Heroes at Odds

by Moira J. Moore

  He closed his eyes and rolled over, pulling a pillow over his face.

  “Oh, no no no. You are getting up and you are getting ready for this race.” I left the bed to yank on the bed cord. “You don’t really have clothes for this. What do you want to wear?”

  After a short pause, Taro said, “You are an evil woman.”

  “I love you, too, dear.”

  When Hester came to our door, I asked for coffee and ale, which she clearly found strange but didn’t question, as well as hot water. While she was gone, I let Taro fall back to sleep as I dressed and tried to figure out what Taro would want to wear. I did not have anything near his flair for clothing. I didn’t know whether he’d want to be practical or whether he’d want to make some kind of visual impact. I didn’t know much about clothes, but I did know the visual could have an influence on people’s minds, and if Taro could find a way to intimidate Marcus through the power of clothing, I was all for it.

  Hester returned with the coffee and ale and I sent her away again. I brought the tray of beverages and mugs to the bedchamber. “All right, Shintaro Ivor Cear Karish, it’s time to sit up.” There was no response. I took his pillow away and shook his shoulder. He batted at my hands. “Up, Taro.”

  “My eyes roll in sand,” he muttered.

  “Have some of this ale and you’ll feel much better.”

  “Oh gods.”

  “You have that stupid race today, Taro. We have to get you conscious for it.”

  “Can’t we postpone it?”

  Patience patience patience. “No, Taro. You either run today or you forfeit. Do you want to forfeit?” Because I couldn’t force him to run.

  He kind of writhed on the bed before finally sitting up. “No.”

  “Here.” I handed him the mug of ale.

  He took it with a grimace. “Gods.”

  “Wait ’til you see what comes next.”

  He didn’t ask. He drank some of the ale, and declared himself ready to shave. Once he had done so, he dressed in one of his looser pairs of trousers, a white shirt with slightly flowing sleeves, and a dark blue waistcoat. His hair, as always, was tightly tied back.

  He looked good. As usual. A little pale, though. “Now have some of this.”

  “What?”

  “Coffee.”

  “I am not touching coffee!”

  “Have you ever even tried it?”

  “Of course I’ve tried it. I wouldn’t say I didn’t like it if I’d never tasted it.”

  “Then you know nothing wakes you up like coffee. Drink.”

  With an expression of distaste, he took the mug of glorious coffee and bolted it down in three large gulps. “Gods, that’s foul.” He thrust the mug back into my hand.

  “And you call yourself an aristocrat.” Aristocrats were known to linger over their ridiculously expensive coffee.

  “I never call myself an aristocrat.”

  That was true. I called him an aristocrat, especially when I wanted to annoy him. He seemed to find it insulting. I couldn’t quite grasp why. Sure, most aristocrats were useless, but there wasn’t anything actually wrong with them.

  Except Taro’s mother. She was evil. So was the Emperor.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Vile.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  He glared at me.

  Hey. I had to get my amusement where I could. This was all a humiliating mess.

  The race would begin and end at the front steps of the manor. There were people already waiting, tenants and a few of the local gentry. People who clearly didn’t have enough to do. Fiona was present to arbitrate. Marcus and Cars were standing still, ignoring everyone. Marcus, of course, looked hale. Not a trace of a hangover about him.

  “Good morning, Dunleavy, Shintaro,” Marcus greeted us, and Cars nodded. Taro and I nodded back.

  My mother and Mika were there. I supposed Dias was too hungover to attend. Tarce was standing beside Radia, who was seated in a chair that had been brought down for her. I didn’t like it. I understood the need for witnesses, but did there have to be so many? Did they have to include people we didn’t actually deal with on a daily basis?

  I wondered why Browne was lurking off to the side. Did she think anyone would need her services? It was only a foot race.

  One of Fiona’s servants was digging a long, very narrow and shallow ditch into the ground. “Source Shintaro Karish, Trader Marcus Pride,” Fiona called out. “This is where you will begin, and this is where you must cross to complete the race. I have placed people along the route of the race.” She pointed out the maid standing some distance away in one direction, and the footman off in the other. “Every stretch of the route will be under someone’s eyes.”

  “How dare you assume my son will cheat?” Cars blustered. “He has at least as much honor as any ’risto.”

  “I will not allow any room for allegations of misconduct,” Fiona said coolly. “If this outrages your son’s delicate sensibilities, he can withdraw and forfeit.”

  “I should have never agreed to your being the arbiter,” he mumbled. “You’re his cousin, aren’t you?”

  Where did Marcus get his good manners? Certainly not from his father. A fact of which Marcus was clearly aware. “I have no objection to further witnesses,” he said quickly. “Nor to you, my lady, acting as arbiter.”

  “Don’t let these people intimidate you, Marcus,” said Cars.

  “I am not intimidated.”

  All right, I had to admit the arch demeanor in which he addressed his father appealed to me.

  “May I continue?” Fiona’s tone was glacial.

  “Please do.” Marcus spoke before his father could. “I apologize for the interruption.”

