Heroes at Odds

by Moira J. Moore

  Browne scrambled off the table, blowing out her candle. “I hope you’ve all been thinking, because the next thing we get to fight about is whether we’re going to design a communication spell.”

  It was going to be a long afternoon.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “But this is insane,” I objected. “Someone is attacking your people.”

  “It’s important,” Fiona told me placidly.

  “How is a dance important?” I asked. “Ever?”

  “A titleholder must attend public events, Dunleavy. It is one of the ways she shows her people that she values them, a willingness to spend her free time with them. It’s one of the ways she shows them she’s clear of mind and of sound muscle. And it lessens the distance between titleholder and tenant. They’ll see her as human. That can be useful in hard times.”

  I would have thought the opposite would be true. Wouldn’t people, during hard times, draw comfort from feeling their titleholder was infallible? I always felt better when I thought people knew what they were doing. But this wasn’t my area of expertise. “Well, I hope you have the chance to enjoy yourself, at least.”

  “Not so fast.” She clapped me on the shoulder. “It’s important that they see you’re a regular person, too.”

  I almost said I wasn’t a regular person. “This is careless.”

  “I thought you didn’t need to be in the manor to stop the earthquakes and the tsunami.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “So there’s no reason why you can’t go out.”

  I just felt dancing was trivial. When times were hard, wouldn’t people prefer to know their leader was working?

  “Sometimes it is best that we make an effort to have life go on as normal,” said Fiona. “You live as a guest in the manor. One of your obligations is to assist me in making things seem normal.”

  No one had ever told me that. Did she just make that up?

  “I haven’t gone for the last few weeks, and if I remember correctly, you haven’t gone at all. It’s past time.”

  All I knew was that if I feared I was in danger of losing my livelihood, I wouldn’t feel like dancing, and I wouldn’t want anyone else to feel like dancing, either.

  “Is it that you don’t like to dance?” Fiona asked.

  “No, no, I enjoy dancing.”

  “There you go. A good time will be had by all. Tell Shintaro he’s expected, too. And I’ve got some lovely pieces of jewelry if you’d like to borrow some. I know all of yours was stolen.” She gently touched one of my earlobes before giving me a smile and wandering off.

  Sometimes the affairs of regulars baffled me.

  That evening, two carriages took us, Taro and me, my family, Fiona, Tarce, and even Daris, to the assembly hall. Within the building, all of the injured from the fire and the gear used to treat them had been cleared away. There were already several dozen people there, dancing to the music provided by a handful of instrumentalists sitting in one corner. There was a long table along one wall, covered with finger food and jugs with small glasses.

  “Are you all right with this music, Lee?” my mother asked.

  “This music is harmless,” said Taro.

  “Thanks for answering for me, dear,” I said sarcastically.

  “I am the expert in this area,” he responded without remorse.

  I watched the pairs go through their predetermined steps. “Is all the dancing this formal?”

  “Do you not know the steps?” Fiona asked.

  “No, no. This dance is familiar to me. I just mean, if all the dancing is like this, the music will be fine.” And I wouldn’t have to stay by Taro’s side all evening. A pleasant enough place to be, of course, but it might appear that I was snubbing everyone else. And I didn’t like the idea of Taro feeling he had to watch me all evening.

  Linder appeared out of nowhere, grinning broadly. His shirt was orange, which was a hideous color in general, but it looked good on him. He was cute. As annoying as the Dowager was in her attempts to lure Taro and me from each other, I had to admit she picked pretty tools for the task.

  “Want to dance?” he asked Mika, who took his arm.

  “Have a nice evening, people,” Mika said before he was pulled away into the crowd.

  “So I guess we won’t be seeing either of them again tonight,” Dias commented dryly.

  Taro invited my mother to the floor, and a young woman came out of nowhere to invite Dias. Tarce turned to me. “Care to dance?”

  Sure. Why not? I nodded and let Tarce lead me to the end of the sets, so we could blend in with the other dancers without causing disruption.

  And during the first circular hey, Tarce smiled at me. A small, delicious curving of the lips that was entirely fake. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. He flushed. I felt bad. “I apologize,” I said sincerely. “But . . . what were you trying to do?”

  We were separated by the steps of the dance and then brought back together. “Showing good manners,” he answered. “You might give it a try.”

  “That wasn’t about manners. That was flirting.” Or an attempt at it. Why would he do that with me? “Is that what Taro has been teaching you?”

  He managed to look even stiffer. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  I hoped Taro wasn’t teaching Tarce to flirt with absolutely everyone. I didn’t imagine there were many who could get away with that. When Taro had done it to me at our first meeting, I’d been a little repulsed, and he was really good at it. Someone with less skill could get himself in trouble. “I really don’t think that’ll work on Radia.”

  “Do you normally speak of things that are no concern of yours?”

  “Only when people try to pull me into them.”

  “No one is doing that, yet you seem to be everywhere, insinuating yourself into every situation. You overstep your bounds.”

  Hey, he was the one flirting with me inappropriately. Or something. What other situation could he be referring to?

