“No, thank you, sidala. I am able to clothe myself.”
She held up the sash of gold, symbol of his rank in the Queen’s Court, embroidered threads catching the moonlight like falling stars. It was torn at one end.
“I can fix this.”
He took it from her, turning it over in his hands.
“No,” he said as he began to wrap it round and round his waist. “No, I wish to show the Empress the extent of our travails when we return.”
“We will return?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”
“I thought...”
When she did not finish, he turned to study her.
“What kind of mission did you think this was, sidala?”
“The kind from which one does not return.”
“You will return.”
“We have lost four already.”
“Too many.” He shook out his cloak, patted the snow from its dark folds and pulled it over his shoulders. “No more.”
“A promise?”
“No.” He began to walk back to the campfire, Sherah a silent shadow at his side. “Sidala?”
“You may call me Sherah.”
“Sidala, the Seer has accused you of being a firestarter.”
“Of course he would.”
“You deny it, then?”
The hems of their cloaks swept across the snow and rocks as they walked. Black and Imperial gold. It was like a heartbeat.
“The military has always been wary of the Gifts and the Arts, sidi. These cannot be seen nor touched, nor therefore, killed. And what cannot be killed must be feared.”
He couldn’t stop a smile.
“Do they train you to speak like this?”
“Of course.” She smiled back. “But you see, I know you are concerned with the pragmatic. If either one of us was a firestarter, how would that change you?”
He paused. It was a good question. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Kirin! Sidalady cheetah!” It was Kerris and the Scholar, alMassay a solid block between them. “There you are. Heading back to camp?”
“Yes. Kerris, how is he?”
Kerris slapped the great beast’s chest.
“Sound as a yak. Those scratches shall heal up nicely. Sherah, any chance we could get a last cup of tea before bed?”
She was already moving, a ghost of black slipping through the night. But she did turn her face as she left, golden eyes gleaming through her hair.
“Of course.”
***
It was well past second watch. The falcon swooped down over the camp, the floppy body of a rabbit in her talons. She soared over the figures in bedrolls, scattered around the fire, the Captain and the brother, the Alchemist and Scholar. Two leopards slept nearby, and she circled them, before arching her wing and rising higher. She spied the other two, standing sentry on the surrounding rocks and chirruped to them. One raised a hand to her, a greeting from a fellow watcher.
She had seen the Wall tonight, had taken the rabbit at its very base. It was not far, a day’s travel at most. There were plenty of rabbits. It had been a good night.
She angled downward toward her master, calling him with his falcon’s name. He did not respond, for his sleep was deep, deeper than any of the past nights. At his side, the silver soldier lay. A kindred spirit, thought Path, lover of pigeons and blood. She lit on a rock high above them and began to tear at the soft rabbit fur to the still-warm flesh beneath.
Tonight had been a rare night, for tonight, Solomon had not come.
The Great Wall
The Great Wall is unlike anything in the Upper Kingdom. It finds its source high in the Land of the Chi’Chen, protecting even monkeys from the marauding of dogs. It is not known how long ago it was begun, for truth be told, cats did not begin it. It is said to have originated in the time of the Ancestors. It is understandable for it is very well made and architecture is always a true test of culture. This is a fact well understood by cats and when they undertook to continue the task two Dynasties ago, they were hard pressed to maintain its integrity. By the time it guards our borders, the Wall reaches heights of ten men and an army can travel several horses across. Battle towers are frequent, at least one every hour and more frequently along disputed borders like Shibeth and the Phun’jah. So it is said. Few have ever seen it or trodden its stone. I have. It is marvelous.
For the most part, the work is done by tigers. Tigers who labor day and night, stoking kilns and making bricks and carting stone from quarries as far away as Gizah. Tigers who lay brick upon brick, filling gaps with mortar and shaping clay by the ton. Some leopards work as fine masons, some jaguars as engineers and of course, the project is overseen by lions. Only lions can keep the sort of order required for such a task. A few of Sacred blood have positions in the financing and purchasing of stone, kilns and equipment, but for the most part, the work is done by tigers.
No one is entirely sure why.
Starting high beyond the easternmost canton of Xhiangxing, it winds its way southward through the Arms of our Mother, the Great Mountains, skirting her peaks like a leaf on a river. It hems the provinces of Bhushan, Shibeth and Mepal, only to rise upwards once again, meeting the Zashkar Pass in the beautiful, terrible province of Phun’jah. There, it is a magical place of glaciers and waterfalls and deep jungle valleys, a broken place of salt flats and ruins and dry, dead plains. Where DharamShallah is the roof the known world, the Phun’jah is its breast. Beyond that, the tigers still work.
So, it was with some measure of satisfaction that Kerris saw it stretched out before him, the gold serpent that was the Great Wall, a flash of order traversing the unbridled Mountains. He couldn’t help but grin for he knew Kirin would be pleased. It seemed little this morning had pleased him.
Kerris had been rudely awakened by the sound of his brother cursing and scrambling out of the bedroll next to him. It had also been terribly early, Kerris remembered this distinctly, for the sky was not yet pink and a thin layer of snow coated the sleepers. He could hear the cursing for some distance beyond the fire and, not really caring to know the reason, he had started the tea for breakfast.
