Heroes' Reward

by Moira J. Moore

  I hadn’t been excluding myself from the ranks of the Triple S. I’d just meant I wasn’t the one who’d received the threat. They shouldn’t be so quick to find fault. “And you believe him?”

  Dunn nodded. “Ours are not the only rights being violated. He is executing titleholders for reasons no more worthy than that they have displeased him. He is interfering with the guilds, controlling who they admit, what they teach, and what they produce. He is censoring the performance of plays and music he claims are seditious. In short, there is no one whose interests are spared his unlawful interference. It would be foolish and irresponsible to dismiss any threat he may level at us.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re talking about some kind of … what? … army?”

  At this point, Regulos took control of the discussion. “We can’t rely on Gifford to behave rationally. That was the route taken by the titleholders, and they’re being decimated. We can’t just wait here until he’s gone through everyone else and we’re left standing alone. As His Majesty has threatened us with his Imperial Guard, it is only reasonable that we gather a guard of our own. To this end, we have hired those Imperial Guards and Runners who have expressed dissatisfaction with their occupations.”

  I wasn’t surprised that there were Imperial Guards prepared to defect. Thatcher had been one and he had gone astray. I was surprised the Triple S even wanted Runners. Runners could club people into insensibility, but that was a great deal different from engaging in battle. “And they’re supposed to stand against the Imperial Guard and Gifford’s army?”

  Regulos waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “The army hasn’t been an effective institution for decades. The monarchs have come to prefer the Imperial Guard. The cities prefer Runners. The wealthy prefer to hire their own protection. The members of the army do little more than strut about and harrass the residents. Certainly, the members of the army who have joined us here show no greater knowledge or talent than the Imperial Guards.”

  The army had little to do. There hadn’t been a need for any kind of massive force, no enemy that demanded it.

  “The Emperor is gathering casters,” Regulos continued. “Westsea’s conflict with Kent demonstrated that casters can be … versatile.”

  They could cast spells that killed people. That was what he meant.

  “And we have discovered than an unusual number of Shields can cast.”

  That reminded me. “What’s going on with Shields committing suicide?” Yes, a blunt change in subject. Maybe the surprise would result in decent answers.

  Regulos’ expression turned to stone. “That is no concern of yours.”

  Or, maybe not. “It’s everyone’s concern. What’s the matter with you?”

  Taro leaned his foot against mine, just a little. A signal telling me I should moderate my tone.

  Regulos pulled in a deep breath, clearly calming himself down. “There are no greater numbers of Shields committing suicide than there ever were.”

  “That’s not what the regulars appear to be thinking.”

  “We believe the Emperor is trying to poison our relationship with the regulars by starting false rumours.”

  I didn’t find that difficult to believe.

  “It doesn’t help that there are, apparently, incidents of regulars posing as Pairs and robbing traders of their goods.”

  Ah, hell.

  “Regulars are becoming more inclined to believe just about any story about us that they happen to hear.”

  Damn it. Just … I couldn’t think of anything. Just, damn it.

  “If we may continue,” Regulos suggested sarcastically.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your task is to train our casters in the techniques passed on to you by Healer Browne.”

  “You want me to train casters to kill people,” I said flatly.

  “Exactly.”

  “To execute the Emperor.”

  Everyone appeared shocked. Was my my plain speaking considered in poor taste?

  “No one has the right to execute the Emperor,” said Regulos. “But there are other ways to make an Emperor powerless. There are other ways to change the law.”

  “Our hope is to change everyone’s mind,” Sato added. “Not kill people. But to do that, we have to show equal strength. We need to be able to do everything Gifford’s people can do, and his people are learning to kill.”

  “I don’t understand this sudden delicacy, Shield Mallorough,” sneered Shield Lavoisier, liaison between the Triple S and regulars. “It isn’t as though you haven’t killed people before.”

  Bastard.

  Sato glared at Lavoisier, then he turned back to me. “We need your help. Are you willing to co-operate?”

  “This is grossly tilted,” I responded plaintively.

  “I know,” Sato admitted.

  For some reason, that he was prepared to concede to that fact made me feel better. A little.

  Still, I felt disgusted as I said, “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” Sato’s gaze shifted to Taro. “Source Karish, can we rely on you to teach our Sources what you know about creating events?”

  Taro rubbed his temples before saying, “Yes.”

  “And instruct them in your healing skills?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt cold.

  Sato’s expression was calm, not triumphant. “The rest of the day is yours. Tomorrow, you’ll meet your students and we can get started. You can go now.”

  We were banjaxed.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, we were served breakfast in our room again. Just after the staffer cleared away our trays, in walked an elderly man, bald and wrinkled, with light blue eyes, shoulders slightly hunched, and a hand with thickened knuckles curled around the head of a cane.

  “Professor!” Taro exclaimed with delight. He hugged the older man. Gently.

  The old man grinned. He didn’t have a lot of teeth. “My dear boy!” He touched Taro’s cheek. “I never thought to see you again. And I wish I weren’t, in these circumstances.”

