Heroes' Reward

by Moira J. Moore

  “But the two of you – you were exceptionally talented. Better than everyone else.”

  I hated being considered the best at anything. It seemed to me that if people thought you were good at one thing, they thought you were good at everything, and resented being proven wrong.

  But I understood his concern. His life depended on these people. “Sir, I have spoken to this Pair, and I have no reason to believe they are anything other than competent.”

  Smith Lobien sniffed. “I suppose that will have to do. Good day, Shield Mallorough.”

  I could never be a politician.

  When I returned to my suite, I found the new Pair there, drinking coffee with Taro. My Source wasn’t sitting with them, but was leaning back against the sideboard, sipping tea. That he was keeping his distance meant he was annoyed with them, though one wouldn’t know it from his face or his tone. “There she is now,” he said brightly. “Really, my love, you are ridiculously difficult to find at times.”

  A sour expression briefly flashed across the Shield’s face. I could think of many reasons why he would disapprove of Taro’s words, but I would wager that he was offended by the reminder that Taro and I were lovers.

  Throughout our education, we had been lectured, again and again, on the dangers of indulging in sex with one’s partner. The Bond could be a difficult thing, sometimes creating imbalanced liaisons, soaked with hatred or obsession. Sexual intimacy could exacerbate negative emotions, especially once that connection fell apart, as so many did.

  Reactions to my relationship with Taro from other members of the Triple S varied. Some didn’t care, some thought it was spectacularly stupid, and some thought it was perverted.

  Arrogant brat, judging me.

  “Just saying farewell to some friends,” I explained. And starving from it. I could have done with something involving pastry. “What can I do for you?” I asked Kebit.

  “I’m curious as to why Her Ladyship has been familiarizing us with the area, rather than leaving that task to you as the Triple S instructed,” said Kebit.

  Uppity little tadpole, criticizing me.

  “Her Ladyship expressed an interest in doing so. Given her generosity as a hostess, I thought it basic courtesy to comply with her wishes.”

  I watched the Shield struggle for words. “I was given to understand at the Academy that we were to avoid complying with the wishes of regulars.”

  “You may come to feel, in time, that some of the things the Academy teaches might not be feasible in the world outside those walls.”

  The Shield’s expression became even stiffer. Didn’t like what he was hearing. Or didn’t believe it.

  He would learn. Or he wouldn’t, to the detriment of himself, his Source, and the people they were protecting.

  “Earthquake,” Taro announced, all out of nowhere.

  Which meant it was time to channel. Taro’s shields went down and mine rose to guard him. The forces of the earthquake whirled through him, and he deftly directed them from Flown Raven.

  I could feel Source Ming trying to channel as well. He felt compelled to, as a Source in the area of an event. One Source could give way to another, though, which was how so many Pairs had been able to work together in High Scape. Now Ming conceded to Taro. As he should. He wasn’t the Flown Raven Source yet.

  In a few moments, the event was gone.

  It wasn’t supposed to be that easy. Channelling was normally a struggle, even under the best of circumstances. And it had been more difficult than usual, at first, when we had transferred to Flown Raven. Sources weren’t supposed to be posted to the place of their birth: it made channelling a nightmare. The Source was too closely tied to the land to channel effectively.

  But a strange series of events had taken place. First, I had found a cast that had helped us channel. An inconvenient solution – it meant I always had to carry the necessary ingredients around, and channelling while casting was uncomfortable – but at least I didn’t have to worry about Taro exploding from the pressure.

  Then for some unaccountable reason, it just got easier. I stopped needing the cast, and the channelling ceased to be so vicious and frightening. It began to feel as though being in the land of his birth had made channelling almost effortless to Taro, instead of more difficult.

  It was unprecedented, as far as I knew. It made no sense. But hey, it worked, so who cared?

  Ming and Kebit were gaping at us. “I’ve never seen a channelling achieved so quickly,” said Ming.

  “We have been doing this for eight years,” Taro pointed out.

  “You’ll be wanting those records,” I said in a pathetic attempt to change the subject. We didn’t need even more speculation about unusual abilities being sent back to the council. “I’ll get them for you.”

  Kebit expressed no further distaste for Taro and me over the following few days. Perhaps we had impressed Kebit and Ming to the point that they didn’t care that we were violating Triple S policy so severely. Sufficient skill often rendered the breach of rules irrelevant, I’d noticed.

  Chapter Three

  We had a mild set-to with Fiona over how much we should take with us. If it had been left up to her, we would have ended up with two extra horses just to carry the additional clothes and knickknacks. We pointed out that if we had too much, especially of the quality upon which Fiona had insisted, we might alienate some of the regulars we encountered. Some felt we received too much for little – or no – labour.

  Or we could get robbed. That had happened to us before.

  All right, so we didn’t actually win that dispute vocally. We just gave most of our possessions away while out of her sight. She glared at us when it was time to say farewell, but it was too late for her to do anything about it.

  It was strange, leaving Flown Raven. Aside from visits to neighbours, I had never really left the area since Taro and I first settled there. For the past few years, I hadn’t even thought of going anywhere else. Aside from letters and some rumours, I’d pretty much forgotten about the rest of the world.

