She paused at the door, still holding onto the latch as if not wanting to let go. What had she become in all of this, she wondered? Was she really growing up, like she had insisted so many weeks ago, or was she simply growing hard? Perhaps they were the same. She had seen it in her parents, in her sisters, in their husbands. It was naive to think one could remain happy and optimistic under the heavy hand of life. Dharma was a cruel mistress, the Fates even worse and she had given in to them, not fighting hard enough to see herself through. No, she was changed, and it remained to be seen whether or not the change was for the better.
So with a bitter sob, she turned and took several quiet steps down the hall, pausing only slightly as she heard a door open then close. She lengthened her stride, hoping to slip away into the shadow before anyone could see, but a voice called down the hallway that stopped her in her tracks.
“Sidala?”
The voice, his voice. The same as the Captain’s, but different, musical and free, and ever so slowly she turned to see Kerris Wynegarde-Grey standing at the end of the hall.
She had never been certain if a man could swoon. She knew that it was reported of women, especially high-born women (lionesses mostly), and that it was a condition of high emotion, but she had never actually seen it, and always had doubted its veracity. But as the grey lion staggered toward the wall as if his knees were buckling, her first thought was that he was about to swoon upon seeing her. Silly, she knew, but that was her first thought.
Her second was that she should help him, so she scurried down the corridor to his side, not knowing exactly what he needed to keep his balance, but if felt good just to have her hands on him nonetheless. He was staring at her, breathing very hard.
“You…you’re alive?”
It sounded almost like an accusation.
“Oh, um, yes. Alive. Not running away, or anything. Just, you know… alive.” He was clutching her arms, a strange expression on his face. She suddenly realized that this conversation, right here outside the Captain’s door, was not helping her in her leaving, so she snagged one of his hands and dragged him down the hall and into her room. He sagged back against the door, looking for all the world as if his brother had struck him once again.
“Now don’t tell anyone, okay?” she whispered. “I am actually just…well, I am leaving, and the Captain will just have to deal with it. I can’t do this anymore.”
He had taken her hand, was turning it over and over in his, as if studying its absence of color. “You’re alive,” he said again softly.
“Of course I am,” she responded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He reached out now to touch her chin, to run his fingers along the white splashes that had changed her from sweet to striking. Then her hair, the wild ripples of white, the unruly texture that before had been so very ‘ruly.’ She held her breath until he had finished exploring, watched the frown lines soften and a hint of a smile take their place.
“No one’s ever lived before.”
“Wow. I thought your brother…”
“Never that close.”
“Well,” she brightened. “I guess I’m just special.”
And when he smiled at her, the sun, moon and stars all rolled into one. “Yes, you are.”
And when he kissed her, all thoughts of leaving vacated her head and she felt like she just might swoon.
And when he took her in his arms and later to the bed, she thought she was the happiest she’d ever been in all her life.
***
He opened the door and ever so softly, closed it behind him. The sun had still not come up, but the sky was purple and red now, casting warm shadows into the room. He had the sundial and he needed to meditate, but he stopped short, realizing that he was not alone.
The Major was sitting on his bed, back against the wall, knees up, picking her teeth with the tip of a blade.
He was tired, and in no mood for explaining.
She rose to her feet and swaggered over to him, tossing the dagger from hand to hand. Even in her bootheels, she only came up to his chin.
“Did you have a nice night?” she asked. Her tone was bland, her eyes glittering.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. But I must meditate now.”
“Oh. You must meditate, must you?” She began poking at the fabric of his robe with the tip of the blade, and he sighed again. “Is that what they do at the Yellow Scorpion?”
“You were following me?”
“Of course. It is my duty. What was her name?”
“Stelljianna. I needed the sundial.”
“And so you bedded her for a sundial?”
“If you were following me, then you would know I did not bed her.”
“So you say.”
He reached down and drew open the crossed front of his robe. There were only tan and brown layers underneath. Nothing remarkable, certainly nothing of interest. She said as much.
