to the Empress.”

  She knew him well enough now to know he considered this. He did not look at her, rarely did when his temper had the better of him. She could tell by the stiffness of his spine. Could see his shoulders relax, then reset. Discomposure, amendment, decision. He released the rein and pushed the horse back into its stall. Methodically, he put the tack back where he had found it and finally swung to face her.

  “I shall walk.”

  “All the way home?”

  “Why not?”

  He threw up his hands, let them fall to his sides with a slap, and brushed past her towards the door, towards the last level of the stair.

  “You can not leave,” she called.

  “You can not stop me,” he called back.

  He was at ground level now, striding toward a uniformed leopard guard. The guard would stop him, she told herself. At night, it was against orders to open the outermost door to anyone, save a lion.

  The guard opened the door.

  He was outside now and she had to move quickly to catch him. With a singing sound, her sword left its scabbard and when she had finally caught up, she ran in front of him and turned it into his chest.

  “I can not let you leave.”

  “Stop me as a soldier, then, or join me as a friend. Either way.”

  His good eye flashed at her. And with remarkable constraint, he grasped the blade in one gloved hand and pushed it out of his way. Stunned, she staggered a little as he brushed past, and she stared at the steel, now glistening with a smear of bright red blood.

  She slid it back where it belonged, and scrambled to catch up.

  ***

  She should be doing something, Fallon told herself. Making tea, fetching water, something. Something other than standing here, watching the three of them navigate these muddy waters on their own. She tightened her grip on her ribcage and puffed. Not that she would be much help in this area. She didn’t even have the courage to step off the shore.

  Kerris sat beside the Alchemist, holding her hand in both of his. Kirin was standing behind them, hands on hips, staring out the window. The city of KhahBull glittered in the distance. His tail, normally held poised and still, rapped the stone floor of the tower keep in agitation.

  “Tell me again,” he growled softly.

  Sherah nodded. She was composed now. She had lit an incense stick and placed it in the brazier. Water was boiling for tea. A candle was burning in front of her, and she kept her gaze locked on it. Composed.

  “I went to the roof. I wished to do my divinations there. It is better to be private, away from curious eyes.” She did not look up. “The Seer was there. Meditating I presume. It was the posture.’

  She paused, ran a tongue across the crust at her lip.

  “I was leaving, not daring intrude, but he began to speak to me, and I thought…” Now, she did look up, but at Kerris. “We have not got on well, the Seer and I. He has not hidden his contempt of me or my Order, so when he approached, I was, I was hoping...”

  “Hoping?” prodded Kirin.

  “For better.”

  Sitting by the door, Fallon Waterford frowned, realizing with a rather quick, quirky thought, that she had been doing that a lot lately. She remembered how her father had insisted her face would stick that way if she did it too much. But there was cause for frowning, for mixed in with the baiting airs and calculated phrases, there was something else, something not quite as tangible. Perhaps, though, more disturbing.

  “What did he say?” asked the Captain. He had still not turned round.

  “He began to call me Shakuri, the name of his late wife. He said how he had missed me, how he was sorry for causing my death, and then…”

  Now, the Captain turned. “Then?”

  “He kissed me.”

  “He kissed you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you did nothing?”

  “He saved my life, that day in the storm. I owe him.” She pouted, raised her brows. “It was a good kiss.”

  Oddly enough, the Captain’s tail lashed at this.

  “And then?” he growled.

  Fallon thought he was doing a lot of growling lately. She wondered if his voice might stick that way.

  “Then he hit me.”

  “Once? Twice? What?”

  “Once, and he left the rooftop. And then... you came.”

  Fallon was waiting, waiting, there! She shook her head, for in an execution of flawless timing, the Alchemist finally turned those golden eyes upwards. Had they been swords, they would have delivered the killing stroke.

  Fallon sat forward. “So when did you scream?”

  All eyes turned now, for the first time tonight, to her.

  “What does that matter?” asked Kerris. “A woman screams when the scream wills, not the woman.”

  Again, Fallon shook her head. “But when? I mean, before he hit you? After?”

  The Captain looked down at the cheetah, inclined his chin like a hawk.

  “Well?”

  “After, sidi. I believed he was going to strike again but the falcon flew in between. He stopped and left the rooftop.”

  Kerris stood up, releasing the long speckled hand, and placing his own on his hips. His brother’s gesture. Fallon had never seen him do this.

