The Hero Strikes Back

by Moira J. Moore

  I stood in my bare feet on the two cool wooden benches, one foot solidly planted on each narrow plank. I was wearing my favorite dancing clothes, trousers and a shirt of a loose, light green fabric. My opponent was a gangly young fellow who was shivering in the chill air. An easy mark.

  The four stalkers knelt in the dancing sand, picking up the ends of the two bars we would be leaping over. They moved the bars low and slow, as was appropriate for the first round. Jumping over them was ridiculously easy.

  And then, I enacted that saying about hubris.

  Because I fell off the benches.

  I fell off the benches!

  The very first round. I wasn’t caught by the bars, which was the acceptable way to lose. No, I simply fell off. As I hadn’t since the year I’d started to learn. And what was worse, there was no reason for it. I had no excuse. We’d been at the easy stage. And I’d tumbled hard, my face barely missing the bench I’d expected to step on. How humiliating.

  And everyone knew I was a Shield. I was wearing the white braid, after all. And knowing I was a Shield, everyone expected better of me. Including me.

  I also proved myself a liar, because I did blush. I could feel it. Damn it.

  The sand, though cleared of snow, was spikey and hard and unpleasant to lie on. Besides, people were starting to give me looks, wondering why I wasn’t on my feet.

  No one snickered. I had to give them that.

  I stood up. I smiled as I shook the hand of my radiant opponent. I glanced down at the benches and saw they were the regulation distance apart. Not that I really suspected that one of the benches had moved. I just couldn’t understand what had happened.

  I hadn’t even had a chance to work up a sweat.

  I didn’t grumble as I wanted to when I went to the edge of the sands and pulled on my stockings and boots. I couldn’t deny feeling glum, though. What was wrong with me?

  “That was kind of quick.”

  I twisted up with surprise. Risa’s brother was bundled up to ward off the cold, and looking at me with a slightly satirical expression.

  I really shouldn’t have cared that a near stranger had witnessed my disgrace. “Are you here to watch someone or was it just my misfortune that you were walking by and saw that?”

  He sat down beside me. “Risa told me you’d be dancing today, and recommended that I watch. She said you were very good.”

  I couldn’t miss the emphasis he put on the word “said.”

  Immediately, he seemed to realize that. At least, his eyes widened and he hurried to add, “I’m terribly sorry. That didn’t come out at all as I planned.”

  “I thought you solicitors enjoyed a gift with words.”

  “The written, not the spoken. That’s barristers you’re thinking of.”

  Was there something in his tone suggesting I should have known that? Or was I just hearing things that weren’t there because I was in a bad mood?

  And why was I in such a bad mood? It was just a stupid dancing tournament. “As you saw, today wasn’t a good day to watch. I seem to be experiencing some kind of difficulty.”

  He frowned. “Are you injured or ill?”

  “Neither. Just clumsy.”

  “Maybe it’s the cold. It can’t be conducive to any sort of athletics.”

  I wished I could blame it on the cold.

  “So I imagine you now have some unanticipated time on your hands.”

  That was a dangerous question to answer. “I guess you could say so.” I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me to help shovel out a walk or something.

  “Will you join me for a drink? I’ve found a tavern that sells excellent mulled wine. It’s not far from here.”

  I had to admit I was kind of impressed that he didn’t care that I was dressed in my old shapeless clothes, and that he didn’t suggest I change first. He was comfortable enough to be seen with me in public. I wouldn’t have expected that from someone who looked as . . . appropriate . . . as Erin seemed to be. “I would like that. Thank you.”

  My boots laced and my torso wrapped, we started down the street. “Though the invitation loses a little something when I can’t buy the drink for you.”

  “You can if you like. The law says I have to be supplied without charge, but nothing prevents us from paying if we have the money. Taro sometimes pays for things.”

  Erin looked surprised. “He receives an allowance?”

  “An allowance?”

  “From his family.”

  “Zaire, no. He plays cards. And bets on horses. Dogs, too, I think.”

  Erin’s mouth tightened before he said, “You mean he gambles.”

  “Aye.”

  We were at the tavern then. It was crowded. There was no seating available, so Erin and I stood crushed into a corner, where we were quickly supplied with large tankards of mulled wine. “What’s wrong with gambling?”

  “I’ve seen too many families destroyed by it,” he answered grimly.

  I was shocked. “How?”

  “People wager their family fortunes and then lose them.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? They bet on the wrong horse. They’re dealt the wrong cards.”

  “No, why would anyone wager their family fortune? There’s always an excellent chance they’ll lose it all. It’s stupid.”

  “It’s not that simple. Gambling does something to people. It makes them crazy, and they make decisions they wouldn’t normally make.”

  “It does this to all people?”

  “Well, no.”

  “So it’s the fault of the person, not the activity.”

  “No. It’s much more than that.”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t going to argue about it. But I couldn’t imagine risking all my money on a horse, and it was so easy to avoid doing it. Just don’t do it. Don’t make the bet. Don’t play cards. Or, stop before you risk losing more than you can afford. It seemed to me that blaming gambling for losing your money was like drinking too much and blaming the alcohol for being drunk. Just stop.