“She noticed my sash and liked the color. We made a trade. A sash for a sundial. It seemed fair.”
Ursa raised a snowy eyebrow. “Your sash.”
“Yes.”
“Your priest’s sash. The orange one.”
“Saffron.”
“Pah. She is a bigger idiot than you.”
“Fortunately.” He tried to smile, but he was so very tired it didn’t actually make it to his lips. “Now, please Major, if we are to find Solomon, I must use the sundial as a conduit, and seek his thoughts. I will need silence –“
“I thought you needed opium.”
“Silence will suffice.”
She stepped back, allowing him to fully enter the room. “Very well. Meditate. I will watch over you.” And she slunk back into a corner, slid down into a crouch and pulled the dagger up to her face, using it to clean her teeth in a most dangerous fashion.
It depends on how much you love her.
He sighed, folded his long legs to the floor, and fished the sundial from a deep robe pocket. He removed his gloves, took a deep breath, picked up the bangle with his bare fingers and was gone.
***
“Tea, sidi?”
Kirin winced. He had lived through his share of battles. He had fought dog soldiers in the high lands of Shibeth, had battled his share of behemoths and villains and criminals. He had on more than one occasion been unlucky enough to fight the swarms of rats that frequently cropped up within their borders. But rarely did he feel as bad after such a fight as he did now.
He pushed himself up from his bed, to find a long speckled hand holding a porcelain cup out for the taking. He could smell it so strongly and it set his mouth a-watering. He took it from her, allowing the heat from the cup to warm his hands and help bring him back to life from the snake pit he had been dreaming in, and met her eyes with his own.
A garden of wonders in every blink.
“Thank you, sidala.”
“Of course.” She adjusted her position on the floor, turned her head so as to better study him, which of course caused him to cast his own eyes down over his body. Yes, clothed. Safe. Why did she always make him feel so exposed?
“The Magistrate is holding a gala for us tonight,” she purred.
“For us? Why?”
She smiled, a tug into one cheek. “I do not know, sidi. I did not ask.”
“Interesting.” He sipped at his tea, staring into its clear golden depths. He thought of his plans to leave well before dawn tomorrow, to leave her and the Scholar behind. For the best, he knew. It was only a road to death. Death on all sides and at its very end. There was no hope for him now. There was only honor and the preservation of it. In that, he realized that ultimately, both he and the Seer were right, for the battle for honor was indeed a battle against desire, and the preservation of it did bring sorrow. Yes, he thought, that was most interesting.
But still, sad.
“Sidi, you seem sad.”
Now he smiled at her, and wondered ever so briefly if she could actually hear his thoughts. “No, sidala, bu
t I can assure you that I will not be drinking sakeh, or Arak, or any other alcoholic beverage at the Magistrate’s gathering tonight.”
She laughed, and he almost fell over with the force of her. He was very grateful for the wall behind his back.
“The Magistrate has arranged for formal attire for us. His seamstresses have requested a fitting.”
“One more cup of tea and I shall almost be able to stand.”
She nodded, the smile not having left her face the entire time. “That I can arrange, sidi.” And she rose to her feet, her legs going on and on, her shape obvious even within the many folds of dark linen that were her desertwear. She crossed the clay-tiled floor and threw open the draping fabric that covered the window. The strong Shiryian sunlight fell into the room.
***
All the lions in Shiryia were invited, that much was a given. Invited too were all those of Sacred blood, but in such a remote posting, there were few. The Magistrate, his immediate family, cousins, married relations of cousins and such. There were tigers, of course – high ranking tigers in charge of procuring supplies for the garrison and the construction of the Wall still months away. There were military men as well, leopards and jaguars and cheetahs, for the military was of supreme importance in Sharan’yurthah and its surrounding area. There were a few lynx, a few ocelots, a few caracals and sandcats, fewer snow leopards, (for the thickness of their pelts makes desert life extremely difficult for such cats) – all people of importance in the city and by the time the sun was setting, the Riyad and courtyard surrounding the long reflecting pool was full to brimming with bodies.
