Heroes at Odds

by Moira J. Moore

  “How the hell do we do that?” Berlusconi demanded incredulously.

  Thatcher sniffed. “There’s no need to be obnoxious.”

  “I’ve never seen or even heard of a spell like that. Have you? Has anyone?”

  “That doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist.”

  “I don’t know that we have time to look for one,” said Browne.

  “My suggestion suffers from the same flaw,” said Carpenter Iyad Coulter. “I’m wondering if we could shrink the rock to a more manageable size. But I’ve never heard of a spell like that, either.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t create one,” Chandler Danith Thaksin suggested.

  Mitloehner glared at her. “We’re not addressing this.”

  His tone was hard and almost angry. I gathered they had discussed the possibility of creating a spell before, and it had been a contentious subject.

  “I don’t know that we have time to create a spell, either,” Browne said loudly in a clear attempt to divert them from an argument.

  “What’s the rush, anyway?” Thaksin asked.

  “The Wind Watcher feels the sooner it’s accomplished, the better it is for everyone.”

  I was inspired to add, “Wind Watcher Radia is healing quickly. I understand her mind is turning increasingly to her duties. I believe it weighs on her that she hasn’t been able to meet her obligations.”

  These seemed to be sufficient motives for everyone to make raising the rock a priority.

  “Any other suggestions?” Mitloehner asked.

  No one had anything further to say.

  “Then we’ll try Lamine’s suggestion.”

  There followed a search for items that, in combination, would weigh the same as the rock. This meant pretty much ransacking the house and the barn. Looking over the results, I didn’t think we had nearly enough.

  It became clear that I was the only one prepared to use the shortened cast for levitation, so I tripped everyone up on their first attempt.

  It didn’t matter. There were far too many objects. No one could concentrate on more than one item at a time. We tried again and again, until tempers started getting really short, with no success.

  “I think we’re going about this all wrong,” Miyoung declared. “Maybe we shouldn’t try separating the weight of the rock between us. To be honest, I can’t even be sure how that would work. But maybe if we all worked together to lift the rock as a whole, we’d be more successful.”

  I couldn’t see how that was noticeably different from all of the casters working together with each caster focusing on one part of the rock, but I had virtually no experience in casting, compared to the others. And I wasn’t exactly the most creative person ever born.

  “It would require speaking the spell in perfect unison,” Thatcher mused. “We have no practice in this.”

  “It’s impossible,” Berlusconi protested.

  Of course it wasn’t impossible. Just a little difficult, maybe, considering how many people were involved. “Not necessarily,” I found myself saying.

  “You have some wisdom on this matter the rest of us lack, do you, Shield?”

  Berlusconi’s voice was laced with bitterness. There were some issues there. I didn’t care. “Shields are exposed to a whole lot of music, different instruments, different voices, different styles, while we’re at the Academy.” Because Shields could be sensitive to music, driven to acts that we would never even contemplate in our right minds. So exposure was considered the best way to learn to deal with it. “People don’t seem to have trouble using words in unison when they’re singing.”

  “Singing spells,” Berlusconi scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  I shrugged. That people could more easily articulate words in unison while singing was a fact. Whether it would lead to an effective spell was something someone more experienced than I would have to decide. “You all hum together. That’s what made me think of it.”

  Browne smiled wryly. “I don’t know that any of us have the skill to compose a song, especially in the course of a few days.”

  “Well, no, take the melody from another song.”

  “I can’t sing,” Berlusconi announced.

  “That might not matter,” said Browne.

  “We have no idea what impact singing the words might have on the spell,” Berlusconi protested.

  “That’s why we’ll be practicing,” Browne pointed out.

  The next step was finding a song that best fit the words of the spell. The selection everyone agreed upon turned out to be a bawdy drinking song. That was hilarious.

  Then we all had to spend time singing it. It took longer than I would have expected. I had never heard the song before, so I had to learn the melody, which had a few weird twists. Some of the casters found the song so distasteful they seemed unable to force out even the spell to the melody. Others were so familiar with the song they had trouble refraining from falling into the original lyrics. And finally, everyone sang at different pitches. Working out the harmonies took a ridiculous amount of time.

  I feared Berlusconi, who clearly felt some irritation with the whole process, would deliberately try to sabotage our efforts. She did not. Her voice was lovely. I had to wonder why she’d lied about it.

  The practicing of the words extended into the afternoon. I couldn’t believe these hardworking people were able to spend so much time away from their occupations, especially the servants. To me, that supported the opinion that the other residents in the area knew of the circle and were providing them with the time they needed. I thought that possibility was interesting.

  Finally, we were able to sing the spell, everyone in unison, everyone in harmony.

  And it felt fabulous. The notes sizzled up and down my spine, my heart started racing, and I felt . . . light. Like I could lift off the ground myself. It was gorgeous.

  But I couldn’t let it consume me. I had to contribute to the spell. I had to focus.

  One of the benefits—perhaps the only one—of all the difficult times I had had Shielding in the past was that I could think through almost overwhelming physical sensation. I sang the words. I would not let myself fall into singing them by rote. I put power behind them.

