Now Kirin turned away. “It depends on how much you love her,” he said.
Naturally, there was no response to that.
“You should drink now,” said the Seer after a moment.
“As I said, I do not drink…” And the shadow behind the rice paper partition was stepping into a pair of loose trousers.
He felt his chest tighten. “…sakeh…”
…pulling on a pair of what looked to be yak-hide boots. Many pendants flapped in silhouette.
His breathing came in a rush and with a shaky hand, he reached for the sakeh, downed it in one deep gulp.
“Would you like another?” purred Sireth.
“Yes, please.”
Laughing and chatting, with a woman tucked under each arm, Kerris Wynegarde-Grey slid the rice paper partition open and stepped into the hall.
***
It had happened once before - he had left his body only to watch himself from another vantage point, and here it was, happening again. He watched himself watch his brother, watched himself watch his brother untangle two pendants from around his neck and slip one over the head of each woman, watch each woman kiss his brother and walk away, admiring the shiny ornaments now gracing their collars. Watched himself watch his brother smile and throw his cloak over a shoulder and turn toward the bar, only to stop in his tracks as if he’d seen a ghost.
Or a twin.
“Kirin…”
The Captain watched himself accept the second bowl from the Seer, watched himself throw that also back in one long swallow, watched himself place it down in an unsteady fashion on the polished teak bar. Interesting, he thought, how his hand moved independently of his will. Or perhaps, that was the sakeh.
“Kerris.”
First a flash of sunshine, then the clouds.
He strolled up to the bar. “So, ah, what, what are you doing here? How is everyone?”
“Broken.”
“Right.”
He could feel it coming on, the old patterns that kept destroying them over and over again. He felt the rush of disapproval, felt his heart grow cold, felt his jaw set like a stone. Watched Kerris see this, grow fearful, defensive, angry, stubborn. In a heartbeat, he could see the road laid out before them, could hear the condemnation in the words that he would utter, could feel the sting of them in his brother’s ears and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would watch Kerris turn and walk away like he had time and time again and he knew that he was on yet another Broken Road, right here, right now. A pattern for twenty-four summers, now set in stone.
Unless that stone too was broken.
“Would you like a drink?” asked Sireth.
“A what?” Kerris glanced at him, then back again. “A drink? Kirin, you’re drinking?”
“This is my first bowl. It is sakeh, but rather strong sakeh, I’ve never had the like. The Seer and I decided to go out for a drink and ended up here. Although, I suspect he knew where we were going all along. Actually, I believe this is my second bowl. Is it?” The words just tumbled out of his mouth. He suddenly didn’t seem to have the ability to stop them.
Kerris looked at the Seer. “That’s not sakeh, is it?”
“Yes, it is,” said Kirin.
“No,” the Seer grinned. “Arak.”
“Arak? What is Arak?” Kirin frowned. “This is sakeh.”
Kerris winced. “How many has he had?”
“He has in fact had two.”
“You said it was sakeh,” growled Kirin.
“No. I never said anything of the sort. You assumed it was sakeh. I never corrected you.” He looked back at Kerris. “But if you have the time, we do need to talk.”
“Yes, there’s a free table over there…” He turned to his still frowning brother. “If my brother can manage to make his way over to it.”
“He said it was sakeh.”
Grinning, Kerris put his hands on his hips. “By the Kingdom, I think you’re drunk.”
“I am not. Don’t be insolent.”
“Get off your stool then, and walk with us to that table over there.”
“I just might.”
“Splendid.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Now?”
“Yes, yes Kerris. Fine. Yes.”
He wondered where his legs were, if they were still attached in the middle somewhere. He couldn’t feel them, didn’t trust them to carry him over to that table ‘over there.’ But he made a valiant effort, for he was every bit as stubborn as his brother, watched himself clutching the stool for support even as he stood, while the room lurched and rolled around him. Watch the Seer exchange glances with Kerris as they both slipped an arm under him and helped him to that table ‘over there’, where thankfully, a chair, a soft cushion and another ‘sakeh’ were waiting.
***
Sireth was on his third bowl of Arak, a Shiryian beverage with four times the kick of sakeh. He took a small measure of pride in his cast-iron stomach, his ability to eat or drink anything and be fine with it. It took a lot to get him drunk. He suspected it was the same for the grey coat, but as for the Captain, he found more than a small measure of satisfaction in the way the Arak had hit him so hard. In fact, it was difficult to maintain a straight face, but he had to, for the subject with Kerris was serious.