  That couldn’t be good, could it?

  And I actually felt a little intimidated about the journey, which made no sense at all. I’d struck out to various places since leaving the Academy, all over the continent and down to the Southern Islands. How could I possibly feel apprehensive about a relatively short jaunt?

  I was relieved when we approached the first village, Fair Stop, a lively place close enough to Flown Raven that its people regularly attended our market days.

  But as the residents watched us ride in, there was a silence we hadn’t encountered the last time we were there, during our initial journey to Flown Raven. It felt like genuine hostility. People glared at us as though they thought we had no right to be there, and it was discomforting. “Maybe we should ride through,” I suggested in a low voice.

  “It’ll be dark, soon,” Taro pointed out.

  So we’d light a fire and hunker down. We’d done it many times before.

  And then an older man, hair gray and thinning, wearing clothing that was too big for him, announced, “We have no little ones for you, so you might as well move on.”

  Little ones? Why would we want anyone’s children?

  Taro appeared baffled as well. “I don’t understand.”

  Another man, younger and in a higher quality of clothing, jeered, “We’re not stupid. We’ve heard the stories. The Triple S snatches children from their parents, no matter what anyone feels.”

  Ah. That happened sometimes. Some parents resented the Triple S taking their children when it was discovered they had talent. The Triple S had no choice, though. Sources were, eventually, driven to channel when presented with an event, and if they didn’t have a Shield, they would end up dead from their efforts.

  In addition, Sources and Shields needed to be separated as children and kept in different academies until they were judged mature enough to handle the emotional turmoil Bonding could cause. If an undiscovered Source child en
countered an undiscovered Shield child who was meant to be her partner later in life, they might Bond, and the repercussions could be horrific. Insanity was a possibility.

  But I wasn’t going to try explaining that. A malevolent crowd was gathering, and anything I said to defend the motives for Triple S practices would be interpreted as insulting excuses. “We’re just here to spend the night,” I said. “We haven’t heard of any children here with the talent.”

  Though if we found any, we would have to take them with us. If the residents let us. Right then, I wasn’t sure they would. I would have to inform the Triple S of the circumstances, and they would have to send people to take the child.

  The young man snorted derisively.

  “We’ve lived in Flown Raven for five years,” Taro explained. “The people around here mean a lot to us.”

  Taro could be very persuasive. He had learned when to flirt, when to charm, when to lay on aristocratic arrogance, and when to be sincere. This time, he chose the last.

  His simple few words, and perhaps the fact that he didn’t actually disagree with anyone, seemed to pacify them a little. Not completely, but enough that I didn’t fear the innkeeper had spat in the stirred potatoes he later served me in his tap room. Still, there was very little conversation from the other patrons as we ate. I was sure everyone was watching us, and it felt horrible.

  Taro and I said nothing. We ate as quickly as we could and escaped to the room we had rented.

  “I hate being surrounded by regulars who despise us.” I rubbed my arms. “It makes me feel naked.” Or exposed. Vulnerable.

  Taro smiled. “Maybe you should give that a try.”

  “What?”

  “Walk around naked. It would surely tame their displeasure.”

  “I think you should be the one to make that attempt. You’re the beautiful one.”

  “We could both do it. To make sure we satisfy everyone’s tastes.”

  I was no beauty. I was rather plain, in fact. I lacked the stature to be tall, but was not short enough to be considered petite. I was neither curvaceous nor slender. My facial features could only be described as ordinary. The only aspect of my appearance that might be said to stand out was my red hair.

  “Sure,” I said. “You go first.”

  Suddenly, there was an enormous clatter down on the first floor, the scrape of wooden furniture being slid and tossed about, and a voice shouting. “Where are they?”

  Oh, that could not be good.

  “You know what happened to Bellus, and you take them in? You spineless bastard!”

  “Not these two,” I heard the innkeeper assert.

  “They’re Triple S!”

  “They’ve been posted at Flown Raven for five years,” the innkeeper responded. “They wouldn’t have been at the Academies when Bellus was there.”

  The shouter clearly found the innkeeper unconvincing. “Get out of my way!”

  This was followed by pounding up the stairs.

  I reached out for the bar for the door, only to realise there wasn’t one. What kind of inn was this, that the patrons were rendered unable to bar their doors?

  We heard the door to a room down the hall slam open and bounce off the wall. Then swearing. Either because the door had rebounded back into the man’s face – that was what it sounded like – or because we weren’t there.

  “Stop destroying my place, Colin!” The innkeeper was trying to sound forceful, I thought, but was coming off as fearful.

  “Do you want to bring the Triple S down on us?” another man shouted.

  “What can they do to us?” Colin demanded. “What haven’t they already done?”

  Another door crashed.

  The one large piece of furniture in the room was the bed. It had a heavy wooden frame. That could probably secure the door. Taro and I stood at either end and heaved.

  And it didn’t move a fraction. The bloody thing weighed so much we couldn’t shift it.

