The Hero Strikes Back (7 page)

Riley, a Source and therefore not required to maintain the level of control that I was, rolled her eyes at his posturing. “Aye aye, captain.” She saluted him. With the wrong hand. “Is your head heavy?”

I could tell by the tone that her response was meant to be a clever retort, but the meaning was lost on me. La Monte understood, though, if the glower he shot at Riley were any indication, and some of the other Sources snickered.

“Can we go now?” Beatrice whined.

“Yes, yes,” Karish said.“Any further business to discuss?” He barely hesitated before adding, “No? Good. We're off then.” He grabbed my hand.

“Wait, Taro.” Wilberforce latched onto Karish's other arm. “Some of us are going for drinks to the Giant Nickle. We were wondering if you'd like to join us.”

In my mind's eye I saw Karish, distaste curling his lip, delicately removing Wilberforce's hand from his person. He didn't, though. “Sorry, old chap, but we promised Lee's mother we'd head right to the Lion after the meeting,” he lied. “She's cooking for us. It has become one of the rules of my life never to pass up the opportunity to enjoy anything cooked by Holder Teshia Mallorough.” He yanked open the door. “Later, then,” he said, all breezy and bright.

“Aye, I've got to—” said Stone, rising from her seat, but Karish pulled me outside before I could watch anyone else take their leave. He then set such a quick pace that it was a good thing I'd resumed my bench dancing while he was gone, else I'd be breathless in moments.

“Zaire, Taro, what's the rush?”

“Excuse me,
sir
?” I took a good look at Karish's face and saw he was a shade away from laughter. “How evil is the thought rattling around in your head?”

“Evil? Eech! Could we be more melodramatic? Please?”

“Talk, Lee.”

And I understood the reason for the quick pace. He wanted to be out of earshot of the other Pairs, who were traveling the same way. Fair enough. So did I. “I am not going to tell people we're working on it when we aren't.”

“Ah.”>

I was disappointed. “You are?” I would have wagered money that Karish had more honor than that.

“It does no harm, and it'll make the regulars feel better.”

“It's a lie.”

“A harmless lie.”

I didn't know that there was any such thing. “Let's forget things like honesty and responsibility and other such old-fashioned customs.” For the moment. “Speaking out of pure self-interest, it's too easy for people to figure out we're lying.”

He held out his hands, palms out. “How can they find out if none of us tell them?”

“If this cold snap drags on they'll figure it out.”

He shrugged. “It'll end, Lee. Everything does.”

I paused a moment. There was something about his tone . . . like there was a message underneath his words, something that had nothing to do with the weather. I wasn't receiving it, though, and right then I didn't want to be sidetracked from the current issue. “While I'm always ready to debate the philosophical aspect of the existence of a slice of bread—” Well, no, not really. Who cared whether a falling tree made noise if there was no one there to hear it? “—some things take longer to end than others. What if this cold snap decides not to end for another year or two?”

“It won't take that long,” he said.

Probably not, but, “It might.”

“It won't,” he insisted.

It never failed to astound me, how thoroughly someone could believe something just because he wanted to. “And even if it does, we still say we're working on it?”

“Aye.”

I couldn't help feeling frustrated. “Are you even thinking about this at all?”

He sighed. “What else are we supposed to do, Lee?” he asked with impatience. “People are scared and they're looking for someone to blame. And in case you haven't noticed, we're their chosen targets. And we shouldn't be. This has nothing to do with us, but we're the ones they're blaming. If we tell them we're trying out a few theories, they'll feel better, and they'll leave us alone. And even if we don't turn up any answers and this thing drags on a while, they'll be disappointed and unimpressed, but they'll think we tried. That's better then letting them think we couldn't be bothered.”

“But we're not trying. We're not bothered. That's my point.” I let my foot stray from the path that had been broken in the snow by our earlier trek, and I nearly stumbled.

Karish grabbed my arm to help me balance. “Because there's nothing that we can actually do, Lee.”

“We don't know that.”

“Of course we do. Sources can't affect the weather.”

“I bet most Sources say they can't heal people, either, or create natural disasters instead of only channeling them away.”

One thing about Karish, he could stiffen up beautifully. A strict aristocratic upbringing gave him excellent posture and admirable poise, something he tried to hide when he was feeling petulant. But when he wanted to, he could draw his head up and his shoulders back, every line of his body firming into a barrier of either intimidation or resistance, whichever the circumstance required. At times I could imagine seeing the rod that was no doubt tied to his back when he was a child.

Karish didn't like to talk about his ability to ease pain and to call natural disasters at a whim. Or even think about it. That was what drilled it through my admittedly thick skull that Karish wasn't the glory hound I'd assumed he had to be when I'd first heard of him. He had these unprecedented abilities and if he had his way, no one, not even me, would know about them.

“Regulating the weather is beyond my expertise,” he informed me.

Ooh, the aristocratic accent was out in full force. He'd rolled each “r” for nearly a full second, I'd swear to it. “How do you know until you try?”

“Because I'm not some all-powerful protagonist in a ridiculous drama who acquires some new unheard of ability with each new improbable situation,” he snapped.

I was impressed. “You get real articulate when you're upset.” I wished I could do that. I tended to start stuttering when I was really angry.

I fancied I saw steam rising from his ears. “I'm not saying you can do anything and everything you set your mind to, Taro. I'm rather glad you can't, because then you'd just be impossible.” Another glare, and I resisted the urge to tell him he was beautiful when he was angry. “All I'm saying is that you've already proven Source abilities are not as limited as everyone thinks. Maybe this is something you or one of the others can do something about.”

