The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom

by Dickson, H. Leighton

  He looked away.

  “Take a look to your left. Take a look to your right. You might see the face of a cat. You might see the face of a monkey. You may even be seeing the face of a dog. Whatever face you see, it is the face of your brother, your sister, your friend. No one is better, no one is less, and we need to believe it in our very bones. There will be quarrels, there will be misunderstandings but we cannot allow them to rule us. We will be sorely tested in these next weeks as the Rabbit leaps off the stage and the Dragon shakes his head and gnashes his teeth. We need to be ready for anything, for if we fail, we consign our children to servitude and slavery. I, for one, do not wish that for our children.”

  He felt golden eyes weighing upon him. He did not look at them.

  “Soon, the mountain will come down and our way back will be barred. If any of you wish to return to your old life, go in peace, for peace but go. Go and prepare your village for a new way but go. If you stay, you will be charting that new way and a new Kingdom where cat, monkey and dog are equal partners in its building. Equal in every way to the Ancestors who will seek to rule us. I don’t know if this will happen in my lifetime, in any of our lifetimes, but I do know that I, the very first Shogun-General of the Fanxieng Dynasty, can do no less than try.”

  Once again, there was no the sound but the wind. His heart felt heavy. It was possible, probable even, that most of these soldiers were here for war. Even their name – the Army of Blood – promised it. To leave homes, families and commissions for the vague and untenable notion of peace was unexpected at best, disappointing at worst. There was no way to convince them.

  Finally, there was the sound of slow, deliberate clapping. Kirin looked and was not surprised to see Sireth benAramis from the back of his horse, smiling in the all-knowing way of his. The tigress joined him and then Bo Fujihara, but in the way of monkeys, with raised arms and snapping fingers and shouting. Very quickly, all the Chi’Chen army joined in until the valley echoed like a nightmare, hooting and snapping and whistling, but it was the Chi’Chen army, not the cats. On this matter, the army of the Upper Kingdom was strangely silent.

  He looked at his brother, grey ghost and miracle worker, on the back of the little mountain pony. If there was anyone who embodied this very dream, it was Kaidan.

  “They won’t leave,” said Kerris. “No matter what they think of this plan, they won’t leave.”

  “It won’t be enough.”

  “It will have to be, Kirin. The rocks are going home.”

  And Kerris turned his face to the mountain. With a roar that sent clouds into the sky, the mouth of the mine closed on itself like an earthstorm, sealing their fate and setting them on their path. Three days they had been given. Now, they were committed. For good or for ill, he thought grimly, they were committed.

  He turned his horse and headed out.

  The Eye of the Needle

  “I did tell you to sit down,” said Damaris Ward.

  Jeffery Solomon glared at her as the Maglar rolled through the underground. The Plug had done an efficient job at translating their language but the frequency had been unexpected and he was still struggling with nausea.

  “So they’re not dead?” he said. “You’re sure about that.”

  “The Jiānkeeper said the male was in the Compound and the female was in the lab.” She eyed him from across the car. “Why the hell are you traveling with monsters, Super 7?”

  “It’s Jeffery and they’re not monsters. I keep telling you.”

  “It’s been a long time since you went down, Jeffery 7. The world has changed.”

  “Not so much, I think.”

  Solomon, Ward and two guards were traveling in a Maglar from the medical wing of the DC compound to a communications wing. It had the look of an underground system but he couldn’t be sure. Windows were dark, revealing again the bronzing of an old ArcEye and he remembered traveling through Brussels before he went under, how the ArcEyes varied from green hills, blue skies and vineyards to seasides, forests and mountains. Those were much better, he thought. Dark windows looked like empty eyes, made him feel lost and sad.

  “I’m using up valuable comm time for you,” she said. “I had to trade it for something and your monsters are it.”

  “So they’re on display?”

  “Only the grey.

  His stomach lurched as the Mag took a bump in the track and he shook his head.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you treat them differently than me? They’re people. Okay, cat people, true enough, but still...”

