The Hero Strikes Back (14 page)

She rose from the table and crossed the room to stand by Erin. “I must say you are looking particularly handsome tonight, Erin.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

“It is so nice to see young people who know how to dress.”

Then
she looked at me.

“Have a good evening.”

She did dare. She was going to leave. She'd set this dinner up, without telling me, and now she was deserting me. I couldn't believe it.

Erin opened the door for her. She stepped out. I sat in my chair and wallowed in the moment of feeling stunned.

A long, drawn-out painful death.

“Care for a glass of wine?” I asked Erin.

“Is there any red?”

“Of course.” The maid moved to the sideboard. “No, that's all right. You can go now. I'll serve us.” The young woman looked uncertain at the order. I wondered if I should mention that she wouldn't get a tip from me. That would probably help her make up her mind. “I'm really not used to being waited on. Please.”

She curtsied and vacated the room.

“Please have a seat.” What was I going to do with this man? The plan had been to stay away from him. It was a good plan. A simple plan. A plan I'd had every intention of following through on. It was in everyone's best interest.

Not that there was anything wrong with Erin. He was handsome and sophisticated and charming. But there was something about him that made me grit my teeth, and that gave me a headache.

Damn that woman. And all right, so I couldn't actually strangle her. I wasn't sure I was strong enough. But we had to have a talk. A long screaming serious one. No more soft shoes.

“I admit to being surprised when I got your note,” Erin said, having sprawled on a settee. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.” And he smiled, a smile that managed to express the belief he had been foolish while at the same time suggesting he wasn't entirely sure he was wrong.

Damn it, Mother! He'd been getting the hint. “It has become a pretty difficult time for us, right now.” I gave him his glass of wine and sat in the chair across from him. “The Pairs, I mean. What with this bizarre weather and everyone expecting us to get rid of it . . . Well, it's a little tense.”

He sipped at his wine. “One of the hardest things I had to learn about being a solicitor was how to leave the work at the office. Don't worry, you'll learn it, too.”

I had a glass of wine, too. Used the bury-your-nose-in-your-drink-to-hide-your-expression trick. I wasn't going to say anything, but I couldn't believe he thought being a solicitor was comparable to being a Shield. I couldn't
leave my work at the office.
“How is work going for you? How is the Bill working out?” Hey, it was something to say, right?

“Ah, no real progress is being made. Trying to find wording everyone will agree with, that expresses the purpose of the Bill but still has a possibility of being passed. It's a nightmare. And it's all a waste of time.”

“Really? Why?” The process certainly seemed cumbersome, all those solicitors working on it. Wouldn't it be more efficient to have one person write a draft and then maybe a bunch of them polishing it up? But then, what did I know about it?

“Because even if we get it through, even if we establish a quota, no one really cares.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “No one really cares?” Was he serious? “People are furious about this.”

He nodded. “They are. They'll fight for it tooth and nail. Or they'll fight against it tooth and nail. And let's say the Bill passes, and the merchants get their quota. What will happen? Nothing. Because they'll still be a minority in the council. And minorities have no power, not on their own. The only way they'll be able get anything done is by winning over the aristocrats, and they won't be able to win over the aristocrats because they won't know the game. They won't know the rules, and the aristocrats don't want them to know them. As soon as the merchants do learn the rules, the aristocrats will change them, and it's going to be a huge waste of everyone's time. Because the aristocrats don't believe the merchants should be making laws for people they owe no traditional obligations to. So all the merchants will be able to do is run after the wave, trying to learn moves and make contacts that are out of date. They'll spend all their time running and none learning about whatever political issues are bounding about at the time.”

I'd never considered any of that. I hadn't really thought about any of it, beyond the most superficial contemplation. The merchants wanted to be in the council. Representation for all was good. End of story. I never thought about whether it would actually work. Though, come to think of it, Karish had said he didn't think it would accomplish anything, and I'd promptly forgotten. That was kind of bad, wasn't it? Such a thorough lack of interest in politics.

And yet, even knowing that, I still didn't care.

“If this is all for nothing, why are they even bothering?”

“Well,” he conceded with a shrug, “It's a first step. Probably. Hopefully. In a very long journey. Maybe. I don't know that it's the right step, though. And really, it's not something I care terribly much about. Let the aristocrats spend their days mulling through incomprehensible bills if they wish. Better them than us, I say. I'd wager a lot of people would say the same, if they thought about it a little. I don't think anyone has, though. I get the feeling the merchants are so desperate to get in only because they've been told they can't.”

“Hm.” I smiled.

“You disagree?”

“No.” Didn't agree either. That wasn't what I was thinking about. “I was just reminded of earlier today. Mother wanted to see what a shop purporting to cater solely to the High Landed was like. We were kicked out.”

He looked stunned. “You were kicked out?”

“With brisk efficiency.”

“They can't do that. It's against the law.”

“So what am I going to do? Sue them?”

“It's a criminal matter. You can have them arrested.”

What a ridiculous idea. Getting someone arrested because they wouldn't let me shop in their stores. “I don't care about it, Erin. Let them keep their exclusive shops. I can find all I need elsewhere.” But my own words triggered a memory, and my mind veered off in another direction. “Do you know anything about those aristocratic clubs? The gentlemen's clubs and the ladies societies?”

He smiled a little, probably amused by my sudden shift in topics. But they were all connected in my head, really. “I've heard of them, of course,” he said. “Never been to one or anything. Why?”

“A member of one came up to Karish when we were walking back from the stall and offered him a place. Or a membership. Whatever they're called.”

He frowned. “They tried to recruit him on the street?”

“That was his reaction, too.”

