Again, Kirin managed a weary smile. He had been unable to shake the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach for the last few days since the garrison. Actually, if he put his mind to it, the sinking feeling had been there for weeks, if not months, quite possibly since the journey into Farsight, that wonderful terrible night at the Inn at the Roof of the World. He had just kept pushing it away, further back and deeper in. The complications caused by the Seer’s temper, the Alchemist’s mysteries, his brother’s vices and his own dark, dark glass just seemed to compound the sensation.
And of course, there was Solomon.
He could hear the sounds of footfall, and he looked up to see Kerris approaching.
“We’re going to try and treat her,” said the grey lion. “Sherah, would you fetch your bag of noxious potions? We might need a little alchemy if the beast is to be saved.”
The expression on her face was remarkable to behold, and Kirin wished he hadn’t seen it. It made his heart turn in his chest. Quickly, but still with fluid grace, she unfurled her long body and rose to her feet, turning with a sharp motion that made the coins in her hair snap and jingle with the movement. And then she was gone, rummaging through her bed roll and pack for the pouch containing her ‘medicines’, digging out several and slipping up to Kerris’ side.
“I have never worked on a living horse before,” she purred, and this time, Kirin did not bristle. He had begun to wonder if her way of speaking was not as much a practice of seduction or deception, but rather just the way she had learned to speak. She had, after all, been raised in the company of Alchemists. “I am not certain what I can do.”
“Neither am I,” said Kerris. “But we’ll give it our best. She’s a fine horse. I’d hate to lose her.”
“Of course.”
And the pair turned, backs to the sunset and left the fire for the company of horses.
“She really wants to help,” said Fallon Waterford as she reached over the fire and plucked at a strip of roasting flesh. She blew on it a few times, and popped it into her mouth. “Yum. When you’re hungry, even milk paste begins to taste good. But this….yum yum yum…” She licked her fingers and smiled at him.
He smiled back. “As always, I would like to know your thoughts.”
“My thoughts?”
“As Scholar in the Court of the Empress, I would hope ‘thoughts’ might be your stock in trade.”
“Ha. Funny. My thoughts are that I’m glad they’re going to try to save the horse.”
“I didn’t mean about the horse.”
“Oh. Oh, alright. Um…” She plucked at another strip of flesh, chewed thoughtfully, wrapped her arms around her knees. “Are you talking about Sherah, you and your brother? Or the incident back in Sri’Daolath, or Solomon trying to meet up with us in his strange horseless cart? Or the nature of cats and authority? Or…”
He cocked his head as he looked at her. She really was a perceptive creature. “You may speak your mind, sidala, on any of these.”
She laughed. “Oh no. No no no. If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this trip, it’s that I need to learn when to hold my tongue, not the other way around!”
“Now that is a shame.”
“No,” she corrected, “It’s good. I’m growing up.”
He grinned. “That is also a shame.”
She looked down, her smile wide and warm, and she tugged at the tassels on her tunic once again. She took a deep breath.
“I, I, I think this trip is useless.”
He stared at her.
“Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a magnificent time. The things I have seen, the things I have done, a girl like me just doesn’t get to do stuff like this everyday, so for me, this is the adventure of a lifetime. I’m so completely, wonderfully, blissfully happy…”
“But…?”
“But, this is a huge venture, and as you know, I believe Solomon is a dog, so to travel so very far to meet up with a dog, in, you know, dog territory, well, it seems rather useless. There seems to be no more threat, and he doesn’t seem to be the threatening sort, so, really, um, why are we going through all this? Even if he was a cat, it’s still a terrific bother to cross so much territory, lose so many horses and leopards…you know, for a harmless … dog…”
Her voice trailed off and she watched him, this time only slightly afraid. At least that, he thought, was progress. She bit her lip.
“Unless…”
He looked up at her. “Unless?”
“Unless there’s another agenda, one that I’m not aware of.”
He could not think fast enough. Blast, but she was perceptive, more than he’d given her credit for. It was dangerous for her to think so much. He could not bring himself to lie, not to her, so he said nothing.
