by Matt Laney
“And so, young cousin, though you will be gone from our sight, you will not be far from our hearts. We eagerly await your return in two years’ time because, as the Kahn has said, then and only then will you be ready to rule in his place. Let us drink one last time to the prince!”
There are grunts and growls of support around the clunking of mugs, which I can barely hear over my own heartbeat.
When I lower my mug, Grandfather is on his feet.
“Nephew!” he shouts. There is a flash of something old and dark and terrible in Grandfather’s eyes. The room plummets into silence again.
“Sit down!”
Tamir scowls and parks himself on the nearest bench.
“Tamir is my brother’s son,” Grandfather says after a thoughtful pause, as though this is new information. “My brother who so wanted to be the Singa-Kahn, who felt he would be a better, stronger ruler. Although he was the firstborn, our father passed the throne on to me. My brother never got over it. He was headstrong and ambitious and a fine warrior, but because he was bent on glory and anxious to prove himself more worthy of the throne than I, he got himself killed in the Great War, although you can be sure he wanted that fate for me.
“And, alas, he left behind a son who inherited all of his blind thirst for power: Tamir.”
I wish I could say the room has gone from respectfully quiet to deadly still because of Grandfather’s ability to screw Tamir to the wall with words. But the real trouble is this: Everything Grandfather said about his brother is not recorded in the Kahn’s History, which puts Grandfather dangerously close to spewing fiction.
Several soldiers reveal their loyalty to Tamir with poorly stifled grins. Tamir makes no effort to conceal his delight. His face is a picture of triumph. He has only to say what we are all thinking to cast doubt on Grandfather.
“Uncle, I don’t recall reading that in our official record of history. Was it added recently?”
Grandfather sighs. “Tamir, what is the first oath of every Singa warrior?”
Tamir does not answer.
“Fellow warriors of Singara,” Grandfather chides. “Suddenly, Tamir has nothing to say!” Laughter echoes through the hall. “Surely, Tamir, you know what oath you have sworn above all others? Has it been so long since you learned it?”
“Everyone here knows that well enough, Sire,” Tamir replies coolly. “Why treat us like cubs?”
“I agree, even cubs know the first oath,” Grandfather says. “My question is, do you?”
Tamir grimaces. “A warrior’s first oath is to protect the Singa-Kahn, the Pride, and our land, even at the cost of his or her own life.”
“Have you done that, Tamir? Would you protect me at the cost of your own life?”
Again, Tamir does not respond.
“Do you think anyone in this room is ignorant of your scheming? Do you think anyone here would be surprised to learn that you have attempted high treason on this very day?”
“High treason?” Tamir says, sounding genuinely astonished. “Fables and fantasy! What evidence do you have for this charge?”
“I have three traitorous soldiers in prison right now, ready to confess that you ordered them to kidnap Galil, the prince, and me on our way back from the Border Zone. You instructed them to bring us to you for execution in the Mountain Pass.”
“This is outrageous!” Tamir thunders. “Are we to accept the words of three soldiers held at blade point simply to tarnish my character and reputation?”
“I do not need the help of any Singa to call your character and loyalty into question,” Grandfather says evenly. “But let this gathering note that Tamir has not denied the charge of high treason. He has only challenged the testimony of his followers.”
Murmurs of support sound from many, but not all, around the hall. Still, the Kahn is gaining the advantage. While Tamir casts about for something to say, Grandfather delivers a crushing blow.
“Do you deny it, Tamir? Or would you like to offer a story of your own instead?”
With that, Tamir is backed into a corner. Saying anything other than admitting his guilt would be telling a fiction. Naturally, he changes the subject.
“You dare to suggest I am ignorant of the first oath, but what about you, Uncle? You sit here feasting and toasting to your weakling grandson while there is a breach in the Great Wall that puts our whole realm at risk! Right now the Maguar could be crossing into our lands, and you are doing nothing about it! It is you, and not I, who is guilty of breaking the first oath!”
