Kerris said nothing, so his brother nudged him with the point of an elbow.
“Besides, First is luck and you are our lucky omen. You saved the Seer, remember? You told that little boy.”
“Yes, I do seem to remember that.”
“Good. Now, it is still early and we have many hours before the Second Watch. Have you eaten?”
Kerris grinned, shaking off the blanket of self-doubt with a toss of his head.
“No and it smells delicious. I say, this Inn has quite the remarkable kitchen. Perhaps I shall retire here when I’m an old man.”
“Then I will join you and we shall grow old together.”
Like sunlight and shadow, or the interlocking wheel of Yin and Yang, the brothers rose to their feet and went down for supper.
***
Fallon stretched her slender arms over her head and breathed deeply the cold evening air. Despite being a jungle girl, she had to admit that the mountains in moonlight were breathtaking and she stepped out of the light of the Inn to afford herself a better view.
She could grow to like this.
Peaks of silver floated like ice floes over the wispy white water of cloud that rose up from the valleys. Torches burned from faraway homes and even farther still, she could imagine the Cave of a Thousand Eyes, pouring light in golden streams from its many gaping mouths. That sight would stay in her memory forever. She could almost hear chanting.
No, she could hear chanting.
Ears pricked, she drew her cloak tightly around her shoulders and followed.
This wasn’t the deep, somber mantras that had underscored life in Sha’Hadin, but rather, scales, throaty and sensual, sliding up and down in pitch like a tune on a zither. It was faint but growing as she tracked it back behind the Inn towards a large outcropping of rock. Silhouetted against the moon was a pile of boulders, precariously balanced as if by some playful giant, towering many times higher than a man out of the mountainside. And beyond that, she saw the singer.
Cross-legged on the very edge of the mountain, the Alchemist sat clutching the red satin pouch in her palms as an offering to the stars above. Silver smoke flowed from her lips into red satin folds and for a moment, the pouch seemed almost to pulse with life, throbbing like a heartbeat, swirling with smoke within. Impossible, Fallon blinked as she carefully braced her boots against ruts in the steep frozen ground. Slowly, al Shiva lowered the pouch to her side. There was no movement now as it floated and bobbed on its tether but the Scholar was certain the pouch was just a little fuller than before.
Go back to the Inn, whispered a voice inside her head. This is no place for naive young tigresses with altogether too much curiosity and not nearly enough common sense. Go back and enjoy a cup of tea with that handsome grey lion, take another look at the Fhae’roh’s bangle about his neck. Something, anything, other than be witness to such strange, otherworldly events.
But with a scrunch of her nose, she silenced the voice and sneaked closer.
Next, the Alchemist produced a golden bowl, large and shallow, quite similar to her father’s wok back on the farm. She held a long stemmed chalice up to the moonlight and it seemed as if that same silver smoke rose like mist from the depths of the glass. When she poured the contents into the bowl, there was a roar of rushing waters and the surface grew still.
“Sahidi,” Sherah murmured.
“They live?” said the waters.
“Still, sahidi. But the way to Pol’Lhasa is barred. There was an avalanche.”
“Your destination?”
“Tonight, sahidi. The Ritual of Farsight.”
“Learn it.”
Fallon craned her neck, for upon that strange, still surface, she could see a face reflected in the moon’s pale glow. A striped face, as white as the moon, as cold as the mountain peaks which surrounded them, stars sparkling deep within empty, soulless eyes.
Those eyes flashed at her.
“Who?!”
Sherah whirled and Fallon jumped back, her boots slipping on the frozen ground. She yelped and grabbed for the rock, praying that her claws would hold and that she would be spared yet another edge-of-cliff adventure. She wasn’t at all certain that the Alchemist would be such a ready climb.
Her claws clung fast, boots kicking at the shale beneath her feet, trying to regain some sort foothold. Sherah was beside her in an instant.
“You are safe,” purred the throaty voice. “You shall not fall.”
She offered Fallon a long, speckled hand, and the tigress accepted, picking her steps carefully to where the Alchemist had been seated. Together, they stood and gazed over the sheer cliff-face, where tiny bits of shale were already more than halfway to the valley floor below.
