Moira J. Moore - Heroes at Risk

by Moira J. Moore

  Doran emitted another false laugh. “You mean what you would have been, if you hadn’t been born a Source?”

  Ouch. That was a telling blow. Because it was true. I adored Taro, and he took his responsibilities as a Source seriously, but I had a hard time believing that if those responsibilities hadn’t been imposed upon him by an accident of birth, he would have chosen to be industrious in some other way. Would he have ever developed the gumption to break out of the seclusion in which his family had held him? Though, if he weren’t a Source, and didn’t express himself in the nonsensical manner Sources sometimes employed, his parents wouldn’t have thought him mad, and probably wouldn’t have locked him in his room until he was eleven. Instead, they would have raised him to be the second son he was, with an older brother who died from his philandering, and apparently a father and a mother who had much the same habits. Would Taro have been able to fashion himself into something different? I couldn’t help but doubt it.

  “And everyone knows it’s the Shield who does all the work in any Pair.” Just like that, Doran had swung from forced humor to unreasonable anger. “Shields make plans and study maps and learn about things and write reports. Sources just flit around and open themselves to whatever disasters might occur. And from what I’ve been hearing, there’s been little of that around here lately.”

  “That’s not fair,” I objected, wondering how he’d heard that. The regulars should never know whether events were happening or not, not if the Pairs were doing their jobs properly. Someone had to have been telling him that, and it hadn’t been me.

  “No, it’s not,” Doran agreed, taking a different meaning from my words than I’d intended. “But it is correct, isn’t it?”

  “No,” I asserted, my voice weaker than I liked. All the tension in the air was giving me a headache.

  “As though your opinion mattered,” Taro sneered. “What would you know of Sources and Shields? Nothing but what we choose to let you know.”

  “I know you’re not lovers,” said Doran. “Or, you’re not supposed to be. That’s considered something of a perversion among your kind, isn’t it?”

  Nausea erupted in my stomach. It was breathtakingly painful.

  “It happens all the time,” said Taro, bending the truth a little. “And you regulars love all those romance novels and plays that drone on about the love between Source and Shield being unlike any other.”

  When had Taro been reading romance novels?

  “That’s fiction,” Doran jeered. “Though I can understand if the distinction eludes you. There are other sources of information, you know, books that speak of what the bond is truly like, and what it’s supposed to be, and that bringing any sexual element into it is rare, because it is so very wrong. Base. A perversion of something meant to be pure.”

  “Perversion.” That word again. I wanted to object to its use, but I couldn’t spare the air to speak. Horrible cramps were developing in my stomach, and it was all I could do not to curl into a ball and moan.

  “I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed that Lee would allow herself to be lured into such perversion.”

  Hey! Who the hell gave him the right to be disappointed in me?

  “But she can’t be blamed. She was so young when she met you.”

  I wasn’t that young. Twenty-one. Most were hard at labor and parenthood long before that age.

  “I can imagine how someone like you would appear to someone so sheltered and immature. The noble bloodline and the flashy looks. And no doubt she was taught to worship Sources at that school of hers.”

  These words sounded so familiar. Who had said them? Or was it just a common assumption made by all who met me? Did I really appear that weak? Was I that weak?

  Apparently. I was sleeping with the man, after all.

  “I am confident,” Doran continued, “that exposure to someone normal will assist her in seeing how wrong her infatuation with you is, and she will end it. She is, at her core, a sensible woman.”

  I was seeing something, all right. A whole new side to Doran that I really didn’t like. I didn’t understand it. I thought Doran really liked Taro. He saw him as a sort of rival, and he couldn’t be thrilled with that, but everything Doran had ever said about Taro had implied admiration and respect. Where had all this disdain been hiding?

  “And you think you are the someone normal she’ll be using as a comparison?” Taro asked with an unpleasant smile. “She is interested in you only for your similarities to me, because she considers you a safer version of me.”

