***
Naranbataar didn’t know what to think. It had been two days since the battle for the bridge and everything had changed. The next morning, the lion had released the villagers of Lon’Gaar, given them food and provisions and promises of peace and sent them on their way. He knew they would run straight to the next town to warn the people and that there would be another ambush waiting for them somewhere, sometime on this road into Tevd. It was a deathly, anxious feeling and Naranbataar realized that he himself was not cut out for war.
He didn’t know much of cats but he could tell the witch was sick. Her eyes, normally the deepest gold, were shot with black and he wondered if her magic was finally consuming her. It would make sense. According to his grandmother, witches started off beautiful but always ended up ugly. A man would be a fool for loving one.
And his sister…
His heart ached at every thought of her, the memory of her with the dagger and the Legion falling at her feet. He’d always known it could happen. She was an Oracle, therefore unpredictable, but she had never, never ever killed before, let alone with such ruthlessness and skill. He blamed the cats for that. The cats and Shar Ma’uul.
Shar Ma’uul was a new man. They said that he had been killed by the Legion but the witch had brought him back. He was healthy and strong. His hands were healed and his eyes, which used to be the colour of dry grass, were now white as the moon. He spoke the Language of the People without accent and moved with certainty and ease. But he could not take his white eyes off Setse and she was drawn even more to him, a ghostly moth to an unearthly flame.
They rode together now, Setse and Shar, sharing the lion’s wild young horse, her arms wrapped around his waist. They slept together, their bodies curled against each other for warmth. His sister was a virgin, had never taken nor been taken as a lover but now, with this pairing, Naranbataar didn’t know how long that would last.
Perhaps Shar, not the lion, was the one who deserved an arrow to the throat.
They were riding out onto the Plateau of Tevd. It was a good land for running, low hills instead of mountains, much sunshine and very little snow. The air was thin however and it took much breathing to fill one’s chest. It was easy to believe this was a holy land. It was as if even the stones were holding their breath.
He looked up as the sky was filled with sharp cries and the falcon swept into view. The owl sprang from Shar’s shoulder and the two birds circled each other, wings beating, talons extended. Naranbataar shook his head. Birds fought birds while cats and dogs worked as allies. The world was a strange and unpredictable place.
The falcon settled on the Shogun-General’s gloved hand. She hissed and jabbed as he pulled a small scrap of parchment from her thin leg. Naranbataar watched in fascination. He couldn’t read, few dogs had the skill. He could see how it would be an advantage, especially in times of war.
“They have made the bridge,” the lion said and he looked up. “It takes a long time for such a force to move through the high passes. You cannot stop and start as easily as with a small party. The logistics are far too complex.”
They all stared at him so he read on.
“The Seer is working with my brother and he would like to try something. We will stop now.”
The Alchemist translated but it seemed to take everything out of her to do so.
Naranbataar shook his head.
“Not good,” he said, using their complicated words. “Dangerous. Land good for archers.”
The lion nodded.
“You and I will be eyes and ears while they meditate.”
He understood, didn’t like it.
The cats slid from their horses and Shar Ma’uul reached up to swing Setse down from the saddle. The man never wore his gloves now and Naranbataar growled at the sight of the spotted hands on his sister’s waist. Worse when the cat led her to a stony spot, turned in circles before dropping to his knees and pulling her down next to him.
He looked at the lion again, certain they shared the same revulsion. He wondered if the cat would let him go free if he did kill the yellow one. Worse, he wondered if Setse would go with him or stay with the cats. Somehow he knew that if he killed Shar Ma’uul, Setse would take a dagger to him next.
And he did not know what to think of that.
***
“You?” said the Khargan, and he lowered the khava from his mouth. “You are Irh-Khan, not some common runner. Why would you want to do this?”
Long-Swift breathed slowly, measuring his words. The Storm sat by the fire, all but holding up the ceiling of the gar with his shoulders. The Needle was out of its pocket for once, placing and replacing the five eyes in various patterns on the rocky floor. Three eyes now were puckered and burnt, one was oozing, and they were shot through with a variety of colours, two blue, one brown, one gold but the fifth was in perfect form as if freshly plucked from its socket. The colour of that eye was white. Long-Swift was certain there had not been a white eye back in Jia’Khan.
“These are dangerous days, Lord,” said Long-Swift. “We have had runners from Lon-Gaar and runners from the mining town of Cohdhun. We have had runners from the trading post of Gaar’Uurt and runners all the way from Lake Zhu. It is hearsay, Lord, all rumour and riddle. I cannot properly advise you without facts.”
“I have the Oracle to advise me, Long-Swift.”
“Then you will not miss me.”
The Needle cackled like a crow.
He fears the Storm and hates the Needle, echoed their voices inside his head. He will be Khan when you are dead.
The Bear eyed him over the mug of khava.
“Long-Swift?”
“I live to serve the Khan of Khans, who is and always has been, closer than my brother.”
Lover of the Lover of Lions, whispered the voice. But the Lover of Lions is ours.
And the Needle held up the golden eye. He cackled again.
The Bear released a long breath, adjusted his position on the ground.
“We will be at the Field of One Hundred Stones in two days. I will expect you there with facts. To advise me.”