  And if I was doing too much, he was doing too little. “How have you been helping Fiona in this business with Kent?”

  He expressed no surprise at my use of Kent’s name. So he thought Kent was behind it all, too. “That’s no concern of yours, either.”

  “It’s the concern of all the people who live here.”

  “You don’t really live here. You are merely stationed here for a couple of years, and then you’ll be moving on. Nothing here, other than your responsibilities as a Shield, is any business of yours.”

  He was right, of course, but having let myself get drawn into all sorts of local matters, I would have to get used to defending myself. “So you’re saying I should live in some sort of box, and the only thing in that box is Shielding. I’m to have no connections to anything else.”

  “I’m sure you have all sorts of Triple S mysteries to keep you busy. Why don’t you focus on those?”

  Obnoxious twit. “I suppose because I care about Fiona. She’s an admirable person and I want things to go well for her. I can’t imagine knowing her and being prepared to do nothing to help her during difficult times.”

  He glared at me. I did not regret what I had said. He wasn’t as bad as Daris, but he was still a sort of leech. He seemed ready to let Fiona handle everything herself. That wasn’t what family was supposed to be about.

  To give him his due, he properly finished the dance and escorted me back to Taro. I wouldn’t have blamed him for leaving immediately. “Are you trying to teach him to be charming?” I asked Taro once Tarce was gone.

  “Some things are to be kept between gentlemen.”

  “It’s not working.”

  He sighed. “I know.”

  A pretty young woman approached me. “I am Yanara Ren,” she said. “Would you care to dance?”

  “Certainly.” And it was the beginning of a busy evening for me. I didn’t sit out a single dance for the first few hours, constantly kept on my feet by various tradespeople and occasionally my brothers and Taro. In
fact, I was kept so busy that I didn’t notice some people imbibing the punch a little more freely than they should have, nor the edge that was developing in the conversation around us.

  Then I heard, “Well, then, maybe Kent would do a better job of it,” from immediately behind me, and I walked out of the formation to look at the woman who had spoken the words. I couldn’t really help myself; I was moving before I really thought about it.

  I didn’t know what to say. Something along the lines of “Really?” or “Again?” Didn’t the oaths they made to Fiona mean anything to them?

  Maybe such oaths didn’t. Maybe that was why the Emperor had been supplementing the oaths given on the day of his coronation with a spell. Maybe people just played out certain rituals at certain times as a bow to history, and didn’t mean anything by it.

  If that were the case, some of those who had given oaths to the Emperor were in for a shock.

  So I was just standing there, looking at this woman, my dance partner asking me what was wrong, not knowing how to express myself. It was one thing to be rude to Tarce. He was an ill-natured layabout. I knew this woman slightly, and she was a hardworking person. I wanted to defend Fiona, but feared offending a tenant. That might come back on Fiona in some way.

  But then the woman noticed me staring at her, and she turned to me with a frosty look. “Do you have something to say, Shield?”

  Fine. “Just curious,” I said in the mildest voice I could simulate. “If you feel Her Grace is so deficient, and that Lord Kent would be superior, why don’t you seek a tenancy from him? You have a valuable trade. Surely he would welcome you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “This has nothing to do with you, Shield.”

  “Of course not.” I shrugged. “I just feel a certain loyalty to the Duchess.”

  Her companion glared at me. “Your livelihood doesn’t rely on her competence.”

  “Yours doesn’t have to. You could have left when the others did, instead of poisoning the minds of those who’ve stayed.”

  “You can go, now,” the woman told me coldly.

  I raised an eyebrow and nodded before heading around all the dancers to reach Fiona, who was standing with my mother on the other side of the room.

  All right, fine. I had nothing more to say, and I tried to avoid repeating myself. I just resented those two people spreading discord when everyone there was working so hard to have a good time.

  I heard a shout, the words of which I couldn’t decipher, and a small crash that was nevertheless loud enough to grab everyone’s attention. The music screeched to a halt while heads turned toward the source of the upheaval. A thin young man was straightening from having been shoved against a table.

  This was followed by a short silence as we waited for the man to express some opinion about what had been done to him. Instead, he charged at a slightly older man, who I assumed was the perpetrator. The two of them barreled into a couple of spectators before landing on the floor, throwing punches that didn’t seem to land very well, and just generally grappling in an undignified manner.

  A woman pulled on the shoulder of the man on top, clearly attempting to stop the fight. She ended up getting shoved away by a third man. She responded by punching that third man in the face. It was a good shot, too. He lurched away covering his nose.

  And then the fight seemed to spread, drawing in more and more people as though some sort of contagion were involved. Many people pulled away to the sides, avoiding flailing limbs with expressions of disapproval, but others jumped into the fights with glee, and still others watched the mayhem and cheered. It was awful.

  It was difficult to understand anyone, but after enough garbled and nearly incoherent shouts it was clear that people were fighting over whether Fiona was worthy of their support or not.

  I saw Daris standing to one side, drink in one hand, grinning. Wench.

  Then someone got the bright idea to start throwing glasses, platters and jugs at people.

