The Hero Strikes Back (30 page)

“Ah.” That disturbed me, that the Runners were watching us. People weren't supposed to notice us much, weren't supposed to think about what we did. And emergencies? What emergencies? When we were doing our jobs, the regulars weren't even supposed to know there had been an emergency.

“You're going to want to hear this, Karish,” Risa said as Karish opened the door to fetch the tea.

“Why?” I asked. “What's happened?”

“The uproar at the parade yesterday, they were Reanists.”

“We'd heard that,” said Karish, and he left.

“They weren't really trying to kill the Prince, were they?” I couldn't believe even the Reanists could be that stupid. The place had been crawling with guards. The chances of them succeeding had been remote, and the possibility of their escaping afterwards was nonexistent.

“They were indeed,” said Risa. “They're all slated for execution next week.”

My eyebrows flew up to my hairline, I could feel it. “Not going to bother with the nasty little inconveniences of trials?”

Risa didn't care for that, settling a hard look on me. “They've all confessed,” she said. “If you don't know people who confess don't get trials—'cause what's the point?—then maybe you should have hung around Erin a little longer.”

I actually hadn't known that. It was alarming. But then again, she was right. If people confessed to a crime, there was no point to a trial. Especially when in this case, hundreds of people had seen these people trying to kill the Prince.

“I have never seen so many people so happy to talk,” Rise said. “They're incriminating themselves with every word, and we tell them they'll hang for it, and they don't care. They're so proud of their mission, they didn't hesitate to brag about it, even though they failed at it.”

“But the Prince? In the middle of a parade?”

“Well, really, it was the only chance they'd get at him. The rest of his trip he's going to be sequestered at Yellows Plain. And apparently they believe that if there's a big enough sacrifice, it will appease their gods indefinitely, and the world will be peaceful forever. That's what they kept saying. The big sacrifice will save the world. And their eyes would start glowing and their faces would get blank and it was like they were seeing something the rest of us weren't. It was creepy. Why do religious fanatics always fall into these final-solution traps? One big nightmarish event and then everything will be wonderful? I mean, does anything in real life work that way?”

“I think the whole point of being a Reanist is so you don't have to deal with real life,” I said.

“Well, their lives are going to be getting pretty real, I tell you. We rounded up every single one of them and they're getting their necks stretched. In public. We want to make sure everyone knows no one is getting away with going after the Prince in High Scape. You should go.”

I grimaced. The fascination with watching people killed had always escaped me. “No thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Risa shrugged. “But here's the really big news.”

“Bigger than hordes of Reanists trying to kill Prince Gifford?” Karish asked as he re-entered the suite. “I'd wager he wouldn't think so.”

“Aye, but you will.” Risa tapped me on the knee. “You were right. The Reanists were behind the other disappearances. And the clubs.”

“What's this?” said Karish.

“Dunleavy had a theory that the Reanists were behind the abductions of the aristocrats. And she was right.”

Huh. Interesting. And this time I hadn't needed to be led to the obvious conclusion by my nose. Maybe I had the makings of a Runner after all.

“They lured in lower status Landed by inviting them into those Raiborn clubs,” Risa continued. “Then they'd sacrifice them.”

“So they're dead?” I asked.

Risa nodded. “We think so.”

“Really?” Karish crossed his arms and glared at me. “She didn't bother telling me any of this.”

“You hate it when I hover,” I said.

His eyebrows dipped. “Eh?”

“She was worried about you,” Risa told him. “You being an aristocrat and all. And one without any real power. You fit the category.”

Karish sniffed, unimpressed. “She could try walking down the middle of the yardstick once in a while,” he announced. “Excuse me. The kettle's boiling.” He gave me a look that told me this was not over and left the suite again.

Risa and I looked at each other for a moment, realized neither of us had any idea what the yardstick comment was about, and shrugged it off.

“What about that ritual space you were talking about?” I asked.

“Do you know about the condemned hospital in the southern quad?”

“I do now.”

“It had a stone cellar. It had a pile of dirt, a bucket of water, embers, and a window.”

“The window sufficed for air?”

“I guess so. The directions—you know, north-east-west-south—were a bit off, but I guess that doesn't matter so much.”

So. The naive young aristocrats, desperate to belong to something, were taken down to a dank cold cellar and ritually sacrificed. How awful. “You got them all?”

“All the Reanists in High Scape. We've sent an envoy to Shina Lake warning them any other Reanists discovered in High Scape will be arrested on sight. That'll hold them there for a while, I think.”

“So it's all over?” I just wanted to be sure.

Risa smiled. “It's all over.”

A long, slow breath. Thank the gods. Well, no, that wasn't quite right under the circumstances. Thank Zaire. Thank the Runners. Karish wasn't going to wind up missing one night. Good thing, too. I didn't think I could handle that again, the blind, ignorant fear of having him taken by someone and not knowing what was being done to him.

Having an aristocrat for a Source was so inconvenient.

Karish returned bearing a tray. He set it on the coffee table and poured out three cups—mine from a separate pot—with mindless precision that bespoke years of practise. Was that something he had been forced to practice, whiling away the hours locked in his bedroom? But pouring tea with grace was considered a feminine skill, was it not? Yet Karish looked completely natural doing it. Totally un-self conscious.

It was, perhaps, a question his mother could answer. She arrived that afternoon, after Risa had left, and during an argument over whether Karish should stop mothering me or not. When the light knock sounded on the door, Karish sighed with impatience and hauled himself to his feet to answer. Then he'd just stood there in front of the open door. “You're not welcome here,” was his cold greeting.

