Heroes at Odds

by Moira J. Moore

“And you honestly feel you have the grounds to suggest I’m mismanaging Westsea?” Oddly enough, Fiona sounded more amused than intimidated, and good for her.

  But I was worried. The Emperor didn’t like Fiona. How did I know this? Well, the fact that he had sent some of his Imperial Guards to spy on her was a big clue.

  Or it could be the fact that he had sent an assassin to kill her. I didn’t know if we could trust the word of the assassin, who claimed she had the Emperor’s protection, but we couldn’t just dismiss the possibility, either.

  And even if the assassin hadn’t been hired by the Emperor, there were so many other ways he was abusing his position that it was impossible to predict what he would do next.

  From the day his mother had died, the Emperor had engaged in activities that weren’t included in his legitimate authority. He had demanded taxes from titleholders before he was crowned. He had sent Taro and me from our post in High Scape to Flown Raven, a decision only the Triple S was authorized to make. He had forced Taro to kneel before him and swear an oath of fealty, something no member of the Triple S should be required to do.

  Sometimes really stupid ideas just popped into my head without any logical origin. This was one such occasion. I wondered, just casually, if the Emperor had put Kent up to this. It seemed to me the sort of thing our Monarch would do.

  “I believe the incidents I have already described would lead a prudent titleholder to question her competence.”

  “What about a titleholder whose tenants burned down his gristmill in protest of the fees he charged for the services?”

  I hid my surprise. I hadn’t heard anything about that. It seemed to me a very dangerous, destructive and drastic action. People would have to be infuriated to do something like that, something that risked their own livelihoods as much as Kent’s.

  “That is less damning than having tenants walk away from their land altogether.”

  “I would say that’s a matter of opinion.”

  “The Emperor’s opinion.” And Kent smiled unpleasantly.

  Was that confirmation of my vague suspicion?

  It was so frustrating. I kept hearing about the Emperor. He was meant to be a distant figure, someone spoken of only on some of the larger festival days. I wasn’t supposed to have to worry about what he was thinking. Even if he was a grasping, overreaching prat.

  “It’s not the Emperor’s decision, you know,” said Fiona. “He merely makes an announcement based on the decision of the Council. The Council is quite a different creature nowadays. Times and standards have changed. And the Council is now comprised of a significant number of the merchant class. Whose indiscretions do you think they would consider more egregious?”

  “The merchants are in the minority of the Council.”

  “And you think the remaining members will be unanimous in supporting you?”

  “I think I would know better than you and, more importantly, I’m better known to them. How much time have you spent at court in Erstwhile?”

  That, I thought, was a solid blow. For aside from Emperor Gifford’s coronation, Fiona hadn’t been at Erstwhile at all. That, in my opinion, made her a better titleholder, for she remained with her people and saw to their needs, but she was allowing whatever political power had once been enjoyed by the titleholders of Westsea to be drained away.

  Did Kent have the Emperor’s favor? Would it really matter if he did? Why would the Emperor care? The only interest I’d seen him show toward the estate was in granting Taro the opportunity to take it back from Fiona. So the question was, did he just not want Fiona to have it, and was therefore willing to see anyone else as the titleholder? If so, he might give Kent his support. But if he wanted Taro to have the estate, I couldn’t see him giving it to a third party. He’d have to convince the Council to give the title to Kent, and then turn around and convince them to give it to Taro. That would look ludicrous, indecisive, and it would test the patience of the Council.

  “I am confident both the Emperor and the Council will see that my estate is profitable and stable,” Fiona said to Kent, and she sounded loose and comfortable. “All is well in hand.”

  “Your confidence is rooted in ignorance,” said Kent. “You can sell Westsea to me. I can apply to the Emperor to give it to me. Or I can merely take it from you. The latter two will leave you looking ineffective and incompetent. Others will give thought to taking Centerfield from you. They’ll be successful, due to your failure with Westsea. You’ll be left with nothing.”

  “Your concern is generous, but I assure you, it’s unnecessary.”

  Kent stood for a moment in silence. He looked about the room, at all the people avidly watching the confrontation. Then he smirked and bowed very slightly. “You must do as you think best. Good day, Your Grace.” As he headed for the door, the whispering of the spectators resumed.

  I watched them, picking over this juicy bit of news with disapproval and delight. After they left they would be telling everyone they met about it, predicting who would be successful, Westsea or Kent. At least some of them would feel Fiona would fail.

  Fiona appeared to be deep in thought, tapping her lips with the tip of her index finger. She didn’t look at all alarmed, but I was pretty sure she was merely hiding her emotions with a skill I envied.

  I couldn’t imagine the stress she had to be under. Kent was an ass, but all the problems that he had mentioned, they and more had happened. A weaker person might have collapsed under the weight of it all. I wouldn’t have blamed Fiona if she decided to chuck it all and go back to Centerfield.

  Fiona stood, and the whispering stopped. “I thank you all for your attendance.” If she was at all perturbed by the events of the day, no one would know it by looking at her. “I bid you all good day.”