The Riyad was very large, with white-washed pillars punctuating the stained cedar walls of the courtyard. The ground was a garden of ceramic tiles alternating with squares of green grass, and both palms and cedars dotted the court, drawing all eyes upwards to the starry sky above. The few tables were elaborately decorated, and smells of roasting lamb filled the night air. It was impressive, most impressive in fact for such a remote city, but that still did not move the heaviness that had now taken up permanent residence in the Captain’s heart.
He stood in the centre of the outdoor room, flanked by the Magistrate, an orange man with similar markings to a tiger, and his equally Sacred wife, a small round woman whose pelt was liberally splotched with white, orange and black. Kalih’coh. She had not stopped staring at him all night. He had been introduced to every single man, had received bows of every degree of formality imaginable, had made small talk with every cat, from diplomat to banker, from general to priest. He nibbled shrimps and goat-feet, pastries and nuts, sipped spring water from a tall glass, nodded and smiled and engaged in all manner of polite and courteous behavior.
It was only the Imperial banner that hung from a high minaret, and Sherah al Shiva in black silk at his side that kept him in the room.
He had not seen the Major nor the Seer at all during this gala, and was beginning to despair when he caught a flash of green out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see Fallon Waterford dressed in an elaborate thobe of embroidered sateen, her now-wild hair covered in a stunning head-dress of golden threads, ribbon and beads. Her large emerald eyes were wide, taking everything in, and Kirin felt a small measure of satisfaction in the fact that this, of all things, had not changed. What did cause his heart to thud was the fact that at her side, fingers interlaced with hers, was his brother in night-blue silk, looking for all the world like he belonged, right here, right now, in this particular room at the very edge of the world.
He felt the Alchemist shift, watched her posture change at the very sight of him. Even the Magistrate’s wife brightened and he marveled at how Kerris had that effect on women. He wondered what exactly it was, and, while his brother was most certainly aware of it, whether or not he cultivated it.
“Kerris.”
The grey lion spotted him, smiled and angled the young tigress over to where his brother was standing.
“Kirin! Wonderful party, yes? I’m dying to try some of those shrimps. Huge buggers, aren’t they? I hear they’re from the western seas.”
“Absolutely!” sang the Magistrate, bowing to this stranger as he was a friendly sort, and clever, seeing the resemblance between the lions and not about to offend any of his guests over trivialities. “We have a special express rider who delivers twice a week. The fishes as well. I am Antonio Seetharaman Trebanian Yu, Magistrate of Sharan’yurthah. I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, sidi. You are a friend of the Captain’s?” He looked to Kirin as if for clarification.
Kirin provided it. “He is my brother, sidi.”
The Magistrate’s eyes grew wide. “Brother, sidi? A grey lion? This is indeed a blessed evening!” He turned to his wife, who had not for one moment taken her eyes off Kerris. “Come now, habibtheh, we must prepare for our announcement.” He held out one hand, she took it reluctantly, and he bowed again, leading her away from the lions and into the heart of the crowd.
Kirin turned back to his brother.
“So you decided to stay.”
“Ah, well, yes. I was persuaded…” He gazed down at the tigress with a look that she adoringly sent back, and Kirin knew for certain that the young woman was no longer a child.
For some reason, he felt very sad.
“Then I will need to speak to you for a moment if I may. Sidali, will you excuse us?”
Fallon straightened. “Oh sure. Sherah, where are those shrimps? They sound amazing. Can you show me?”
Sherah smiled, but her gaze was on the Captain. “Of course.” And together the two women moved off as well, following the Magistrate into the heart of the crowd.
“So, Kerris. Will you ride with us? Yes or no?”
“Yes, Kirin. I will ride with you.”
