The tigress pushed open the door and entered. She was carrying three mugs in her hands. She bumped the door closed with her boot and golden liquid splashed onto the floor.
“I brought tea. I don’t know if you like tea, or if you can understand me or anything, but I thought, well, I won’t know unless I try and you won’t know if you like tea unless you try, so well, here I am with tea. And well, naturally, me. Trying.”
She smiled brightly and held out the mugs.
Setse stepped over and took one.
“Tea,” she said. “I understand. Tea good.”
She turned and held it out to her brother.
“Tsai,” she said. “Rani, guij baina!”
He scowled at her.
“See?” said Fallon and she took a long gulp, made a smacking sound with her lips. “Good. Good tea.”
“Good tea,” said Setse and she too took a long gulp, made a smacking sound with her lips.
Fallon laughed. “I’m Fallon.” Pointed to her chest. “Fallon.”
“Fall-on,” said Setse.
“Fa-llon.”
“Fa-llon.”
Fallon laughed again. “Yep. Fallon Waterford-Grey. You?”
“Jalair Naransetseg.” But the girl smiled. “Setse.”
“Set-say.”
“Yes, yes.” And she turned to her brother. “Jalair Naranbataar.”
Fallon studied him.
“Jalair Naranbataar,” she said. Her dialect was perfect and it was Setse’s turn to laugh now.
“Yes, yes! Jalair Naranbataar. Rani.”
“Rani,” and Fallon smiled at him.
He snorted and walked away to stand at the window, looking out over the mountains.
“Husband?” asked Fallon.
“Worse.” Setse rolled her eyes. “Brother.”
“You understand Imperial,” said Fallon, grinning. “But not him. Why?”
Setse gulped down the rest of her mug, tapped her head with her hand. “I see. Rani not see.”
“I see,” said Fallon.
“You see?!” The Oracle’s eyes went wide. “You see too?”
“No, no, sorry. I see, but not that way. It’s a saying, a phrase. I understand. Don’t bother with me. I talk a lot, not all of it makes sense.”
“I like you,” said Setse.
“And I like you,” said Fallon. “Can you teach me your language?”
“The Language of the People?”
“Yes. That.”
Setse cleared her throat. “Sain uu. It mean hello. Greetings. “
Fallon cleared her throat. “Sain uu.”
“Uguyai,” growled Naranbataar.
“He say no.”
“Uguyai,” said Fallon.
“Zogsoogooroi,” growled Naranbataar.
“Uguyai,” said Fallon.
Setse laughed.
And her brother turned and began to speak very quickly to her. Fallon didn’t need to understand much to know he was angry. The girl was adamant however and she wondered if in the Lower Kingdom, all women were strong and fearless and bold. It would be a fascinating thing and would explain much.
Suddenly, the girl gasped and turned toward the door. Her mouth was open, eyes glassy and far away.
“Shar Ma’uul,” she said. “Shar Ma’uul come.”
There was a rap on the door and a jaguar in brown robes peered in.
“Hey,” said Fallon. “Sain uu.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll, ah…”
“That means ‘hello’ in the Language of the People.”
“Oh.”
“Shar Ma’uul, come, come!” And Setse danced toward him, catching his gloved hand and dragging him into the keep.
The leopards at the door looked in, swords and staffs ready but Fallon slipped over, smiled and quickly closed the door in their faces.
“Hey, about last night. We, um, didn’t really get introduced or anything. I mean, you know lions. When they get angry, everything gets a little scary. And then throw in some dogs and a back-stabbing magical assassin, and well, it’s bound to get crazy, if you know what I mean!” And she laughed to herself. “So are you really Yahn-the-man-who-can’t-speak-to-falcons-Nevye?”
“Yes?” He blinked at her.
“Did you really study under Jet barraDunne at Agara’tha? ‘Cause if you did, you better be careful ‘cause Kirin—that’s my brother-in-law, Kirin, the big golden lion Kirin, brand new Shogun-General Kirin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll take your head off with the Blood Fang. Or the Jade Fang, but I’m betting on the Blood. The Jade is far too pretty. I’m Fallon Waterford-Grey, by the way. Enchanted to meet you.”