  I took my first taste of the mulled wine. Rich flavor filled my mouth. I usually didn’t like hot wine—it often just tasted sour—but this was gorgeous. I’d have to take better note of the location when I left.

  Erin stared down at his tankard, suddenly appearing ill at ease. I imagined it was an uncharacteristic look for him. “You have a great deal of influence over Risa.”

  That was news to me, but he stated it as though it were an established fact. “I don’t think so.”

  “She talks about you a lot.”

  “Oh.” How very uncomfortable.

  “She feels you are much wiser than your years would normally dictate.”

  “I see.”

  “In fact,” he suddenly chuckled, “she sometimes complains that you are a little too sensible.”

  So it seemed she and Karish had something in common.

  Erin sobered. “She seems really, well, not herself. Have you noticed?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Should I have noticed? Was I being too self-absorbed again? “She seems as she always has to me. But you know her much better than I do.”

  “I’m not sure I do. There’s almost twenty years between us. I’d left our mother’s home when she was very young, just a small child. Since she’s grown we’ve seen each other more, but . . .” He waved a hand as though physically cutting off his words. “It doesn’t matter. It just seems to me that there’s a carelessness about her now. It worries me.”

  “The way she’s spending money?” Because he wasn’t the only one to mention it, and I wasn’t a complete idiot. Usually.

  “That’s part of it. But it’s her work, too. She seems to feel driven to work as long as possible, and she seems to be trying to find the most dangerous routes.”

  That wasn’t something I’d noticed or heard about, but I didn’t see Risa every day. Still, “I’m not sure what I can do about any of that.”

  “Talk to her?”

  “
About what, exactly?” Tell her not to spend money? What did I know about that? Not to take on dangerous assignments? That was the very nature of her job. How could she tell her captain she would take only the safe routes?

  “Just that she should, you know, calm down. Be more like you.”

  I nearly choked on my wine. “Are you mad? Sit her down for a lecture on how she should act like me? How arrogant is that?”

  “I don’t expect you to say it exactly like that. Shields are supposed to be diplomatic, aren’t they?”

  I didn’t think there was enough diplomacy in the world to make that message palatable to anyone. But Erin still looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to give him the impression that I didn’t care. I did care. I just didn’t think there was anything I could, or should, do. “If a good opportunity comes up to say something, I will. That’s the best I can promise.”

  His shoulders lowered in his relief. I had to like someone who showed such concern for a sibling. “I feel your promises are worth a great deal.”

  Oh, no, that didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. “Just because I talk to her doesn’t mean I’ll have any sway over her.”

  “Perhaps not. But it can’t hurt.”

  How very optimistic of him. And here, I had thought, solicitors were supposed to be cynical.

  Chapter Five

  “You promised.” I wasn’t whining. I was merely stating facts. We had just started our watch. It was getting dark. It was quiet. We had all the makings of an unadulterated, boring evening. The perfect opportunity for experimentation.

  He dragged his hands through his hair. “I’m not backing out. I just don’t think we should be doing this now.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?”

  He appeared surprised. “We’re on watch, Lee.” He gestured at the rustic interior of the Stall. “We’re supposed to be concentrating.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Taro Karish, the wild Stallion of the Triple S, playing by the book? Was he serious? “Aye, we’re supposed to be concentrating on the forces. And we will be. Much more than we ever do when we’re playing cards. Besides, nothing has been happening for months.”

  “All the more reason to be particularly diligent. We’re overdue. There’s probably something massive brewing.”

  All right, this was just too strange. Aye, Karish was very responsible. Yes, he always did his work and did it well. But when there was no cause for alarm he saw no reason to waste his time with excessive attention to duty. At least, he never had before. “Are you getting old or something?” I demanded with the intention to be flippant. Then my brain caught up with my tongue and I clapped my hand over my mouth. Oops.

  He looked stunned. “What?”

  “You’re almost thirty, aren’t you?” When was his birthday, anyway?

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, shock sliding into offence. “I am twenty-nine,” he told me, carefully enunciating his words.

  “That’s what I said. Twenty-nine is almost thirty.”

  “And that’s not old.”

  Really? How else did one explain his sudden stodgy adherence to rules? He was supposed to be wild and rebellious. It was written somewhere.

  But pointing out to him that he was old was hardly tactful. Shame on me. Yet it would be an interesting process to watch. The stunning—he had quickly regained his youthful glow and weight upon returning to High Scape—adored, reckless young man having to settle down into middle-age maturity. It had to be awful for a beautiful person, with so much attention focussed on their appearance, watching their youth slip away. A downside to being gorgeous, who would have figured it? I wondered how he would deal with it. Would he accept it with good grace or fight it with every example of denial under the sun?

  Of course, knowing Karish, he would probably only improve with age. Take on some element of dignity that drove people of all ages wild. Aye, that was what would happen. Damned lucky bugger.

