by Sharon Green
“You do owe him plenty, but you’retoo stupid and self involved to know it,” I countered with a snort. “To begin with, if you really were a High talent, no one would have lied about it or tried to deny it. The nobles wanted to find High talents, you see, because they conditioned them with drugs, then sent them out to be part of the empire’s armies of conquest, and generally treated them like slaves. Our group missed all that, because they happened to need people for challenging Blendings meant to face their noble Blendings. And they also needed dupes to send against their Seated Highs, people who were either not strong enough or too full of drugs to win.”
The frown which creased his face was at least partially one of memory, as he’d been thrown into a competition as one of those dupes. I’d been there to see it so I’d mentioned something he couldn’t simply dismiss, and yet I wasn’t about to give him the chance to draw the wrong conclusion.
“But don’t even think about trying to claim that you were drugged,” I said at once. “If you had been you would have behaved differently, so that’s the second proof you’ve refused to accept. The Seated High was only a Middle himself, just a stronger, more practiced one than you, and that’s why he bested you. So that means you’ve been pining away for a position that was being held by someone who wasn’t a High either, but someone who didn’t stand around crying about the lack.”
That comment made him look as though I’d slapped him in the face, but only for a moment. People like him always knew what they knew, and getting them to change their minds took more comments than just one.
“That still doesn’t let Lorand off the hook,” he said after the moment, his face twisting again from that little-boy anger. The man who stood beside him, the one I’d really come to see, simply stood and listened, an expression of droll amusement on his face. After he’d been interrupted that first time he’d made no effort to curtail or join our conversation, but I hadn’t dismissed his presence even a little.
“Lorand still owes me for not giving me any help,” Hat went on with his huffing. “After they cheated to make me lose the competition, those people gave me to someone who made me into a literal slave! I worked till I dropped and was beaten if I didn’t then pick myself up and work some more, and Lorand didn’t make the least effort to get me out of there!”
“The first question which comes to mind is, what makes any of that Lorand’s responsibility?” I countered, folding my arms. “You were given a coach ticket to get you back home, and you cashed it in and drank up and gambled away the money. When you lost more than you had, you tried to get yourself out of trouble by throwing Lorand to the wolves in your place. At the time he didn’t even have copper to give you, but you demanded gold. When they finally let him earn some gold, he paid Meerk to find you and was ready to finance your trip home out of his own pocket. He tracked you down at the competition, but once again you knew better than to listen to what he had to say, and that’s why you ended up as a slave. Not long after that we started to have our own trouble, so why don’t you tell me what you think Lorand could have done to save you from your own stupidity again?”
“That’s not fair!” he blurted, his face flushed and his fists clenched. “It wasn’t my fault, not any of it! Those lousy nobles cheated me, and—”
“And you’rethe only one who was cheated?” I interrupted, still backing him into a corner. “They cheated everyone who came past them, but some of us were able to blame ourselves for not having done anything about them sooner. You, though… Name one thing in your life that turned out badly because of something that was your fault alone. We all have things like that we can point to, as all human beings make mistakes. But it takes an adult to admit to them, so let me hear you say it. You ignored Lorand’s advice, and because of that stupidity you ended up being worked like a slave. Show me that you’refinally becoming an adult worthy of having someone like Lorand as a friend, and say the words convincingly.”
Instead of saying anything at all, he just stood there staring at me with a frown. Confusion and hurt were clear in his gaze, but even then he found it impossible to admit that the trouble he’d had was his own fault. He’d probably spend his life blaming others for his ills, and die filled with bitterness that people had always let him down.
“Is the entertainment over now?” the other man said with a fey expression, looking expectantly back and forth between Hat and me. “No more accusations and protests of innocence? Isn’t it odd that those who are guiltiest are always first to protest how innocent they are.”
“I’ve been taught that most often they actually believe that they’reinnocent,” I said, joining in the game of ignoring what we were really in the middle of. “For one reason or another they can’t handle the truth, so they convince themselves that what they’redoing is right and proper. People don’t do ‘evil,’ they do what’s right and pleasurable and good. The trouble comes in when their definition of those things doesn’t match everyone else’s.”
“You know, I never thought of that,” he replied, now looking interested rather than amused. “I, myself, always do what’s necessary, but others rarely agree that those things are needful. So you believe that it’s their definitions which are at fault?”
“If everyone disagrees with you, chances are good that it’s your definitions which are faulty,” I said, feeling as though I’d already had that conversation. “I’ll grant you that that isn’t always so, that it depends on who the other people are, but if you know you’realways right, you’rejust as bad off as he is. No one is right all the time, and if you don’t know that, you’reout of touch with reality.”
“Why can’t someone be right all the time?” he countered, still speaking calmly and smoothly. “I grant you that most people aren’t, but what makes it so impossible for one person out of the general herd to be perfect? Could it be envy and spite which make it impossible?”