  “Sir, this is my Shield, Dunleavy Mallorough. Lee, this is Professor Saint-Gerard.”

  Not a name spoken often, but always spoken with respect and affection. One of the few people from the Source Academy who had believed Taro had any wits. I’d never thought I’d have a chance to meet him, and I was delighted. “I am so pleased to meet you, sir. Karish thinks so well of you.”

  The Professor gave me a crinkly smile. “As he does you. He says you take good care of him.”

  “I don’t know about that. It usually seems more the other way around.”

  “He trusts you with his secrets. What higher compliment is there?”

  He hadn’t had any choice but to trust me with his secrets. Most of them would have been impossible to hide from me. But I felt that compliments could be protested only once. More than that and the denial became insulting.

  “The Professor always warned me to keep any unusual activities to myself,” Taro explained.

  “Ah. So you were the one who taught him to be paranoid.”

  “With good reason, aye?”

  “Unfortunately.” The warning hadn’t been to any benefit, though. Mostly because we’d been stupid and careless.

  “All these plans, do you think they’re necessary?” Taro asked.

  “Yes,” Saint-Gifford answered promptly.

  “And the Triple S has been gathering people with special talents in anticipation of these events?” I asked.

  “No, no. Originally, they were just collecting people to study.”

  “Like animals,” I muttered.

  “Aye,” Saint-Gerard agreed with a tone of distaste. “The council claimed they were acting in the best interests of everyone, making sure these unusual people didn’t hurt themselves or others in unexpected ways. There was dissent, of course, but the majority beliefs won. Then Gifford took the throne, and we learned that despite the harsher laws he was enacting against
casting, he was actually gathering as much talent and information as he could for his own use. Given his practice of violating customs and laws, the council felt we had no choice but to add a new focus to our own activities.”

  He opened the door. “We must get going. It takes me a while to shift anywhere these days. Grab your things. You’ll be staying at the Arena from now on.”

  “Surely you have more important things to do,” Taro objected.

  “Aye.” Saint-Gerard grinned. “But I had to take this opportunity to see you. I’m still at the Source Academy, and we’re both going to be too busy for casual visits. I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again, if this all goes as dark as it looks it might.”

  Saint-Gerard led us through the back of the building, across a lush green lawn, and to a high stone wall. I could hear on the other side some kind of shouting. Not constant, not screaming. I couldn’t determine the exact nature of it, and I couldn’t properly hear the words.

  We stepped through an iron door onto another stretch of grass, several acres large. In the dead centre of the field were six long buildings, three stories high. Surrounding them, chaos. People riding horses in tight circles and jumping over high obstacles. People sparring by hand and with staves and other objects grabbed up from the area. To one side, a large collection of people were moving around in unison, marching in lines.

  “Is he reading out of a book?” Taro demanded incredulously, pointing at a man who was organizing the marching and who did indeed appear to be reading the orders from a text.

  Saint-Gerard shrugged. “No one really knows how to organize military manoeuvres anymore. At least, none of those who’ve come here do.”

  This was just crazy. “And the others, the subordinates, they just accept that level of incompetence? Are they suicidal?”

  “They’re paid,” Saint-Gerard responded. “Twice as much as they were given by the Crown. And they’re supplied with shelter and food. Many of them feel they’re rolling in wealth and it’s bought us their loyalty.”

  “Where do you get the coin?” Taro asked.

  “From the Crown.”

  “They give you money to lure their own people away?”

  “They don’t know that’s where the money is going. It’s possible the council has been reporting slightly higher expenses than we had. For a few years.”

  Why did I suspect that slightly was actually massively and a few years actually meant decades?

  One of the marching individuals fell. I couldn’t see what she’d tripped on. Perhaps her own feet. “And how did you lure in the Runners?”

  “The same way. With coin.”

  “And they know what this is about?”

  “They know enough. Gifford has been interfering with the management of the Runners, as well. From what I understand, the assignment of duties, promotions, and punishments among the ranks of the Runners have begun making even less sense than usual, and this has created a great deal of animosity.”

  As we walked closer to those marching people, I recognized someone I’d never expected to see again, and I was surprised into exclaiming, “Risa!”

  Risa Demaris had been a Runner in High Scape. I’d met her during an investigation when Taro had been abducted, and she had been the only one to forgive me when I was the one to actually find him. Sort of accidentally.

  Risa had been friendly and kind, and she had broken Runner protocol and regulations whenever she felt Taro and I needed to be warned of dangerous forces moving about the city. She had also been underpaid and bitter about it. This combined with very expensive tastes meant she had been in debt the whole time I’d known her.

  Alerted by my shout, she stepped back from her position to see who was calling her. She grinned and nonchalantly broke formation, ignoring the admonishments of her commanding officer – or whatever he was – to trot over to me.

  She gave me an enthusiastic hug, then tugged on a lock of Taro’s hair. “Karish!” And then, all of a sudden, her manner shifted to one of quiet respect. “Professor,” she greeted Saint-Gerard.

  “You’re looking hale, Private Demaris.”