  Fiona nodded. “You will not touch each other,” she said. “The competitor who touches the other forfeits the race. Any attempt to sabotage, of course, has an identical result. Accidental injury will not be a reason to halt the race.”

  I stopped listening to Fiona’s list of rules when I noticed the Dowager Duchess on her way across the grounds. Oh, wonderful. It only needed this. I wondered if we could get the race started before Taro noticed her.

  Linder was with her. So were two other men, young and handsome. A puerile portion of my brain wondered just what positions they had in her household.

  And then Taro did notice her. I saw his head turn to look at her. He didn’t sigh or swear or groan. He just turned his head again to look back at Fiona. Good lad.

  “Do you understand the rules?” Fiona asked.

  “I do,” said Taro.

  “I do,” said Marcus.

  “Do you consent to participating in this, the first of three tests, to determine who Shield Mallorough will marry?”

  “I do.”

  “I do.”

  “I call on all those present,” said Fiona, “to bear witness to this trial. Those of the east bring balance. Those of the west bring length of sight. Those of the north bring endurance. Those of the south bring grace. All must favor the outcome of this trial.”

  And, again, I felt the strange jittery sensation of a spell being cast. That had been happening a lot recently. I looked around. Who was casting a spell, what kind, and why? Unease filled me. I didn’t see any obvious signs of casting. I looked at Browne, the only other caster I knew who was in the group. She was looking straight back at me, frowning, her lips pressed together.

  So she was feeling something, too.

  “Take your places,” said Fiona, and Taro and Marcus stood at the ditch, facing north. “Three, two, start.” The two men took off. To my disappointment, Marcus quickly outpaced Taro and was a significant distance beyond him when they ran out of sight.

  This was going to humiliate Taro. That was something I really hadn’t contemplated when this had all started. Of course, I hadn’t been thinking of anyone at all, except myself.

  It was just the beginning. I shouldn’t be so pessimistic.

  The Dowager Duchess headed
straight to me. Of course, she did. When Taro wasn’t around, I was her favorite target. I took a deep breath, fortifying myself against her obnoxious arrogance.

  “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she said.

  “Always,” I answered.

  “Do you take pleasure in watching my son make an idiot of himself?”

  “Not as much as you do, I imagine.” The Dowager Duchess trying to imply she felt protective toward her son. Who was she trying to fool?

  “The House of Karish competing for a woman like a peasant chasing after a greased pig.”

  I almost smiled. I found the visual funny. “This is a ritual of aristocrats.”

  “The House of Karish has never demeaned itself in this way. You have brought us to this.”

  I didn’t respond to this because it was sort of true. My family was responsible for this. To an extent. But to be brutally honest, Taro stepped into this mess unnecessarily, and with no prodding from me. I wasn’t going to say that, though. She’d accuse me of blaming him for this spectacle.

  “This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”

  “Being married off to a stranger? I can really say no.”

  “Having my son make sport of himself for your amusement.”

  “You’re the one with a history of denigrating him, not I.” But I couldn’t disagree. It had never been intentional on my part, but Taro had often been subjected to degrading circumstances because of me. It wasn’t fair, and if I could figure out a way to stop it this time, I would.

  “You are insufferable,” she announced. “Linder, remain with the Shield.”

  That seemed to surprise Linder, but he nodded. What, was he supposed to guard me in some way? Keep me from doing something? How did she expect him to hamper my behavior?

  The Dowager left, and good riddance to her.

  I stood with Linder for a few moments, feeling awkward. “What do you think of all this?” I asked him without thought. It wasn’t as though I actually wanted to discuss this whole fiasco, especially with a stranger. I just couldn’t bear to be silent at that moment.

  Linder frowned, and it was kind of cute. “It doesn’t seem terribly dignified.”

  “No, it does not.”

  “No doubt that is why the Dowager disapproves of it so.”

  She didn’t approve of anything Taro did unless whatever he did was under her order. “No doubt. Though I’m surprised she came to watch if it offends her so greatly.”

  He looked surprised. “He’s her son.”

  So he was under the impression that the Dowager actually felt affection for her son. I wondered how he had come to that conclusion. It would have been interesting to know how the Dowager spoke of Taro to other people.

  I heard Fiona’s voice, a little lower than those around us, snapping at someone. I couldn’t hear the words, but she was clearly annoyed with the fisher standing beside her.

  “I know this is none of my business,” Linder said delicately. “But it seems to me that Lady Westsea is having a great deal of difficulty with . . . things. She would benefit from the Dowager’s guidance, would she not?”

  Dear, sweet, misguided child. “It is none of my business, either.”

  “You care about Lady Westsea, though, don’t you? You want her to be well?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then she should be encouraged to seek advice, shouldn’t she?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” I told him. “I can’t believe you would.”

  “I know my place, I really do. But people are so worried about their livelihoods. I know what that feels like.”

  Still, he was a visitor to Flown Raven. He should keep his mind on his own concerns.

  “I know I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ve been handling her correspondence. She thought it would be good practice for any position I might get.” He leaned closer. “She has received correspondence from the Emperor.”