“I’m glad we’respeaking in general terms rather than talking about someone in particular, like yourself,” I returned, my arms still crossed. “If you were silly enough to put yourself forward as perfect, I’d have to point out that a perfect man would hardly have groupmates who’d been poisoned. And that same perfect man would now be facing the person he’d expected and prepared for, not someone else entirely.”
“Ah, but maybe that perfect person wanted his groupmates to be poisoned, so they’d be more easily controlled,” he said with a grin of pure enjoyment. “Let’s not forget that he himself wasn’t poisoned along with everyone else, so that has to count for something. And as far as expecting someone in particular goes, that is surely your conclusion, not necessarily the truth. One does what one can with what one has, after all, and to a certain lower type of person, one hostage is often as good as another. After all, how would your precious friend Lorand feel if you were to tell him that his bosom companion was dead because of you?”
“He’d probably grieve for a while, and then he’d get on with his life,” I replied, fleetingly wondering why we were still just talking. “If you think he’d blame me for that man’s death, you’ve probably made the first mistake of your life. I’m not the one who brought him here, after all, and Lorand has no trouble with putting blame where it properly belongs. And as far as your wanting your groupmates to be poisoned, that would be your prefirst mistake. It may help you to control them now, but what will happen when the counteragent no longer works and they die? In order to save them you’d have to have the antidote, and you don’t have it, do you?”
“When the time comes that they need the antidote, I will have it,” he growled, no longer amused or even interested. “I’m not a High practitioner in Earth magic for nothing, but let’s discuss the antidote you and your groupmates will need. Since time is very quickly running out, where do you imagine you’ll get it?”
“Mistake number three,” I announced happily while throwing even more strength into the only defense against Earth magic I’d been able to think of. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m now numbe
ring the mistakes correctly, but it has to be done in order to avoid confusion. None of us touched the note you sent, because Lorand saw the poison and warned us. Rion used his Air magic to open the thing and protect us, so any sort of antidote is unnecessary. But that goes only for us. If you don’t want to be left without groupmates, forget about this confrontation nonsense and agree to work with Lorand. The two of you can—”
“Nonsense?” he interrupted with more of a screech than a growl, his face twisting into something grotesque. “This nonsense was my idea, and can’t possibly fail to win us the day! Once you and the others are dead, all those stupid peasants will understand just how strong we are and will go back to where they belong without any more foolishness. We will not lose what we have, we will win even more—starting right here and now!”
And with that he launched his attack at me, the attack I’d been expecting from the moment I’d walked in there. I’d given him a chance to surrender, but I’d first provoked him to what I’d hoped was the point where he would refuse the offer. If any of those usurpers lived, they would be a rallying point for every member of the nobility still eager to run things their way. I didn’t know if I’d be able to put the man down, but for the sake of all the people who had been and would be hurt, I had to try.
So I’d woven an invisible shield of Fire magic, hoping that it would have some effect against Earth magic. A shield like that wasn’t supposed to be possible, but I knew there was a way for me to touch another aspect somehow. The knowledge had been tickling around the edges of my mind for quite a while, but I still hadn’t been able to get a grip on it. And then the man’s attack crashed in, and I suddenly felt as though my chest was about to explode.
“Isn’t it marvelous how another person’s heart attack can change a loss to a win?” the man singsonged, a frightening smile on his face. I’d staggered and fallen to my knees, but the pain in my chest hadn’t even let me notice when I hit the carpeting. “I don’t know what you’redoing to interfere with my talent, but it isn’t quite as effective as you’d hoped it would be, is it? You’regoing to die in another minute or so, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
I gasped as I began to run out of air, the pain increasing by the minute. But strangely enough that elusive idea had finally come clear, and I now knew what to do to reach the man. The only problem was that I couldn’t bring my own talent to bear, not with what he was in the midst of doing to me. I had the answer, but would die before I could use it—!
And then the pain suddenly cut off, not completely but enough to make the growing spots of black in front of my eyes begin to fade a bit. I had no idea what had happened, but even as I heard an agony-filled scream start somewhere, I launched the plan I hadn’t been able to use earlier. Woven power was the key, not woven talent, not when the talents were so different one from the other. But power was something we all used, so I built a bridge of power to the center of the man’s talent, and then sent my fires along it. Why I didn’t simply burn him to ash I had no idea, nor was I in any condition to worry about it. I simply did things the hard way, and a second scream sounded in place of the first.
It took some time for me to pull myself together, but the shield I’d used had apparently protected me from lasting, permanent damage. As soon as most of the shakiness left my arms and legs I forced myself to stand, and only then did I understand what had saved me long enough to win the fight. Lorand’s friend Hat lay unmoving on the floor, his hands to his head, his eyes wide and bulging, his face still twisted in the scream he’d died with. He must have interposed his own talent between the other man and me, but he hadn’t been strong enough to protect himself from retaliation. He’d died before my fires had burned into his murderer, which meant he’d given up his own life to preserve mine.