“Who was that?” asked the Scholar.
“Who was whom?”
“The face. The face in the water.”
“There was no face in the water.”
“But I saw—”
“Moonlight.”
“And, and stripes. I saw a striped face in the water. I know I did.”
Sherah smiled at her. “You saw your own face, reflected in the moonlight.”
“But the voice—”
“There was no voice.”
“But you were talking.”
“I was praying.”
“To whom?”
“Prayer is an intimate matter. But we should get you back to the Inn. You’ve had a bit of a fright.”
“No. No, I’m fine, really.”
Sherah turned slowly, and golden eyes held green.
“No. You’ve had a terrible fright. You almost fell from a cliff, yet again. We shall go back now and I will tell no one. Perhaps then, they will allow you to remain with us for our work is not yet done. Otherwise, the Captain may have to send you home to the jungle, to your mother and father and all of your happy, married sisters...”
Fallon felt her thoughts floating away, just like those silver mountain peaks adrift on seas of cloud. The Alchemist reached up to smooth away the strands of orange mane that had fallen into her face. It was a soothing touch, reassuring, almost maternal and Fallon was surprised to find tears coursing down her own cheeks.
“Don’t tell them, please? I don’t want to go back.”
“Shh. Of course I won’t. It will be our little secret.” al Shiva wrapped a protective arm around the thin shoulders. “Besides, the grey lion grows fond of you.”
“Really? You think so?”
“I know so.”
“Wait! Your things—”
Fallon tossed a backwards glance over her shoulder, to where the red satin pouch, golden bowl and chalice had lain.
“Things?”
There was nothing there.
“Oh, never mind. My mistake. I’ve had a bit of a fright.”
And like sunlight and shadow, or the interlocking wheel of Yin and Yang, the two women began the trek up the steep paths to the Inn.
***
“Major?”
There was no response.
“Major, are you quite alright?”
“I’m fine.”
Sireth laid down his hookah pipe and rose to his feet. Major Ursa Laenskaya was already standing. She had been since he had retired to these chambers to meditate, smoke and prepare himself for tonight’s journey. However, against his better judgment, she had insisted on remaining in the same room and as the night had worn on, the opium’s heady vapors grew thicker, more noxious by the hour. Her usually sharp eyes had become dulled, her acid tongue less cutting until finally she had grown quite still. Somehow, she had managed to keep her feet beneath her and he was in fact impressed that she was not swaying.
“It is time to go down now.”
“Yes.”
She did not move.
“Would you like to go down now?”
“Yes.”
Still, she did not move.
“Perhaps you would like to lie down, instead?”
“Yes.”
He took her carefully by
the arms, turned her in a half-circle and walked her toward the narrow bed. She did not even appear to notice she had moved. He turned her again and hands on shoulders, pushed her down onto ‘her side’ of the mattress. She sat stiff and wooden, staring at nothing in particular.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
“Yes,” she said, but still, did not move.
With two fingers, he pushed her to the bed and she curled into a tight white ball around herself. He found the rough woolen blanket, draped it over her, tucking it into the folds of her body. One of the more notable effects of the opium was a sensation of cold and he did not want the Major to be chilled on his account. Her eyes were closed so he leaned in to her ear.
“How’s that?” he asked softly. “Are you warm enough?”
“I will be when you join me.”
“Ah.”
He straightened up, suddenly feeling much too intimate for comfort. Perhaps the opium allowed more than Seers to peer into the hearts and souls of others, for in truth, he would have liked nothing better. But for every good thing there was always a bad, Petrus had taught him. Yang to each Yin. The toll was far too heavy for such folly, the cost far too steep. He had paid it once. Never again.
“You will be warm enough. Sleep well, my wild Empress. I’ll check in on you later.”
He debated on blowing out the room’s only candle, but decided against it, and quietly closed the door behind him.
***
The Captain of the Guard was growing anxious.
It was the beginning of Second Watch, and the Seer had not yet come down.