They had slept through the night.
For the first time in many nights, the little party had slept through the night.
“How could you have heard nothing?” Kirin had growled at the Major after ushering the pair back to the fire. “You sleep like a hare. You hear everything.”
Ursa had actually looked confused, something Kirin would have never thought possible.
“I know, sir. But I, I —”
“Perhaps there was nothing to hear,” said the Seer in her defense. “Perhaps Solomon was preoccupied.”
“No.” Kirin began to pace, his jaw working on some invisible piece of flesh between his teeth. “No, this is too regular. Too predictable now. I don’t believe Solomon has any more control over these episodes than we do.”
“And I think he looks forward to them,” offered the Scholar, sitting by the fire and munching on several slices of orange. “He sounds so lonely. I think he needs to talk to us.”
Kirin whirled on the Seer. “And you remember nothing?”
“I never do.”
“These oranges are great,” said Fallon.
She peeled off a slice and tossed it to Ursa. The snow leopard scowled when it struck her on the chin. She wiped the juice with the back of her hand.
“So what does it matter, Kirin?” Kerris asked. “Whether Solomon has taken a little break or whether he forgot, what does it matter? We will reach the Wall by sunset and if he comes tonight, good. Fine. We can continue to Lhahore. If he doesn’t, then we have a fairly direct route back to Pol’Lhasa. This time, time won’t be a factor.”
With a heavy sigh, Kirin placed his hands on his hips. As usual, Kerris met his gaze, as undaunted by his brother’s temper as the others were mindful. Finally, Kirin nodded.
“Yes, Kerris. We will carry on to the Wall. We will decide our cours
e tonight.”
“Right then, let’s get cracking.”
And the grey lion sprang to his feet, leaving the group and its dark shar chi for the company of horses. The others followed suit.
Fallon sidled up to the Captain.
“These are really great oranges,” she said as she offered him a slice.
“No but thank you, sidala.”
“Really, you should try one. You need your breakfast, after all.”
“No. Thank you.”
“She’s been drugged.”
He turned slowly back to face her.
“What are you saying?”
“Ursa.” She popped the slice in her mouth. “She’s been drugged.”
“How do you know this?”
“Pupils are still wide. Not sharp little slivers of black like usual. She’s moving slower too. She would have normally caught the orange I tossed at her. Didn’t even see it coming.”
“Who would have done this?”
She shrugged, still chewing.
“Anybody, I guess. Sherah or Sireth, most likely. But any one of us could have. Even you.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she owes you money or something.”
“No. Why would someone drug the Major? What would that accomplish?”
“Well, we wouldn’t talk to Solomon, then would we? That would be my first guess. I can’t think of any other reason. Ursa has always been the first one to wake when he starts talking, if she even sleeps at all. But that’s only one possibility. I could be wrong. Maybe she’s just really tired. Now that would be scary. Dangerous, really. Well, better get to my horse. I like this one much better than my old one. My old one was so slow.”
And so she ambled off, completely oblivious to the state of alarm in which she had left her Captain. His eyes roved the backs of his party, from the four surviving leopards to the civilians, from his brother to the Major. And now he was certain of it too, Ursa Laenskaya was not moving with her customary swift, bird-like motions. Or was she?
First expedience, then paranoia. How many masters would he serve on this journey?
He shook his head and headed for his horse.
***
It was late afternoon before the Wall came into full view. It had been, for the most part hidden by the bulk of the Great Mountains, allowing a glimpse of its snake-like body only now and again, a thread of gold woven through a basket of bamboo. It seemed small from far away, but the nearer they rode, the greater, the more impressive, it grew. Towers could be seen all along its length, battle forts offering the promise of food and shelter and fresh, clean water. It is common knowledge that tea tastes all the better when made with fresh water. This is an important consideration.
Kirin held up a tawny hand, and the trail of horses wound to a stop. He had taken the fore this day, being short on patience. Now, he jogged alMassay back to the Seer, pulling up alongside.
“Where is the falcon?”
“Hunting. Why?”
“Call her back. I wish to send a message to the Tower guards at Sri’Varna.”
“Is that necessary?” Sireth asked sharply. “Soldiers have been known to shoot falcons.”
“Not my soldiers.”
“Not my falcon.”
“Call her back.”
The man sighed and cast his gaze skyward. In moments, a shrill cry echoed through the valley and a shadow crossed the sun. The falcon swept over the heads of the riders, bleating and crying her displeasure, finally chirruping softly as she settled on her beloved’s arm. The Seer pulled a set of talon leathers and bells from a goatskin pouch.
“Your message?”
A thin scrap of parchment, bound in thread and sealed with Imperial gold, was passed over and tied securely to the wiry leg. Then, Sireth placed two fingers over the dark, shiny eyes, and closed his own. Kirin watched this, marveling at not only how a man could speak to animals but how he did so without words. With a chirrup and a jingle of bells, the bird lit from his arm, wings capturing the wind the way a kite breaches the clouds. She was a speck in moments.