  Our first attempt to raise a chair resulted in the chair being pulled apart. That wasn’t promising. Our second had a plow flying—flying!—uncontrollably and nearly taking out a side of the barn. After some debate we decided trying to levitate an animal might be a bad idea.

  “I think everyone’s had enough for today,” said Browne, and I was happy to hear it. I had a nasty headache brewing behind my eyes.

  “Fine,” said Mitloehner. “We’ll reconvene here tomorrow. Same time.”

  I returned to the manor. I went to the kitchen and got myself a small cold meal. I was relieved as I went up to my suite that I didn’t meet a single member of my family. I didn’t want to talk; I wanted to sleep. I was clumsy with fatigue as I changed into my nightgown. I was asleep as soon as I lay down on the bed.

  I woke briefly when Taro slipped into bed.

  I woke again when the sunlight was beaming through the windows. After a few moments, I remembered where I was expected to be and that I was very late. Damn it. I threw on my clothes, drank a cup of horribly cold coffee, and borrowed one of Fiona’s horses in order to reach Netan’s barn as quickly as possible.

  When I stepped inside, the group was singing, and even though I wasn’t singing with them, I felt that glorious sense of vibrancy and excitement. They were holding a table several cubits above the floor. It was being held in place, steady and upright.

  They lowered the table, and it looked like one force was in control. Everyone really was working in unison. It was impressive.

  Once the table was back on the floor, everyone stopped singing and turned to glare at me.

  “Good morning,” I greeted them.

  “You’re late,” Mitloehner accused me.

  Should I lie and claim I’d been engrossed in Triple S
business? Should I be honest and admit I’d slept late? I didn’t care for either option. “I apologize.”

  There was a bit of a pause. They were waiting for me to provide an excuse. I didn’t.

  “We need everyone to be disciplined about this,” Mitloehner scolded.

  I gestured at the table. “You don’t need me.” And I didn’t know how I felt about that. I really would have preferred not to be involved. It was neither my business nor my place to participate in such things. On the other hand, well, I loved being a part of the singing. That was marvelous.

  “It’s a table,” Mitloehner pointed out with dry sarcasm. “The wind rock will take a little more effort.”

  That told me.

  We raised the table. At first, my participation caused some serious wobbling, but it didn’t take me long to adjust to the influences of the others, and the table rose easily and steadily. We practiced shifting it around while it was in the air, upside down, slanted, fitting it on top of the beams in the ceiling. And when we felt comfortable with the table, we moved on to the plow. After some work, we were able to manipulate it just as easily.

  None of us could think of anything heavier than a plow. Except maybe buildings, but of course we couldn’t play with those, if for no other reason than that they were usually pretty firmly attached to the ground.

  “I think we have to try the rock next,” Browne said.

  “That’s an enormous leap to be making,” Berlusconi protested.

  Browne huffed with impatience. Perhaps Berlusconi was a consistently annoying person who could crack even Browne’s composure. “You have a better suggestion, then?”

  “Almost anything would be better.”

  “Please, provide us with an example.”

  Color appeared high on Berlusconi’s cheeks as she pressed her lips together.

  “Who believes we should attempt the rock next?” Mitloehner asked.

  Twelve people, including Mitloehner, raised their hands.

  “The majority calls aye, the decision is made,” Mitloehner announced. “We’ll meet at the rock at midnight.” He gave me a baleful look. “Everyone will be there.”

  “Of course,” I responded.

  The group broke up after that. Browne walked with me to my mount. “Is Mitloehner in charge?” I asked her.

  “It’s a circle. No one is in charge.”

  “Mitloehner speaks a lot.”

  “He is the oldest, and he has been practicing casting longer than the rest of us. We give him the respect he’s due.”

  “Is he the most talented of all the casters?”

  Browne paused a moment before saying, “That’s not really something that’s easily quantified.”

  I didn’t believe that. Surely there were those who could cast more spells, more complicated spells, than others. “You’re the most powerful of the circle, aren’t you?”

  “There’s no way to determine that.”

  I smiled. Yes, she was.

  I rode back to the manor at a quick pace. When I returned the horse to the stable, I saw Mika and Linder not very well concealed in a corner, kissing with intense enthusiasm. I grinned. I didn’t know Linder, really, but he seemed a decent fellow. And I was pleased Mika was enjoying himself, even if he was the only one, in all this mess.

  It was petty of me, but what I liked most was the fact that the Dowager’s heavy-handed plan was being so thoroughly undermined. I was tempted to find her, drag her into the stable, and make her watch. Except that that would be kind of perverted.

  Knowing I would never be able to make myself wake in time for midnight should I go to bed at a regular hour, that I would instead have to stay awake from sundown until then, I decided to get a few hours’ rest in the daylight. One of the things about casting in a group, it seemed to take a lot of stamina. I fell asleep quickly.

  I was awakened by arguing.

  “Just leave!” Taro snapped.