  Risa looked magnificent. She always had. Tall and lean with gorgeous dark skin and eyes and glorious red hair. The red hair looked so much better on her than me.

  “And disobedient,” Saint-Gerard continued with a smile.

  Risa shrugged. “The man is an idiot.”

  “He’s not going to be commanding people if there’s a fight, is he?” Taro demanded.

  “Everyone is learning.” Saint-Gerard didn’t seem concerned.

  That meant yes.

  We were all going to die.

  “It will be a relief to have experts to instruct our other students,” Saint-Gerard continued. “Please excuse us, Private Demaris. I need to introduce these two to some people.”

  “Aye, I’ll go back to marching around in circles. A real brain twister, that is.”

  We followed Saint-Gerard around the buildings, where we found a whole new group of – Students? Fighters? Soldiers? I preferred to call them students.

  They were split into two groups, the space between them great enough that they didn’t interfere with each other. One group was clearly casting, surrounded by piles of ingredients I recognized. The other group consisted of Pairs.

  Taro drew in a harsh breath. “What are they doing?” He pointed at the Pairs.

  “Competing. Or duelling, if you.”

  “With events?”

  “Aye. One Pair is creating an event, the other tries to stop them.”

  How unnatural. I looked at Taro for signs that he was feeling a compulsion to channel, that his shields were lowering, but nothing happened. “Are you all right?”

  He cocked his head. “It feels odd.”

  “Isn’t this sort of thing creating difficulties for the students at the Source Academy?” I asked Saint-Gerard. “Aren’t they feeling these activities and trying to channel them?”

  “Taro isn’t the only one to have developed new abilities over time,” said Saint-Gerard. “We’ve been able to confine the effects of the channelling to certain areas. Not everyone has the ability to be quite as precise as Taro, but one of the reasons we moved to the fringe of the city was to make it easier for us to prevent any events from being felt in the Academy itself.”

  “So many Pairs trained in this manner will provide an enormous advantage to the Triple S,” I suggested. “More than enough to halt any armed fighters, surely.

  “It would be, if we were the only ones with such Pairs,” said Saint-Gerard. “The Emperor has been luring in some Pairs of his own.”

  My mouth dropped open. “There are Pairs voluntarily leaving the Triple S to fight with the Emperor?”

  Taro looked as shocked and horrified as I felt. “Why the hell would any of them do that?”

  “We’ve been told they’ve been promised land. Land they can pass down to their children. And they are more likely to have children, given Erstwhile is a cold site.”

  It wasn’t impossible for people who regularly channelled to conceive or sire children, but it was unusual.

  “We believe the Emperor hopes these Shields and Sources will produce more Shields and Sources, and that the Emperor will have whole families who are loyal to him.”

  “But – ” I stopped myself from saying something stupid. Everyone knew it was illegal for members of the Triple S to own land, aside from the Academies. It appeared the Emperor was demonstrating increasing disdain for the law as time went by.

  Taro frowned. “I would have thought the Emperor would keep such plans a secret. A lot of regulars would be furious.”

  “We have knowledge most regulars don’t. Not all the people in the Emperor’s environment are as loyal to him as he might think.”

  “You have someone there watching everything?” I was appalled. “You sent someone to spy on him? That’s too dangerous!”

  “No, we haven’t sent anyone. There are those around him who disagree wi
th what he is doing and have been providing us with information.”

  I couldn’t imagine being that brave, walking around under the Emperor’s nose and sending out information he didn’t want relayed to anyone. The tension would be unbearable.

  That wasn’t why I had been recalled, thank the gods.

  Still, “I’ve never taught anyone anything.” Except Aryne, a little, with reading and manners. I knew any progress on her part was due largely to her own intelligence rather than any competence with instruction on my part.

  “One should always embrace the opportunity to experience new things.”

  Was he making fun of me?

  Teaching was a skill. I knew this. I’d had professors, after all. Some had been engaging, some had left me clinging to my desk to restrain myself from running out of the room screaming with boredom. Some professors had taken inherently interesting subjects and managed to drain all spark from them by their delivery of the facts while others …. Professor Burl had made me laugh during a lecture about properly surveying a waterfront lot. That took talent.

  A talent I was pretty sure I lacked.

  Saint-Gerard touched my arm. “Let me introduce you to your students, Dunleavy.”

  Did he have to?

  He led me to the group of casters. He didn’t announce our presence immediately, and I was given a few moments to observe my new students. Most of the spells I saw performed, well, they weren’t as advanced as one might like. Changing the colours of objects, there really wasn’t any use for that.

  Lifting things, though, that had been handy in the past.

  The casters ranged in years from youths to middle-aged. They weren’t all Shields. About a third of them appeared to be regulars.

  The caster nearest to me – a few years older than me, about Taro’s height but broad shouldered, with short dark hair and gorgeous dark brown eyes- was raising several items at once and moving them in a circle. I’d never seen anyone do that. It must have taken incredible focus.

  Saint-Gerard cleared his throat. “Liam, my boy.”

  The caster lowered the items back to the ground, all with great control. Then he looked at me. “You’re Shield Dunleavy Mallorough?”