  She leaned forward, clasped her hands between her knees. Her eyes were dark and shone with intelligence.

  “Everything, every living thing in this world will try to kill you, Jeffery 7. We are no longer the dominant species on this planet. The contagions that have developed can turn a normal man or woman into a cannibalistic monster within weeks. You do not go outside without a C-FAS and even then, you do not go beyond the fence. It’s madness.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I do.”

  “Damaris, I’ve been outside in Europe for almost a year and I’m still alive. I’ve been walking your seaboard for days since you blew up my ship, hunting the quail and the turkeys and the rabbits. I’m still alive and after tasting that turkey roasted over an open fire, nowhere near as cannibalistic as I may look.”

  He could have sworn she smiled but she had looked away so he couldn’t tell. It was hard to guess her age, whether she was older than him or life in this new world had conspired to make her strong and hard. Wrinkles at the corners of her eyes said laughter, lines at the corner of her mouth said resolve.

  She turned back to him.

  “Maybe you’re immune.”

  “And maybe you’re wrong.”

  “It’s bad for a Security Chief to be wrong. People die.”

  “It’s bad for scientists to be wrong too, but you know what? The world goes on.”

  Again, he thought she smiled. She was a smart cookie, no doubt.

  He sat back, sighed.

  “So who are we going to talk to, then?”

  “I’ve asked CommWing to patch us into the Shield.”

  “The Shield?”

  “Slabtu,” she said. “CanShield North.”

  “Slabtu.” It took a moment. “Sleep Lab Two?”

  His heart thudded inside his chest.

  “Si, Jeffery 7.”

  “Just Jeffery, or Jeff.”

  She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, raised a tattooed brow.

  “Jeff 7.”

  He tried to smile but couldn’t and wondered what kind of world those ArcEyes were hiding behind their sad, bronzed glass.

  ***

  It was late when they came to the village of Lon’Gaar.

  Earlier, a cry had gone up and they had seen the shape of a boy sprint along a path that might have been a rocky stream in summer. The boy quickly disappeared but the tracks he left in the snow were easily followed and it was clear that he had not been alone. Still, they saw no others for the rest of the day. The stream had narrowed and grown steep with mountains and they were forced to ride no more than ten abreast along some areas. Traveling six thousand deep would become dangerous soon enough.

  Finally, as they were losing the light of the winter sun, they came upon another plateau and a circle of the low round tents called gars. On the edge of the village, other tents with the hides of yak and goat hanging from poles. But there was no woodsmoke, there were no people. The entire village of Lon’Gaar was abandoned.

  The army split like a river into three forks, two to flow around and one to flow through. Kirin led the center fork, making sure he had Bo Fujihara on one side of him and the dogs on the other. When he reached the center of the village, he raised his gloved hand, bringing the army to a slow, rippling stop. As the horses circled the village one hundred then one thousand fold, they waited, eyes sharp, ears straining. They heard n
othing, no shouting, no drums, no deadly whistling arrows. Kirin glanced down at the male dog, tried to remember his name.

  “Rani,” said the Oracle. “His name Rani.”

  The dog growled but, to his credit, looked up.

  “Where would they go?” asked Kirin and the girl translated. The dog growled again, flattened his ears to his skull but answered in his guttural language. The girl translated once more.

  “Into mountains,” she said. “Or to next village. North.”

  “Can you guess how many soldiers were in the Legion following you?”

  She bit her lip. “Six tens? Maybe?”

  “We counted forty-one bodies,” said the Major from her horse. “That leaves almost twenty unaccounted for.”

  “They are with the villagers,” said Bo and he puffed on his pipe. “It makes sense.”

  “It makes them dangerous,” said the Major. “I can take a party and hunt them down.”

  “No,” said Kirin. “Let them run. They will find the Khan’s army and tell him of our strength. It may make him think twice before committing his army to a war they cannot win.”

