Kerris crossed first, little Quiz leaping into the water like a cormorant and swimming with only his nose and face above water, his tail waving out behind. The current was strong and it took them a long way down the opposing bank, but when they finally scrambled up through the reeds onto the shore, and he turned to wave at us, we knew it would be fine, if a little uncomfortable. Riding in wet gear is not pleasant. So the Scholar went next, then the Seer, the Major, the packhorses and finally, it was my turn. I was not mounted at the time, and I turned to the Alchemist’s black mare. Without the benefit of the woman on her back, this horse appeared to have become common once again. There was nothing to mark her as anything remarkable or fine. Again, a mystery. I vowed not to consider it, however and I pulled the creature’s tack from its back, removed the bridle from its head and dropped it all on the bank. I slapped its backside to get it moving away from the river and our company. She ambled off, unmindful.
And so I mounted alMassay, crossed the river, and together we rode northwest until sunset.
- an excerpt from the journal of Kirin Wynegarde-Grey
***
The mood was very quiet that evening. They had lit a small fire, eaten some of the dried fish from the day previous, and sat close enough to feel each other’s warmth. In the desert, the days are as hot as a kiln but at night, it is almost enough to see one’s breath in the moonlight. The tigress sat very close to the grey coat, head resting on his shoulder, he with one arm around her waist. She was very sad and made it no secret as to why. Kirin sincerely hoped she wouldn’t be hating him again. That experience had been most unpleasant. For some reason, he valued her trust.
He turned to look at the Seer, who was staring into the fire, lost in thought, and the Captain felt a pang of remorse. Mongrel or not, this was a good man. There was much he had jeopardized by his own blindness, bonds that he himself had almost shattered. Before, those bonds would not have been important, but now, for some reason, it was. There was more than Bushido in this wild, unrelenting and undisciplined world of ‘polished glass’. Or perhaps, he realized with wonder, there was more to it.
“The Alchemist admitted she was a firestarter,” he began.
“Hmm.” benAramis glanced up, raised his brows. “I said as much.”
“You did. She also said you were one too.”
“All of this and still you believe her?”
Kirin arched a brow. “You are almost as good at avoiding questions as she, sidi.”
“Have you asked me a question, Captain?”
Kirin sighed. “Are you a firestarter, sidi? There are no recriminations. I simply wish to know.”
“Ah.” The man took a deep breath, stared at his sandals for a few moments before shaking his head. “No, Captain. I am sorry to disappoint you but I am not a firestarter.”
“Then how did you kill the lion?”
“The lion the Alchemist claims I killed? That lion, Captain?”
“Is there another, sidi?”
All eyes were on them now, even the Scholar’s, and the Seer’s expression grew wistful.
“I started a fire.” He grinned wistfully. “And he wasn’t a lion. He was my brother.”
Kirin blinked.
“Your brother, sidi?”
“Yes, but he was a soldier in the Queen’s Guard, if that helps. Justice of lions is a capricious thing.”
Kirin shook his head. One mystery for another. It seemed he was so easily confounded these days. As if in the polishing of one’s glass, the world suddenly became less clear.
Kerris changed position, rolling over on his belly and dropping his chin in his palm. “I have regaled us with story upon story during our little adventure. I think it’s time someone regaled me.”
“It is not a happy story, grey coat.”
“Those are often the best kinds, sidi.”
Ursa’s near-white eyes were on him, intense and piercing, slivers of ice in the moonlight. Even Fallon was nodding, pleading, begging, anything to lift the heaviness that had fallen upon them. Or perhaps, compliment it. Like a sad love song and hot sakeh.
Sireth smiled, poked at the fire with the end of his staff. It sent sparks floating into the night sky. He seemed to be debating whether or not to explain, but finally, he released a deep breath, relieved his furrowed brow, and began.
