To Walk in the Way of Lions

by H. Leighton Dickson

  He was unbelievably proud of his people.

  The Major spent her time hunting, fishing, scouring the ruins of the city for usable items, making elaborate yet effective equipment from scraps and sea weeds. The Seer’s new abilities were apparently boundless, and he spent most of his days in meditation and falcon-training. Kirin found it hard to believe they were married, for the Major’s temper had in no wise diminished and she was as fierce and uncompromising as ever. However, they would regularly slip away from the group and return hours later, contented and quiet. It was the way of things.

  The other newlyweds were much more demonstrative, and Kirin regularly found himself wishing his brother was more discreet. Apparently, for this couple, kisses were not things to be hidden from the eyes of others and they enjoyed each other’s company quite clearly. Kerris was a great help with the boats, following Solomon’s directions to the letter, getting them cleaned and ready for the trip. He was strong, eager and proving to be an ‘able seaman’, as Solomon called him. Fallon, for her part, was a brilliant assistant and clever administrator and she readily prepared maps and charts and lists of supplies that would be needed for the boat to safely cross the world.

  Yes, he was unbelievably proud.

  It was the Month of the Winter Boar when the first boat rolled from its ALDD and onto the water of the sea. It was an amazing sight to behold, that a thing so solid could live its life on the surface of the sea. It looked like a seabird, with a pointed prow and squared off end, and Solomon had called it a ‘Fair Lady Fibre-Light Power Yaaht.’ Of all the ships in the ‘Marh’eeyen Ahrkhives’, this would be the one that would take him across the world in comfort and safety. It was also powered by the sun, and they had spent many days cleaning the panels before it rolled down the rusting ramp and onto the sea. They watched from the shore as it bobbed and rocked on the waves for a moment, gave a sickening boom, pitched forward on its pointed prow and promptly sank to the bottom, spraying up plumes of foam as it went.

  Kerris had turned to Solomon then. “Was that supposed to happen?”

  The Ancestor was speechless, before turning and trudging back to the docks, muttering all the while about a drawing board.

  The second boat they tried was, in Solomon’s strange words, a Greek Fishing Trall’her. It had poles and posts sticking out of it at odd angles, and Kirin did not think it nearly as impressive as the Fair Lady Fibre Light Power Yaaht. But apparently it was a working vessel while the former had been built for luxury, and Kirin could see it well enough. But that too sank after weeks of preparation as soon as it hit the waves. It seemed that ‘Air-Lock/Dry-Dock’ might be able to slow but not stop the natural decaying process and that while the ships seemed sea-worthy hoisted up as they were in the ALDD, they in fact might be little more than crumbling memories of another time. It seemed to all of them that ‘Plan B’ might not be enough.

  So, the week before the Winter Festival, the last chance of Plan B was released from its airtight prison. It was a strange looking creation as it sat high above the ramps in the Archive building. It had three very tall poles on the top, a rather small body and a deep white fin on the bottom. Solomon had called it a sailing yaaht or skhooner, and had mentioned that not only was it powered by the sun, but that the posts would be rigged with canvas to catch the wind as well. Kerris was fascinated by this and immediately the Captain knew that of all the ships in the ‘Marh’eeyen Ahrkhives’, if any had a chance to work, it would be this one. Kerris was lucky that way. It was the way of things.

  And so, his people worked on this sailing boat for the better part of the week, cleaning and scrubbing and powering up computers, all things he was forced to watch and not do. His hands had begun to heal, the tips rounding over on themselves, and the pelt growing back white. White was an unusual color for such a traumatic injury, but then again, he had never known of any cat with such an injury. His fingers could have grown back purple for all he could expect. His head and tail as well had begun to heal, pelt growing in places, leathery brown skin in others. At the very crown of his head, there was a patch of mane left that had not been torn from his scalp, and it fell down his back like a thin queue. Still, the kheffiyah worked well. He was never without it.