And she bowed, fist to cupped palm.
Setse gasped, released the man’s hand and bowed, fist to cupped palm.
From the wall, Naranbataar glared at him and growled, laying back his ears. This time, he showed teeth.
Nevye swallowed. “I, I should go…”
“No, Shar,” said Setse, grabbing his hand again. “Stay.”
Fallon grinned. “She likes you.”
“But he doesn’t.”
“Oh he’s fine, just a little protective. I think.” She strolled over to where the young man was standing, smiled and bowed to him. “Sain uu, Jalair Naranbataar.”
He bared his teeth at her.
For her part, Setse seemed fascinated by Yahn Nevye’s hands, held his one in both of hers, squeezing his fingers, pressing his palms. He seemed quite discomforted and didn’t know where to look.
“My name is—Hey, Setse! How do you say ‘my name is?’”
“Mini neriig … gedeg.” She did not look up, continued her study of the jaguar’s hand. “But you put name in middle. For you, you say “'Mini neriig Fallon gedeg.' And then say, ‘Tan neriig hen gedeg vei?'”
Her brother snarled at her again, this time they sounded like curses.
Fallon took a deep breath. “Mini neriig Fallon gedeg. Tan neriig hen gedeg vei?”
“Uguyai,” growled Naranbataar.
“C’mon,” said Fallon. “It’ll be good. We need to understand—”
“No!” snapped Nevye and he snatched his hand away. She had begun to tug at the glove.
Naranbataar lunged forward and grabbed his sister by the arm, pulled her away and into the protection of his side.
“But I just… but Shar hands…”
“Leave me alone!” It was Nevye’s turn to growl and he turned to leave when Setse began to moan.
“Falling.”
“What?” He turned back. “What did you say?”
“Falling, falling, falling,” she wailed and suddenly, her slim body was wracked with convulsions. Naranbataar held her tight as the Oracle’s moan rose in pitch until it was a scream. The door swung open and leopards poured in, swords drawn, staffs aimed but Nevye spun on them, clapped his hands together and they were flung from the room with the force of a tsunami, the door slamming shut behind them. Naranbataar hugged her tightly to stop the flailing of her arms but it was impossible to stop her legs and the pair of them sank to the floor.
“What is it?” yelped Fallon. “How can I help?”
Nevye dropped to the floor beside her, pulled his gloves from his hands and reached for the girl. A backhanded blow from Naranbataar sent him reeling but he scrambled to his knees and to her side in a heartbeat. Without waiting, he placed his hands on the sides of her face and closed his eyes.
Setse gasped and opened hers and the room became oddly still.
Her thrashing ceased, her screams silenced and it was only then that Fallon noticed his hands.
The fingers were twisted, deformed as if hammered by mallets, claws struck out at wrong angles, the yellow pelt gone from the knuckles and blackened as all bad injuries go. Fallon was amazed that he could use his hands at all, given their appearance. Soon, as their breathing became one and he opened his eyes, Setse looked up at him.
“Owls?” she whispered. “And me? You bleed…”
Sh
e reached her own hand up to touch his chin. There was blood from where Naranbataar’s fist had struck.
He snatched his gloves and scrambled to his feet, throwing a look at the tigress before leaving the room.
***
It was quiet in the office of the Captain of Shen’foxhindi.
The Shogun-General stood by the window, waiting for his people, and those not his people, to arrive. He had taken most of the day to think and plan and think some more and finally he had summoned all to inform them of their course of action. It was strange, this new power, and yet not so strange. His whole life had been built around the concept of unquestioning obedience, of Bushido, the Way of the Warrior. It had only been these last two years, and the awareness of his damned darkened glass, that had changed things. But he was a different man now, wiser and more resilient. He desired the input of others. Most especially these.