A soft “Don't be ridiculous” from his mother, who was able to move him to the side with a wave of a hand that didn't even touch him. She noticed me as she entered. I was grateful that, at least, I was dressed.

“Please dismiss your little friend, Shintaro. This is family business.”

Little friend? Man, did I want to stick my tongue out at her.

The front door slammed. “This is her room.” Karish declared. He stepped around her and sat beside me on the sofa, taking up one of my hands and lacing his fingers through mine. “It's customary to greet an acquaintance when you see them.”

“It's customary to rise when a duchess enters the room.”

Oh. That's right. I'd forgotten. Oops.

“What do you want?” Karish demanded.

“Send the girl away, Shintaro.”

I really didn't want to be there, anyway. “Maybe I should—” I started to rise.

He squeezed my hand. Hard.

All right, maybe I shouldn't. I settled back down.

His mother drifted over the floor and alighted into a chair. She waited. There was silence, for a moment. “Are you not going to offer me refreshment?”

“I didn't even offer you a seat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “This discourteous manner you've assumed is inexcusable.”

“Isn't it just?”

“I've really had enough of it.”

“You may leave any time.”

I didn't look at him. I carefully kept my eyes trained on the Duchess. Because if I looked at him
she
might perceive that I didn't agree with how he was behaving, and I didn't want to give her any ammunition.

Stay civil, I thought at him. Stay calm. Be polite. It'll make dealing with her so much easier, and you won't be so upset once she leaves.

Her Grace evidently decided to abort the unproductive trail of conversation and try one equally disagreeable. “I spoke to Prince Gifford this morning,” she said.

Really? The day after his arrival and, incidentally, an attack on his life, and she managed to get a private audience with him? She really did have influence.

“I explained to him your situation.”

I felt Karish freeze beside me.

This sounded bad.

“I have no situation,” said Karish, his voice low and cold. “Certainly not one that needs to be brought to the attention of the Crown Prince.”

Please, please,
please
let this not be what I thought it was going to be.

“Gifford was very interested in the possibility of your re-attaining your title.”

It was exactly what I'd thought it was going to be. Damn woman.

And Karish was on his feet. “Get out!” he shouted, full roar.

The Duchess was unmoved by his choler. “Sit down, Shintaro.”

My, she was cocky. If I were her I'd be worrying about being slapped around some.

“How
dare
you discuss my business with the Prince!”

“He said—”

“I don't care what he said! Get out!”

Deep breath. “Taro!” I snapped out, deepening my voice so it would cut through the noise the two of them were making. He whirled at me, stunned I was interfering. I caught his gaze. “We should hear what was said.”

“I don't—”

“We should hear—” I repeated firmly, “what was said.” I stared at him, wishing our all-powerful mystical bond allowed actual communication.

Karish clenched his jaws and crossed his arms. I didn't think I'd convinced him of anything, but he trusted me enough to know I wasn't doing this for no reason.

Her Grace interpreted the silence as permission to proceed. If she thought she needed permission. “I informed His Highness of your difficulty.”

“I don't have a difficulty!”

Shut up, Karish.

“I told him that when you abjured your title, you had been enduring a very trying time. Newly bonded, hunting down that mad Source, mourning the loss of your brother”—Karish snorted—“it was no wonder you were not quite yourself.”

“What did you do, Mother?” he demanded in a voice grown hoarse.

“Really, Shintaro, I don't know why you're acting this way. I told His Highness you were seeking to regain your title and—”

“Oh, gods!” He pushed his hands into his hair. “Oh, gods. You didn't. You didn't really tell him I was hoping to get the title back. Please tell me you didn't.”

“Be sensible, Shintaro. How can he assist you if he doesn't know what you want?”

Oh Zaire. Oh hell. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She was supposed to be adept at political games. She was, at the very least, supposed to possess a basic level of intelligence. What did she think she was doing?

Was she trying to get him killed?

“You stupid
bitch
!”

The Dowager's expression was one of total shock. I couldn't believe it. How could she think he would be anything but horrified to hear this? “Shintaro!”

“I'm going to end up in prison! Or dead! Gods, woman, how could you be so phenomenally stupid? What are you trying to do to me? Once I've given up the title, I can't ask for it back! You know that!”

Shock faded away to be replaced by anger. “You ungrateful little parasite!” she hissed. “Do you think I want you taking the title? A mad wastrel of no manners and no morals, no education and no discipline? You could not be less worthy, and the idea of you stepping into your brother's shoes disgusts me.”

His brother's shoes? That would be the man who slept and gambled his way through life, dying at an early age through a sexually transmitted disease? That brother?

“Then let the title go to my cousin!”

“I will not! You are my son, much may I wish it otherwise. You are your brother's natural heir. You will take the title. That you don't wish it, that it is inconvenient to you, is irrelevant. It will happen. Prince Gifford assures me there is no reason why you can't have the title, as it hasn't passed to your heir yet. He will arrange it.”

“The Empress won't allow it.” This was said with desperation. I could see he wasn't entirely certain that she wouldn't. Maybe she would. Maybe it would suit some other plans of hers that we knew nothing about.

“The Empress' power is waning. Much like her health. You must learn to watch for these developments, Shintaro. They will be essential for your survival.”

She was so sure. She had calmed down from her shock and was passing on political advice. As though it were all a done deal, and all that was left were the formalities.

What if she were right? What if Prince Gifford did manage to saddle Karish with the title?

Damn it. Damn her. Why did she have to interfere? Why couldn't she just leave us alone? What did she care who was the next duke? It wouldn't change her life, her title, her home.

Karish stood there silently for a moment, his hands still clenched in his hair. Then he let his hands fall again, his shoulders slumping. “Get out,” he ordered in a quiet voice.