  Solomon had insisted that the salt in the sea would help and he had taken to bathing in the waters every afternoon while his people were busy doing other things. It did not bring him pleasure as it did his brother, but still, he found it not nearly as bad as expected, and had even found that if he stayed very still, there were fishes that would swim around his legs unafraid. For some strange reason, that pleased him and of all the things on this part of the journey, it was perhaps the most unexpected.

  One afternoon, Ursa had brought him something she had made. It was a thick shaft of elaborately braided leathers, interwoven with golden threads from Sherah’s bag of noxious potions. It had leather laces on one end, and a fine golden tassel on the other.

  “For your tail,” she announced as he turned it over and over in his hands. “This will make it look better.”

  “Thank you,” he said, for he didn’t know what else he should say.

  “Your brother can help you if you wish. The mountain pony has found the packhorses. They are in sorry shape.” And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving him with the tail leathers and many questions.

  It fit like his gloves.

  So, on the day before the Winter Festival, they sent the schooner rolling down the rusty ramp and into the water. For some reason, it did not immediately sink, rather bobbed and rocked and bobbed and rocked as it settled onto the waves as if home.

  They all exchanged glances, waiting for something to happen, but still the strange white boat just bobbed and rocked, looking for all the world like a gull floating on the surface of the waves.

  Fallon was the one to breathe first. “Wow,” was all that she said.

  Solomon did not look away from the ship. “Kerris, can you, um…”

  “Drop anchor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right.” And with a deep breath of his own, the grey lion trudged into the water and began the task of swimming out to the boat and dropping the huge piece of iron they called an ankhor. He was a speck in no time.

  Finally, Solomon looked up at them all and smiled.

  “Her name is ‘Plan B’.”

  ***

  It is a peculiar thing that, in our Imperial tongue, there is only one symbol that separates the word “hope’ from ‘home.’

  It was the day of the Winter Festival, and the sailing ship had stayed afloat over the very long dark night. So upon waking, to see it sitting off the coast, still bobbing and rocking and intact, a mood of quiet hopefulness settled onto our little party. The days had grown bleak as of late, and cold, although nothing at all to rival DharamShallah, Sha’Hadin or much of the Upper Kingdom, and the arrival of the Winter Festival and its shortest day meant only good things ahead. Sunrise would come just a little earlier each day, sunset just a little later. Hunting would be just a little bit easier, and perhaps we could grow just a little bit fatter because of it.

  The Year of the Rabbit would soon be upon us.

  And so it was with that sense of quiet hopefulness that we sat around the fire, nibbling the last of the roasted crabs and shellfish that Kerris had gathered from the shore. Solomon was planning on setting out at first light, and it was a bitter and sweet thing for us all. Fallon had sung a very sad, very beautiful song. The Seer had stunned us all with a display of fireworks from our lonely firepit, and the Major presented Solomon with a set of fishing hooks she had fashioned from scraps of metal and twine. She had also gathered olives, oranges, figs, tomatoes and wild peppers in large barrels, as Solomon was not a cat and could not live on fish alone for the journey. She was, and is still, an amazing, unpredictable woman.

  It was very dark and very late and still we sat, no one wanting to sleep, no one wanting the night to end. The Major and the Seer sat side by side, the young falc
on dozing on his shoulder for a change. She seemed to prefer the top of his head. Naturally, he did not, and it was proving to be a difficult lesson for her to learn. My new sister sat tucked under her husband’s arm, and again I marveled at the match. Lion and Tigress, husband and wife. Not the way of things, but a good way, nonetheless, and I found my own heart suddenly aching for the two women who taken up residence there. Neither lioness, both bound to my heart forever. I would never be able to repair that glass.

  I watched her for a time, the sad quiet tigress, found it odd that she couldn’t look at any of us. In fact, the song she had sung had been very, very sad, and she seemed to be struggling with something. Kerris was unnaturally quiet as well, for there had been no story for weeks, no tale of Kaidan, no previous exploit or ancient fable. Tonight was the perfect night for a story. I glanced at Solomon. He could not bring himself to look at me either, and suddenly I knew.

