The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom by H. Leighton Dickson Page B
Authors: H. Leighton Dickson
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His eyes
were as white as the moon. “It merely depends on what we serve.”
“Indeed it does, Jet,” the
Chancellor nodded. “But enough of this. We shall do nothing until tomorrow. One
of the ‘tribulations’ may have already been taken care of tonight.”
Jet
BarraDunne, the First Mage of Agara’tha ,
smiled.
“It would be poetry, wouldn’t it,
if they simply took care of each other.”
They
all smiled at that.
***
“She sleeps.”
Sherah al Shiva put a bloody finger
to her lips and turned her eyes in the direction of the Scholar’s table. In the
Chamber of the Dead, the Captain followed her gaze.
It
was almost impossible to see her for the mountains of books and foothills of
paper, but she was there. Head down in her arms, hair splayed in a
multicoloured mat across the wood, slim back rising and falling like a slow,
steady tide, Fallon Waterford was indeed sleeping.
The
Captain smiled a weary smile.
“She is fortunate. I wish I could
do the same.”
“I
can help you, sidi.”
He shook his head.
“No,
but thank you, sidala. What have you discovered?”
Slowly,
the Alchemist rose from her table, stretching her long body like a serpent,
forcing him to watch every arch and curve lest she bite suddenly and kill him
with her poisons. She moved to the row of bodies, six chest cavities exposed,
six rows of livers and hearts and lungs, severed fingers and toes in drying
rings across the table. He cast his eyes up to their faces, for the organs did
not interest him, but the faces, they were another matter.
One
leopard, one lion, two tigers, a serval, and – he moved closer...
One
was Sacred.
“Petrus
Ishak Raphael Mercouri. The Ancient of Sha’Hadin .”
He felt a knot in his chest. The
Empress had called him friend.
He
felt Sherah move in behind him.
“Some say he had seen one hundred
summers, perhaps more. That he himself had counseled three Empresses. Pity.”
“How
did they die?”
“Terror.”
His
head snapped up. The exact word the Seer had used .
“Explain.”
She
picked up a heart. It looked small and pale in her long, strong hands.
“They were old men. Something
terrified them, stopped their hearts. Stopped their breathing. A dream,
perhaps. Or a vision. We will never know.”
“That
is not the answer I was looking for, sidala.”
“That
is the only one I can give.”
“No
poisons?”
“No
poisons. No puncture wounds or pinpricks. No deep and hidden bruises that swell
up after hours to block the path of blood. No apparent causes of any sort.”
He
hesitated before touching the ring of fingers, blackened and blistered as if
scorched. Or frozen.
“And these?”
She
shrugged. “Anemia of age. Poor circulation. A mere curiosity, I should think.”
“benAramis
claims there is friction between the Alchemists and the Seers. Is this true?”
Sherah leaned upon the table,
rolling back her head and stroking her long throat.
“There is a mild conflict of philosophy
perhaps, between the Orders. But there are Alchemists who are blessed with
Gifts of Vision, just as there are Seers who practice the Arts of Alchemy. They
are not mutually exclusive disciplines.”
She
turned her golden eyes upon him. They were hypnotic.
“In fact, there are certain
factions within Agara’tha that seek the unification of the Gifts and the
Arts. An Alliance, if you will. For the good of the Kingdom, of course...”
“Of
course.” He cleared his throat. “This ‘Terror’ as you have called it. Can you
think of any way to prevent it from claiming its last victim tonight?”
She
seemed to think for several moments, plucked at her bottom lip.
“There are medicines we use,
medicines to slow the heart, thicken the blood, dull the senses. Perhaps a
combination of these...”
“Very
well. Use what you have learned here. I want him alive in the morning.”
He turned his back to her, taking
several long strides as if to leave the chamber of the dead. It was thick with
incense
were as white as the moon. “It merely depends on what we serve.”
“Indeed it does, Jet,” the
Chancellor nodded. “But enough of this. We shall do nothing until tomorrow. One
of the ‘tribulations’ may have already been taken care of tonight.”
Jet
BarraDunne, the First Mage of Agara’tha ,
smiled.
“It would be poetry, wouldn’t it,
if they simply took care of each other.”
They
all smiled at that.
***
“She sleeps.”
Sherah al Shiva put a bloody finger
to her lips and turned her eyes in the direction of the Scholar’s table. In the
Chamber of the Dead, the Captain followed her gaze.
It
was almost impossible to see her for the mountains of books and foothills of
paper, but she was there. Head down in her arms, hair splayed in a
multicoloured mat across the wood, slim back rising and falling like a slow,
steady tide, Fallon Waterford was indeed sleeping.
The
Captain smiled a weary smile.
“She is fortunate. I wish I could
do the same.”
“I
can help you, sidi.”
He shook his head.
“No,
but thank you, sidala. What have you discovered?”
Slowly,
the Alchemist rose from her table, stretching her long body like a serpent,
forcing him to watch every arch and curve lest she bite suddenly and kill him
with her poisons. She moved to the row of bodies, six chest cavities exposed,
six rows of livers and hearts and lungs, severed fingers and toes in drying
rings across the table. He cast his eyes up to their faces, for the organs did
not interest him, but the faces, they were another matter.
One
leopard, one lion, two tigers, a serval, and – he moved closer...
One
was Sacred.
“Petrus
Ishak Raphael Mercouri. The Ancient of Sha’Hadin .”
He felt a knot in his chest. The
Empress had called him friend.
He
felt Sherah move in behind him.
“Some say he had seen one hundred
summers, perhaps more. That he himself had counseled three Empresses. Pity.”
“How
did they die?”
“Terror.”
His
head snapped up. The exact word the Seer had used .
“Explain.”
She
picked up a heart. It looked small and pale in her long, strong hands.
“They were old men. Something
terrified them, stopped their hearts. Stopped their breathing. A dream,
perhaps. Or a vision. We will never know.”
“That
is not the answer I was looking for, sidala.”
“That
is the only one I can give.”
“No
poisons?”
“No
poisons. No puncture wounds or pinpricks. No deep and hidden bruises that swell
up after hours to block the path of blood. No apparent causes of any sort.”
He
hesitated before touching the ring of fingers, blackened and blistered as if
scorched. Or frozen.
“And these?”
She
shrugged. “Anemia of age. Poor circulation. A mere curiosity, I should think.”
“benAramis
claims there is friction between the Alchemists and the Seers. Is this true?”
Sherah leaned upon the table,
rolling back her head and stroking her long throat.
“There is a mild conflict of philosophy
perhaps, between the Orders. But there are Alchemists who are blessed with
Gifts of Vision, just as there are Seers who practice the Arts of Alchemy. They
are not mutually exclusive disciplines.”
She
turned her golden eyes upon him. They were hypnotic.
“In fact, there are certain
factions within Agara’tha that seek the unification of the Gifts and the
Arts. An Alliance, if you will. For the good of the Kingdom, of course...”
“Of
course.” He cleared his throat. “This ‘Terror’ as you have called it. Can you
think of any way to prevent it from claiming its last victim tonight?”
She
seemed to think for several moments, plucked at her bottom lip.
“There are medicines we use,
medicines to slow the heart, thicken the blood, dull the senses. Perhaps a
combination of these...”
“Very
well. Use what you have learned here. I want him alive in the morning.”
He turned his back to her, taking
several long strides as if to leave the chamber of the dead. It was thick with
incense
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