  That was not true. The two men were hugely different. Doran was less moody, less complicated, and I could be fairly confident that with him, I wasn’t merely one among many.

  “Please,” Doran sneered. “What she appreciates about me is how I am different from you. I’m stable and reliable.”

  “How romantic.” Taro snickered.

  “Deride it all you like, but it doesn’t change this basic, fundamental truth. You’re the sort a woman plays around with. I’m the sort she marries.”

  What a pile of bull. How dare he say something like that? How dare he? And what did he know about it, anyway? And when did he turn into a bastard?

  I wasn’t marrying anyone. The mere mention of marriage was stupid, and I didn’t believe for an instant that Doran was actually interested in marrying me. This was a game he was playing, only I couldn’t decipher the point of it.

  Taro didn’t seem at all moved by Doran’s insult. There was no real reason why he should be, I supposed. He knew Doran was no threat to him. Yet he didn’t seem anxious to end the argument. “If you are the sort one marries, surely you have an understanding of procedure, duty and tradition.”

  “I’m not going to issue a challenge over Lee,” said Doran. “It’s barbaric and stupid.”

  “No more than trying to slither your way in between us without properly declaring your intentions.”

  “I did declare my intentions,” said Doran. “To Lee.”

  Taro looked at me, and I would have crawled under the settee to avoid his gaze if it wouldn’t have taken too much effort. “I said properly declaring your intentions.”

  “To you?” Doran snorted. “Why do you keep trying to draw me into a lineage challenge? Do you think yourself at an advantage, because you’re higher born than I? From what I’ve heard, your parents kept you in a box in a cellar until they shipped you off to the Academy.”

  “Get out.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d formed any intention of saying them. They were spoken too softly, though, for either man to hear me.

  “You would be the sort to listen to rumor,” Taro sneered.

  “No rumor,” said Doran. “Straight from a member of your own family, who was only too willing to tell me how everyone thought you a mad idiot, and that some still weren’t convinced they weren’t at least half right.”

  “Get out!” This time I’d pulled in a deep breath before I spoke, the words coming out in a shout that broke the air of the genteel restraint the men had been exhibiting.

  Other than silence, I couldn’t say what Taro’s reaction was. I was looking at Doran, who was watching me in shock.

  “Get out now,” I ordered.

  He seemed surprised by my words. How was that possible? How could he think I would just sit by and watch him denigrate my Source in such a foul manner? “Lee?”

  “That’s Shield Mallorough to you. Leave.” I was infuriated when he didn’t obey. This was my room in my home.

  “Lee, I know it’s appalling of us to argue in front of you, but you mustn’t overreact.”

  “Get out now!” I shouted again, and the effort it took caused my stomach to crush in on itself so hard I couldn’t help a little yip of pain, pressing a hand to my stomach as I curled up on the settee.

  Taro knelt on the floor beside the settee, putting a hand on my arm. The pain eased immediately, and I could breathe again. “You may leave now,” he said to Doran.

  “I can help.”


  “Stop being selfish,” Taro snapped back. “We will take care of her.”

  “As you’ve done so well so far.”

  “Get out. And send Ben up on your way out. Tell him she has a fever.”

  I was aware of Doran hesitating before I closed my eyes and concentrated on trying to breathe without causing more pain. I heard the door open and close, and I assumed Doran left.

  “You’re on fire,” Taro said. “I’m taking your gown off, and I’m going to put you in some cool water in the tub, all right?”

  It sounded good to me, especially as, now that he’d mentioned it, my skin felt hot and blistery. Cool water sounded wonderful.

  Taro unlaced my gown with light hands. I couldn’t help him, for once he’d removed his touch from my skin, the crippling pain jolted back into my stomach.

  The door burst open. Ben carried in two buckets. “Why isn’t she in the tub yet?” he demanded with uncharacteristic heat. “Put her in the tub.”

  Choosing not to bother with removing my chemise, Taro lifted me from the settee and carried me to my water closet, where Ben was pouring the water into the tub. Showing off his upper body strength, Taro lowered me into the tub with no apparent difficulty.