“Wow,” she breathed. “Wow. I’m just… wow… I think I’ll shut up now.”
“Perhaps that is a good idea.”
And they said nothing more for some time.
***
“What year is this?”
Kirin took a deep breath. It was late and Solomon was chatty and that made things dangerous. “It is the second Year of the Tiger in the reign of Empress Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu, of the FangXiang Dynasty.”
“Okay, that’s not really helpful.”
“I’m sorry, Solomon. I do not understand your question, then.”
“Never mind. I don’t know how to explain it, and it won’t really serve any purpose any way. It’s just that I think I’ve been down here a lot longer than was planned, and that has complicated things. I can’t get a hold of Max –“
“Who is Max?”
Fallon leaned forward, tiger stripes dancing in the firelight. “He’s mentioned Max before, remember? The very first night, back in Sha’Hadin. He said, “Get this procedure back on track, Max, or this cold is going to kill me.” I remember, ‘cause I was there.”
The Seer blinked, rolled his eyes back into his head as he thought. “Max is not really a person, Fallon. He’s a computer, which probably means nothing to you, and he’s housed in a satellite that is orbiting the earth, which probably means even less. Do you guys even know the earth is round?”
“Round?” Kerris lifted his head from his arms. “Round?”
“Never mind—“
“No, no,” urged Kerris, fully awake now. “I’ve seen things, roundy things, with what looks like bumpy sketches of water and land – the horn of Hindaya, Hiran and Hirak, the land of the Chi’Chen… They were very old, most of them were broken, but they always made me wonder…”
Fallon was staring at him, emerald eyes wide, but Kirin cut her off.
“Is this important, Solomon? How does that help us meet up with you?”
“Oh, it doesn’t. In fact, it will just be more of a problem. Your world sounds so, so different that the one I left…”
The fire was sizzling and the rocks glowing. The faces against the fire were toasty warm, their backs cold and dark. Night in Khanisthan was sharp and brutal, even in the middle of summer, and each and every one was lost in their thoughts, wishing in their own way for the very different worlds they had left.
Kirin cleared his throat. “So, can you get your… Hum…Hum-land…dee—“
“Der.”
“Yes. That. Can you get it moving?”
“If I can get it out of the ground, yes. We’re deep underground, remember? The hydraulics aren’t working, so – Whoa!”
Suddenly he ducked, arms thrown over his face and they all leaned forward, careful not to touch him but ready to move if needed. It was still fresh in Kirin’s memory - the time on the Wall, when Solomon had bolted and the Seer had almost gone over the edge as a result.
“Solomon…”
Breathing heavily and blinking, wild-eyed and disoriented, the Seer began to sit up, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Whoa…whoa, okay…” He muttered to himself, rubbing his face and eyes. “Hot damn…”
“Solomon, what has happened? Are yo
u injured?”
“No, it’s just that the lights… the power just came on, that’s all. I’ve been in the dark, with only the generators and head beams for light, and like, pow, everything just came back on. Hey, maybe the computers…”
And this time, he pushed up to his feet. They all did likewise. It seemed very much like the time back on the Wall. He touched the back of his head. “Hey, Max? Max, can you hear me? Are you there?”
But before there was time for a response, the Seer staggered and Kirin could tell the connection was severing. They had seen this almost every night for months now. Usually it was just a closing of the eyes, a long deep breath and gone, but sometimes it was harsh, abrupt, violent.
His breathing had changed yet again, and Kirin leaned in, curious, apprehensive and stilled. The Seer’s bird-like gaze grew glassy, as if focused on something very far far away. His brow drew in as if puzzling.
“Sidi,” asked Kirin.
“It’s so hot…The dragon…”
It was Sireth this time – the accent said as much – but this was no conversation.
“Which dragon, sidi?”
“The metal dragon…He’s burning up…”
Kerris shook his head. “There are no metal dragons. Only fire, water, wind or earth. Never wood, never metal…”
“The metal dragon… he’s burning…he’s falling…”
“Falling from where, sidi?”