  Everyone was silent as Fiona crossed the room and climbed the stairs to the second floor, Bailey, her butler, following close behind her. I stayed in place. I didn’t want her to think I was tagging around after her to get her to talk to me. I was sure she wanted to rage in private.

  The mistake in that plan became immediately apparent. Petro Rosen, a pompous squeaking little rat of a man, practically ran to my side. “What does Her Grace plan to do?” he asked.

  I hesitated a moment, surprised. Did he really think I knew? It had just happened. I couldn’t look into her mind. “I have no idea, my lord.” Not that I would tell him if I did.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one to seek information he had no right to expect. “Did Her Grace know Kent was going to challenge her?” some woman whose name I couldn’t remember demanded.

  Had it looked like Fiona had known? Had the woman not been watching? “I have nothing to tell you,” I said quickly. “Excuse me.” I headed for the door.

  That wasn’t good enough. They followed me. “But you’re Her Grace’s confidante,” the woman protested.

  Where had they gotten that idea? “I am not.”

  “You go on those early morning walks with Her Grace and the Wind Watcher.”

  Ah. It really disturbed me that she knew that. Not that it was a secret or anything, but I hated the fact that they were watching me.

  I didn’t want these people chasing me. I stopped and looked at them and let my eyes go out of focus. After a few moments, I blinked, shook my head, and I tried to appear as though I’d forgotten they were there. “My greatest apologies. I must see to some Triple S business.” Nothing got rid of people faster than claiming I had some Triple S duty to perform. As quickly as I could without actually running, I got out of the room and disappeared into another.

  Westsea was one of the wealthiest and most powerful estates in the world. I imagined there were many who craved to have it for those reasons alone. As Fiona’s neighbor, Kent would be well aware of the difficulties Fiona had been experiencing. That he had publicly announced his intention to take the estate suggested to me that he was not going to be dissuaded by mere words.

  Something more was coming. And it would be aggravating.


  I knew I was a selfish person, because right then all I could think of was that I didn’t know how I was going to deal with Kent’s delusions while I was already burdened by those of my family.

  Then I rolled my eyes at myself. It wasn’t my responsibility to deal with Kent. My task was being a Shield. How ’bout I stick with that?

  Chapter Three

  I was not an early riser, one of the ways in which I failed to be the perfect Shield. I liked sleeping. It was often a warm, comforting state. It allowed me to relax in a way I never could while awake. Sometimes a part of me wished I could sleep all the time.

  Still, whenever Fiona woke me by tapping me on the shoulder, I got up. It was good for me, and it was an honor to be chosen. Besides, Fiona never really gave me the option of saying no. She just assumed I could have no objection.

  I dressed silently and joined Fiona just outside the door to the suite. “Sleep well?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Sort of.” It had taken me a while to get to sleep after spending most of the day before avoiding everyone I knew, but once I got to sleep I had slept solidly. “How about you?” She was, after all, the one who had received a genuinely horrific surprise the day before.

  Fiona shrugged. I took that to mean she had slept poorly. She unwrapped a bundle of cloth. “Have a tree tear.”

  Tree tears were shiny little balls of onasin sap mixed with honey. They were tasty and sweet and they cleared the mind and bolstered physical strength for a while. They were, I thought, native to Westsea. At least, I’d never encountered them anywhere else, and I’d been around a fair bit. I loved them. I would miss them once the Triple S finally decided to transfer Taro and me to a new post.

  We made our quiet way out of the manor and into the cool, hazy light that was a typical morning in Flown Raven.

  There were wisps of fog lying close to the ground, an enchanting and serene sight. Sometimes the fog got so thick one couldn’t see more than a cubit into the distance. We never walked on days that had that much fog. And it was one circumstance in which I would refuse to walk, even if Fiona were the sort to insist. I had been lost in the fog once, and though it hadn’t been for long and I had not been in real danger, it had been enough to give me a bit of a fright.

  “So your brother has eyes for our Wind Watcher,” Fiona said to me without notice.

  “Um,” I said intelligently. “I really couldn’t say.” He’d flirted with her a little, but I didn’t know if that actually meant anything. “He said nothing to me.”

  “And I thought Shields were supposed to be perceptive.”

  “Really?” It never ceased to amaze me, the kinds of rumors regulars spread about Shields and Sources. Shields weren’t known for being particularly perceptive among members of the Triple S. Shields focused on themselves and their Sources and, as a rule, little else. “Whoever told you that?”

  Fiona looked at me with curiosity. “So you’re saying you’re not perceptive?” she asked.

  “I don’t believe that’s ever been one of my qualities.” Unfortunately. I would have gotten into a lot less trouble if I’d simply been able to see what was right in front of my face.

  Fiona looked amused. “Well, believe me when I say he was most interested in our dear Roshni. It had my beloved brother grinding his teeth.”

  “I’m pretty sure Dias already has someone he’s interested in back home,” I said, thinking of a letter I’d received from my mother a few months before.

  Fiona looked disappointed. “Then his behavior was ill done.”