“Ah, I was right then,” said Kerris, as he puffed away on a Shaharabian water pipe. There was that ‘unidentifiable scent’ coming from it, sharp heavy and organic, like sweet wet grass. “I wondered what the star was doing, why it was splitting like that and if it was important in the grand scheme of things. So you haven’t been able to contact Solomon at all since then?”
“Not at all,” said the Seer.
“Not at all,” repeated the Captain. He was trying very hard to focus on the conversation. The room was moving like it was made of snakes.
The Seer smiled. “So I was wondering if you still had that sundial.”
“Sundial?”
“Sundial,” repeated the Captain. He was watching the bubbles in the water pipe. They looked like a basket full of asps.
“The one you gave the Scholar, the one she gave back.”
“Ah yes. Um, no. I don’t. I gave it to a young woman…” He glanced at his brother, who did not seem to register the fact, and he silently gave thanks to whatever cat had invented Arak. “But I believe she works in this establishment, in some sort of way…”
“What was her name?”
Kerris frowned, bit his lip, puffed a little more. “Um, well, it sounded something like Star, Starshine, Stella, Fran, something like that…”
“Fran,” repeated the Captain. The smoke rose from the pipe like a cobra rising from a basket, hung around Kerris’ head, a python hanging from a tree.
The Seer looked into his Arak. “Mm. What does she look like, then?”
“Tiny waist, absolutely nothing there at all. Lots of little jewels in her bellybutton though, scorpion tattoo in the small of her back, great pawfuls of—“
Sireth cut him off. “How about a few ways I could identify her with clothes on?”
“Ah yes, let me think…” Kerris dropped his chin into his palm, rolled his blue eyes to the ceiling. “Um, long dark hair…or maybe it was short…She was a jaguar, or a leopard…no, a jaguar. Of that I’m certain. She had very wide eyes. Green they were, sort of greeny yellowy gold …”
“These snakes have yellow eyes,” muttered the Captain. “Blast, but I gave my blades to the Major. I have no way to kill them.”
Sireth leaned forward. “But she works here, yes?”
“I think so. Maybe she just comes here from time to time…”
Sireth sighed, feeling his last chance at contacting Solomon slipping away. “Is there anything else at all you can remember?”
“Well, she loved color.”
“Oh?” He sat up. “How so?”
“She was very colorfully dressed. She was wearing a sari of blue, with a choli of pink and armbands of green. She wore lots of jewelry as well,
which is why the sundial caught her eye…”
This was about as hopeless as crossing the Upper Kingdom and beyond to retrieve a long dead Ancestor.
“Very well,” he said, rising from his chair. “Can you see to it that your brother gets back to his room at the Magistrate’s residence?”
“I can, sidi.”
“Before dawn, please?”
Kerris grinned and downed the last of his brother’s Arak in one final swallow. “How about we go now?”
“That would be most appreciated. The Major would skin me if anything happened to him.”
“I understand completely.” He stood as well, slipping an arm underneath his brother and helping him to his feet. “Come along, Kirin. Time for bed. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us.”
“There are far too many snakes in this establishment,” said the Captain, watching the floor with concerned eyes. “Honestly, Kerris. Who could run a place like this when you have to step over so many accursed snakes?”
Sireth watched them go, before turning his good eye to the crowd, sifting its depths for a flash of color.
***
It took a good half watch to make it back to the Magistrate’s residence, for the night was warm and the Captain was heavy. However, Kerris had to give his brother credit, for he did walk most of the way on his own – he simply needed help to stay straight as opposed to all over the road (to avoid the snakes, he insisted) and he did pause now and then to place a hand on a random wall and moan most pathetically. They had little trouble getting in the gate, for the sentries recognized the Captain at once, and one of the house servants had led them discreetly to his room.
“Oh blast. Oh Kerris,” he groaned as his brother lowered him onto the low, dark-wood bed. “Why ever did you let me do this?”
Kerris crouched beside him on the floor, began to pull at the laces binding his brother’s boots. “So sorry. My fault. Won’t let the Seer take you out again.”
Kirin placed both hands on his forehead, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It feels as though my head is splitting open.”
First one boot dropped to the floor with a thump. “I can assure you that it is still in one piece.” Then the second. Kerris grinned. “Go to sleep now. You’ll probably feel worse in the morning.” He glanced over his shoulder at the window, which was taking on the indigo light of dawn. “Or maybe afternoon, by the looks of things. Well, I’d better go.”
