Heroes' Reward

by Moira J. Moore

  Ideas came to me, ideas about crippling their efforts. I would divide them into groups. Not just the bad ones from the better ones. Maybe smaller, more numerous units. Teach them all different things, so that when they talked to each other, they wouldn’t have anything in common to say. Praise some too highly, denigrate the worst. That might make them dislike each other, and most people couldn’t work well with people they didn’t like.

  After a couple of hours, I thanked them and dismissed them. Dench chose to remain behind. “You didn’t mention the black cloud cast,” he pointed out in a mild tone.

  “I didn’t see anyone demonstrate the kind of skill I consider necessary to perform a cast of that difficulty.” This was not actually a lie. “Are there some able to do so?”

  “The only ones who had acquired the skill died in the prison riot.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Sort of. They were people who died, but they were also people helping Gifford engage in cruel, reprehensible acts. I wasn’t sure how to feel.

  Dench shrugged. I supposed he didn’t care. “But you will teach us in time.”

  “Of course, once I know it’s safe to do so.”

  That was a lie.

  “Excellent.” He bowed again and left.

  Really, I wasn’t entitled to a bow, but while I hadn’t been there long, I thought I was beginning to see how Erstwhile worked. Or, rather, didn’t work.

  No one actually knew the rules because the rules changed all the time. People didn’t know what they could do, what anyone else could do. Probably everyone was spying on everyone else, and everyone knew it. Gifford demeaned us by having Taro running errands, but the casters seemed to think I was a route to the Emperor’s ear. They didn’t know how to treat me, so they sort of went all over the place. The casters bowed to me because I had, for the moment, been put in a position of authority over them, and they assumed I would be reporting about them to someone. But they couldn’t get too attached to me, either. I might be executed the next day.

  How could a government run that way? How could anything?

  As we had in Shidonee’s Gap – perhaps this had been inspired by our schedule at the Arena – I was to teach the casters in the morning, and then Taro and I were to teach the Pairs in the afternoon. I went looking for Taro, who wasn’t likely to be playing cards but fetching wine and delivering messages.

  And that was what he was doing, so it took me ages to track him down. “Ready to go?” I asked wrily. “Or do we have an excuse to skip it all?”

  “I wish,” he muttered.

  Another Imperial Guard showed us to another building that looked exactly like the building the casters were in, but in a different part of the city. As though the two groups were being kept apart deliberately. Interesting.

  There were no Pairs waiting for us. The Guard left to round them up. He didn’t leave the building, so I assumed the Pairs were just waiting in other rooms. It was reasonable to believe that they’d known we were coming, and at what time. So why hadn’t they gathered in the large, empty wooden room that was clearly built for lessons?

  To make some kind of point?

  The first Pair to be brought in was one I hadn’t seen in years, but remembered very well.

  Shield Miho Ogawa and Source Val Tenneson had been on the High Scape roster when Taro and I had first been posted there. A particularly brutal channelling had killed off all Pairs other than Ogawa and Tenneson and Taro and me. The experience had left Ogawa terrified of Shielding again, fearing it so much that the next time Tenneson channelled, Ogawa couldn’t force herself to protect him. This would have killed both of them.

  I had happened to be visiting with them at the time, and had been forced to step in and Shield Tenneson myself. One wasn’t supposed to Shield someone else’s Source. It was not only discourteous but more dangerous and difficult than Shielding one’s own Source. In this instance, however, I was able to do it.

  Ogawa had immediately resented it. I had saved both of their lives, as well as potentially thousands of lives among High Scape’s residents, but Ogawa had accused me of showing off at her expense. She hadn’t forgiven me before the Triple S had called her and Tenneson back to Shidonee’s Gap.

  It had been the end of a fledgling friendship. I hadn’t heard any word of them since then, and I had pretty much forgotten about them.

  From the look of her, Ogawa still hadn’t forgiven me for stepping on her toes.

  Tenneson hadn’t demonstrated any animosity at the time. He’d been reasonable. I didn’t know what he was feeling right then, though. I couldn’t decipher him.

  “Ogawa, Tenneson,” I greeted them. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  Ogawa snorted. “No reason why you should,” she said scornfully.

  True.

  “Of course, we weren’t so honoured as to be summoned here,” she added. “Only Karish and Mallorough are worthy of being the Erstwhile Pair.”

  When had she come to feel such high regard for a position most Pairs considered something of a joke and a waste of their skills? I asked, “So you chose to come here?”

  “The Triple S was never going to let us channel again,” Ogawa said bitterly. “Even when I promised I could Shield again, it didn’t matter. The council told us we might as well accept we were never going to be anything more than staff to them. They told us we could go wherever we felt like, to leech off the regulars while giving nothing in return. So when the Emperor sent out his invitations, we came here. It was the only way we were going to do what we’d been trained to do.”

  Other Pairs had been drifting in as she spoke. “Were you promised land too?” I asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Some of the others seemed shocked. And then a Source hissed at Ogawa, “The Emperor promised you land?”

  “No,” Ogawa responded quickly.

  And people called me a bad liar.

  To stir the tension up a little more, I said, “That’s what I heard.”