  “Not until I’m sure you’ve heard what I have to say.”

  As soon as I heard that voice, that voice, I groaned and turned over in the bed, staring up and knowing I didn’t want to get up.

  Taro’s mother.

  “Keep it down. Lee is trying to sleep.”

  “Is that woman all you can think about? Always, you bring her. Always, you speak of her. You are too much under her influence. Even the Emperor thinks so.”

  What was the man’s problem? Why did he have the mental space to care about Taro and what kind of influence I did or did not have over him? He was the ruler of the whole damn world. He had more important things to worry about.

  I shouldn’t be eavesdropping.

  They shouldn’t be talking right in our sitting room.

  “You would have me bow to your influence instead,” said Taro.

  He didn’t object to her assertion that I had too much influence over him. I didn’t like that. Of course I had no control over him, nor should I.

  Maybe he thought it wasn’t worth denying. That he thought she wasn’t worth the effort of correcting. That was by far the more comfortable interpretation of his behavior.

  “If you were the titleholder,” the Dowager said, “people would show you the respect you deserve.”

  “The only person I know of who shows me insufficient respect is the person standing before me.”

  “I’m your mother.”

  And, according to her, his mother didn’t need to show him any respect. I doubted that would change even if he were to take the title.

  A part of me felt I should go out there and support Taro. The other part of me knew I would just make things worse. Maybe he, and the Dowager, would feel my interference meant I didn’t think Taro could take care of things himself.

  “It is your Shield who is poisoning your mind against claiming the title.”

  I rolled my eyes. The title was gone. Why could she not understand that?

  “It’s always been her. I don’t know how she’s doing it, but she’s been cutting you off at the knees since you were bonded.”

  “Why are you so desperate to create discord between us?” Taro demanded. “You’re not even developing any new ideas. First that Lady Simone, a ’risto, now Linder, who would have been called a trader had his mother not purchased a title. Who is he supposed to appeal to?”

  Her Grace ignored all of that. “If you would just fall in with His Majesty’s plans you would have far more power than you could ever enjoy as a Source.”

  “I don’t believe for a moment that you care about how much power I have. I don’t think the Emperor cares, either. I know this is all about you. I’m pretty sure the Emperor would forget all about me if you would just stop nagging him about me.”

  That didn’t even slow the woman down. “It’s not as though you will be able to keep her,” the Dowager said in a sharp shift of subject.

  What did that mean?

  “You have to win the next two tests to win the challenge. The final test is a test of the mind. You know you’ll never win that.”

  I sat up, gasping in shock. Bitch! There was nothing wrong with Taro’s mind. There was no reason why he couldn’t win the final test.

  “She will be marrying the Pride boy. She will bow to the needs of her family. And so she should. You need to do the same.”

  “Get out,” Taro snapped.

  “She is making time with Linder, you know.”

  Taro laughed, as he should. No one could miss that Linder was lusting after Mika.

  “You don’t understand people, Shintaro. You don’t understand how avarice can drive them.”

  “Get out.”

  “You can’t trust her, Shintaro. She has her own interests.”

  What interests? What could I possibly want that would entail my controlling Taro? Unless she felt my controlling Taro was an end in and of itself.

  “Get out.”

  “You’re being terribly immature.”

  I kind of agreed, but there really was no good way to deal with that woman.<
br />
  “Get out.”

  “Do grow up, Shintaro.”

  I heard the door open and close. Finally. I got out of bed and wandered into the sitting room. Taro was sprawled in a settee staring at the ceiling. “Are you all right?” I asked him.

  “Aye,” he answered in a listless tone.

  I raised my eyebrows at him, because I didn’t believe him. “You said you weren’t going to listen to her anymore.”

  “I find her very hard to ignore,” he admitted.

  “She is very . . . encroaching.”

  “Encroaching.”

  “She just takes over the air around you.”

  “And sucks it right out of you.”

  “Maybe that’s why I feel so dazed around her and can never think of what to say to her.”

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Certainly.” As far as I was concerned, we could never talk about the Dowager again. Speaking of her didn’t accomplish anything.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Practicing lifting things. We’re going to try the rock tonight.”

  “Isn’t that a little soon?”

  “We’ve gone as far as we can with dry runs, and everyone thinks we should take a hit with the real thing.”

  “Can I come watch?”

  Taro rarely expressed any kind of interest in casting. “The circle thinks you don’t know about them.”

  “Really?”

  I couldn’t be sure. I thought it was unreasonable of them to expect me to hide anything from Taro. “They’re at least pretending they do.”

  “Do you think you could levitate the Dowager? Maybe that would scare the arrogance out of her.”

  “Oh, gods,” I gasped out on a chuckle. I really, really wanted to do it. I wondered if she would scream. It would be hilarious. “Maybe I would turn her upside down, too.”

  “That would be fantastic,” Taro said. Then he sighed. “But it would make it undeniable that you can cast. I don’t want her knowing that.”

  “Neither do I, but it would be fun.”

  He sighed again.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  He stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “I’m going to find a card game.”