  “Well, that makes
two for three, doesn’t it? I mean, first he hits Ursa, now Sherah. Perhaps, sidalady tigress should be very careful.”

  “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “Perhaps you should be.”

  She shrugged, tugged at a well-tugged lace, but said nothing.

  In fact, no one said anything for some time. The water began hissing in its pot, and Sherah moved to tend it. Kerris stopped her, however, catching her hands, and moving them aside.

  “No, no, sidala. Let me tonight.”

  “Actually, Kerris,” said the Captain. “I will do this.”

  Fallon’s heart thudded. There! There! Oh no, please don’t!

  “Oh, it’s quite alright, Kirin. I’ll do—”

  “No, Kerris. I want you to find the Seer.”

  Why couldn’t he see?

  For within that heartbeat, everything changed.

  Kerris’ head snapped up.

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to speak to him.”

  Something glittered in Kerris’ blue eyes.

  “Isn’t that what we have Ursa for?”

  The golden lion felt it, Fallon knew he did, but he gritted his teeth and continued, nonetheless.

  “And, I need to speak with the lady, alone.”

  “Alone? Really?” Kerris rose very slowly to his feet. “Why alone?”

  “Kerris, please.”

  Reinforced with a rap of the golden tail on the floor.

  Oh, it was terrible, those next few moments. Fallon very carefully had begun edging herself towards the door. Despite her natural and boundless curiosity, this was not something she wanted to see. Finally, Kerris looked down at the Alchemist, eyes still strangely glittering.

  “Be gentle with him, sidala. He is a sensitive soul. Accustomed to mothers and courtiers who love him and protect him and tend to his every whim. He has no experience with women like yourself.”

  “Kerris! Enough!”

  But the grey lion executed a very formal bow, and spun on his heel, out the door and down the stairwell before his brother could thrash him for it.

  Fallon slipped from the room, unnoticed. A fact that did not surprise her.

  ***

  The night was perfect and cool, if a little strange. There were no torches lining this road, no guards or sentries, and she thought it odd. The road itself was cut between small red mountains, squared by nature and rounded by wind. It was in reality, not a road, but a simple dirt path. All the way from the Wall to KhahBull. Unlit. Unguarded. Ursa shook her head. It was nice enough however, she thought, to walk on something other than stone.

  She had no idea where he was going, nor for that reason, how she was going to get him back to the Wall. She did know, however, that wherever he went, she would follow. She was his protectress, his very own Imperial guard, and she would die before she let him slip away. And at the pace he was walking, she would be earning her salary tonight.

  “What did she do that you should hit her?” she asked as she strode very swiftly at his side.

  “It is none of your concern.”

  “I didn’t say I was concerned.” He did not respond, so she pressed him. “I will ask and ask and ask all night until you tell me. I am good at that.”

  His tail lashed and she could hear him growl under his breath. She lifted her chin, stared defiantly into the night as she walked even more briskly.

  “I will ask and ask and ask and ask...”

  “She kissed me.”

  She stopped, dead in her track. He did not pause, but kept on walking, right through those red mountains. The way he was feeling, he could have walked forever. Until he heard it, and it stopped him, dead in his track.

  Major Ursa Laenskaya was laughing.

  Laughing so hard, she was holding her sides. Laughing so hard, she was bent over double, her thick tail lashing from side to side. Laughing so hard, she was actually wiping tears from her cheeks. It infuriated him.

  With a swirl of his robes, he marched back to her.

  “It is not funny, Major!”

  “No,” she gasped. “No. Not at all.”

  “Then why are you laughing?”

  “You hit her for kissing you!”

  “Yes!”

  “That is something I would do.”

  Try as he may, he could not keep it, not in the face of this irony. In her skewed, pragmatic view of the world, it had to be more than amusing. And so after several moments, he too smiled.

  “It is not funny,” he protested weakly. “And I am still leaving.”

  And so he did, turn his back and walk away, but this time, much more slowly. She fell in at his side, grinning in the moonlight.

  “So, then. Do you always hit women who kiss you?”

  “Try me.”

  “Pah! No wonder there are no women at Sha’Hadin.”

  But he noticed with some satisfaction, that she was still grinning.