  I knew.

  “Kerris,” was all I could say.

  Now he did look up, smiled at me sadly.

  “It’s for the best,” he said softly. “There’s a whole new world to explore, and you know how I love a good explore.”

  I couldn’t speak. My heart ached all the more.

  “We’ve talked to Solomon and he’s happy to have us. Besides, it would be bloody well impossible for him to take that ship across the world alone. He needs our help and we are good on the boat. Fallon is so incredibly smart, and I can learn lessons if I put my mind to it. We both want to do this. We both want to go.”

  Fallon nodded but still did not look up. Kerris went on.

  “It’s an amazing adventure, one worthy of Kaidan himself. And it’s the ocean, Kirin. The ocean! I will finally be able to see what it is like, so far beyond our shores. I’ve always known I would. Always.”

  The ache in my heart had doubled.

  “Maybe there’s Ancestors, maybe not. But there will be no cats, no Upper Kingdom, no Pure Races.” He kissed his wife on the forehead. She hugged him tightly. “Because Fallon thinks she’s pregnant, and if I know anything about her at all, I think she’s probably right.”

  Pregnant.

  The Seer beamed. The Major shifted slightly.

  Pregnant.

  “There is no place in our world for grey striped kittens. Forgive me, sidalord Seer, but the life of a mongrel is hardly a life at all. Pits and beatings and being chased from one town to another.”

  Sireth cocked his head. The bird chirruped in her sleep. “Hardly a life. But still.”

  Kerris sighed. “And so, perhaps there will be a chance for them in the new land, without all the rules that tell us how to live and whom to love.”

  So many protests running through my head, but I was mute. I could not think.

  It was the Seer who spoke up, as if in my very thoughts. Which, given his gifting, was entirely possible.

  “And if there are no cats there, only Ancestors, do you presume that they will not be looking at you differently? They would never have seen a cat before, at least according to Solomon. You and your kittens will be a novelty still.”

  “Better a novelty than a scourge.”

  “Is that how you felt growing up, grey coat?”

  Kerris said nothing.

  “And you, Khalilah. Is it so easy to say goodbye to your family, to never see your mother and father and sisters again?”

  Finally, she did look up. Her stripes were darker with tears. “No,” she sniffed. “It’s not so easy. It breaks my heart. But they won’t understand. They won’t approve.”

  “You haven’t given them the chance.”

  “You are the last person I would have thought to be defending the Kingdom, sidi,” said Kerris.

  “It is a good Kingdom, and I love it very much. I would not be at Sha’Hadin if I did not. But you need to find this out for yourself. And you will, I see that much. And when you do, I would like you to consider returning to Sha’Hadin. You are an Elemental and you have run from your gifts as surely as you have run from your people. I suspect you can do far more than toss a few lightning bolts around.”

  Kerris stared at him.

  “Just a thought. When you have wearied of your exploring, please bring your tigress wife and six grey striped kittens and join the Major and I in building something new, something that might serve as a model for the rest of the Kingdom.”

  What was he saying? I sat forward.

  “You are changing Sha’Hadin?”

  “If you reinstate me.”

  “Hmm.” And so I asked, for it was easier to speak of this than Kerris. “Unification?”

  “I’m afraid so, Captain. I believe my own glass has been overturned of late. I need to revisit some old ideas.”

  I was fascinated.

  “I will also be setting my mind to find our wayward Alchemist. I believe she is in Sharan’yurthah at the moment, although not with the Magistrate. How she crossed the border is quite beyond me.”

  “Why would you want the Alchemist?” I asked.

  “She has abilities beyond any I have encountered. If Unification is to become a reality, we may need her skills. And if Solomon is correct and there are indeed Ancestors in this place across the ocean, then the Upper Kingdom may need all the resources at its disposal to survive them.”

  “Hmm.” I said again.

  And so we sat for the rest of the night, saying little, but thinking much, until the first light of dawn crossed the horizon.