“I've never heard of it being done like that.” He rubbed his chin as he thought about it. “From what I understand, one member nominates someone to some kind of committee and they vote on it. But it's like a sponsorship, and the reputation of the person who nominates the initiate rests on the behavior of the initiate. It's not something they do for strangers.”

“The person doing the recruiting said they were new. That the club was new, I mean. But the very odd thing about it is that in this aristocratic shop Mother and I went to, there were cards for a ladies society that had the same name as the club that was trying to recruit Karish. Are these things usually connected? I mean, like brother and sister clubs or something like that?”

Erin swirled the wine around in his glass. “I've never heard of it, but that doesn't mean much. I never really paid attention to that sort of thing. I only know what I do because a colleague of mine was involved in a trial concerning the murder of a member of Black's in Erstwhile. The murderer turned out to be a member of the club, too. What's the name of these clubs?”

“The Raiborn Society or club.”

“That's an odd name,” he told me. “I've never heard of them. They're certainly not among the established prestigious clubs. If they're new, though, they may be desperate for members, and that might be why they're recruiting in the street and in that shop.”

It still sounded strange to me. Wouldn't a new club, trying to get established, be even more careful to observe formal procedure, not less? “That may explain why they were trying to recruit Karish. He's not an aristocrat anymore.”

“Ah, but he's a lord of the people, isn't he?” Erin said sarcastically. “The people love him, regardless of his rank.”

That was what I used to think, too. Until a week or so ago. They didn't seem to be loving him too much right then, though.

“So tell me,” said Erin, “How long did it take your Karish to accept this honor?”

I frowned. I definitely didn't like his tone. “He refused.”

Why did that surprise him? “You're kidding. Why?”

“Why wouldn't he?” I didn't understand the appeal of those kinds of clubs myself. They seemed to dictate who the members could associate with. Why would anyone volunteer to have that kind of control imposed on them?

“It's pretty much his only chance to interact with his own class. None of the other Triple S members in High Scape are High Landed and Karish was probably dropped by all of his friends once he made it clear he wasn't taking the title.”

I opened my mouth to deny that and closed it as I realized I really had no idea. I was rather ignorant about Karish's social life—hadn't I once decided to do something about that? But if Karish had been experiencing any social isolation due to his new status I'd seen nothing of it. Which could mean nothing had changed for him, but could also mean I was just blind as usual. Damn it.

Of course, he'd just spent months in the Empress' court, but I knew he hadn't enjoyed it. He'd said it was because everyone there was useless and superficial and because he wasn't able to work, but maybe he'd been ostracized. And what were the chances of him telling me the truth if I asked him? None. Unless I got him drunk first.

To Erin I said, “I've never noticed in Karish a craving to be among his own class. He said he wasn't interested in being in a gentlemen's club.” I shrugged.

“Huh. More likely he wasn't interested in joining that club. It wouldn't give him the cache of the older clubs.”

I wasn't going to tell him that Karish had been offered membership in other clubs. It was none of Erin's business. “I don't think that's it,” I said, and I let my voice be as flat as it wanted to be.

Erin held up his hands in a gesture that was meant to pacify. “Hey, I'm not saying anything against Shintaro Karish. I barely know him. But he is by blood an aristocrat, and that sort have priorities that are different from the rest of us.”

“Fortunately for all, the Triple S had more of an influence on Karish than did the members of the aristocratic class.” Although I didn't know if that was actually true. He'd been so old when his family finally realized what he was and shipped him off to the Source academy. And he would have had time to study for only a handful of years before being sent out with veteran Pairs to practise what he'd learned. While over half of his life had been dedicated to training by the time I'd met him, one couldn't deny that his aristocratic origins had left their mark. He even sounded like an aristocrat, with the more lyrical pitch to his voice and those rolling
r
's.

But I wasn't going to delve into the nature of Karish's character with a virtual stranger.

The evening went well. I believed Erin never realized the whole affair had been sprung on me by my evil conniving mother, so at least I was able to fool some people some of the time. And Erin was a charming guest. Witty, well-mannered, surprisingly easy to talk to. I had no objection to looking at his face. He was a beautiful, beautiful man.

But that, of course, was part of the problem. I couldn't help wondering what a man that beautiful was doing spending what spare time a solicitor had with me. I also couldn't help wondering who else he was spending his spare time with. None of my business, but I would never subject myself to being one of many. What I tolerated, was even entertained by, in a friend, I found unforgivable in a lover.

In addition, he seemed to have a tendency to lecture. He really thought he knew everything about everything. And he was always right. He didn't push a point until I admitted he was right. Rather, he just let the discussion end, as though there was no point in going further with it. Because he was right and I just refused to admit it.

So I had another item to add to the long list of reasons why having any kind of relationship with Erin was a bad idea. I didn't like him.

I would tell my mother that, right after Erin left.

And right before I killed her.

Chapter Nine

That night a heat wave hit. A brutally hot, humid heat wave. I woke alone, my mother's maneuvering notwithstanding, drenched with sweat. The room was dark. It was a bad sign when it was hot before the sun was up. I got up and looked through the window, into the densest fog I had ever seen in my life.

Heat was good, in moderation. It was even normal, that time of year. But I knew that degree of heat and humidity was not natural in High Scape. Erstwhile, maybe, but not High Scape. I didn't think anyone was going to be happy with this particular change. This was not what people were looking for.

It was interesting how sheets and pillows could appear to be instruments of torture once the temperature rose high enough. I went to the water closet, where I stripped out of my sodden, heavy nightgown and pumped some nice cool water into a bucket and then into the tub. I soaked in the water for as long as I could without being late. I got up, I toweled off, and moments later a fresh sheen of sweat developed all over my body. I resisted the urge to dive back into the tub, reached into the back of my wardrobe for something light to wear, and cringed as I dragged it over damp flesh.