  He could feel his people move their horses toward him, his brother and the tigress, the Seer and the jaguar. And, of course, the Alchemist. He still could not bring himself to look at her.

  “We will camp here for the night,” he said and raised his voice to be heard by every man in the Army of Blood. “There are blankets and skins here, perhaps some food. Take what you need. Leave nothing of value. Use everything.”

  “Hardly an act of peace, Captain,” said the Seer.

  “Shogun-General,” growled his wife.

  “My mistake.”

  Kirin shook his head.

  “These people are gone. They will not miss what they have left behind.”

  “An army is only as strong as its stomach,” said Fujihara. “Beyond all things, it will be hunger that will make or break our journey.”

  “It’s true,” said Yahn Nevye from the back of his horse. “And a soldier can chew on a scrap of hide for hours, dulling his hunger and filling his belly. For a very short time but still.”

  They all looked at him.

  “I…I, I heard that somewhere.”

  “Idiot,” growled the Major.”

  “There are many hides,” said Kirin. “We will take what we need.”

  He looked at Ursa. “Have the wagons distribute rations to the soldiers. Release the free horses, have them hunt and bring back what they can.”

  “They can hunt the dogs,” she grinned.

  “No!” gasped Setse.

  Kirin shook his head. “By morning, we will have taken everything. Then we will move on.”

  “Sir.” Ursa wheeled on her horse and was gone.

  “No hunt dogs!” moaned Setse and she glanced at the cats surrounding her.

  “No hunt dogs, little sister,” purred Sherah al Shiva. “I will make tea.”

  And they began dismounting their horses in the village of Lon’Gaar.

  ***

  It had taken them many days and cost them many soldiers, but finally, they had passed through the cliffs of KhunLun and entered the vast high plateau region known as Tevd. Tevd, the Cradle of the Moon. Wide, rocky and surrounded on all sides by mountains, Tevd was dry, cold and surprisingly free of snow. Perhaps the wind was too strong, perhaps the air too dry, for it seemed only in crevasses the snow stayed. The Plateau of Tevd was a sacred place, a holy place, where the world was born and old men came to die.

  They had made the village of Jia’Khan, more than half of the moon-long run to Lon’Gaar and the Wall of the Enemy. The village was overjoyed to be witness to the Khargan’s Ten Thousand, even more to be host. The Khan had decreed a rest and yaks, reindeer and goats were slaughtered for a feast that would last three days. Children sang songs of victory and women were demonstrative with their pride. To bed a soldier in the Khargan’s army would be advantageous for any woman and any child conceived during such a feast would be honoured in the village for a lifetime.

  They sat in the gar for the night was bitterly cold, the Bear running a stone along the massive blade known as ala’Asalan, or Killer of Lions. It was as long as the Bear was tall, made of black iron and hooked on one end. Long-Swift had seen that blade tear out the insides of many a man, some lions. Most men couldn’t lift it without strain. When he wasn’t using it, the Khargan wore it strapped across his back like a bow. It made his back very strong.

  “Why don’t you go take a woman?” asked the Bear, not looking up from his sharpening. “You are Irh-Khan. You can choose from any woman in the village. It would be her glory and your pleasure.”

  Long-Swift stared into the flames and smiled. It was a small fire, just a few coals and some sticks. Not enough to keep warm – the packed snow did that well enough but it did cause light to dance around the inside of the gar. Even for the Khargan, there was little extravagance. A hide for sleeping that wrapped ala’Asalan during the run, a horn of wotchka, a pipe. His armour lay to the side – the skulls and claws, the one-armed leather coat and mail cuirass, the braces and hide-bound boots next to the kushagamak, the lethal dual hook-and-chain weapon of the Khans. Sitting, disarmed like this in a simple woolen undershirt and trousers, the Bear almost looked like a common man. If one did not look at his size. If one did not look at the scars.

  “What?” the Khargan grunted and now he did look up. “You don’t need a woman? Long-Swift the Sekond is now Long-Swift the Celibate?”