He had requested the office be prepared for a council and he looked over the fittings in the room. There were ten cushions circled around a small brazier of coals, and in the brazier, a pot for tea and ten cups. Ten hearts and minds and wills about to chart the course of the Empire. He shook his head. It was madness.
A push of the door and a very tall figure strode in. Kirin smiled.
“Has it been even a month?”
“Almost,” the Seer grinned, walked over to his side and they embraced like old friends. “You have been busy.”
“Indeed. And you were right.”
“Aren’t I always? About what?”
“My reception at Pol’Lhasa was entirely different than what I expected.”
“I’m glad. She was happy to see you, then?”
He shook his head. Had he been such an open book?
“Quite.”
“And Shogun-General now? You see? What you have endured has only served to make you stronger than you were before.”
“I still have dreams.”
“You will always have dreams. Let them shape you, not control you.”
“Hm.” He nodded. “And you? How was Sha’Hadin? Tiberius?”
“Well. Changed. Strange. Not entirely home anymore.”
“But not bad?”
“No,” and he grinned again. “Not bad. But not prepared. Not for this.”
“Hm,” Kirin said again. “Ursa? Where is she?”
“Fitting a uniform or something like that.”
“Ah, blast. I did promise, didn’t I?”
“And she’s not one to forget.”
Kirin smiled. The woman had been his right hand for years. The Seer went on.
“There is a man that has been travelling with us…”
“A man or a dog?”
“Well,” said Sireth slowly. “There are two men actually, a dog man and a cat man. I was referring to the cat man. But the dog man is still a man. Yes?”
Kirin said nothing.
“At any rate,” the Seer continued. “This man is a Seer and a man I may have sworn to kill at some point or another…”
Kirin raised his brows. “But you haven’t.”
“No, not yet. You might but I don’t want you to. Not yet.”
“Indeed?” Kirin thought a moment. “The jaguar? He was meditating on the Wall. I almost trampled him with my horse. Who is he, this man whom you have sworn to kill but haven’t?”
“Yahn Nevye.”
“I remember you speaking of him on the Wall at Lahore.”
“Yes.”
“And on the way home.”
“Again yes.”
“Why would I want to kill him, exactly?”
Before benAramis had the chance to answer, the door swung open and a small figure appeared. Kirin smiled to himself as Ambassador Bo Fujihara entered the room. He was smoking a pipe and the sharp scent carried before him like a banner. He crossed the room to stand in front of them and bowed most formally, fist to cupped palm. Kirin bowed back, as did the Seer at his side.
“Ambassador Fujihara,” Kirin began. “Sireth benAramis, Seer of Sha’Hadin.”
“I have heard much of you, sidi,” said Bo. “It is an honour to meet you finally.”
“And I you,” said the Seer.
“Our Seer is a painter,” said Kirin.
“How wonderful,” said Bo. “Have you seen any of the pieces in the Yellow Sun Room of the Palace? They are by Kai Yamakazi, one of our most celebrated painters.”
“I have yet to set foot in Pol’Lhasa, but I will make a point of it should I go.”
The Ambassador bowed again and his marvelous tail waved like a flag.
The door swung open again and Captain Oldsmith-Pak entered with a small troop of leopards. Between them, very much like prisoners, were the dogs. Male and female, for it was hard for Kirin to think of them as man and woman, as people. To his utter surprise, the tigress was with them, arms filled with parchments and he shook his head. Naturally, she would have no problem with her companions. Pure Gold could just as easily have been a dog in her eyes.
Fallon lit up when she spied him.
“Captain!” Her emerald eyes grew wide. “No wait! I mean, Shogun-General. Oh dear! I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. It’s far too long. And well, ‘brother’ just seems too familiar. Can I call you Kirin? Would that be okay? Kiri? Kirinni? Kirin-tin-tin?”
He had not taken his eyes off the dogs, their awkward movements, their rough clothing, their unnatural eyes, their teeth.
“Kirin it is, then,” she said quickly. “This is Jalair Naranbataar and his sister Jalair Naransetseg. We can call them Rani and Setse.”