  “You heard wrong,” Ogawa snapped.

  I shrugged.

  Most of the Pairs glared at Ogawa. It appeared they believed me over her. Interesting.

  More Pairs trickled in. I counted nineteen in all. Considerably fewer than had been working at the Arena when I’d been summoned. Good. Maybe the Triple S would be able to convince Gifford to give up his paranoid plans by pointing out their superior numbers.

  Once they were all there, Taro clapped his hands. “All right, everyone outside. We’re going to start with something simple.”

  ‘Something simple’ was moving the soil. Some Sources could make the ground shift around a bit, but only the top soil, and not far. Which made sense, I supposed. Pairs with a lot of talent were much in demand. Those that weren’t felt denigrated by inferior posts or no posts at all. The Emperor might not have been able to lure in the best.

  Ogawa and Tenneson were one of the few Pairs to move soil.

  “This is inexcusable,” said Taro, feigning disgust. “Who’s been teaching you?”

  “Source Bertsan and Shield Delis,” Ogawa said shortly.

  The previous Erstwhile Pair.

  “They weren’t very good,” Ogawa continued. “The Emperor was displeased. They were executed.”

  Oh gods. Really? Had he made up a crime for them, too, or had he simply used lack of talent as an excuse? Either way, how could I afford to let the casters wallow in ignorance? I would make me partially responsible for their deaths.

  No. They were choosing to take their chances with Gifford, knowing what he was like. They were anxious to learn the black cloud cast, which was meant to kill. Their blood would not be on my hands.

  Really.

  If Taro felt any apprehension, he hid it well. “I can’t do anything with you until you can all move more soil,” he said. “Do it again.”

  Ogawa crossed her arms. “That’s the instruction from the great Source Karish, the Stallion of the Triple S?”

  It had been ages since we’d heard that wr
etched moniker, one pinned on Taro when he was still in the Academy, one that had followed him into the world outside, to his horror. It hadn’t been a compliment. It was meant to imply that Taro was nothing but flash who would sleep with anyone who breathed.

  People had stopped referring to him in that way in Flown Raven. I’d almost forgotten about it.

  Taro didn’t respond to Ogawa’s dig. “I learned how to shift soil by watching another Source. Some of you can already do it. The others can watch. Then you can practise and actually put some effort into it. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  “This is how he got everyone on the continent to sleep with him?” one of the Shields muttered.

  Being in Erstwhile had to be making me violent, because I really wanted to stomp over to the woman and give her a smack.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Taro and I were unseeable.

  Thanks to Natson’s book, we knew where Gifford’s office was, and Taro was working the lock. It was taking him longer than I liked. I bit my tongue to prevent myself from asking Taro if he was sure he knew what he was doing.

  We didn’t have a decent plan for getting information. I’d hoped that by this time, nearly two weeks after our arrival, Taro would have charmed someone into telling us something useful, but no one would talk to us. Or even around us. They’d bow to us when they couldn’t pretend we weren’t there, they would exchange shallow greetings with stiff smiles. They no doubt knew we were supposed to relay to the Emperor everything we heard them say, and they were protecting themselves.

  We didn’t want to linger in Erstwhile any longer than we had to. That meant we had to take some risks: collect as much information as we could and take the first chance to escape. We couldn’t be sure whether Gifford’s private office would have anything worth seeing, but it was the only place we could think of.

  It was the middle of the night, and every time an Imperial Guard walked by, as they did at frequent intervals, we had to stand still and hold our breath and fight the certainty that the Guards could see us. It was one of the reasons it was taking Taro as long as it was to jack the lock.

  And then he finally, finally did, and we eased across the threshold with the door opened at the tiniest crack we could manage.

  There was no one in the office. One good piece of luck.

  We’d decided we had to risk a couple of candles in order to thoroughly search the room. We lit two, the glow they emitted faint in the darkness of the large room.

  We started at the enormous desk. Each drawer was locked, but those locks were simpler than the one on the door, so Taro quickly had them clicking.

  There was a scant pile of documents in one drawer. Some were letters from titleholders and merchants complaining of taxes pushed up too high, regulations too restrictive, and the replacement of their people by those chosen by Gifford.

  Brave, idiotic people to be sending words of disapproval.

  Included in the documents was a list of names. The names on the left side of the document, it was written, were to be subjected to a mock trial and sentenced to execution. Then all of their goods were to be given to the people listed on the right side of the document. Four of the names on the left were staying at the palace.

  The execution warrants had already been signed by Gifford.

  The document included a schedule for the trials. None for the next couple of weeks. We had a bit of time.

  There was nothing else in the desk.

  Moving on, we searched the book shelves, flipping through the books themselves. We stumbled across a shelf that had been turned into a locked cabinet. We wouldn’t have seen it in the dim light had we not been searching the shelves so carefully.

  Taro cracked that lock, too.

  Inside the cabinet were over a hundred small clay pots with black corks. I picked one of them and pulled out the cork. The pot was filled by a fine gray powder. I stuck my finger in, drew it out, and sniffed the residue. And was horrified. “These are human ashes!”