Instantly, the room erupts into chaos. Warriors hiss and slash the air with their claws. There are shouts and roars and calls to arms. No one knows what to believe or what to do. Only an onslaught of Maguar warriors bursting through the doors and windows could make the hall more frenzied than it is right now.
It could happen. I’ve been so focused on saving my own pelt, I forgot about the hole in the wall and the threat it poses to Singara. Even Kaydan’s pelt trembles with anxiety.
Grandfather alone is relaxed. He takes a long drink from his mug, releases his mightiest roar, and hurls the mug across the room into the fireplace, where it cracks and splinters in a spray of sparks.
“Silence!” he howls. “In the name of all that is good and right and true, be quiet and compose yourselves! Are we a room full of cubs frightened by our own shadows, chasing our own tails? Or are we levelheaded warriors guided by logic and reason?”
“Is there a breach?” inquires a commander from the far side of the hall.
Grandfather straightens his back. “That is a fact; however, it is contained and secured, and there is no evidence of Maguar activity inside.”
“And why did you not make this known sooner, Uncle?” Tamir asks, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Surely such news is worth sharing with your senior soldiers at least. Or is your memory slipping in your old age?”
“There is nothing wrong with my memory, Tamir. I have been too focused on the threat growing inside Singara to be concerned about a little hole in the wall. In fact, my memory tells me I have put up with your schemes for far too long.” Grandfather narrows his eyes. “You are dismissed, Tamir. More than that, you are hereby relieved from serving in the Royal Army. Be grateful your punishment is not more severe.”
The air crackles with tension. Tamir prepares to say something, but Grandfather closes the door on that possibility.
“And if anyone in this room is loyal to Tamir, and not to me or to the prince, why not stand with Tamir now?” he challenges. “Make your allegiance known before one and all.”
Every Singa stays rooted to his or her place. Kaydan searches the assembly for signs of wavering or fidgeting that might give more traitors away.
“You see, Tamir, you stand alone. You will now remove your weapons and leave this hall. Alone.”
“I will go, Uncle,” Tamir says through gritted teeth while unstrapping the short blade and aero-blade from his back. “And let it be known that you have dismissed the most loyal servant of Singara!”
He throws both blades to the floor and unbuckles the long blade at his side.
“‘Strength and truth! Strength and truth!’ Isn’t that what you always say?” Tamir sneers. “Yet there is no strength in living like cowards, hiding behind our pathetic wall. We beat the Maguar in the Great War, but you didn’t allow us to finish the job. And here you condemn us to live like penned-up vermin inside your fence, with our rusting weapons and crumbling armor! That is the truth!”
The long blade joins the other weapons on the floor, and Tamir unfastens his dagger.
“All of that metal from the mines of the Great Mountain wasted on your fence, metal that could have been used for new and improved blades and armor, as well as for new and better weapons I was creating, more powerful than any blade and faster than any arrow. Weapons that could exterminate the Maguar once and for all!” The dagger clangs to the floor and Tamir is defenseless. Somehow he manages to keep his claws withdrawn despite his mounting rage.
/> “Stop!” Grandfather commands. “Shut your mouth this instant before I rip the jaw out of your rebellious head!”
“But you put an end to my research and experiments!” Tamir says, pushing forward with his case. “And because of that, you threw away the key to our future prosperity. I am the son of a once-great Pride, but you prefer to have us live like cowards on our little corner of the planet, when we could be running free across the endless lands held by our enemies.”
“Dagan, Kaydan! Destroy this piece of filth!”
Tamir’s eyes shift to Dagan.
“With pleasure,” Kaydan says, launching himself over the high table and pouncing to the floor. Four other warriors close in while Tamir carries on with his rant.
“We won the war and lost the world! Because . . . you . . . are . . . weak!”
Kaydan hisses and thumps Tamir on the side of the head, raking his face with extended claws. Tamir makes no effort to defend himself, and the blow sends him staggering to his knees.