The female danced over as if on the tips of her toes and stared at him with her strange eyes. She released a long, deep breath.
“Ulaan Baator,” she said. “Kuren Ulaan Baator. You save all our people.”
And then she bowed, fist to cupped palm. He stiffened, feeling the cold rush down from his ears. She should not bow, not like that. It was dishonourable and he wished with all his heart that he could kill her for the affront. Bushido might not allow it but no soldier on the Wall would think less of him. His tail lashed once, the Scales of the Dragon causing sparks to rain onto the floor and the male dog growled. Kirin turned to study him. Young, it was obvious, perhaps twenty summers. Full of pride and confidence and savagery. He could beat that out of him with one fist.
“Oh, Ulaan Baator,” the girl moaned. “Not my people…”
And before he knew it, she was raising her stub clawed hand to his chest. He stepped back, hand instinctively reaching for his sword, which caused the male to growl again and suddenly, the Scholar in the Court of the Empress slipped in between them all.
“Now, Setse,” said Fallon. “Let me show you our Tea Ceremony. Oh look! Pillows! Come with me, let’s sit over here. I can put these crazy parchments down and we can have another cup of tea…”
“Brother,” said the Seer as he put a hand on Kirin’s arm, leaned in to his shoulder. “You’ve come very far, but the glass is never fully clear.”
Kirin grit his teeth and released a long, cleansing breath. There was only a hint of a growl.
The dog, Jalair Naranbataar, had not taken his eyes off him for one moment.
“The others?” asked Kirin, fixing the dog with a stare of his own. “Kerris? Ursa? The Alchemist?”
“I am here,” said Sherah and suddenly she was, separating from the shadows, the baby asleep in a sling on her back.
Kirin shook his head, baffled at how some things never changed.
He threw one last look at the dog before moving toward the fire and the tea.
***
“Right Quiz, I think I got them all.” Kerris rubbed the brushes together, causing a cloud of dust to hover above the stone floor of the battle tower. He had spent a good part of the afternoon pulling the sticks, burrs and brambles out of the pony’s tail and there was a sizable pile on the ground. The pony had tolerated it, largely due to the occasional marzipan from Kerris’ pocket. Chi’Chen marzipan was known in all the Empires.
It was the best marzipan in the world.
There was the sound of boots on stair and Kerris looked up to see the jaguar, the monk from Sha’Hadin, come trotting down. The late sun was strong through the small high windows and dust could be seen moving in the beams.
“Hello,” said Kerris as the man peered around through the haze. “You looking for something?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Right.” And he slipped out of Quiz’s stall, dropped the brushes into a bucket by the wall. “The horses from Sha’Hadin are over there.”
The man moved past him into one of the stalls. The horse made a grumbling sound as it rose to its feet. Straw fell from its sides and it yawned loud and long. Kerris watched the man snatch a bridle from the post, glance around at the walls of the stable.
“What are you looking for?”
“His saddle. Where are the saddles?”
“You don’t need a saddle, you know. Horses like it quite fine without them.”
The man grumbled, began to look into every corner, over every stall. Quiz laid back his ears and snapped, almost catching the spotted tail in his teeth. Finally, he moved back to the stall and the horse lifted its head and nickered.
“Please just tell me where the saddles are,” he said, stroking its long nose.
“You going into town?”
“Saddles?”
“Well, yes,” said Kerris grinning. “There are saddles in town. Out the big gate, through the little gate, down the road and to your left.”
The jaguar sighed.
“That was a joke,” said Kerris.
The man grew quiet, stood for a long while by the sleepy horse, stroking its face and simply breathing.
“Say,” said Kerris. “Are you alright?”
“Have you ever,” the jaguar began. “Have you ever wanted to just leave?”
“Just leave?”
“Yes. Just get on a horse and go somewhere, anywhere. A place where no one knows, no one lives, no one sees.”
“Never done anything like that in my life,” Kerris lied and he leaned against the stall door. “Why? Do you feel like that now?”
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 93
