Heroes Adrift (3 page)

Erstwhile. The city of politics. Where the aristocrats who considered themselves serious about power established their careers, if they could, serviced by the merchants who attempted to acquire similar power through familiarity and osmosis. The other class, the peasants, couldn't live there. Licensing for building was strictly regulated, with standards so high no one could afford to build the kind of housing people with low or moderate incomes could afford to live in, and the only people who weren't rich were the servants who were employed by the people who were. Beggars were ruthlessly prosecuted. Property taxes were so high that even those of fading glory, who had once been able to buy the grand houses gracing every street but had since suffered a decline in fortune, were ultimately driven out.

Erstwhile didn't need Pairs. It had been a completely cold site for centuries. There were jokes about it, about royalty and sitting positions and frigid temperatures. The royalty themselves, one suspected, preferred to think their inherent superiority awed the elements into remaining stable.

This complacency was contagious and had been caught by the architects. They had forgotten or discarded the commonsense rules for construction. Homes, shops, government buildings, all stretched wide and high in grand arcs of white rock. No give at all in case of a natural event. Expensive to replace, and while being replaced no one had anywhere to work or do business. It was a beautiful city, white and clean with wide curving streets, but it made me uneasy. The grand residents of the city would do well to hope the site didn't decide to go hot all of a sudden.

Despite the lack of need, there was always a Pair stationed at Erstwhile. Prerogative of the Empress, and she, not the Triple S, chose the Pair that received that particular honor. I wasn't sure what criteria she used in her selection. From her past choices, I knew they weren't necessarily the best among their peers, or the most diplomatic, or the most worthy in any sense that I could determine.

Because I didn't know the criteria, I worried about why she wanted us there. It wasn't impossible that she might be calling us to be the new Pair. She was enamored of Karish, after all, and that was all the reason she needed. And while some might have considered it an accomplishment to be called to serve the Empress, among Shields and Sources who took their responsibilities seriously, it was a joke. Called to Erstwhile to be a decoration, an amusement, or a symbol of prestige for the Empress, with no chance to use my skills—that wasn't why I'd gone to the Academy.

After an argument, which Karish won, we rode to the Imperial, the most expensive boarding house in Erstwhile. There were boarding houses called the Imperial in all of the larger cities, and they all cost too much for anyone who wasn't among the wealthiest of the aristocrats. I felt uncomfortable staying in such places, given that Sources and Shields didn't pay for their accommodation. Karish saw no reason why we shouldn't take advantage of the opportunity. And he was more persuasive than I.

Knowing the guards who let us in the city gates would have taken news of our arrival to the palace, I enjoyed the bathing facilities offered by the boarding house and talked to the landlord about things I could do while waiting to be summoned by Her Imperial Majesty. And started another argument with Karish, because he assumed we'd be spending all our time together while we were in Erstwhile, and he had no interest in visiting museums and libraries.

To my surprise, when I woke up the next morning there was a summons from the Empress waiting for me. I'd heard of some people waiting for months before actually being able to see the Empress. While I hadn't expected the Empress to make her favorite wait so long, neither had I expected her to summon us the day after we arrived.

Just as well, though. Perhaps I'd be able to convince the Empress that Karish and I weren't actually joined at the hip. He could do whatever she wanted done, and I could go back to High Scape. And everything else would just blow over. I was sure of it.

Really.

A small dark carriage, lacking in any identifying ornamentation, picked us up at the Imperial and dropped us off at a small gate in the wall far behind the palace. We showed our summons to the guards lurking at the gate, a tight iron door almost obscured by the vines crawling up the wall. They let us in and then one of them led us down a path.

Our escort handed us off to another guard, who took us not to the sprawling palace, as I'd expected, but to the almost equally sprawling stables. We passed row after row of spacious square stalls, as clean smelling as constant mucking could achieve. And then, solid doors were slid aside to allow us into the indoor arena. Two more guards were standing in the middle of the arena holding the reins of three horses.

“If you could, sir, madam.” Our current escort gestured at the horses.

I was not dressed for riding. My thin-soled shoes, chosen for the purpose of visiting the Empress in one of her receiving rooms, picked up uncomfortable clumps of dirt from the arena floor. The fabric of my gown was too thin. And the horse waiting for me had a sidesaddle. I'd ridden sidesaddle once, when I was thirteen, for the Academy's instructor had thought it important to expose us to that humiliation at least once, in case we ever had to do it again. At least he'd been evenhanded about it. He'd made the boys ride sidesaddle, too.

If there was a way to get into a sidesaddle unassisted, no one had ever taught it to me. That was one of the reasons I hated it. I stepped up to the left side of the horse and waited, resigned to having the guard toss me up on the horse like a sack of potatoes.

Instead, Karish moved in, as I should have expected, putting long hands around my waist. There was no feeling of being tossed as I was carefully raised off my feet and placed on the saddle, and I wondered anew where Karish got his strength from. I could think of no physical activity in which he engaged on a regular basis.

Well, except for one.

We followed one of the new guards out of the arena into a paddock, far from the main part of the grounds. “Are you comfortable on horses?” the guard asked us.

I thought she should have asked us that before we got on them. “Aye.”

“A canter is acceptable?”

In this dress? Must I? “Perfectly.” My calves and thighs would punish me that night, but she didn't need to know that.

So once we cleared the paddock we were cantering, over the small field, along the paths through the dense collection of trees and into the wider expanse of plains on the other side. There, in a small open carriage she was driving herself, waited the Empress.