“Thank you,” said the Captain after she disappeared entirely from his sight. “The guards will have a hot supper awaiting us, a change of clothing, and maps.”
“Maps?” Kerris brightened as they started on their way again. “Say, do you think Solomon knows about the Wall? He seems to know about a great many things.”
“Perhaps.”
“Because if he does, then maybe he could tell us how far along we must travel before heading north into the Lower Kingdom. If we could make it all the way to TheRhan, we’d be well along indeed.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think he has a different word for everything, then?”
Kirin sighed, not wanting to be discussing anything at the moment, least of all Solomon.
“I don’t know, Kerris.”
“Did he kill the Seers?”
“I don’t know, Kerris.”
“I think he’s a dog.”
“What?”
“I mean, we don’t know for certain that he’s a tiger, now do we? He just speaks poorly, like so many tigers do. Dogs speak pitiful Imperial, you know that, if they speak it at all. And for a tiger to be so far beyond our borders—”
“He’s not a dog.”
“But how do you know?”
“Kerris—”
“Was there an expedition I wasn’t told about?”
This time, the Captain’s sigh was one of relief. He actually permitted his brother a small smile.
“No, Kerris. There would never be an expedition that you wouldn’t be a part of.”
“Because if there was—”
“There wasn’t.” He saw his chance to diffuse the conversation, seized it without hesitation. “You are by far the Empress’ preferred guide. You know that as well as I.”
Kerris grunted affably, nodded as his blue eyes scanned the terrain.
“Besides, who else brings back the little trinkets you do? You have the best nose for treasure in the Kingdom.”
Another grunt, another nod, and Kerris shot out his hand, grey palm curling open under Kirin’s nose. A single shimmering pearl, nestled amongst a sea of shark teeth.
“You see?” Kirin smiled. “This tiger is lucky indeed, to be rescued by the likes of you.”
“Hah! Thicker than honey, dear brother. Save it for Lyn-ling!” He spurred Quiz into a gallop. “Perhaps she’ll shower you with kisses when we get back!”
“Kerris!”
But he could not resist laughing and spurred his own horse to catch up, and the party of horses burst forth like a whirlwind, kicking up a cloud of dust as they went.
***
They came upon the garrison town of Sri’Varna at sundown. It was a small community of tigers, leopards, jaguars and smaller cats, people whose very livelihood was dependent on the Wall. They were the families of the builders and potters who specialized in maintaining the great kilns needed for such dedicated work. They were the farmers and tradesmen who supplied the Wall with food and linens and oil for alarm fires. Of these provisions, the oil was by far the most important. Without oil, they were defenseless.
It was quiet by the time they rode down the only road in town and Kirin found himself approving. It was sunset, time for quiet reflection and evening tea. Time for all people of good breeding to be settling in for the night, trusting the safety of their homes to the Wall and the soldiers who guarded their borders. It was a good sign, he thought to himself, reflecting the prosperity and stability of the Kingdom. And of course, the quality of the soldiers.
A door opened from a far garden gate and light poured onto the street. A figure could be seen silhouetted under the lintel, a lantern swinging the familiar patterns of welcome. Kirin rode alMassay toward it.
It was a lion, an elderly one, his mane silver and twisted into a high knot on the back of his head. His robes marked him as a judge, the highest authority in t
hese small towns but it was he who greeted Kirin with a deep and formal bow, cupping fist in one palm.
“Captain Wynegarde-Grey,” the man said in the Imperial tongue. His accent was classic, rich like Kirin’s and Kerris’ and for that matter, Sireth’s. “I am Shah Kim taeKanawae. It is an honor to have you at our garrison.”
“It is we who are honored,” said Kirin with equal formality but as a lion in the Court of the Empress, he did not bow. Indeed, he did not even dismount his horse. “Our party has traveled for many days. We look forward to the amenities which the Wall can afford us.”
“And you shall receive them, sidi,” he said, bowing again.
“Thank you then, and good evening.”
With that, Kirin pulled his stallion back onto the road.
Fallon leaned over to the black-cloaked figure riding at her side.
“Wow,” she whispered. “That was easy. Much easier than, oh, say, back at the Inn. Now that was not easy.”
“Such is the way of lions,” purred Sherah.
It was nearly dark now but the great shape of the Wall rose high above them, its geniculated cornice black against the purple sky. Torchlight beamed from small windows and the scent of curry and lamb wafted down on the breeze. It set tongues watering at once.
Three guards awaited them at the gate. They were leopards, naturally, but educated ones, for the parchment had been opened, read and tucked deep inside a bronze sash for safe keeping. Out on the Kingdom’s front lines, reading was not a luxury. The three bowed with perfect precision.
Kirin dismounted. “You have carried out my instructions?”
“As best we could, sidi,” said one. “I have summoned others from nearby towers to assist with the horses.”
Kerris was at his brother’s side in an instant.
“Linements and wraps for each leg, straw bedding, and once they’ve rested, strong mash, ground organ meat and fresh water.” He rubbed Quiz’s crescent of white. “They’ve worked hard for you, today Kirin. They deserve as much.”
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 26