  “I am hearing talk in the ranks,” the Irh-Khan said. “About the strength and power of the Army of Blood.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It is said that they have assembled a force of over five thousand cats and monkeys.”

  The Bear spat on the ground. “Pah. We have twice that.”

  “They have horses.”

  A growl now. It was a well-known fact that not even the Khargan’s Legions could stand against a rush of Imperial horses.

  “That is not all,” Long-Swift continued. “They have magic.”

  “Magic?”

  “More than Oracles, Lord. Alchemists and Elementals. A runner from Lon’Gaar even witnessed the lightning bending in the sky to destroy the camp.”

  “Big stories,” grunted the Bear. “From little townspeople.”

  “Still,” said Long-Swift. “Is it not worth sifting the bag of sand for a single grain of wheat?”

  The Bear grunted again, bent back to his sword. “You are not helping me, Long-Swift.”

  “Well,” the Irh-Khan reached for the horn, breathed in the wotchka’s rich, sweet smell. “I hear many things with my ears uncropped, Lord.”

  “Hah. Tell me.”

  “The villagers talk of an Oracle on the Plains of Tevd.”

  “An Oracle?”

  “Yes. The Eyes of Jia’Khan, called Edinae Tebchech.”

  The stone paused on the blade and the Bear stared at him. “Eye of the Needle?”

  “And Edinae Buran.”

  “Eye of the Storm? Which is it?”

  “Both.”

  “This Oracle has two names?”

  “Yes.”

  “Strange.”

  “It is stranger still, Lord. This oracle prophesies for the villagers and they must pay him in eyes.”

  “Eyes?” The Bear blinked slowly. “He accepts payment from these villagers…in eyes?”

  “In eyes.” The Irh-Khan arched his brow, raised the wotchka to his lips. “And he is bigger than you.”

  The fire crackled. The wind outside the gar howled. There were the sounds of people in the village, the singing of the children, the crowing of women, the drinking of the Ten Thousand but all sounds were drowned as suddenly the Khargan threw back his head and laughed. He laughed so that he was made to lay ala’Asalan down into the snow. He laughed until tears sprang from his lashes and made rivers down his cheeks.

  “He is bigger than me?”

  “Much bigger.”

  More laugh
ing and Long-Swift could well imagine the ten thousand soldiers outside the gar, glancing about at the sound of the Khan of Khans laughing. There had been a time when it had been a common thing but not any more. Life had hardened them all.

  “Ah, what a wonderful thought,” said the Bear as his laughter died and he wiped the tears from his eyes. “I think I very much like this Oracle. I will enjoy killing him.”

  And as he bent back to the Killer of Lions, Long-Swift released one breath and then another. He was playing a dangerous game, distracting the Khargan from the Singer of Songs in his head. He didn’t want to take a woman from the village, not when the Singer was slipping through his mind. He was becoming obsessed with the thought of her, couldn’t wait to lay his head down in the snow at night for her to visit in his dreams.

  He wondered if it could be called treason, and if it were, what that might mean. Dreams and reality rarely mixed well. If she were riding with the Army of Blood and if he met her in battle, he might be forced to kill her after all and that, he realized, would be a very tragic thing. She had captivated him, body and soul.

  Perhaps, that was her intent. She was the Enemy, after all.

  With that thought, he emptied the wotchka and rose to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” asked the Khan.

  “To find a woman,” he said.

  The Khargan grunted and Long-Swift left the tent for the bitterness and the cold.

  ***

  The CommWing was heavily guarded and they walked along a narrow corridor that used to be a moving sidewalk that no longer moved. All the windows were old ArcEyes as well and he wondered what time of day it was. He wondered what the compound itself looked like from the outside, what sort of buildings they were, whether the grounds were landscaped, whether there were farms. So far, all he had seen was interiors. Stairwells, undergrounds, labs, ozone lights, metal floors, plastic chairs.