  I admit it, I squeaked at the first touch of the water. “That’s freezing!”

  “I assure you it’s not, Shield Mallorough. It merely feels that way, because of your fever. Please have a care of your hand. The poultice can’t get wet.”

  Aye, aye, aye, the useless poultice, mustn’t get it wet. Made bathing difficult. Made everything difficult. And right then, I was pretty sure my burned hand was the least of my worries.

  “No, no, no, have to get out,” I groaned.

  “We need to get the fever down, Lee.”

  “Going to vomit.”

  The next thing I knew, Taro was propping me up and I was throwing up into a basin Ben thrust beneath my face, and it was so humiliating. Painful, too, twisted around so I could aim for the basin, my knees and ankles smacking against the sides of the tub with the force of my retching.

  “You have to fetch a healer,” Taro ordered Ben. “Tell them who you work for. Tell them they’re in danger of losing a Pair.”

  I thought that was overstating the case a little, but I was too busy throwing up to say so.

  “Aye. Don’t let her get too cold. And make sure she drinks something.”

  “Send in one of the others, if they’re about. I’m going to need some help.”

  Lovely. I was going to have an audience.

  Then I was throwing up again, and dignity lost its priority.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Hell. I was in some version of hell. I could swear I could believe in it. Was there anything worse than sitting in a freezing tub, so close to naked the distinction was irrelevant, throwing up the lining of an empty stomach with my head trying to explode with every heave?

  I supposed it would have been worse if Taro weren’t right there, if having him touching me didn’t ease the pain somewhat. I couldn’t imagine how bad it would feel if he weren’t there. Or if I’d been a regular, without the nice buffer from sensation that being a Shield offered.

  It wasn’t long before I just couldn’t bear to be in the tub anymore. It was too confining and it was making me crazy. With the help of Benedict, who was apparently the only other member in the residence, Taro got me out of the tub and out of my wet chemise and into my bed. Naked, because cloth felt unbearably abrasive against my skin. That meant I couldn’t bear to have the covers over me, either.

  It was a good thing I had no pride at all.

  Instead of soaking me, they tried draping clothes drenched in ice water over my ankles, wrists, throat and forehead. That felt awful. And I just disrupted the whole setup every time I threw up, which seemed to happen every other heartbeat or so.

  Taro, taking Ben’s advice, forced water down my throat. I threw that up, too. That time, there was blood.

  That threw Taro, who had been staying surprisingly calm, into some kind of panic. “Tell me what to do!” he shouted at Benedict.

  “I know nothing of healing!” she shouted back.

  “You have to know something!”

  “She’s your Shield!”

  “And you’re far older than us! Surely you’ve learned something other than how to bait Derek all those years!”

  “You’re asking for a tanning, boy.”

  I hoped they weren’t going to start some stupid loud argument. My head wouldn’t be able to stand it. I curled onto my side, wishing my stomach into steadiness. I didn’t know how much longer my throat could tolerate the constant throwing up. It felt like it had been torn bloody.

  “Come on, Lee. Don’t do this!”

  My head hurt so much, but I opened my eyes just a little. Taro was sitting beside me on the bed, tilting my world crazily, and I lifted my left hand to rest it against his arm. “Be all right,” I tried to say, though it came out in a croak.

  “Damn it, Lee.” He squeezed my hand.

  “You say that a lot.”

  “You deserve it. You’re always doing stupid things.”

  I was sure there was something wrong with that, I was sure I was usually a sensible person, but I couldn’t remember why I thought so.

  “That stupid healer,” Taro muttered. “I knew he was an idiot. I should have insisted that someone else see you, when all the huge brainless wonder thought you should do was drink tea. Wouldn’t admit he hadn’t a clue. Ignorance and arrogance is such a bad combination. I’ve never heard of such quackery. Except for that lug on that damned island. Remember him, Lee? That monster who was using Aryne. Surely one of his vile potions would have been better than nothing at all.”