“If you'll excuse me, sir, madam,” said the guard, before galloping off back through the trees.

Karish and I exchanged a look. He shrugged. We walked our horses toward the Empress.

I had heard she was ill. Seriously ill, the sort of illness that led to a long, slow but irreversible decline toward death. She was definitely thinner than I remembered, and her face carried more lines. Yet there she was, ramrod straight on her seat, confident and alert.

Karish and I stopped our horses a respectable distance from the Empress, dismounted and bowed. We waited to be acknowledged.

There was no one else with her. No attendants, no guards, no servants of any kind. Just the Empress, the horses, and us. I was pretty sure that wasn't the way things were supposed to be done.

“Good morning, Source Karish,” the Empress greeted him, her voice quiet and level. Not resonating, though it could be when she was making a speech. Not arch or haughty or regal. Just an average, everyday sort of voice. “You seem much heartier than you were when you left last summer. I hope your recovery was not unduly long.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty. Thank you for inquiring.”

And then the Empress looked at me. I hated it when she did that. “Shield Mallorough, my deepest apologies for the injury caused to you. Had I known separating you could cause such damage, I would not have dismissed you before your Source.”

So she would have kept us both hanging and useless in Erstwhile all those months? We never would have gotten back on the roster. “It is of no moment, Your Majesty. It is a rare condition”—nonexistent, rare, kind of meant the same thing—“and not one we cared to make public.”

The Empress chuckled dryly. “Too late, my dear. It has already become old news among my court.”

“Aye, Your Majesty. So I was given to understand.” I could still kill Karish for that. So what if his death would carry me along? I'd sacrifice a lot to avoid embarrassment.

“I hope your travels were uneventful.”

Small talk. Zaire. Something was up. Let's get to the point, why don't we?

But we all had to be polite, and talk about traveling and the weather and the least significant of politics. We wasted a good half hour in this manner, to my ever-increasing concern. Did the fact that she was prepared to chat mean whatever she called us to Erstwhile for wasn't that serious? And if it wasn't, could I then get irritated with her?

Karish didn't flirt at all. It took me a few moments to notice, because I always assumed he was going to flirt. Because he always did. Age and status had no impact, except perhaps on the subtlety and style of the flirting. He had flirted with the Empress in the past. Yet right then, he was perfectly polite, his smile cool and distant, with no hint of a double entendre in any of his words.

I noticed the Empress noticing. A small frown line appeared between her eyebrows.

“I require your assistance, Source Karish,” she announced.

He bowed. “How may I serve you, Your Majesty?”

Careful, Karish. She isn't about to ask you to pick a daisy for her.

“I was most impressed by your handling of my son over the summer,” Her Majesty said.

Really? How was that possible? We'd infuriated him. Yes, I'd heard all manner of stories about the estrangement between the Empress and the Crown Prince, but it disturbed me to learn it had gotten to the point that the Empress would congratulate strangers for irritating our future ruler.

“It is my understanding that he somehow came under the impression that you wished to have your title after abjuring it.”

“His mother was a little confused, Your Majesty,” I jumped in. Not usually my manner, but I wanted it known by all, from the very beginning, that it was the Dowager Duchess of Westsea who had been seeking the title for Karish, never Karish himself. “And she was naturally disappointed to learn her son wasn't taking the title.”

“It appears that both of us have family members who are willing to violate the law,” the Empress said to Karish. “I have heard my son was prepared to hand the title over to you, were you willing to accept it.”

Karish avoided answering that question by saying, “My cousin had already taken title before there was any discussion of it with the Prince, Your Majesty.”

“Due to your actions, correct?”

Karish raised his eyebrows in an attempt to look innocent. “Your Majesty?”

“The new Duchess of Westsea has informed me that it was you who acquired the code from the Dowager Duchess and promptly delivered it to the new Duchess, so that she might prove herself before your solicitor. Is this not true?”

Lie, Karish. Lie.

Karish said nothing, merely clenched his teeth. He had told his cousin to keep quiet about the whole event. His lack of a verbal answer, however, told the Empress what she wanted to know.

“You cannot be swayed, then, by the promise of wealth, power and prestige?” she asked.

That question seemed to come out of nowhere. This conversation was getting more frightening by the moment.

“I am not so noble, Your Majesty. But having never lacked money, I have developed no need to acquire it. And, as you know, a Source can have anything he wants, any nature of home or accessory, merely by asking for it.”

“Not quite, Source Karish. You cannot have a palace like that of the Westsea family. No servants to make your life comfortable, especially in your old age. No claim to the crest. No ability to build something new, as a monument to your life and name. You can never own land, and can leave no legacy to your children. There are those who would find the loss of such possibilities an embittering experience.”

“Perhaps, Your Majesty. However, I am very happy with my life as it is, and in order to acquire these assets that you mention, I would have to give up everything that I have now. It would not be to me a profitable trade.”

“I see.”

That was the wrong answer. For some reason, I knew that was the wrong answer. There would be unfortunate consequences to that answer.

“I noticed, Source Karish, that during your last stay in Erstwhile, you were scrupulous in maintaining your distance from the political maneuvering of my courtiers.”

“I must confess to little interest or talent for politics, Your Majesty.”

“You have no interest in becoming a courtier yourself? As the Duke of Westsea, you would wield immeasurable influence.”

“And have immeasurable responsibility along with it. I am far better suited to being a Source.”

As if there were no great responsibility in being a Source.