The Alchemist and Scholar were sitting at a far table, braiding each other’s hair and chatting like old friends, whispering and throwing the occasional sly look at Kerris who was sitting at another far table, grinning and drinking a bowl of sakeh and watching them both. All this flirtation conspired to make Kirin quite uncomfortable.
He sighed, opened his palm, and the parchment uncurled within.
He read it again.
My dearest Captain,
It was with great joy that I received your note. You have indeed proven that my faith in you is not, nor has ever been, misplaced. And for that, you have my eternal gratitude.
But it is with great sadness that I must ask one more thing of you and I fear it is a thing that shall pain you as much as it pains me. I must ask that you not return to Pol’Lhasa until you have found this ‘Soul’, this murderer of my Seers. Whatever, or whomever, has caused these deaths must be found swiftly, and once found, executed without remorse. I can allow nothing less.
The security of the Upper Kingdom depends on this one terrible act. And I must ask it of you alone. I trust you will understand.
My heart forever yours,
Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu
It was sealed with the Imperial seal and the scent of lotus.
He closed his fist, slipping the note into the sash at his waist and glancing around the room with furtive eyes. No one had seen. This, no one must see.
He clenched his jaw, breathing deeply as he steeled his resolve. They would find this ‘Soul,’ he was certain of it and once they did, with his very sword, the Captain of the Guard would kill him.
It was madness.
And what was worse, if the vision of Sireth benAramis was to believed, the man whom the Empress said was never wrong, then it would not only be madness, but blasphemy.
Kirin rubbed his temple. He had another headache.
High above, from a room down at the end of the corridor, he heard a door close and the footsteps of a long determined stride. Kirin looked up.
Very much alone, the Seer was coming down the stairs. The Captain rose to meet him.
“Where is the Major?”
Sireth regarded him with eyes as sharp and shiny as a falcon’s. Indeed, it seemed to Kirin that, at this very moment, both eyes could see.
“The opium,” the Seer began. “It is a raw blend, strong and harsh, not at all like the sort we use at Sha’Hadin. Nonetheless, I am accustomed to its effects. The Major however is not.”
“Is there anything else you require?”
“No.”
He brushed past towards the main hearth, kneeling down beside the fire as if about to begin another set of meditations. Slowly, methodically, he removed his gloves.
From the far tables, Kerris, Fallon and Sherah watched with interest.
It was a ritual, that much was obvious from the meticulous folding back of his wide sleeves seven times to the exaggerated depth of breathing. In fact, it reminded Kerris of a swimmer, preparing himself for a dive deep to the ocean floor to retrieve some hidden pearl. He grinned at the memory. The Seer’s lips were moving, uttering incantations or mantras or some other such spells and now it was the Alchemist who sat forward, ears pricked, straining to catch and remember every word.
For without warning, the Seer turned and thrust both hands into the roaring fire.
“Mother!” Fallon jumped to her feet.
They were all standing now, watching in awe as the flames hissed and leapt about within the hearth, over and around the spotted arms. After several moments, the hands drew back unscathed, pelt unsinged, holding three live coals in each hand as red as a new morning sun. They were sizzling with heat and smoldering fire when the Seer crushed them between his palms, sending ash raining to the floor.
Fallon edged closer, her eyes bright with curiosity and Kerris grinned again.
“Yes, I think I’d need a pipe or two of opium before doing that...”
“Pain is simply a matter of perspective.” muttered Sireth under his breath.
Reaching forward, he smeared the ash across the stone, creating a palette in soot and with eyes closed, he began to draw.
Fallon peered over his shoulder.
“Wow, it’s the Kingdom. He’s drawing the Upper Kingdom!”
Kirin narrowed his eyes. Sure enough, the Scholar was correct. He could make out the range of the Great Mountains slicing the palette in two, the southern horn that was Hindaya, the eastern provinces of Nam, Shiam and Lan’Landesh and all the way west to the deserts of Hirak, Hiran and Sahood. The coastlines were rough but recognizable. To the north, the Lower Kingdom was not drawn in at all for no cat had ever dared explore those barbaric lands where Pure Races meant nothing and Dogs bred at will.