  - an excerpt from the journal of Kirin Wynegarde-Grey

  ***

  They said their goodbyes as the sun rose above the sea. The sailing boat rocked on the waves, its canvas sails falling loose against the masts. They had brought aboard the barrels of fruit, and the few things that had belonged to Kerris and the Scholar as well, including her strange book, and they all stood on the sand, not knowing where to start, or how to end, and wishing somehow that life had been very, very different.

  Solomon went first.

  Ursa handed him a dagger she had fashioned out of relic steel. It looked sharp and very dangerous.

  “For shaving,” she said.

  He hugged Ursa Laenskaya, and she growled and lashed her tail, but to her credit, did not kill him. He moved on to the Seer, reached out his hand. To Kirin’s surprise, benAramis took it, shook it good and hard, before pulling the man into an embrace of his own and they hugged like old friends, or more appropriately, brothers. They had already said goodbyes once before.

  And finally, the Captain.

  Solomon sighed, ran a hand through the tangle that was his hair. “Captain, I don’t know what else to say, but thanks. For everything.”

  Kirin nodded. “I hope you find what you are looking for.”

  Solomon grinned. “No, you don’t.”

  Kirin grinned. “No, I don’t. But still.”

  Solomon held out his hand. Kirin eyed it and, remembering how the Seer did it, took the pelt-less hand. It felt strange and warm, but good.

  Solomon stepped back, turned to board the small boat that they would row out to the sailing one. He pushed it out into the water and waited.

  Fallon stepped over to the Major.

  “Um, I just wanna say, um, thanks.”

  The Major arched a brow. “For what?”

  “For teaching me, you know. For teaching me to stand. For teaching me to hold a sword. For teaching me the balance of mind and body in the practice of Chai’Chi. For teaching me that it doesn’t matter what people think of me, because when I’m strong, they will respect me, and that with respect, I can do anything. For teaching me that if I put my mind to it, life will never slow me down or stop the beating of my heart until it is my time and then, for teaching me how to meet that time with dignity and courage. Yep, for teaching me all of that.”

  Ursa stared at her for a moment.

  “You are a stupid, skinny little tigress,” she began. “You are obstinate, opinionated and you talk far too much. But I think you are very strong. You would have made a go
od pupil. I would have been honored to train you.”

  The tigress was a blur as she threw her arms around the snow leopard, hugging her so tightly that one could almost hear ribs cracking. Ursa growled and lashed her tail, but to her credit, did not kill the tigress. Fallon disentangled herself before launching herself into the Seer’s arms. He kissed her forehead, smoothed her wild white-streaked hair from her face. She was doing her very best not to cry.

  “I’m gonna miss you so much,” she whispered.

  “Not too much,” he smiled, gathered both her hands in his. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Hmm. I think you will be very busy, very soon.”

  Her emerald eyes were wide, asking.

  “Two,” he said. “It’s a start.”

  “Two. Twins. Wow. What was her name?”

  “Who?”

  “Your daughter. What was her name?”

  Now tears did come, but to his eyes. Both of them.

  “Soladad,” he said softly. “Her name was Soladad.”

  “Soladad Waterford Wynegarde-Grey. Yep, I like it.” And she hugged him one last time, stood up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, before turning to the Captain.

  She took a deep breath, shook her head, threw her hands up in the air. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not sure, I didn’t mean, I just, I just wish…”

  “Sister,” said the Captain, and he reached his gloved hands for her, allowed her to fall into his arms and he held her while she wept, stroking her hair and whispering to her in hushed tones.

  “But, but I don’t know what I’m trying to say!” she sobbed.

  “I do.” And he too kissed her on the forehead, smoothed the wild, white-streaked hair from her face, before releasing her. “Take care of him.”

  She nodded, took a deep breath and began to back up, sloshing into the water toward the little boat where Solomon was waiting.

  “Ah, really. Must I?” Kerris sighed, whacked the ground with a stick he had found. “This is all so melodramatic. Goodbye all and be done.”