“Very good. We plan to leave tonight at the end of the second watch.”
Kerris made a face. “Tonight? Our dear Scholar tells me you were planning to leave in two mornings.”
“She is not coming.”
“Ah.”
“Nor the Alchemist. We have met our share of death, Kerris. I value these two women far too much now to bring them into such danger.”
“I see.” Kerris was looking at the floor, scuffing an imaginary imperfection in the tile with his boot. “What about Ursa?”
“That is the Seer’s call. Do you have a problem with this?”
“No,” he said, looking up far too quickly. “Not at all. Good plan, really. Just the three of us.”
“Yes. So you will need an early night as well. The Magistrate will likely arrange for you to have your own room. Unless you wish to bunk with me.”
Kerris stared at him for a long moment, and Kirin could only imagine the things that were running through his head. It was impossible to guess with Kerris. In fact, it was confounding.
And so nothing more was said between the brothers for quite some time and finally the women returned, Fallon licking her lips and sucking all the last juices out of the crunchy end of a very large shrimp tail. Still a child at heart, thought the Captain. Although that heart would be broken soon enough. It was always that way with Kerris.
And there was still no sign of Sireth or the Major. This had gotten far too complicated for his liking, and he was about to suggest Kerris leave to find them when the Magistrate’s voice carried over the crowd and everyone hushed, waiting and polite.
“My dear friends of Sharan’yurthah,” he began. “We have been blessed tonight, and in fact many nights, by our great and glorious Kingdom. But tonight more than most, for as many of you know, we have been home to visitors for the better part of this week. They are travelers from the heart of the empire itself, the Imperial city of Pol’Lhasa.”
At this, there was a murmur of approval. All cats loved Pol’Lhasa. Most cats had never seen it, would never see it, but just the idea of it made them patriotic and proud. It was the way of things.
He continued. “We have with us a party that has traveled our entire Kingdom on a quest that will re
nder our Empire safer and more secure than ever before.”
Kerris glanced at him and Kirin grunted. It was all he had been able to tell the Magistrate, and the man was doing a fine job in making their ‘quest’ sound legitimate.
“They are true servants of our beloved and most Sacred Empress and we would like to express our gratitude for their service in the Shiryian tradition – we will sing for them.”
A cheer went up from the crowd and a young boy was ushered forward, an ocelot of no more than 10 summers. He stood for a moment, large yellow eyes taking in the enormity of the crowd and at first, it seemed as if he might flee, but suddenly, he opened his mouth and sang, unaccompanied, a sweet beautiful song in Shaharabic. It sounded sad and noble at the same time. Kirin felt it deeply.
When it was finished, there was a hush for several long heartbeats, then applause rang out and up, up to the ceiling. The Magistrate held up his hands and quiet settled back on the crowd.
“And what is more, I have received a parchment from the holy city of DharamShallah, from the Palace itself. It has been delivered via falcon from battle fort to battle fort, from city to city across our blessed Kingdom.”
This was news to Kirin, so he turned, fascinated and unprepared.
“This is the Year of the Tiger. It is a year that is always turbulent and dynamic, and it causes changes that will be felt for years to come. This year is no different, for it is a year that will change the course of our Kingdom greatly. At the end of this year, on pronouncement of Chancellor Angelino Devino d’Fusillia Ho, our Empress, our beloved most Sacred Empress Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu…”
All in the Riyad held their breaths. The Magistrate looked around with a large smile, clearly enjoying this moment.
“…is to be married.”
A rush of voices, a spontaneous cheer from the entire gala of cats present, a roar so loud and happy that it threatened to rock the moon from her perch. It echoed on and on through the night, as dancing girls streamed into the courtyard and the music began anew, whirling and rising on the tail of the breeze. And suddenly the sky was split with fireworks, red, green and gold streaks of light bursting over their heads. All eyes were enthralled, enraptured, amazed.
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 54