  “We have seven hours of uninterrupted time,” I said, bringing us back to a subject I hoped was less touchy. “With no one likely to walk in on us. It’s the perfect opportunity and we’d be derelict if we let it slide.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine, all right. But it’s a waste of time.”

  “It certainly will be if you go into it with that attitude.” All right, don’t nag. Getting irritated wouldn’t accomplish anything. Changing his perspective might. “You can already do things other Sources can’t.” It was interesting to watch a grown man squirm. “There’s no reason to think it’s impossible for you to do something about this before you’ve even tried.”

  “All right, all right,” he snapped with impatience. “Let’s get on with this.”

  Try again. “Nothing will be accomplished if you don’t open your mind to it.”

  He pulled in a long sigh. I could see the tension easing from his frame, his shoulders lowering. Good boy. “I’ll concede the possibility.”

  Ooh. Formality. And he did it so well. “So—” Now what did we do? I had no idea.

  And he could tell. He smirked. Then he took pity on me. “I’ll just try to feel something. See if anything’s going on.”

  “Good start.”

  “Ready?”

  “Of course.”

  The smirk faded into the slightest curl of the lip. “Of course,” he murmured.

  Little adjustments, like small pushes in the air, signalled the lowering of Karish’s internal shields, the natural walls with which he protected himself from the forces of the world. It was not a physical sensation. More mental, I supposed, though that wasn’t quite right either. Fortunately I was never asked to really explain it. Centuries’ worth of historians hadn’t been able to figure it out, or describe it. No reason why I should be able to.

  Sources never lowered their internal shields unless they felt a disaster brewing. They never thought to. Probably they didn’t think they could. And perhaps many of them couldn’t. Karish could, and possibly that was one of the things that made him so different from many other Sources.

  As his shields lowered, I erected my own around him, so only the forces he was inviting in actually came in. The others tried to rush in, too. It was my job to keep them off, keep them from crushing and killing him. At the same time I made sure the forces Karish was channeling didn’t drive his blood into such a huge rush that it burst his heart and his brain and killed him.

  It had been many months since we’d done this, Karish channeling and I shielding him. It suddenly felt like forever. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as when we were dealing with an actual disaster, but it still felt good. And wasn’t good such a weak word? Feeling Karish’s blood flow through his veins as I could never feel my own, being able to slow it down, it gave me a strange feeling of power.

  And through him, there were the forces, the rushing of the earth and sky. I couldn’t touch them myself, not directly. I could work them only through Karish. When he wasn’t channeling I was as blind to the forces as any regular. But when he channeled, a whole other world was revealed to me. A strange world of pressures and colors and impressions that were impossible to grab and define. And I didn’t know how Karish restrained himself from diving into it all the time. If I were a Source I would walk around with my shields down all the time and just feel everything.

  Of course, speaking as his partner, I was glad he didn’t. That would be a nightmare to shield.

  Hey, Dunleavy, try concentrating.

  So I did. And it struck me. “Something’s wrong,” I said.

  “Everything seems normal to me.”

  “No, there’s a difference.” But I wasn’t sure where or what or how.

  He pulled his internal shields back up, and I lowered mine. It was a little difficult to channel and talk at the same time.

  “Neither of us know what High Scape feels like when things are normal, Lee. All the disasters we dealt with were caused by Creol. And now nothing’s been happening for months.”


  He had a point. Creol, the same Source who had had Karish abducted the previous year, had also been able to manipulate the forces in order to cause natural events. His plan had been to destroy High Scape with a natural event, and he had spent years practising to do it. So High Scape had experienced an unusually high frequency of natural events, and had acquired seven Pairs to keep it calm.

  No one had known what was going on. Karish and I had figured it out. And I had manipulated Creol’s shields while he was channeling, resulting in his death.

  I usually tried very hard not to think about that.

  Still, “There’s something off, and it’s not like when Creol was up to his stunts.”

  “Well, I didn’t feel anything.”

  There was a finality about his tone that I didn’t like. “So what? That’s it?”

  Karish raised his hands in a gesture of inquiry. “What can I do if I can’t feel anything? I don’t have anything to work with. Any place to start.”

  “You barely even looked,” I accused him. This was a big problem. It wouldn’t be solved in an instant. It wouldn’t even be understood if all one spared was a glance.

  He sighed. “All right.”

  So we tried again. And to give him credit, he waited longer. While it was work for me it was no day in the sun for him, either, having all that power funneling through him.

  I could feel it again, that oddness, though I couldn’t pinpoint it at all. “There it is again. Can you feel it?” A part of me was frustrated that I couldn’t just reach out a hand and show him.

  “I feel nothing,” he answered. “Well, no, that’s not quite right. I’m not you, after all. Let’s just say I feel nothing out of the ordinary.”

  And what had I done to deserve that shot? Prat. “It’s there.”

  “What’s there?”

  Well, if I could tell him that, the problem would be solved, wouldn’t it? “It’s just off, somewhere in there.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That helps a lot. Thanks.”

  “Like listening to an orchestra, and it’s a good symphony, but the second bassoon is flat.” Aye, that nailed it.