“Wait, wait…” The Seer growled and closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to see more clearly. He raised one hand in the air. “Falling…from the sky…He’s falling from the sky… From the sky? Ah, there you are, Path. I’ve missed you too.”
And as always, in a feat of timing that rivaled even the most professional of kabuki actors, the falcon, Path, swooped down from the stars in a jingle of talon leathers and bells. She settled on her master’s outstretched glove, home.
Kirin shook his head, confused at the leaps from Solomon to Seer, from dragon to falcon, but his brother nudged his ribs.
The tigress was staring upwards at the stars, her own eyes wide, mouth open in a big, wonderous “O”.
With that sinking sensation returning to the pit of his stomach, Kirin looked up.
The star, the new star that had seemed to follow them since their journey’s beginning, had changed. Like a shooting star or the tail of a particularly powerful set of fireworks, a streak of white had appeared at one end. It had not been there the night previous but it looked as though it had been there forever, frozen in time. It hung above them now, a slash in the black pelt of night, a tear in the silk of heaven. It seemed in no hurry to move.
“Wow,” said the Scholar brightly. “Max.”
And Kirin knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his secret would now be impossible to keep.
***
“Sahidi…”
“No,” he grunted and pulled the great bearskin tighter across his shoulders. “Not now.”
“Sahidi, please.”
Reluctantly, the tiger roused himself from his sleep, white eyes flashing in the darkness at the black robed figure. “Talmoud, if this is not necessary—“
“It is necessary, sahidi.”
With a deep and cleansing breath, Jet barraDunne threw off the skins and pulled himself from his bedroll. These Khanisthan nights were blisteringly cold, he fumed. He was not accustomed to sleeping in the open air like a common soldier. Slowly, he approached the fire where the others were already waiting.
“I was dreaming of my third wife,” he growled, hiking the bearskin high around his shoulders. “She was most pleasant. Until she met my fourth…”
The others smiled. His paramours were the stuff of legend, and no one was entirely sure what was truth and what was creation. He, above all of them, was fond of his mysteries.
One of them raised a finger, pointing to the night sky. barraDunne looked up and released a long deep breath at the sight.
“My my,” he whispered. “And the numbers? The numbers? Are they constant?”
“Constant, sahidi. Six.”
“This is a terrifying time for our people.” He looked at the faces, hooded around the fire then back at the star, it’s new tail signaling some significant change, one that they would attempt to divine, had been divining for months since its arrival, but the answer had seemed impossible, inexplicable, kingdom-shattering. He looked back at them, smiling like the moon.
“Hmm… The Chancellor will not be pleased…”
***
In a lush bed, several hundred miles away, a woman nudged her sleeping husband, whose pelt was as thick as a blanket of snow. She pushed him out from under his covers to show him the night sky and the falling star that was not falling.
He wrung his soft white hands and moaned.
In a lush bed, also several hundred miles away, a maidservant whispered to an Empress, whose pelt was as black as the heavens. She accompanied her from her bedchamber to a high narrow window to show her the night sky and the falling star that was not falling.
She clasped her soft black hands and began to pray.
In a country far to the east, a thousand miles away, a people whose pelts were short and coarse and unremarkable as the grass, but whose tails could accomplish miracles –small unusual and agile people— looked up from their beds, from their fires, from their homes and farms and fields, They stared and marveled and sang to the night sky and the falling star that was not falling.
In a country not so far to the north, several hundred miles away, a people whose pelts were both long and short, rough and smooth –large, clawed and unnatural people— looked up from their beds, from their fires, from their homes and towns and villages and armies,. They sang and howled and laughed and puzzled, but a dangerous few took note and made preparations to follow.