Karish stopped abruptly. “We are
not
telling the others.” He looked back towards the Stall, and so did I. He had nothing to worry about; we'd left the others far behind.

I linked my arm through his and got him moving again. “Then if we can't tell the others, you'll just have to do all the experimenting yourself.”

He jerked his arm free. “Are you threatening me?”

I frowned. “What?” Where had that come from?

“If I don't do what you want, you're going to tell the others about . . . what I can do?”

My mouth dropped open. “Karish!” How the hell could he think I was blackmailing him, that I ever would? Bastard!

Instantly, he knew he had gone too far, if his expression were any indication. He held up his hands in a gesture of contrition. “I'm sorry, Lee, but that's what it sounded like.”

Like hell it did. Maybe to a complete idiot. Maybe to someone who rarely used his brain to do his thinking.

I pressed my lips together, took a breath, and said, “If we can't tell the others, then obviously you are the only one who can experiment.” Good, good. Words even, tone mild.

He just looked at me for a moment, then smiled ruefully. “You'll feel much better if you smack me a good one, you know.”

If he weren't careful he'd find himself sporting a few bruises on that pretty face. “Will you see if there's anything you can do?”

Now he felt guilty. I could tell. And if that made him more open to my completely reasonable suggestions, well, good for me. “On one condition.”

Oh, aye. “Which is?”

“If the Triple S council agrees with Chris that we should tell the regulars we're working on it, you'll toe the party line, all right?”

“Toe the party line?”

“You'll say what everyone else was saying.”

He almost never bothered to explain his weird expressions. This must be important to him. “All right.” I didn't like it, but I wasn't the only one doing something she didn't like, so it was fair enough.

“It's not like it'll still be a lie. We will be working on it, after all.”

Sometimes I could be such an idiot. I grinned at him, relieved. “You're brilliant.”

“And
so
good looking.” And all was forgiven.

Chapter Four

There was nothing I enjoyed so much as dancing the benches. Nothing. Not even sex. It was so exhilarating, so freeing. It required every ounce of strength I had, and every scrap of attention. I couldn't worry about what anyone thought of me, or how I was doing. And it was something I was really, really good at.

I expected to get beaten eventually. I was better than the average regular and even the good regulars, purely by benefit of having been trained in bench dancing from a very early age at the Shield Academy. All Shields were, and if they were at all interested in the sport, they left the Academy with a high level of expertise.

Still, I couldn't dedicate the hours a day that professionals, and those who aspired to be professional, could spend. So yes, I would ultimately be beaten in almost any tournament, unless the professionals were having a bad day. Or weren't entered.

But I didn't dance to win. I danced to do my best. I danced to clear my head of responsibilities and worries. I danced because it consumed me while I was doing it, and I was left loose and wrung out in the very best sense once I was finished.

I stood in my bare feet on the two cool wooden benches, one foot solidly planted on each narrow plank. I was wearing my favorite dancing clothes, trousers and a shirt of a loose, light green fabric. My opponent was a gangly young fellow who was shivering in the chill air. An easy mark.

The four stalkers knelt in the dancing sand, picking up the ends of the two bars we would be leaping over. They moved the bars low and slow, as was appropriate for the first round. Jumping over them was ridiculously easy.

And then, I enacted that saying about hubris.

Because I fell off the benches.

I fell off the benches!

The very first round. I wasn't caught by the bars, which was the acceptable way to lose. No, I simply fell off. As I hadn't since the year I'd started to learn. And what was worse, there was no reason for it. I had no excuse. We'd been at the easy stage. And I'd tumbled hard, my face barely missing the bench I'd expected to step on. How humiliating.

And everyone knew I was a Shield. I was wearing the white braid, after all. And knowing I was a Shield, everyone expected better of me. Including me.

I also proved myself a liar, because I did blush. I could feel it. Damn it.

The sand, though cleared of snow, was spikey and hard and unpleasant to lie on. Besides, people were starting to give me looks, wondering why I wasn't on my feet.

No one snickered. I had to give them that.

I stood up. I smiled as I shook the hand of my radiant opponent. I glanced down at the benches and saw they were the regulation distance apart. Not that I really suspected that one of the benches had moved. I just couldn't understand what had happened.

I hadn't even had a chance to work up a sweat.

I didn't grumble as I wanted to when I went to the edge of the sands and pulled on my stockings and boots. I couldn't deny feeling glum, though. What was wrong with me?

“That was kind of quick.”

I twisted up with surprise. Risa's brother was bundled up to ward off the cold, and looking at me with a slightly satirical expression.

I really shouldn't have cared that a near stranger had witnessed my disgrace. “Are you here to watch someone or was it just my misfortune that you were walking by and saw that?”

He sat down beside me. “Risa told me you'd be dancing today, and recommended that I watch. She said you were very good.”

I couldn't miss the emphasis he put on the word “said.”

Immediately, he seemed to realize that. At least, his eyes widened and he hurried to add, “I'm terribly sorry. That didn't come out at all as I planned.”

“I thought you solicitors enjoyed a gift with words.”

“The written, not the spoken. That's barristers you're thinking of.”

Was there something in his tone suggesting I should have known that? Or was I just hearing things that weren't there because I was in a bad mood?

And why was I in such a bad mood? It was just a stupid dancing tournament. “As you saw, today wasn't a good day to watch. I seem to be experiencing some kind of difficulty.”

He frowned. “Are you injured or ill?”

“Neither. Just clumsy.”

“Maybe it's the cold. It can't be conducive to any sort of athletics.”

I wished I could blame it on the cold.

“So I imagine you now have some unanticipated time on your hands.”

That was a dangerous question to answer. “I guess you could say so.” I hoped he wasn't going to ask me to help shovel out a walk or something.