“Lord.”
“And Long-Swift?”
“Lord?”
“Do not kill the lion. I do not wish you to be my rival just yet.”
“I will only run, Lord.”
“Then run now.”
And Swift Sumalbayar slipped out of the gar of the Khan of Khans, turned his face to the south and began to run.
***
It smelled bad in here, Kerris thought as he debated the necessity of waking. Very bad, as if someone had both eaten and defecated in the same room. Repeatedly. Honestly, he thought. People were worse than animals when it came to this. Horses wouldn’t do that even if stabled for days, but then again, horses were strong-willed and fierce. Not even Kirin could touch the discipline of a horse.
But he was hungry and usually friendly, so on the urgings of his belly, he pushed himself up to his hands and knees and opened his eyes.
It was another compound.
He sighed as it all came back. His memory had never been the best and he realized it was often a blessing. Probably as close to NirVannah as he would ever come, that sweet blissful state of nothingness and peace. He only ever found that in a bottle of sakeh or his wife’s arms. This foul-smelling, filthy, beast-ridden compound, this was neither.
But it was different. Above him, was the sky, blue as blue could be. Odd, he thought. It didn’t smell like blue sky but there it was for his eyes to see. There was rock under his palms, not sand and he could see trees, ferns, even mountains in the distance and it was very beautiful but wrong. Clouds moved overhead but there was no breeze. He wished he had the stones from his pocket. They would tell him what was wrong. They would speak.
Nothing in this compound was speaking.
He rose to his feet, stretched and yawned, wincing as the fresh scrape across his chest tugged with the motion. Still naked but something odd at his neck. He reached
up with a hand, ran his fingers along a thin strip of metal around his throat, like a pendant or a collar. He tugged at it, found a clasp and tried to remove it but it buzzed with heat so he decided to leave it alone. He shook his head. At least, there weren’t other prisoners here and once again, he thought of his wife, wondered where she could be and if she was well. He hoped so. The thought of a life without her voice was empty and sad.
Something was whispering.
He looked down to see a large rock at his feet. It was an odd shape, this rock and possibly not natural but it was talking, whimpering, pleading for him to pick up.
He glanced around. There was no one here. Nothing. Usually, stones did not speak to him. He and earth were mortal enemies.
Still it whispered so he reached down and the moment his fingertips touched its hard surface, he saw blood, heard screams in his mind. He snatched his hand away, took several steps back. No, this place was unnaturally still and he looked up at the sky again. Blue and white. Happy clouds, without a trace of water, wind or lightning.
He looked now to the trees, their branches waving in the breeze that was not there, to the ferns nestled at their trunks. He began to move towards them, walking at first but quickly breaking into a run when he realized that they were not coming any closer. They stayed the same size and shape on the near horizon and he broke into a sweat now and he ran as fast as he could, and suddenly, he struck metal and bronze and the faces of Ancestors pressed up against a wall as he hit. He was thrown onto his back and lay there, dazed and staring up at blue skies and fluffy white clouds sailing by on a breeze that was not there.
He could have sworn he heard laughter but his face was throbbing and his ears ringing and the smell of blood and rotting meat was overpowering. A large shape was moving in the corner of his vision.
He wanted his sword.
He wanted the katanah.
He closed his eyes and called.
***
“You are sure?” asked the Seer.
“Yes, yes, why not,” grumbled the grey lion.
“You don’t sound sure,” said Fallon.
“Well, I’m not, am I?” said Kerris. “But there’s no going back and this might be helpful in the future if I can learn to control the earth the way I control the lightning.”
“You can control it,” said the Seer. “You simply need the will.”
“Oh, you sound like Kirin. I’m always lacking something.”
“Kerris…” said Fallon.
“Right. Sorry. Instruct away, sidalord Seer.”
“I told you I could train you,” said the Seer. “There could be worse places to live than Sha’Hadin.”
“You are a persistent old bugger, aren’t you?” Kerris grinned. “Will there be room enough for our kittens?”
“Six grey striped kittens,” sang Fallon, and she raised Kylan high into the air. “Two down, four to go. All your little cousins! Wheee!”
“More than enough room,” said Sireth with a smile. “The brothers would find it a delight to hear the voices of children.”
They were sitting in a circle, facing each other and surrounded by the Army of Blood. It was mid-morning, the sky was bright blue, the air very cold and both monkeys and cats lay curled up with their horses. They had halted soon after crossing a bridge of Ancestral stone and the army needed a rest. The trail through the mountains had been very narrow and it had taken the better part of two days simply to cross the bridge. There was a campsite on the other side and a firepit with burnt skeletons of a horse and ten dogs and they knew something terrible had happened. But there was no room for six thousand soldiers and seven thousand horses, so they had continued on past the campsite up, up and up to a vast hilly plateau beyond.
Fallon lowered the baby onto a skin by the fire. He rolled and cooed and she stroked his dark wavy head.
“I think I have a plan,” she said. “For the army. For when we meet the Khan.”
“You are so clever,” said Kerris. “Have I ever told you that?”
“Never,” she grinned. “But you’re stalling.”
“Too clever.”