“I was born in a gypsy caravan in the slums of Cal’Cathah, and worked from the moment I could stand. We traveled from village to village, town to town. Sometimes they were simple gatherings of two or three huts that formed a market, sometimes they were great sprawling cities. We were always working. My grandfather ran games of chance, my mother was a dancer and a wonderful singer, I read palms, told fortunes and such, naturally, and my brother did remarkable tricks with fire. You see, I was already, from the moment I was born, what I am now, and he was born a firestarter. My mother claimed no knowledge of these gifts, although for them to be so strong in two sons who shared only a mother, I suspect they ran through her line. My grandfather never spoke of such things, but he never discouraged them either. He was a wonderful man. I miss him still …”
Fallon smiled wistfully.
“He was a full-blooded lion, my grandfather, spoke in the accents of the old courts. He was a father to my brother and I as any man could be, and I believe it was his love for my mother’s mother – herself a dancer in the caravan – that caused him to abandon his commission for the life with us. It was he who kept us all together, kept us safe, until he grew too old to protect us and Nemeth became our guardian.
“Nemeth was four years older than myself, apparently the son of a lion who fancied my mother, paid her to dance for him privately and disappeared in the night, paying nothing for her services but a child left in her womb. Nemeth looked like a lion, and because of our grandfather, spoke as one too. There was no spot, no stripe, no rosette or marble to tell of our mother’s mixed blood. His hair was as long and straight as yours, Captain, although considerably darker. He used to gloat over it most constantly, but I didn’t care. I knew he was unhappy, and more than that, he was strange…”
“Strange?” asked Fallon. “How strange?”
“Well,” said the Seer. “Once, when I was in my fifth summer, I was playing in a rice field in the steppes of Shiam and a caught a butterfly. Well, I didn’t ‘catch’ it, rather it landed on my hand, and I was marveling at the colors and patterns in its wings. Suddenly, the wings began to smoke and it burst into a puff of flame and ash, and my brother ran laughing from the field.”
The tigress’ eyes were wide. “He did that?”
“Oh yes, my dear. He was always burning things up, or down as the case may be. In fact, it was almost always the cause for us leaving places – he would start some fire or another. And it was always quite malicious. He believed he was a lion and was entitled to all the honor given a lion, even though he banded with gypsies. He had a terrible temper and would take revenge on anyone who insulted him by burning something they loved – a magistrate’s residence, a fancy garden, an army garrison, a little girl’s hair… And the villagers would chase us out and warn us never to return. We saw a great deal of the Kingdom because of my brother…”
Kerris had his chin in both hands now. “And he could start these fires just by looking?”
“Well, by looking or by thinking it, I’m not entirely certain. I never asked. He left in his fifteenth summer, and I never saw him again for many years.”
“Until the kachkah house in Shathkira,” added the Captain, remembering.
Sireth stared at him a moment, then nodded.
Ursa was staring at him. “You said this wasn’t a happy story. This is not sad. This is not sad at all.”
“Ah, but it is not finished.”
“So finish it, idiot.”
“I am tired. I would like to sleep. If the Captain will permit?”
Kirin allowed himself a small smile. “Perhaps you will indulge us tomorrow night, sidi?”
“Perhaps.”
> “Well, I feel like it’s a sad story,” breathed the Scholar and she flapped her arms in her lap. “I feel like everything is so sad lately. I think life is just one sad story after another after another. Just when you think you’re done with one sad story then along comes another.”
“There is only desire,” said Kirin softly, looking into the flames. “And the sorrow that it brings.”
The Seer poked the burning wood again. “But there is love,” he said finally. “And that makes all the stories worth the telling.”
Smiling, Fallon reached over and laid a now-white hand on his wrist. It was a tender gesture, full of kindness and innocence, but of course, she touched where the glove did not cover. And he was quite unprepared.
He gasped and lost focus for a moment, and immediately the Scholar pulled her hand away.
“Oh, sorry, I’m so sorry. I forgot. Are you okay?”