“It looks like something I said actually reached you,” I whispered as I stared down at Hat’s body, fighting to keep my emotions under control. “You risked your own life to save mine, and that’s what I’ll make sure Lorand knows. Now he’ll be able to remember you with the love he always felt, Hat, and I promise I’ll do the same. Thank you for being a worthy friend.”
I couldn’t stop the tears trickling down my cheeks, and wouldn’t have even if I could. What Hat had done deserved the tribute of tears, so I turned and left that horrible room with a film of wetness blurring my vision, giving tribute to a man who would never again have to worry about admitting that something was his fault…
* * *
Delin Moord moaned and moved a bit, then forced his eyes to open. He lay on the carpeting of the room where he’d faced that disgusting slut of Fire magic, and she seemed to have gone. She must have thought she’d killed him with that slicing edge of fire, and something inside his head throbbed with pain. But rather than being dead he was still alive, which meant that he’d be able to find her and pay her back. No slut had ever bested him, and none ever would.
Pushing himself to sitting made him dizzy, but when his vision cleared he was able to see the fool who hadn’t escaped his just vengeance. And the man had been a fool to interfere, as though he were actually the High he imagined rather than the mere Middle he was. Causing a brain aneurysm had settled his hash in a hurry, but not soon enough to keep the slut from doing something to hurt him. He’d definitely have to get her for that, her and all her oh-so-special friends—
A sharp, stabbing pain in his middle made Delin gasp, a completely unexpected pain. And with the pain came sweat breaking out on his forehead, a shakiness to his hands, and a swift, invading chill to rattle his bones. He also noticed the dryness in his throat and mouth, and that made the matter certain. Somehow, in some way, an enemy had managed to poison him! He couldn’t imagine when it could have been done, but the fool doing it had been stupid beyond words. The poison was one Delin was familiar with, and it would be possible to neutralize it without needing to resort to an antidote.
Delin spent a brief moment getting grim pleasure out of the thought of what he would do to the one who was guilty of causing him this extra needed effort, and then he turned to saving himself. The procedure was simple in that the poison was easily identifiable and removable in whatever part of his body it was, and once removed he would quickly return to full health. So he reached inside himself with his talent, and—
The next spasm inside his middle caused him to scream, and this time the sound had an edge of panic to it. He’d reached into himself and should have at least located the poison, but hadn’t been able to see a thing. And he hadn’t had the sense of being inside himself, a practice he was reasonably familiar with. Something was clearly wrong, but what could it possibly be…?
It took a large number of minutes for Delin to finally admit the truth, and by then he lay on the carpeting again, writhing to the increasing pain in his entire body. As wildly impossible as the idea was to consider, that Fire slut had taken his talent rather than his life! She’d burned out every trace of his ability, and even though he knew exactly what could save him, he wasn’t able to perform the act! How could anyone be that cruel, that horribly heartless—!
Agony now touched Delin and made him scream mindlessly, at first just with sound and then with words.
“No, Father, please don’t hurt me again!” he screamed, terrified and needing to escape but knowing there was no escape. “It isn’t right for you to hurt me, it isn’t right!”
“Of course it’s right,” his father replied, just the way he’d always done. “It was right for my father and his friends to do it, and now it’s right for me and my friends. And if it wasn’t right, you’d be able to stop me, wouldn’t you? Go ahead and stop me, Delin, go ahead and try.”
And the adult Delin tried just as hard as the young Delin had, but was just as unsuccessful. So maybe his father had been in the right after all, and he’d been wrong. Delin screamed again, hating that idea and hating the pain, and then all his hatred was done for all time…
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Vallant fought with himself
as he walked along, trying to stop worrying about Tamrissa and simply concentrate on what lay ahead of him. Their timing had really been rotten, but he refused to let that disturb him. He and Tamrissa would have the opportunity to hold each other again, to make love again the way they’d done at first. He’d decided to accept no other possible outcome, and he had enough experience with being stubborn to make the decision stick.
As he walked he also examined the various things used to decorate the corridor, beautiful weavings and delicate carvings and castings. Someone with excellent taste had chosen the pieces, but that someone had also had a lot of gold to spend. On the other hand, having a lot of gold to spend doesn’t guarantee that a person will be visited with sudden good taste. Tamrissa’s late husband was an excellent example of how true that was, as his house had proven that the man hadn’t even had taste in his mouth.
But that line of thought was just a sneaky way his mind had found to think about Tamrissa herself, so Vallant pushed it away with the rest. He thought instead about the edginess he could feel working at the back of his mind, a feeling certainly caused by what he now walked into. If there wasn’t some sort of trap waiting he would eat his former ship, ratlines, sails, and keel. Their enemies could not be trusted under any circumstances, and he’d do well not to forget that.
It took longer than Vallant liked, but eventually he approached an area containing a room that wasn’t empty. The amount and distribution of the water in the room indicated two people rather than one, and that was somewhat puzzling. Twenty or more people would indicate a trap, but what was two supposed to mean? A moment’s thought gave Vallant nothing in the way of an answer, so he walked to the door of the room, opened it, and went in to find out the direct way.