The Seer presented his hands. “Shall we?”
The Geomancer sighed and took them. “We shall.”
And they closed their eyes as small stones began to rise from the ground.
***
“Wait,” said Jeffery Solomon and he paused, raising a hand up to the wire at the back of his skull. He was in yet another long, featureless corridor, being accompanied to a ‘guest unit’ at the direction of Celine Carr. When he stopped, the two guards with him stopped as well, hoisting their Dazzler weapons a little higher in their arms.
“Right, got it,” said Solomon, and he turned to the guards.
“Damaris Ward has asked me to look at your MAIDEN field,” he lied. “It’s full of holes and not working properly. We had the same problem in Switzerland but there’s an easy way to compensate for it. Where’s the generator?”
They looked at him.
“Guys,” he said. “I’m Supervisor 7 of SleepLab 1. If anyone can fix it, I can.”
They looked at each other.
“Call Jiān Ward, then. She’ll tell you.”
One of the guards shook his head.
“Unnecessary. This way, Super7.”
And they set off along the featureless corridor in the direction of the MAIDEN field generator.
***
Bo Fujihara lifted his pipe to his lips, took a few good long puffs. Of all the items he had packed, he had been certain to bring enough tobacco. The way the cats felt about tea, he felt about tobacco. It helped him think, calmed him and brought him balance. And life was all about balance.
He looked over the wide plateau. To the south, the peaks were dark and imposing, but grew distant and blue to the east and west. They wavered in the thin morning light like a mirage and he wondered if this was the plateau of Chi’bett. If so, they would likely be close to Lha’Lhasa, the very westernmost reach of the Eastern Kingdom. He wondered if he were able to send some of the Snow through this territory for reinforcements. It would be a good strategy to catch the Khan’s massive army between two smaller forces.
He shook his head. He was thinking like a soldier, not a diplomat. This was a mission of peace.
The cats were meditating and pebbles were circling around their joined hands. They were a miraculous people, he realized, a beautiful people, and he was glad he was on this journey with them.
He slid his eyes to the woman standing at his side. Her long marbled tail was lashing and he could hear a quiet growl from deep in her throat. Of all the cats, Major Ursa Laenskaya confused him the most. Apparently she was married to the Seer but Bo couldn’t see it. She rarely spent time with him and when she did, the tension was raw, the hostility evident. Perhaps they needed another wife. Chi’Chen households frequently had two wives, sometimes three if the man could afford it. Emperor Hiro Watanabe had four. It seemed to work well for his people but then again, marriage to one wife seemed to work well for Kaidan.
“You do not approve, Major?” he asked.
“This is wrong,” she growled.
“What is? Meditation?”
“Peace with dogs.”
“You do not believe we should unite?”
“I do not believe all the stories. Even if Ancestors are rising, they can be beaten by feline steel and feline will. Peace with dogs is not worth the price.”
“Your husband does not agree.”
“My husband is the most powerful man in the Upper Kingdom. He could destroy the army of the Khan with a thought and yet he restrains his power to teach the grey coat and he restrains me to save the jaguar.”
“But if he teaches the grey coat and saves the jaguar, then there will be three very powerful men in the Upper Kingdom.”
“You know nothing of dogs,” she growled.
The ambassador smiled.
“It is easier for a khamel to go through the eye of a needle than a proud man to
enter the gates of NirVannah,” he said, repeating her husband’s line from days ago. “But I wonder, are there any proverbs about a proud woman?”
She snorted but said nothing.
He smiled again and slipped the pipe between his teeth.
***
The ground beneath their boots began to rumble and Kirin looked over at the Magic, sitting in a circle, eyes closed, hands clasped together. Yahn Nevye, student of Jet barraDunne, betrayed them into the hands of Sherah al Shiva, ninjah and kunoi’chi. Gave them over to the 112th Legion, the people of Jalair Naransetseg. It was an unholy trinity sitting there, causing the earth to shake beneath his boots and it suddenly occurred to him that his only other companion was a dog.
The rumble became a roar and the horses began to stomp and suddenly, a mound appeared by the Magic and a massive pillar of stone began to emerge from the earth. His hand slid to the hilt of the Blood Fang as he staggered back and back again, watching with disbelief as the pillar rose out of the earth like a massive cobra from a basket. The ground was shaking and the roar was accompanied by a grinding sound, like great wheels moving together. At its base, the Magic still sat, heads down as small stones rained down upon them and a cloud of dust rose up, choking their breath but they did not move from their place and the tower grew higher and higher. Finally, it ground to a stop, casting a long shadow and towering over the plain like a beacon
The Magic struggled to stand and they all shaded their eyes to study the massive structure they had helped produce. It was smooth and grey with rounded corners and was easily the height of ten men.
“Eye of the Needle,” said Yahn Nevye.
The Alchemist looked at him.
“Eye of the Needle, Eye of the Storm,” he repeated and he stepped forward, slapping his palm on the face of the pillar. The touch was like the force of an explosion, producing a boom that flung them to the ground once again and a second cloud of dust and pebbles fell like rain.
Kirin staggered to his feet.
“Why did you do that?” he shouted. “Why?”
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 105