“Ah yes, yes…” He wiped his brow with a forearm, then grinned. “It’s simply those blasted kittens again…”
She grinned back. “All six of them?”
“All six.”
Kerris frowned. “What kittens?”
She glanced from Kerris to Sireth and back again. “Oh, nothing. No kittens. No grey striped kittens or anything – Oh!”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Sidala?” asked the Captain, leaning forward.
She turned her wide emerald eyes on him.
“Oh, Captain!” she said, smiling like the sun. “I think I know how we can talk to Solomon!”
Solomon
“She is gone, sahidi.”
Jet barraDunne sighed, ground his molars together tightly. He was staring up at the moon, and did not bother to look back at the cats gathered around the metal bowl. White smoke billowed and curled, but there was no voice, no face, no flash of golden eyes. He could guess well enough what had happened.
It was very late, their first night in this strange land beyond the Kingdom, and he could almost see his breath. This had started months ago, just before the New Year, and they had already celebrated the Moon Festival while in the desert. It would be winter soon. He would not see his bed for a very long time.
“Is she dead?” he grunted, still not looking back.
“Impossible to tell, sahidi,” said the one called Talmoud. “Would the Seer kill her if he knew?”
“It would be the Captain,” he answered. “He would take off her head with his katanah. It is exactly what he would do. Unless he allowed her the honor of sheffuku.”
“How do we find them now?”
He turned now, wrapped his bearskin cloak around his shoulders and sat back down by the fire. His silver striped brow drew in as he thought. He was not a happy man.
“The oracle,” he said finally. “Track the oracle and we will find them.”
The others shuddered at the word, but bent low over the bowl and back to their work.
Jet barraDunne sighed and reached for his tea.
***
“Me? Why me?” Kerris frowned and whapped the ground with his tail. “Honestly, Kirin. I have nothing to offer here. Nothing.”
“Because you have also talked to Solomon, that’s why.” Kirin eased his grip on the back of his brother’s neck, realizing that the others were likely watching from the fire and remembering his promise to respect. “Back in the pit, when you went to Swisserland. Remember?”
“That was nothing of my doing, believe me. I was just about to eat some crabs and boom, Swisserland. It was most annoying.”
“Yes, but the Scholar thinks you can help.”
“Well yes, she would think that. She thinks many things about me, most of them not entirely accurate.”
“Kerris, please. It is our last chance.”
“He should try the sundial again. That should work.”
“It doesn’t work, Kerris. He said so himself. Only devastation and man. It is a conduit, nothing more. And that is what the Scholar is saying - that the Seer cannot initiate contact with Solomon because he never initiated contact with Solomon. It was always the star that initiated the contact and it was the Seer who was merely the conduit.”
“Yes, yes, I understand that bit, but why us?”
“Well,” Kirin began slowly. He had to speak carefully. His brother was not comfortable with this for some reason. Kerris, who was usually game for anything, seemed cautious, uncertain, even afraid. “I have spoken with Solomon on many occasions, but it’s not about simply speaking to Solomon, but the connection of speaking through Solomon, the ‘being in his mind,’ so to speak. You know the feeling, when his hands are your hands and his words are in your mouth. You experienced that too, in the pit.”
“It was wholly unnatural.”
“Exactly, so if we can use the Seer as a conduit once again, we can at least determine whether Solomon is alive or not. And the Scholar is hoping that if the Seer can finally get a sense of this man, then perhaps we have a chance of finding him.”
The grey lion sighed, glanced back at the figures still seated by the fire so many paces away, waiting. He looked back at his brother. “But what if…”
“Yes?”
“What if I do this and…”
“And?”
“And what if something bad really happens? What if the panic starts to come or I call the lightning again or somebody dies or gets hurt, all because of messing about in here?” He tapped his fingers on his head. “I really can’t take much more of that, Kirin. I’ve had about enough of messing on this journey. I’m not entirely sure what is real, what is memory, what is fear. I’ve been good for a long time, really I have, but this, well, this has been really hard.”