  Taro froze for a moment, and then he asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Why else would ashes be locked up?”

  Human ashes were thought to add power to casts. The ashes were usually added to the traditional components of a spell. I didn’t know if the ashes actually did what they were thought to do. I’d never used them in that way, because it was disgusting.

  There had been a thriving trade in human ashes in High Reach. People had been digging up the ashes of those who had been fortunate during their lives. The ashes were then sold to casters.

  When the burial grounds of High Scape started running low on dead fortunate people, the procurers of the ashes had turned to murder to keep up their supply. There had been some dispute as to whether a murder victim could be considered fortunate, no matter what their life before had been. It appeared Gifford had decided they could.

  These ashes had been made from those Gifford had ordered executed, I was sure of it.

  I wondered why I hadn’t been told of them. I was teaching Gifford’s casters, and ashes were sometimes a part of casting.

  Maybe he didn’t trust me.

  “We have to spoil these somehow,” I said.

  “With what?” Taro asked.

  I had no idea. I could only improvise, using whatever was in the room. “Ashes from the fireplace,” I suggested. “Ink from the desk. Ink can’t be a substance for spreading ashes. Ink doesn’t spread well enough.”

  “Ink will make the ashes clump. It will be obvious something was done to them.”

  “We can put the ink on the bottom of the corks. No one will see it.”

  “How will that work?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Maybe it will soil the air in the pots.” I knew it was weak. I couldn’t think of anything else.

  I gathered up some of the pots and carried them to the hearth. Taro did the same. It was disturbing to see the pots floating through the air.

  As swiftly as we could, we poured in a small pinch of wooden ash in each pot and mixed it in with a finger.

  It was disgusting, handling human ashes in that way. Desecrating them. The ash was visible on our fingers. Sickening.

  Once we were done, we transferred the pots to the desk and dabbed ink on the bottom of each cork.

  It seemed to take forever. The light of dawn was sneaking in when we finally began returning the pots to the cabinet.

  Before we were done, the door started to open.

  We blew out the candles.

  “Why is this unlocked?” I heard Gifford grumble.

  I saw the cabinet close, and Taro’s fingers disappeared. Curled into his fists, I imagined. I scooped the last of the pots into my arms and ducked under the desk, shoving the pots between me and the desk-front.

  “I’ll speak with Swanis, Your Majesty,” said Green, referring to one of the maids.

  Damn. I hoped we hadn’t gotten someone into serious trouble.

  “We don’t care for many of the people you have brought to the palace,” said Gifford. “They always seem to be insolent, incompetent, or untrustworthy.”

  I heard him approach. My heart pounded faster. But instead of sitting at the desk, he pulled the chair away from it and collapsed into it.

  I pressed my lips together to stop a sigh of relief that really wasn’t warranted.

  “I apologise for my failures, Your Majesty. I fear it is more and more difficult to find people possessed of true loyalty. That is no excuse, of course. I shall do better.”

  “Damn Triple S,” Gifford hissed. “Their hands are everywhere, soiling the proper order of things. No one remembers their place.”

  Green delicately cleared her throat. “Perhaps the elevation of Source Karish and Shield Mallorough – ”

  “We won’t hear ill of Karish!”

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but the Triple S may find the favour shown to their most prestigious Pair a reason to feel more powerful than they should.”

  “That
is not the responsibility of Karish,” Gifford stated in a harsh tone. “He has never shown any ambition. He abjured his title and refused it when it was offered to him a second time. At any time there has been a clash of interests between the monarchy and the Triple S, Source Karish has supported the monarch. He has sworn loyalty to Us. He participated in the trial of his own cousin with honesty. We have proof he wasn’t involved in the riot at the prison. He has made no attempt to contact anyone outside of the city. He has given Us no reason to doubt his honour.”

  “That is Karish’s behaviour, Your Majesty,” Green pointed out. “We have no reason to believe Mallorough shares his allegiance.”

  “She has shown no ambition, either. She has made no contact with anyone. She is his Shield and will walk the path he chooses.”

  After what had happened to Tarce, we didn’t dare write any letters. We would have to wait until we left Erstwhile before getting any information to anyone.

  “Perhaps a small test, Your Majesty.”

  “You doubt Our insight?” Gifford demanded sharply.

  “No, no, Your Majesty. Please forgive me.”

  Green certainly was doing a lot of grovelling.

  “Are you well, Your Majesty?” Green asked. “Your Majesty rose very early, and has an alarming pallor.”

  An abrupt change of subject, perhaps to distract the Emperor from his displeasure with Green.

  “Our dreams were not restful.”

  “Shall I ring for ellish wine?”

  “It makes Us feel worse almost as often as it eases.”

  “It will help Your Majesty sleep.”

  “There is too much to do today.”

  “I can speak for Your Majesty.”

  “No!” Gifford snapped.

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but Lord Freund has been displaying some questionable behaviour. Delay in addressing this behaviour may be dangerous.”

  Freund was one of the names on the execution list.

  “We have witnessed no odd behaviour,” Gifford said.

  I frowned. Did he not remember signing the execution order?

  Or had he not signed it at all? Had someone else applied his signature?