Heroes at Risk

by Moore, Moira J.

  Doran was no rival for Taro’s affections. Doran had never inspired in me the depth of feeling I had for Taro, and I didn’t believe he ever would. It wouldn’t be fair of me to pretend otherwise, and I didn’t want to play with people.

  I needed to make sure both men understood that. It would have been so much easier if I could have met with Doran as expected, had been given the opportunity to make everything clear. Now everything I said was going to sound weak or insincere, because Doran had shown up with clear expectations, and Taro had known nothing about it. Damn it.

  Taro was pacing in the kitchen, all pretense of courtesy gone. “What the hell are you playing at?” he demanded.

  Oh, let’s dive right into the irrational part of the discussion, shall we? “I think we should go somewhere more private.” I did not want to be providing the evening’s entertainment for the other Pairs.

  “As loud as I’ll be getting, there’ll be no privacy no matter where we go.”

  Wonderful. “I see.”

  “Don’t you dare!” he snapped, pointing a finger at me. “Don’t you even think of pretending you’re the mature, stable one when you’re the one stepping out!”

  “I am not stepping out.”

  “Picnicking with Doran? I beg to differ.”

  “Differ all you like. I have every right to see my friends.”

  “He’s not a friend! He’s in love with you!”

  I nearly laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  He didn’t deny that, but he glowered at me, and I waited for another explosion.

  But there was no explosion. He pulled in a deep breath through his nose. Then he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let the breath out through his mouth. He dropped his hand and opened his eyes.

  The glower was still there, but his shoulders were a little lower.

  “You can’t claim he is a friend like any other.”

  His voice was almost calm, but the ’risto in his accent was coming on thick. Never a good sign. At least, not when it was directed at me. I enjoyed it when he used it on others.

  “He is now.” Or he would be, once I was able to explain everything to him.

  “You would go on a picnic with Risa?”

  “Sure.” Though I couldn’t see Risa enjoying a picnic. It seemed a little tame for her.

  He snorted in derision. No doubt he agreed.

  “Have you slept with him?”

  My mouth dropped open. It had been doing that a lot lately. “Of course not!”

  “Before we went to that damned island?”

  “That’s none of your business!” So much for staying calm.

  “So you did sleep with him!”

  “No, I did not!” I snapped. “I don’t—” I cut myself off before I said something really, really stupid.

  The way Taro’s eyes narrowed, though, told me I was too late. “You. Don’t. What.”

  It was interesting how much words relied on tone. Technically, his words should have constituted a question. The flat tone made it a dare. He was daring me to finish.

  Sleep with people at the drop of a hat. That had been the end of my aborted sentence. That would have sounded like an accusation, which wouldn’t have been my intention. And I knew Taro didn’t sleep with absolutely everyone he met. I really did. But sometimes the habit of speaking as though I thought he did snuck back up on me. “I don’t see how that matters now, anyway.”

  “It matters a lot. It matters that you were slithering off to see him!”

  “I wasn’t slithering.”

  “What do you call going off to see him without telling me?”

  “He asked me to go to the picnic this morning at the bench-dancing match. I came here to change, and you weren’t here. If you had been, I would have told you.” I would have. “If we’d had a picnic and I came back, I would have told you then.”

  “Why are you seeing him, anyway?”

  “I like his company.”

  His hard-fought-for calm was slipping. His hands rose to clutch at his hair. “I can’t believe you! You say it like there’s nothing wrong with it!”

  “There is nothing wrong with it!” I searched my mind for an explanation as to why there was nothing wrong with it. It was sometimes difficult to explain the obvious. “Where were you today, when I came back from the match?”

  “Racing track!” he growled.

  “All alone, I assume,” I said sarcastically.

  “With friends.”

  “So what’s the difference?”

  “None of them want to sleep with me!”

  I snickered. I couldn’t help it.

  “Oh, my mistake,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “I’d forgotten. That’s the only reason anyone would want to spend any time with me, right? To see if they have a chance.”

  “No!” I was horrified. “That’s not what I meant—”

  “Because all I am is a face and a penis, right?”

  After all the times I had told him he was smart and talented and generous and kind, and he had the nerve to say that to me? “I didn’t say that and I don’t believe that.”

  “Doran is not just a friend and he’s interested in more than just sleeping with you.”

  Damn. I’d kind of thought we’d gotten away from Doran. “It doesn’t matter what Doran’s interested in. I’m only spending time with him because I enjoy his company.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “He would if I’d had a chance to meet with him today.”

  “You were going to tell him you never wanted to see him again at a nice romantic picnic?” Taro asked skeptically.

  “I have no intention of telling him I don’t want to see him again. I will tell him that any expectations he might have had before I went to Flatwell will have to be put aside.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to accommodate you.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re such a child.”

  How very obnoxious of him. “Then, if he can’t accept that, yes, I won’t be seeing him anymore.”

  “I can tell you right now that he won’t agree to—whatever you’re expecting to do. Not if he’s any kind of man at all. So what you will do is forget all these unnecessary steps you’re talking about and you will send him a note canceling your plans for tomorrow and that will be the end of it.”

  “You will go to hell!” How dare he try to tell me what to do? This was between Doran and me.

  “Or do you like having him dangling? Hm? Maybe you like having two men acting like idiots over you.”

  “Of course not!”

  Well, maybe a little.

  No, of course not.