After several minutes of drawing, Sireth straightened up, fixing his falcon-like stare on the Captain.
“Your scroll,” he said evenly. With some measure of regret, Kirin removed the tiny parchment and handed it over.
“This is Pol’Lhasa.”
Carefully, Sireth placed the scroll over the exact location of the Palace, high above DharamShallah, deep in the heart of the Great Mountains.
“And this,” he turned back to the hearth, retrieved a seventh coal and placed it just to the north of the scroll. “This is us.”
“Wow,” Fallon breathed. “This is so exciting.”
“Hush,” said Kerris.
Sherah was circling them all like a shark, the tip of her tail twitching in anticipation as she feasted on the mysteries before her. Kirin was certain she was salivating.
“In several moments, this last coal will split and as I begin my journey, so it will follow. No one must touch it, attempt to alter its course or interfere with its path in any way. Is that understood?”
Kirin nodded.
“We are assuming that our ‘friend tiger’ will join us again tonight. As he does, it will be unlikely that I will be able to communicate in any way to any of you. Therefore, it is vitally important that no one touch me at any time during the evening for once the connection is severed, there is no way of getting it back.”
“Yes,” said Fallon. “Yes, that’s what happened last night.”
“Hush,” said Kerris.
“And since none of you possesses the Gift of Farsight, then none of you can help me if that happens. If the connection is severed prematurely, I shall have no way of getting back
and this ritual will have accomplished nothing.”
“That will not happen,” said Kirin. “You have my word.”
“Is it Enough?”
“It will have to be.”
“I believe you.” He took a deep breath, held it for a brief second, releasing it with a rush. “Very well. I will begin. Oh and by the way, will someone please open the door?”
And he let drop his hands to his lap and said nothing more.
Fallon looked to the Captain, eyes wide and questioning. He nodded and she scrambled for the door, swinging it wide and peering out into the darkness. There was nothing, save the wind.
She turned back to the room.
“Nothing.”
She frowned and looked out one last time, ducking just in time as the falcon soared in over her head, bleating and catching several white-tipped hairs in its claws. It soared around the room, as if searching for a snow leopard upon which to perch, finally settling for the horn of a yak’s head, mounted upon the wall.
Fallon slammed the door.
“That was not funny, you... you miserable little bird!”
“HUSH!” said the brothers in tandem, before a sound caused them to look back to the palette of soot. It was a soft sound, a crackling, sizzling, popping sound, one which was producing glowing light and heat in its wake.
The seventh coal was beginning to split.
***
heartbeat growing quiet, faint and distant, heat and weight falling away, a cloak at sunrise, breath within lifting, peeling, carrying, up up up above them all, above the Great Room, between the blackened beams of ceiling, falcon-sharp eyes watching him, watching, chirrup and cry, a ripple as the roof passed through, cobwebs and rotting wood, and stars now, many jeweled stars and the moon, familiar friends, well-traveled roads of cloud and night-sky, one star not a star, a star prophesied, a prophesy of rejoicing and devastation, a star waking, hungry, dying - there was a tug and like lightning, he was gone
***
“It’s really splitting. Wow...”
Four eager faces hovered above the coal, now completely split into two distinct halves. One of the halves began to rotate, eerily spinning on its axis. Kirin motioned them back, for fear that some hand or boot might inadvertently block the path if indeed the coal chose to move. Quickly, he risked glancing at those eager faces. The Scholar was open-mouthed, fingers busily tugging at her laces, emerald eyes glued to the coal as if she herself was willing it to move. Likewise, the Alchemist was intently watching, her golden eyes darting between coal and Seer as if she could divine his methods and practice them herself. For the first time, Kirin sensed the curiosity that must surely drive her and for the first time, he found himself approving. Kerris was sitting a little further back, taking in the entire room with quick blue eyes, enjoying being caught up in something unusual, something mutually unexpected, likely as eager to see that little coal head into uncharted territory as Kirin was to see it stay closer to home.
To Journey in the Year of the Tiger Page 20