  I felt so bad for Taro. He had to be so worried. I had no doubt I looked awful, and he was thinking that I was about to die and take him along. I knew what that felt like, that uncertainty, that helpless fear. “S’all right,” I said again.

  “It’s not all right, damn it. Why didn’t you tell me you were still wearing that damned bob?”

  What a bizarre question. He must have seen the bob when he undressed me. It didn’t have anything to do with what was going on.

  I was so, so tired. Apparently too tired for the cramps to work as painfully as they had been before, which was a glorious relief. The headache was there, but no longer so piercing that my skull was in danger of flying apart from the force of it. That was nice. And hey, it had been, what, thirty heartbeats since I’d last thrown up? Paradise.

  And then I lost track of things for a while. Taro was a constant, of course, draping careful fingertips over my temples and down the side of my face. There seemed to be a lot of slamming doors, and at times I became more aware of myself when a fresh strip of ice water was draped over my skin. I didn’t understand what was being said around me for a while. But then Ben was there, and there seemed to be shouting.

  I hated shouting. It was nasty and totally unnecessary. “Taro?” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Lee.” He squeezed my hand, too hard this time, and it hurt. “Ben couldn’t get a healer to come to the residence. Apparently a bridge collapsed over the Silver River and there are a lot of victims. We’re supposed to bring you to them, but you won’t be considered a priority once we get there.”

  Oh, Zaire, lying around in a hospital like this, waiting for hours until someone could look in on someone with something as insignificant as a fever? What was the point?

  Silver River. Because of the color of the water, much lighter than that of the other rivers, and because it was favored by merchants, wide and just deep enough to manage boats and barges but not deep enough to encourage currents that might capsize vessels and destroy precious cargo. I’d never really looked at it before, though there were poems that painted beautiful images of moonlight dappling the little ripples. It was too bad I’d never gone to look at it.

  My parents would like that river.

  “I’m going to find you a healer, Lee.�
��

  And that was when I realized he planned to leave me. “No,” I said, and I tried to hold on to him. But my grip was weak to the point of uselessness.

  “You have to have a healer, Lee. I don’t know what else to do for you, and I’ve got to get a healer who’s not working at the hospitals. I think I have the best chance of finding one.”

  That was true. Taro could convince anyone of anything.

  “Ben and Elata are here. They’ll look after you.”

  But they couldn’t ease my pain as he could. “Don’t go.” I couldn’t bear to have him go.

  I felt a light touch on my temple. “I love you,” he whispered. And then he was rising from the bed, shaking off my weak grip. The door slammed again.

  The pain in my stomach leapt into something unbearable, and I screamed, twisting against the hands that held me to the bed. It was too much. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t find peace. I just screamed and screamed until I could scream no more, could bear the pain no more.

  When I opened my eyes, I could tell from the light in the room that I had slept. I felt damp and grimy, my whole body heavy in a way that was almost pleasant. I felt numb, and my tongue was thick and unwieldy in my mouth.

  Ben was sitting in a chair beside my bed. Benedict wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  “She had to go for her watch,” Ben told me.

  I swallowed a few times, and even then I could barely whisper out, “Taro?”

  Ben shook his head. “He is still looking for a healer. I fear he won’t find one, though. That bridge killed and injured dozens upon dozens of people. And it’s caused disruption and stoppage along many streets. Even if there were a healer to spare, one who had chosen not to go to a hospital during such a disaster but was willing to come here, it would be extremely difficult for Taro to get him here.”

  Oh. That was too bad.

  Wait. Wait a moment. Wasn’t Ben supposed to be trying to reassure me, and telling me that, of course, Taro would be able to convince a healer to come to the residence, even if he knew it wasn’t true?

  But maybe he didn’t know the part he was supposed to play. He wasn’t part of a Pair. If he had a companion of any kind, I had never heard of them. So maybe he didn’t know how these events went. Poor man. He was supposed to tell me I was overreacting.