  ***

  Kirin had never been good at this. His hands were too big, his grip too tight. He was accustomed to holding sword, not teapot, and the steaming brew splashed over the rims of both cups. He would have failed Chado, he knew this with certainty. Good thing it was not a requisite in the training camps.

  “I may have let it steep too long,” he said, passing her the cup. “But it is a good blend.”

  She accepted it with lowered eyes. “No one has ever made me tea before. I am honored.”

  “Try it first,” he said. “It may not be such an honor.”

  They struck him now, her eyes did, with the force of the sun. She could kill with one look.

  “Your kindness is the honor, sidi.”

  He sat beside her, around the charcoal brazier in the center of the room. He held the tiny cup with both hands, but did not drink. There were matters. He cleared his throat.

  “One more question, please.”

  “Of course.”

  “He called you a name?”

  “Shakuri.” She smiled into her tea. “It is a lovely name.”

  “Yes.”

  “From Lan’Lahdesh.”

  “The name of his late wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know?”

  There was a sudden sharpness glinting within those golden orbs. He could see her thinking and rethinking and thinking again. She had slipped and he had caught. It had only been a matter of time.

  “I did not know,’ Kirin continued, the ropes of his net tightening around her. “Even, that he had been married, let alone the name of the woman. It disturbs me that you know so much more.”

  “The First Mage is not valued counsel for nothing.”

  “You have said so before.”

  Not the first time on this journey had Jet barraDunne, the First Mage of Agara’tha, made a veiled appearance. Their Seventh rider, perhaps? He shook his head. Yet another road best not traveled.

  “What else has the First Mage seen fit to tell you?”

  “The histories of the men sitting—“

  “Sitting on the Council, yes you have said. Sidala, I will not ask you to betray your lord. Nor will I ask you to betray his confidences. But this I must know. Is there anything that can affect the course of this journey?”

  She was frightened, it was obvious, but so well trained as to mask it beautifully. Or with beauty. Her skill a weapon, as much as his very swords. She plucked at her bruised bottom lip. Drawing attention to it and away from the issue.

  “He has killed before...”

  “As have I. As, I might presume, have you.”

  “I have never killed a lion.”

  “Would you?”

  She did not answer. He narrowed his eyes.

  “Would you?”

  “Not any more.”

  “What is your mission, sidala?”

  “To assist you in ensuring the survival of the last Seer of Sha’Hadin.”

  “We have accomplished this. So now? What is your mission now?”

  “It... has not changed.”

>   “Is it also your mission to kill the last Seer of Sha’Hadin?”

  “No.” Emphatically.

  “That is not something the First Mage asked of you?”

  “No. He has not asked me this.”

  “Not even to ensure Unification?”

  “It would be sacrilege.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Not even to ensure Unification.”

  He believed her.

  “You swore an oath in Pol’Lhasa.”

  “Of course.”

  Part of him wanted to grab her, to shake until the pretense flew from her like chaff. But even though it would be allowed, honorable even and in keeping with the code of Bushido, he found himself wading in different waters. She was a koi. Beautiful and cunning and she swam deep. She had not survived so long by being easy prey.

  He sipped his tea. The only glass you can polish is your own.

  She sipped her tea. She shifted by his side. She glanced from the brazier to her candle to her cup.

  Still, he sipped his tea.

  “Have you ever,” she began. “Been given orders...orders you were loathe to obey?”

  “Of course,” he said, imitating her, and he smiled. It was met and returned, gratefully. He could have sworn he saw a glimmer of tears, but she fought them back.

  “And what did you do?”

  “Obeyed them. But that...is me. If there is anything, anything, that may in any way compromise this journey, you must tell me. Now.”

  She looked back into her tea.

  Beautiful, yes, he thought, but not a koi Not a fish. Rather, a hawk, wild and untamed, used to coursing on its own, now forced to accept morsels from a master’s hand. She could be tamed, he was sure of it. It was a much better life for the hawk, receiving safety, shelter and purpose in exchange for freedom. Yes, it had to be much better.

  “My heart, my soul and my will...” Yes, there were tears again gathering behind her lashes. “Are yours.”

  He finished his tea. That was all he needed to hear.

  ***

  They stood on a knoll, overlooking the city of KhahBull. It’s lights spread out as far as they could see. It was a huge city.

  “You want to go...there?” Her lip curled even as she asked. She had no desire to go to KhahBull.