As he rose to his feet, Kirin grabbed at one of his hands.
“Kerris…”
And they remained as they were, one sitting, one standing, both waiting and very terrified, saying nothing for what seemed like a lifetime. But then it was over, and Kirin let it go. And the hand too.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said finally, his voice little more than a whisper.
“Am I?” asked Kerris. “I mean, I’m here, but am I back?”
“Please.”
He took several backwards steps toward the door. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s good, for anybody.”
“We need you, Kerris. We will never find Solomon without you.”
“Then that would make him one very lucky monkey.” Kerris smiled, but his eyes did not. “Good bye, Kirin.”
And very quietly, he left the room and closed the door behind him.
***
He could barely keep his eyes open, he was so very tired. People never seemed to stop coming and going in this place, and he had to admit the drink was catching up with him. It was very early morning, but not yet dawn, and he had questioned every barkeep, every patron, every working girl in the Yellow Scorpion, but to no avail, and he was beginning to believe that this idea had been a waste of time. Perhaps not an entire waste, as the drink had been good, the life he’d found here reassuring, and running into the grey coat had been an unexpected blessing. He was also grateful he’d lived long enough to see the Captain drunk. That, he had to admit, was worth the entire night.
He rose to his feet, took one long last breath, and walked over to the door of the Inn, almost running into a young woman rushing in.
Kerris had been right. She was very brightly colored indeed.
“Sidala!” he called after her in Shaharabic, and as she spun around, he could see that she was a jaguar, with long hair pulled back into a tight knot at the nape of her neck, and jewels adorned almost every exposed inch of her rosetted pelt. He could see the sundial, the one from the battlefort at Lahore, as shiny as could be, just below the curve of her elbow, and her heavily-painted eyes ran up and down the length of him as if considering.
He was very glad that the Major was not here.
She sidled up to him, grin tugging into one cheek. “Sidi? How may I serve?”
Her voice was high and musical, and she sounded far too young to be working at a place like this.
“I am interested in… in… the sundial…” He was at a loss for words. Honestly, what was he thinking?
“Sundial, sidi?” She was very close now, her perfume as thick as the incense and smoke in this place.
“Yes,” he realized how strange he must surely sound. “This object here…” And he waved a gloved finger at the metallic band on her arm. “I believe you received this from a grey lion recently?”
She pouted. “Lion, sidi? I don’t know if he was a lion, but he was grey…” And suddenly she laughed. She sounded like a little girl. “Why? Did he steal it from you?”
“No, sidala. But I do need it back.”
“But he gave it to me and I like it.” She pouted, arched her back, curled her tail, using everything in her arsenal of tools to turn his bones to jelly. “Why ever would I give it to you?”
Yes, he was at a loss for words. He was a monk. He had no money save the few coins he had earned gaming in the Waterless Gardens and those he had spent on far too many bowls of Arak tonight. He had no jewelry, no bangles to interest this magpie of a woman, no weapons, no valuables, nothing. What ever had he been thinking?
He sighed. “Forgive me, sidala. I was presumptuous. I should not have asked.” He turned to leave. A ringed hand caught his sleeve.
“Wait, sidi, let me think…” She pulled him closer, biting her lip and slipping her hands inside his robe to the many layers underneath. Her lids narrowed and she seemed to be studying something. “Perhaps we can make a trade, yes?”
Yes, he thought to himself. He was very glad that the Major was not here.
***
She tugged the hood over her head and closed the door with a soft bump of the latch. The hall was dark, only one lantern burning in its recess, and the wooden walls glowed with ages-old stain. It was one thing that did seem to remain constant throughout this long endless journey, the fact that cats of all provinces loved their decor. Carvings, etchings, paintings and stains. With the exceptions of the battleforts, all the walls she had seen were a treat for the eyes, telling stories, layering colors, playing with patterns. It said something about the sensory nature of cats. It was not surprising, for cats are, after all, a sensual people.
Her heart was breaking and the tears stinging in her eyes, but her mind, ever the leader, was set on leaving this place this very night. The Captain would be furious - he might even send out search parties for her, shut up the city as soon he he’d learned of her flight, but she didn’t care. She would lose her status as ‘Scholar in the Court of the Empress,’ but if she was honest, that was only a title she had given herself. She had never really counseled the Empress in anything, and her value to the Captain was the only thing she could use against him. She would take that away by taking herself away, and she was certain he would be hurt. That was, after all, her intention.
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 t
o 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.”
To Walk in the Way of Lions Page 15