  And that was when I decided he shouldn’t actually be anyone’s solicitor, if he couldn’t be discreet. Though that didn’t stop me from asking, “What did it say?”

  “That correspondence, she hasn’t let me see, and all the letters were sent before I came here.”

  Unfortunate. I would have loved to be able to learn what foul information the Dowager and the Emperor sent back and forth to each other.

  “But it speaks well of her, does it not, that she is in his confidence?”

  It was alarming. Perhaps it meant that when she claimed to know what the Emperor was thinking or planning, she was telling the truth. That made the fact that she was claiming the Emperor was willing to support Taro should he seek to retake the title a whole lot more disturbing.

  “So Lady Westsea should be encouraged to seek the Dowager’s counsel, don’t you think?”

  I thought Linder was a poor judge of character.

  Browne sidled up beside me. “May I speak with you a moment, Shield Mallorough?”

  “Of course.” I looked to Linder. “Excuse me.” I let Browne lead me a small distance from the rest of the crowd.

  “You know there’s some kind of cast involved in this,” she whispered.

  “Aye, but how, exactly? I’m not doing anything. Lady Westsea can’t. Do you think the Prides are?” Were they cheating?

  “I can’t get a feeling for a particular person or even direction,” said Browne. “It seems more . . .”

  I waited for her to finish, but she didn’t. “More what?”

  Her sigh was, I thought, prompted by frustration. “What is this all about?”

  “I assumed everyone knew,” I answered dryly.

  “I’ve heard stories, of course. I’d like to know what you know.”

  Fine. “It’s a marriage contract. They gave my family goods and the use of their connections. Once Marcus and I were adults, we were to get married.”

  “And what happens if you don’t? Get married?”

  “My family’s reputation would be ruined.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That seems to be enough, according to them.”

  She thought about that for a moment. “It was my understanding that a person’s personal obligations were terminated if they’re called to one of the academies.”

  “Aye.”

  “But the Prides would have darkened the Mallorough name anyway? Wouldn’t that have fired back on them, under the circumstances?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m pretty sure everyone knows a Shield can’t be held to a marriage contract.”

  “My family fears people won’t.”

  “Then what’s the point of all this?” She waved a hand at the starting ditch of the race.

  “If Taro wins, I won’t have to marry Marcus.”

  “But you don’t have to marry him. Everyone already knows that.”

  “Marcus offered the challenge to either void the contract or enforce it. Taro felt compelled to accept.”

  “Reviving the contract,” Browne murmured.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The contract was dead. It would have stayed dead if you had just sent them away. I think the tests resurrected it.”

  An additional layer of unease coated my chest. “I don’t understand.”

  “Just what I said. A contract can lapse if both parties don’t enforce its particulars for a long enough period of time, but can be resurrected if the parties then resume enforcing the contract.”

  While I was busy being horrified, I latched on to something irrelevant. “How do you know that?”

  She shrugged. “I dabbled with the idea of being a solicitor for a while. Decided it was too boring.”

  I didn’t feel any better learning that she probably knew what she was talking about. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to marry Marcus, either way.”

  “I really doubt it’s that simple. There’s a spell involved. I don’t think that’s normal.”

  “My parents don’t believe spells actually work.”
>
  “Perhaps it doesn’t matter if they do. Perhaps the contract and its enforcement have some kind of spell written through it. What was the process of creating this marriage contract?”

  “I don’t know. I assumed it was just a normal contract written up by a normal solicitor.”

  “There was probably more to it than that. I think whoever designed the contract might have been a caster. There is a ritual in creating contracts. The laws are specific about wording, who can draft contracts, how they’re signed. From what I understand, only a certain kind of paper can be used, only a certain kind of ink. It all has the making of a spell. Changing the terms would have an element of casting, too. But none of you really know what you’re doing. The end results could be unpredictable.”

  “But we all agreed to the new terms.”

  “Did you use a ritual?”

  “No. Well, yes. There was some kind of ritual involved when Marcus challenged Taro. Apparently, it was traditional.” Only Marcus hadn’t had a proper emblem. Because he wasn’t an aristocrat. “It wasn’t exactly how tradition dictated, though.”

  “Listen, I’m just guessing. I do believe your being sent to the Shield Academy may have successfully severed the contract. The academies are places of power on their own. It’s possible, even likely, that if you had left things alone, the contract would be void. By agreeing to these tests, you have resurrected the power of the contract. Possibly in its original terms.”

  I glared at her. “Are you saying that if Taro loses the tests, I’ll have to marry Marcus or my family might suffer serious repercussions enforced by a spell?”

  “Or the spell involved might force you to marry Marcus.”

  “How could it do that? It can’t force me to show up for the ceremony, or say things I don’t want to say.” Could it?

  “I can’t be sure, of course, but that would be my guess.”

  Browne was a smart, smart person. Damn it.

  My mother was standing a little off by herself, staring intently in the direction from which the runners would appear. I would ask her how the contract had been created. Later. When I could yell at her in private.

  Dias wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  Mika and Linder were together, laughing, the heartless bastards. Linder put his hand on the small of Mika’s back, and Mika leaned into him. Hmm.