  “That’s enough!” Fiona shouted. “Stop this at once!”

  No one paid the slightest attention to her. It was disheartening.

  She went to the nearest couple of fighting men, grabbed one by the throat and wrenched him to the floor, landing him flat on his back. She held him on the floor with a foot planted in the middle of his chest. She gave a hard look at his opponent when he tried to jump forward. “Get out.”

  He fumed, but after a moment he bowed and actually obeyed her. At no point on his way to the door did he get engaged in another part of the brawl.

  “That was beautiful,” I told Fiona.

  She shot me a tight grin. “And what do I need to do with you?” she demanded of the man beneath her boot.

  “I’ll leave,” he grumbled.

  “If I see you throw another punch, I’ll fine you.”

  “What if someone punches me first?”

  “Duck.”

  He scowled, but he nodded, and when Fiona let him up he did as his predecessor did: he left without causing any more difficulties.

  I fell a little in love with Fiona right then.

  When I felt a hand on my arm, I jumped. When I saw it was Taro, I slapped him in the stomach for scaring me. “That was uncalled for.”

  “You’re too close.”

  “I want to show Fiona my support.”

  “I doubt she’ll want you to lose teeth in the attempt. Move back.”

  He had a point, so I let him draw me back closer to the wall. I kept my eye on Fiona, though. When she reached the next pair of fighters, she actually grabbed one by the nose and twisted. It was hilarious. And his opponent, she kicked right in the side of the knee. He just dropped.

  But here was the thing. As fabulous as she was, there was no way she could work her way through all the fighters in the room. She would either get exhausted and suffer her own injuries, or someone was going to get a bone broken. Or die.

  “Wait here,” said Taro. I watched him wend his way to the musicians. He approached the trumpet player and spoke into her ear. She nodded and stood on top of her chair, put her instrument to her lips, pulled in a deep breath, and blew.

  And what came out was the loudest, sharpest, most earpiercing, blood-inducing note I’d ever heard come out of any instrument, ever. It hurt. Covering my ears with my hands didn’t dull the noise at all. What did Taro think he was doing?

  When the blare stopped, I lowered my hands with relief. Then I realized that had been only a pause, to allow the player to pull in a huge breath before sounding the note again. Son of a bitch.

  I was not so wrapped up in my own discomfort that I couldn’t see the effect the notes were having on everyone else. They seemed to penetrate whatever chaotic emotions the brawlers were experiencing. They started pulling away from each other to cover their ears and grumble. It took several long notes from the trumpet player—the poor woman was turning a deep, dark red—before everyone settled down, but eventually all the fighting stopped.

  Fiona had another man pinned to the floor, this time with a foot on his throat. She didn’t seem prepared to let him up.

  The trumpet player stepped down from the chair and Taro took her place. He waited a few moments until he was sure he had everyone’s attention. “My brother slept with as many people as he could get his hands on,” he announced. “He used this estate as his personal bordello. He didn’t care if he was interfering with committed relationships. He didn’t even care if people were willing. And the women he left pregnant received neither respect nor support from him. My father emptied the coffers again and again, investing in business enterprises that failed, one after the other. Not a coin was spent on the maintenance of the estate. His mother was never here. She let bandits run wild all over the land.” His lip curled. “And this is the family you wish to hold the title? What’s wrong with you people?” He paused, but no one said anything, no one challenged him. “It’s time you all went home.”

  People protested, but under their breath, and they started moving toward
the entrance. I was relieved. So many people fighting in a restricted space, it could have turned into a nightmare of spilled blood and shattered bones.

  Fiona had released her man, and her expression was stony. I wondered what had angered her more: that the fight had erupted at all, or that Taro had been the one to successfully end it.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The morning of the final test, I woke up with such a fist of anxiety in my stomach and such a weight on my chest, I could barely breathe. Any equanimity I had experienced throughout this ridiculous process was just gone. In its place, I felt panic. Because I considered, for the first time, the possibility that Taro might lose. It could very easily happen. He’d lost the first test. And this test was the last chance. So what if Taro lost? What would I do?

  Resentment rose up in me. If Taro hadn’t been hungover, he might have won the first test, and we wouldn’t be going through this now. It would have been settled and we could have been directing all of our attention to something important. Like Kent.

  That wasn’t fair. I knew that. Calm down calm down calm down.

  Taro could do anything he set his mind to. Except sing, because he’d been born with a tin ear. There was nothing he could do about that. Everything he could control, could work on and perfect, he did. He learned things quickly. He could do this.

  I wished it was hours later, and this was done. I would be able to relax. We could send the Prides home and never think about them again. And maybe I’d spend a few hours grilling my mother to make sure I wasn’t the subject of any other asinine contracts.

  I could not marry Marcus. It just wasn’t possible.

  What if Taro lost?

  He wouldn’t.

  According to the contract, if Marcus won the challenge and I refused to marry him, I would lose my identity. What did that mean? It couldn’t be whatever status I might have as a merchant’s daughter. According to the law—and me—I’d lost that status once I entered the Shield Academy. But what else could it mean?