Prat.
“There have been no events for the past several months,” Sabatos told me with mock solemnity.
“I got that. Thanks.” Quite a change from the year before, when High Scape was known as one of the most volatile sites in the world, and I could expect a few events on every watch.
“And this requires a meeting, why?” Garrighan asked, sounding bored. “I’m particularly interested in the location, when the house would be warmer and handier.”
“I want no one to overhear us. No one will come out here.”
Zaire. I hadn’t been aware La Monte had been inflicted with melodrama.
“The regulars expect us to do something about the weather. They think we are neglecting our duty.”
How unfortunate for them. I think I should be the next Empress. How unfortunate for me.
“There’s nothing we can do about the weather,” said Riley, stating the bloody obvious, but apparently it was necessary under the circumstances.
“The regulars don’t understand that,” said La Monte. I shifted my shoulders. There was that particular patronizing tone in his voice that was just . . . aggravating.
Garrighan tsked with impatience. “There’s nothing we can do about that, either.”
“Maybe if we got something official from the Triple S council,” Wilberforce suggested. “Some kind of document explaining that this kind of phenomenon is beyond our abilities to address. We could get a few copies and post them in appropriate places. That might make the regulars settle down.”
That was actually a good idea.
“Only if they can read,” was Beatrice’s dry contribution. An unnecessary cheap shot, I thought. And anyway, once a few saw the notices, word of mouth would cover the rest.
“Won’t that make it appear that the Triple S council is evading responsibility as well?” Benedict asked.
“Better them than us,” Beatrice retorted, as expected, for one partner in that Pair could not say one thing without the other advocating the opposite.
“They are us,” La Monte snapped. “I don’t know that I care for the idea of passing responsibility to some distant institution most regulars have no direct contact with.”
“We don’t have responsibility,” Sabatos pointed out. “How can we pass it?”
Here was a radical idea. I was almost afraid to bring it up. “We could actually try to do something about it.” One, two, three . . .
Garrighan barked with laughter. He was awfully emotive for a Shield. “Do something about the weather? Are you serious?”
Yes. Always, apparently. “Has anyone tried to do anything?”
“Don’t, Lee,” Karish ordered in an undertone.
Don’t what? “I mean, if we don’t even try we can’t know there’s nothing we can do.” It seemed simple enough to me.
“Leave it, Lee!” His tone was louder and sharper that time, and no one could pretend they didn’t hear it.
What was his problem? It was a good idea. We could all experiment with our abilities and see what we came up with. What harm could possibly come from that?
“What is your idea, then, La Monte?” I asked, for of course the reason he’d called the meeting was to dazzle us with the brilliance of his solution to the problem.
La Monte clasped his hands behind his back. “The best course of action is to let everyone know we’re working on it.” He paced a few steps, which was all the limited space allowed him. “Every time anyone asks us about what we’re doing—”
Or accuses us of being lazy parasites.
“—we assure them that we are studying the situation and will soon have things under control.”
Incredible. “Tell them we’re working on it?” I asked him. “When we’re actually doing nothing? You want us to lie to them?”
“It’s in their best interest.”
“How?” It was in our best interest, maybe, and only for the short term, but no one could reasonably claim it was in theirs.
Though La Monte seemed ready to try. “It will reassure them, make them feel safe and secure again. It will raise their opinion of us. And when this passes, they will feel we have earned their respect and support, that we have done our job. Everything will return to normal.”
I stared at him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What a bad idea. And from the quality of the silence in the room, I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Even Wilberforce was looking a little uncertain.
“What if this doesn’t pass?” Sabatos asked. “What if this cold snap stretches on for months?”
Not exactly the point or the central problem with the whole plan, but it was definitely one big glaring glitch. I was glad someone other than me had pointed it out.
Because La Monte didn’t like having his opinions questioned. Not by anyone. He didn’t lose his temper—at least, I’d never seen him lose it—but his nostrils twitched and his face kind of went taut, and one got the impression that if you touched one more nerve he just might explode. And that would be messy. “As this is an entirely new phenomenon to us, we will say, it will of course require a great deal of study and then the most delicate handling.” Oh aye, he was angry. He was speaking slowly and his tone was very, very calm. “It will pass in due time. There is no doubt about that.”
Of course there was doubt about it. We had no idea where this weather was coming from or what was causing it. We had no idea how long it was going to be hanging about. To claim otherwise, to make plans as if we did, was sheer idiocy. And it was a stupid, stupid idea.
Why lie? So people were a little unimpressed with the Triple S right then. It was unpleasant but not something to get into a panic about. There was no reason to concoct a ridiculous lie that was almost certain to blow up in our faces at some later date. Someone would be sure to figure out that we had lied about our handling, or not, of the snow. Then we’d see a real loss of confidence and respect. A permanent one. We’d be branded liars. That sterling reputation for always being truthful would be gone.
But most of the others were nodding in agreement, and no one seemed prepared to challenge the idea any further. They weren’t thrilled about it, I could see that, but they were going to follow along.
So what was I going to do? I couldn’t lie to people about this sort of thing. It was wrong and stupid and it would make a greater mess of things in the end. But if I denied the story that everyone else was using, it would annoy all my colleagues. All to no purpose. Regulars were unlikely to believe one sole Shield over all the other Triple S members in the site, and they might even be angry with me for darkening their false hopes. Er, optimism. Not a happy result.
One thing was certain, if I were to state my insistence on my position right at that moment, La Monte would feel his so-called authority was being challenged, and he would dig his heels in. No one would stand with me against La Monte. He was one of the squeakiest wheels I’d ever met and knew how to be insistently disagreeable.
If, however, I got ahold of people one or two at a time, I had a better chance of convincing them this was an atrocious idea. Better yet, if I could convince Karish this was an atrocious idea, I could leave convincing the others to him. Karish could, I was quite sure, convince anyone of anything.
All I needed was a little time.
“Excuse me, sir.” Ugh. That sounded a little too submissive. La Monte didn’t seem to find anything amiss, though, and he nodded at me with more favor than he had demonstrated just a few moments earlier. “I would feel much more comfortable about this if the opinion of the Triple S council were solicited.” And here was hoping he hadn’t already done so. “For all we know, the council has already decided on a way to address this problem. We don’t want to be seen as acting in opposition to their wishes.”
Again, he wasn’t thrilled with the objection, but the change in tone and manner worked wonders. “You’re right,” he admitted. “If they’ve already starting putting out an explanation for this cold snap, we could really foul the course if we say so
mething different.” He nodded resolutely. “Fehvor will write to the Triple S. We will wait until we have received word back from the council.”
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 f
or 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.
The Hero Strikes Back Page 5