“You are weak, Uncle, but you are a tower of strength compared with your runt of a grandson.”
Kaydan hits him again with such force, I want to look away.
Another blow follows.
And another.
Within seconds, Tamir is sprawled out on the stone floor, unconscious. Kaydan draws the short blade from his back and twirls the weapon in his hand so the tip is angled downward, preparing to drive it into Tamir.
“No!” I shriek. “Stop!” Kaydan hesitates and turns to the Kahn.
Grandfather looks at me, then at Kaydan. “Untail him,” he says coldly.
A soldier lifts the end of Tamir’s tail and pulls it tight. Kaydan’s blade flashes and slices through the flesh connecting Tamir’s tail to his backside. Though unconscious, Tamir yowls with pain.
“Get him out of here,” Grandfather says, collapsing into his chair. “Lock him up.” Four warriors lift Tamir and carry him out of the hall.
As for me, my mind is whirling as though I’ve been hit by Kaydan’s blows along with Tamir. My head tips up, and my vision is reduced to a shrinking circle of ceiling as if I am sinking into a thick and inescapable swamp.
“Leo!” Grandfather cries.
It’s the last thing I hear.
Chapter 11
A wise leo will always find a way even when there is nowhere to go.
—Sayings of the Ancients
ike Tamir, but for different reasons, I too am carried out of the feeding hall. I spend the rest of the night in bed, writhing in a semiconscious, dreamlike state. With my defenses down, a fiction tumbles out and plays itself over and over:
There was a Kahn who had one son and one daughter. The Kahn urged both children to learn to read and study as much as they could to gain wisdom. But the boy ignored his father’s advice. When he was grown, the prince saw the error of his ways. He decided to travel outside their realm to find the wisdom he lacked. Without sharing his plans with anyone, he took a bag holding his savings of gold coins and set off on his quest.
After traveling a long time, he saw a shepherd in a field and asked if there were any wise folk in the area.
“Why do you seek wise folk?” asked the shepherd.
The prince reported that he was on a quest for wisdom. The shepherd offered to give the prince a bit of wisdom for every gold coin he paid him.
The prince agreed. The shepherd said, “My first piece of wisdom is this: You are the son of the Kahn; whenever you are outside the castle and someone offers you a chair, do not sit down right away. Move the chair a little to one side; this is my first piece of wisdom for you. Please pay me with one gold coin.”
The prince handed over one gold coin.
The shepherd said, “Here is the second piece of wisdom: The son of the Kahn should never bathe at the common bathing place, but in a private place by himself. Another gold coin, please.” Again the prince paid him.
The shepherd said, “Here is my third gift of wisdom: The son of the Kahn must learn to restrain his anger. If anything makes you angry, take a deep breath and do not take action too quickly or you will make a terrible mistake.” The shepherd held out his hand for another gold coin.
The prince handed over the coin, sorry to see his money disappearing so quickly.
The prince decided to return to his home, feeling bad for having spent his gold on useless advice. On his way there, he stopped at a marketplace and entered a shop. The shopkeeper invited him to sit on a chair positioned on a rug. The prince was grateful for the chance to rest and was just about to settle into the chair when he remembered the shepherd’s words. He moved the chair and pulled the rug to one side and saw that it had been spread over the mouth of a deep cage built below the floor. If he had sat there, he would have been trapped and at the shopkeeper’s mercy.
As he continued his journey, he saw a bathhouse and thought how good it would be to bathe before returning home. Remembering the advice of the shepherd, he avoided the common bathhouse and went to a private place along the river. After bathing, he resumed his journey. Soon he realized he had left his bag of coins beside the river. He returned to the spot and found them untouched. He again applauded the wisdom of the shepherd. If he had gone into the public bathhouse, surely someone would have seen the bag and stolen it.