Kirin felt an unexpected rush of tenderness. The journey had been hard on Kerris, starting with the avalanche, the jail, the pit, not to mention the Alchemist, and it hadn’t let up. His brother regularly wrestled with dark and inexplicable fears. He drank to avoid the darkness. Sometimes the drink helped. Sometimes, it made things worse.
Sometimes he wondered which twin was the lucky one.
“I promise you that won’t happen. The Scholar and the Seer won’t let that happen. Nor will I.” He rifled his brother’s hair. “This one last thing, then we know for certain. And if we cannot make contact with Solomon tonight, we will turn for home in the morning.”
“Promise?” The blue eyes were pleading.
“Promise. Now come, the Major has made the tea and we will wait for your Scholar to give us our orders.”
“She is a feisty thing, isn’t she?”
“She is indeed.”
“I think I quite like her. She’s got this amazing book…”
Kirin smiled, albeit sadly, and the pair turned toward the others and began to walk.
***
The fire was high and crackling and the three men sat facing each other, legs crossed, breathing deeply. The Major circled behind them, watching everything, the falcon hooded on her arm. And the Scholar knelt between the lions, rolling up their sleeves to the elbows, baring their wrists to the night sky. Her emerald eyes were wide, dancing.
“Okay, just breathe deep, deep cleansing breaths, in and out, in and out. Captain, Kerris, both of you have had these strange experiences with Solomon. I want you to think on these times, and these alone, okay? Just the memory of Solomon. His voice, his hands, his face—“
“I never saw his face,” said Kerris.
“Idiot,” growled the Major.
“Well, I didn’t.”
The tigress swallowed. She was not entirely sure this endeavor would work. It was only an idea. But the Captain had said ‘ideas were her stock in trade.’ She remembered that because she had been there. Besides, they had little to lose.
“It’s okay, Kerris. Just focus on what you can remember. Even if you just say his name over and over in your head – quietly, I mean. Don’t actually say it out loud. That’s far too distracting. And don’t let your minds wander, either. Just Solomon, his voice, his Humlander-thingee, hi
s tiger-dog-monkey accent –“
“His strange way of talking…” Kerris’ voice was quieter now. The Captain was silent, brow furrowed, apparently deep in thought and memory. He, of all of them, had the best impression of Solomon, for he had had the most conversations, with words and without. He was ultimately their best hope. This entire journey now hinged on the ability of the Captain to focus.
It always had.
She kept talking, but now her large eyes were on the Seer, who had removed his gloves earlier on in the night to prepare. He also seemed deep in thought, and she wondered if this was similar to the experience of Farsight, only without the benefit of the opium. She hoped, for his sake, it would work. He needed it to work, if only to reestablish his own sense of faith in the Gifts and in himself.
She watched and, as if slowed down or under water, he raised his spotted hands, allowed them to hover a moment over those of the brothers, then brought them down swiftly and tightly over each wrist.
Kerris gasped and suddenly the three of them were elsewhere.
***
breathe in and out in and out Solomon heartbeat beat Slow and steady Beat beat beat
Wild and fast beat beat beat breathe in and out No I don’t like this Slow and steady beat beat beat safe and sound breathe in and out Solomon Please no Peace remember the ocean and the crabs beat beat beat Yes the crabs And the ocean the deep vast beautiful blue ocean Yes the ocean beat beat beat And Solomon beat beat beat And Solomon beat beat beat And Solomon beat beat beat
And Solomon
three hearts beat as one beat beat beat
three souls remember beat beat beat
one disappears
but there is another
***
Someone was shouting.
Kirin opened his eyes.
He blinked several times, let out a long held breath. It was very late at night and they were sitting by the fire, as if nothing had happened. In fact, he wondered if anything at all had happened, or even if they had yet to begin. He glanced at Kerris, who was frowning, and then at the Scholar, who was smiling.
To Walk in the Way of Lions Page 20