  Another room was invaded. It was occupied. There were startled exclamations and a woman demanded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Taro stood before our door, hands placed flat against the wood, feet wide on the floor. But here was the thing: for a man, Taro was fairly short and slight. I didn’t think he could hold off a determined man of regular size. The fact that two men were attempting to restrain Colin and failing at it suggested Colin might be larger than most.

  I stepped forward to lend my weight – more so no one could claim I just stood there and did nothing than with any belief I would be able to actually help – just in time to press against the door as it was shoved open.

  It pushed into our room about a hand span before our weight forced it closed. This, of course, alerted Colin to the fact that he now had the right room. Perhaps we should have hidden under the bed instead of trying to move it.

  I didn’t know exactly how he hit the door the second time, but the power of it sent Taro and me stumbling back into the centre of the small room. The door slammed against the wall.

  Colin was a big man, his head nearly touching the ceiling, his shoulders broad to a degree that I would have found pleasing in other circumstances. His hair was solid gray, his very brown face – from the sun, not natural colour – was heavily lined, but despite his age, he was all solid muscle.

  The innkeeper and a third man tumbled in after him.

  Colin looked at Taro, he looked at me, he looked at Taro again, and then he punched my Source right in the face. The impact of it hurled Taro back against the nearest wall, his hands covering his nose.

  Colin charged at him again, but the innkeeper leapt on his back while the third man kicked him in the ankle. Colin went down, and the lack of space had him falling against the tiny vanity, with its hard wooden corners, before he hit the floor.

  “That’s enough, Colin, damn you!” the innkeeper shouted.

  I jumped over Colin to get to Taro. He’d removed one hand from his face and his fingers were covered with blood. “Hell,” I said, resisting the urge to touch. “Is it broken?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He sounded certain. Thank Zaire. Taro could ease the pain of others – and heal them to some degree, I suspected, though he denied it – by touching them and using a particular form of channelling he’d developed while still at the Source Academy. Unfortunately, he couldn’t manage his own pain, or heal himself.

  I turned towards Colin, who was being held to the floor by the other two men. His face was dark red. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  At this point, Colin was gasping heavily. He appeared too enraged to speak.

  “His son was a Shield,” the innkeeper explained. “He killed himself.”

  My anger drained away. What a terrible thing. I couldn’t even imagine how devastating it would be for a parent to lose a child in such a way. “I’m truly sorry.”

  Colin regained some control over his breathing. “No one would Bond with him. He went to Matching after Matching, but he never got picked.”

  That happened to a lot of Shields, because there were many more Shields than Sources. It was unfortunate. I couldn’t imagine living as an unBonded Shield. It meant no posts and no ability to use one’s skills after years of training. But that wasn’t something the Triple S could control. They couldn’t determine who Bonded and who didn’t.

  “He was a good lad,” Colin continued, almost spitting the words out. “Smart. A hard worker. Treated everyone real good. Played a lute beautifully, even though he was just a little one when the Triple S took him away. I didn’t know what all they taught him, but his whole life turned to learning to be a Shield, to take care of a Source. Only he never got the chance, did he? All that work, giving up a normal life, and it was all for nothing. And after a while they told him he was too old, and he had no special skills, couldn’t even teach. He was going to be pushing a broom. He could have been so much here, and he was to be turned into the lowest kind of servant.”

&
nbsp; Yes, that happened. The Academies needed only so many professors, so many to administrate affairs. Some unBonded Shields ended up doing repairs and cleaning the buildings. They didn’t have to. After the Triple S gave up on trying to find a match for a Shield, the Shield was given the option of leaving, of going anywhere they wanted. They still wore the braid, were still entitled to support from the regulars.

  Surprisingly few took this option, and many of those who did ultimately returned to the Academy. Some weren’t prepared to spend the rest of their lives doing nothing, as they weren’t permitted to assume any occupation. Some weren’t able to handle the scorn of regulars who were forced to provide resources to a Shield that did nothing in return. Some found the prospect of living outside the walls of the Academy without the support of a Source intimidating. Some weren’t prepared to go out into the world, even return to their original homes and families, as failures.

  “So what was wrong with him, eh?” Colin demanded, of Taro. When Taro failed to respond, the man practically shouted, “Hey! Source! You’re going to listen to me!”

  The innkeeper and his pal seemed to think Colin had calmed down enough to be let up off the floor. That wasn’t an estimate I agreed with, but when Colin stood, he didn’t charge again, angry though he was.

  “Did he not come from a good enough family? Like this one?” He nodded at me. I was surprised he knew anything about my family. “Was it because he came from a farming family in an unimportant village no one had ever heard of?”

  Taro cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “Anything I do say would be inadequate. I feel deeply for you, your family, and your son.”

  So did I. I didn’t blame Colin for his rage, misdirected though it was.

  “We don’t really select Shields in that way,” Taro explained in a soft voice. “I didn’t look at all the Shields at the Matching and decide I wanted Shield Mallorough.” He threw me an apologetic look, which wasn’t necessary. I knew how it all worked. And, well, I hadn’t exactly wanted Taro, either. “It’s something that just happens. No one knows why.”