Finally, he arrived home, reaching the palace late at night. He went to his lair without waking anyone. Beside the door he saw a cloak, a long blade, and pieces of body armor. The sight enraged the prince. He took the blade in one hand and pounded on the door with the other. “Who is in the lair of the prince?”
It was the prince’s own sister sleeping in his lair because she missed her brother so much. His sister was half asleep and did not recognize the voice of her brother. She opened the door and found him ready to strike her down.
“Wait!” she cried. “Let me step into the light and then, if you wish, you may strike me down.”
Remembering the shepherd’s words about restraining anger, the prince agreed. When he saw it was his own beloved sister, he wept with gratitude because he had nearly killed her.
I awake with a jolt and a throbbing at the back of my head. A figure dressed in a scientist’s robe sits next to me, his familiar scent tickling my mouth and nostrils.
“Galil?”
“Do not move too suddenly, Lord.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask, wondering if he heard the story and saw the words spin into a vision.
“Only a few minutes.”
“What happened?”
“You fainted.”
I fainted in front of the senior soldiers just after Tamir’s tirade about my weakness? I guess I did have the last word after all, and it turned out to be living proof of his point. I touch the back of my head and feel a tender little robin’s egg poking through my fur.
“You will be fine, Leo. I’m less interested in the bump on your head than the slaycon bite on your leg.”
I forgot about that.
“It has completely healed,” Galil says with a raised eyebrow.
I guess that’s why it slipped my mind.
“There is not a scratch on you. How do you explain that?”
I shrug.
“I would like to study your condition further, but there is no time. You need to get to the Academy.”
The Academy? “Is it tomorrow?”
Galil laughs. “It is always today, Lord Leo. Tomorrow is nothing but a fiction we permit to tell ourselves about the future. But yes, it is the day after yesterday, when you took your tumble at dinner.”
I sit up, wincing and woozy.
“Slowly, Leo. Slowly.”
“Where is Grandfather?”
“The Kahn is meeting with the generals, except for General Kaydan. He is waiting for you at the castle gate to escort you to the Academy.”
“Is there a crowd? Outside?”
“No. The whole city is too disturbed by fears of a Maguar invasion. There is also much talk about how you saved Tamir,
but not his tail, from Kaydan’s blade. At any rate, the streets are nearly empty. Even so, Kaydan will take you through the Mountain Pass.”
Fear blazes up within me.
“It’s all right, Leo. Tamir is no longer a threat. Your way to the Academy and to the throne is secure. Just to be sure, Kaydan has ordered a search of the pass. And he has a company of soldiers waiting on the other end.”
Relieved, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, hop to my closet, and grab my backpack. I toss it on the bed, where an impression of my body is still visible on the sheets. My eyes sweep to the mirror mounted on the wall. Instead of my own reflection, I see the prince from the story, the one who learned wisdom from the shepherd. He’s holding something out to me. Gold coins. He tips his hand, and the coins clang and ping their way to the floor on his side of the mirror.
I shudder and turn away, only to find the same ghostly prince sitting on my bed next to Galil, who is unaware of his presence.
“There is no need to pack,” Galil says. “You are not allowed to bring anything into the Academy except yourself. You will enter wearing nothing but your own fur and exit when you are a warrior.”
Nothing but my own fur?
I stare blankly, wondering if I heard that right.
“At the Academy, everyone is treated equally, hence the start in your natural state. Even though you are the future Singa-Kahn, you will not be treated that way. Always bear in mind who you are, even if no one else does. Going to the Academy is your chance to learn the Science of War, but it is also an opportunity to show you are fit to rule, to gain the loyalty and confidence of others.”
The story prince stands. “This is wisdom. Listen to him.”
I have a feeling Galil wants to say something else, something more than just a few pointers about the Academy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few days, it’s how much we say by saying very little. What was it that Tamir said last night? That mysteries sprout up around me like weeds? It was only one phrase in a flurry of verbal arrows flying between Grandfather and Tamir, but the same could be said of our world.