  Really? I remembered watching my mother flirt with a man not my father. That had been disturbing. When I had chastised her for it, she had claimed there was nothing wrong with it. Maybe it was a family trait. One I wasn’t particularly proud of. “Did Radia think he was showing genuine interest?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about it.”

  “Ah.” So it was possible that Radia hadn’t felt there was anything unusual about Dias’s behavior.

  “Mika’s handsome.”

  I loved my brothers, but neither of them were what I could call handsome. Not that they were ugly. They were just plain. Like me. Though maybe their blond hair made them more appealing to others. My hair, unforgivably red, always seemed to look a mess.

  “He’s not betrothed, is he?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “So he’s a prospect,” said Fiona.

  “I’m afraid not,” I told her. “He prefers men.”

  “Damn it,” said Fiona.

  “Are you seriously trying to find a match for Radia?”

  “A match is not necessary. Just a man who will keep her attention for a while.”

  “I doubt she would appreciate your efforts.” Such interference would infuriate me.

  “She needs to have children. We need her talent to be passed down.”

  I could understand that concern, but Radia was not a horse with fine bloodlines. It was offensive to pressure people to have children, especially when the desired outcome was to have those children perform a particular task. “Don’t you think you should leave her to it?”

  “She’s not doing anything about it. That’s the problem.”

  “She will when she wants to.”

  “I can’t just let these things drift. We need a Wind Watcher.”

  “You have one.”

  “People need to see that their futures are being taken care of. They need to know there’ll be someone to replace Roshni when the time comes.”

  “This is not something you can control.”

  Fiona glared at me. I was trying to keep my face expressionless. No, I really had no right to speak on this subject. On the other hand, she was talking to me about it. She had to expect a response.

  Then she smiled. “I’m really just trying to put my brother out of his misery. He’s painful to watch.”

  “That he is.”

  We were approaching the village. It was a small but prosperous place, supported as it was by the many titleholders in the area. Right then it was quiet, but in a short while it would be an orb of noise.

  As we usually did on our walks, we went to the miller’s first. By the time we reached her, she was always pulling out her first batch of small bread loafs. Warm bread with fresh butter was one of the best things in the world. I’d never truly appreciated that before coming to Flown Raven. Maybe the walk made it taste better.

  “I heard your family is visiting,” the miller said to me.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “How long will they be staying?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “It’s always nice to have new faces. Traders, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they looking for any connections here?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but then I know almost nothing about such things.”

  She pursed her lips before asking, “They’re your family, aren’t they?”

  “Aye, but I’m a Shield. I have nothing to do with their enterprises.”

  She appeared unimpressed. “Huh.”

  Fiona cleared her throat. “How is everyone doing?” she asked. It sounded like a casual question. I didn’t think it was.

  The miller shrugged. “Some grumbling, of course. Not like before those bastards tried to kill Healer Browne.”

  The bastards were the Imperial Guards the Emperor had sent, allegedly looking for evidence of people pretending to cast spells. Healer Nab Browne did cast spells, but I didn’t think that had actually been observed by the Guards. The Guards had seen her healing people and had assumed the tools and ingredients she had used were quackery obscuring the attempts to cast spells. They hadn’t been able to tell the difference between the ingredients for casting, which they hadn’t discovered, and genuine medication, which they had.

  They hadn’t been planning to kill the healer, just flog her, but the numbers of lashes would have been the end of her. It had been the limit for Fiona, and she�
�d ordered the Guards away in another example of defiance of the Emperor.

  Before that had happened, there had been a lot of people upset about Taro giving away the title, and they had blamed Fiona for that. Her standing up to the Guards had apparently won her some admiration, at least of those who hadn’t later decided to leave.

  “Anything I need to worry about?” Fiona asked.

  The miller shrugged. “Don’t think so.”

  “How about you? Is there something you’re concerned about?”

  “Nothing worthy of my lady’s attention.”

  That, I thought, was a cagey answer.

  Apparently, Fiona thought so, too. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  Fiona tried a couple more times to get something out of the miller, but the woman refused to give even so much as a hint, and Fiona eventually had to give up.

  We left shortly thereafter. We walked around the village, greeting those who were up and about. Fiona asked them all what was happening in their lives, if there was anything they thought she should know. Most of them claimed to have nothing to worry about.

  The fog was burned off by the strengthening sun, and the air became noisier as we made our way back to the manor. The peace of the early morning had been shattered. Everyone was up and moving. The manor was bustling by the time we reached it.

  Walking down the hall toward the dining room, we could hear masculine laughter ringing through the air. We entered the room just in time to hear my mother say, “And then he said, ‘Not without the duck!’”

  An uproarious explosion of merriment ensued. Taro was slapping the table in applause. Tarce was bent over in his chair.

  I’d never seen Tarce laugh before. He looked beautiful and free, the habitual sneer completely gone, his eyes shining. If he looked like that more often, he could probably entice anyone he wanted.

  “You all seem in high spirits,” Fiona commented as she served herself from the side bar. I headed for the coffee.

  “Why should we not?” said Mother. “It is a fine day in a comfortable house with good company and a tasty breakfast. All the ingredients for contentment.”