And so began the time of awakening, when the whole earth, Upper and Lower and Eastern Kingdoms began preparations for a change that was surely coming, for the mages and alchemists, diviners and seers of every race and people began to see a thing that could not be but was. For a few of these sojourners who had already begun the journey, they were divided in what they would see. One thought she was going to meet a tiger. One thought he was going to meet a monkey. One thought she was going to meet a dog.
But three knew, only three, what they were really going to meet, and only one knew how it would end. But some things, once started, just cannot be stopped, and even that one did not know how all of it would end, or how it truly would end.
Because that is the realm of the storyteller, and tonight, that you will not know. May your dreams be filled with possibilities.
The Dry Provinces
Somewhere beyond Herath, the Great Mountains die.
It is a well known fact that, like an old woman, our Mother dwindles for some time, days and days in fact on horseback, as her peaks become steppes, her heights plateaus, her fangs and claws and teeth dulled and flattened and traded for sand. Not sand like the sand in Aegyp, where peaks and dunes are weapons of a different sort, but sand as in soil that is dry, hard-packed and heartless. The oryx and wild goats have a hard time here.
For even Khanisthan, wild, bloody, turbulent Khanisthan, cannot rival the sheer number of deaths that take place in the Dry Provinces.
Kerris had led us through the border town of Herath and there we stopped to add to our caravan a cart, which was now being pulled by one of the desert horses. We needed to accumulate supplies for the crossing of Hiran, a large province to be sure, and we would need stores of water and rice to ensure a constant supply of milk-paste and tea. We had had considerable luck at hunting down the odd gazelle or quail, so meat had been plentiful during this leg of our journey. But then again, Khanisthan is more obliging than Hiran or Hirak, and such prizes could not be guaranteed during the weeks to come. No, pheasant jerky and snake would be more the expected fare. Or if we were very unlucky, horse.
So, after two days of riding in this hard, dry, yellow terrain, we came upon a set of bluf
fs -large outcroppings of red rock against the tawny landscape, and even from half a day’s ride away, we could smell it, the rank, musky smell of very old earth. Our scholar Fallon Waterford began to become very excited, for she and Kerris (the entire party in fact) could recognize that smell anywhere.
The smell of hot springs.
Like curtains to a holy temple, the red rocks opened upon an oasis of green and blue. Cedars and willows and acacia, vast expanses of grass and lush reeds surrounding pools of sky blue. In fact, it looked as if the sky had sat down in places, for even the clouds were reflected in the mirror-like surfaces of the waters. The smell was almost overpowering, like the reek from a rotting egg, and in crevices beyond the blue, pits of grey green water bubbled and steamed against the rock.
I do love my brother,I must be quick to admit this. He is sunshine to my moon, lightness to my preternatural heaviness, and the thought of ever losing him cuts me to the quick. But I do not, nor ever will, understand him. He is Yang to my Yin, eternally opposite, and things that are perfectly clear to me are muddy to him, and likewise, those things that capture him heart and soul are mere diversion, if not outright confusion, to me.
So, the first thing that Kerris did upon entering this unusual ‘box canyon’ was hop from the back of his pony and run through the thick grass to leap headlong into the water. The Scholar, being a tigress, let out a rather un-tigerlike squeal and followed. The rest of us tried to stay as far away from the pools as possible, for it is our good sense not to get wet. Not a stitch of clothing, not a whisker or hair. Rain is bad enough. For the rest of us, just watching the pair, diving and splashing and swimming was enough to turn our stomachs and send shudders up our spines. At least I can speak for myself. The look on the Seer and the Major’s faces spoke well enough.
As for the Alchemist, she merely smiled that cryptic smile of hers and studied them as though committing their actions to memory.
Like my brother, she confounds me sometimes.
So, we set our tents, for we hoped to stay two nights. The horses needed a rest and the grass and hunting were good. The falcon had been a welcome return to our company, as she was a good hunter and always kept us supplied with rabbits and other small game. She did again that first night, and we dined on fresh meat and rice soup that the Alchemist made from the abundance of water and strange seasonings from one of her pouches. I do not wish to know the ingredients. It was tasty enough without the knowing.
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 45