  “After all, it can’t be a common thing for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” I echoed without thought. Definitely without thought. It wasn’t as though I actually wanted him to elaborate.

  “Someone so rigid. With your blank eyes and your flat voice. So determined to show the world that she doesn’t give a damn what we think and she doesn’t need us and we can all go to hell!”

  “This is interesting,” I mused. “You perceive that I am insulting you, so you have permission to verbally abuse me.”

  “I notice you’re not actually denying what I’m saying.”

  “Would there be a point?”

  He made another grab for his hair. What was his problem? I was, for the most part, refusing to rise to all of the insults he was throwing my way. I was answering all of his questions honestly. I was doing my best to prevent this discussion from degenerating into something really nasty.

  And he was being ridiculous. I would wager my last coin while stuck on Flatwell that he hadn’t acted this way with any of his other lovers. And, aye, I could see why I was different, in that I was his Shield and the Pair bond always made things a little weird. Still, he neither expected nor wanted the relationships with his other lovers to be exclusive. So why did he have to act like a domineering lord of the manor from
a bad melodrama with me?

  Perhaps I could end all the posturing if I pointed out what should be obvious, even to him. We simply were not suited for the long term. He was Karish, and as much as he tried to deny it, he was unique. He was dazzling and exciting, such characteristics unusually coupled with generosity and genuine kindness. He deserved someone who matched him.

  That was not me. I was quiet and steady and serious, interesting only in my connection to him.

  But I dared not say that to him. Much as he accused me of purposely misunderstanding him, he just as often did the same with me. If I gave him my description of him, he would accuse me of thinking him nothing more than a pretty shell. If I gave him my description of me, he’d either agree with me, or think he needed to reassure me. Neither reaction would assist in this situation.

  “Please make yourself comfortable,” I heard Veritas say, because he was speaking much more loudly than he usually did. “I will see if they are in.”

  I wondered how many arguments Veritas had overheard in his years of working at the Triple S residence. He’d probably heard things much stranger and more damaging than what Taro and I had been shouting at each other. That didn’t make me feel any better about the fact that I knew he’d no doubt been listening to us.

  Ben showed up at the kitchen door. “That Runner woman is here to see you, Shield Mallorough.”

  Interruptions were wonderful things. “Thank you, Ben.”

  “What happened to your hand, Shield?”

  I’d forgotten about it. “A burn.”

  “What kind of burn, if I may know?”

  What difference did it make? “Metal. Heated metal.”

  “A healer has seen to it?”

  “Aye.”

  “And has given you a poultice for it?”

  “He spread something on it.”

  “But gave you no more for the following days?”

  “Ah, no.” Should he have?

  Ben tsked. “Come see me tomorrow morning, after you have washed but before you leave for the day. I will refresh the treatment.”

  “You have healing skills? I didn’t know that.”

  “There is much you don’t know of me, if you’ll beg my pardon, Shield Mallorough.”

  I thought that was an odd thing for him to say. It was almost as though he was accusing me of something. I didn’t think that was like him.

  His words did make me wonder that Taro hadn’t touched me once since I’d come to the residence. Not only was that not like him, in general, but he knew if he touched me, it would ease any discomfort I might be feeling. That was sometimes one of the characteristics of the bond between a Source and Shield. We were lucky enough to have it.

  I could ask Taro to touch me, I supposed. After that ridiculous argument, though, I wasn’t going to ask him for any favors.

  “Thank you, Ben.” I headed to the door.

  “I shall bring you some wine, shall I?” he offered.

  “Thank you. That would be lovely.” I said nothing to Taro. I had no desire to spark off the argument again. I was aware, however, that he wasn’t following me from the kitchen.

  Risa was lounging on one of the settees, examining a small statuette that had been left by some long-gone resident of the house. It was the naked form of a youth, stretching one hand up over his head as though reaching for something. It was a pretty piece, but I’d never understood what it was supposed to mean.

  “Good evening, Risa,” I said. “I am pleased to see you here.”

  “Well, I’m not here for pleasure, I’m afraid,” she answered. “Business.”

  Oh, that was never good. “What kind of business?”

  She gestured at my wrapped hand. “Of course, the fire isn’t in my docket. But it seems everyone at Headquarters thinks I’m the one to look into things when you’re involved. And you do end up involved in an awful lot of crimes.”

  “I don’t commit crimes,” I huffed. Then I froze. Because I’d killed Creol. That was murder. I couldn’t believe I’d actually forgotten that.

  Risa didn’t seem to notice that part of my reaction. “No, but you do always seem to be in the vicinity when crimes are committed,” she said.

  That was an exaggeration. All sorts of crimes were committed in High Scape and I was nowhere nearby. “What do you want to know?”

  “Just tell me everything.”

  “Oh, is that all?” I did as she ordered, describing my knowledge of the fire with as much detail as I could. During that time, Taro left the house without pausing to say where he was going, and Ben served us red wine. “But is that really a crime? Accidentally setting fire to your house?” Criminally stupid, maybe.

  “No, that’s not what the strike is. Pretending to cast spells is a crime.”

  “I don’t think she thought she was pretending.”

  Risa laughed. “The only alternative is that she was actually casting a spell. A spell that worked. Are you saying it worked? Do you want me to quote you on that?”

  “No, thanks all the same, but just out of curiosity, what is the difference in the punishment?”

  “The difference?”

  “Between pretending to cast a spell and actually casting a spell.”

  Risa’s expression suggested she thought I was suffering some form of delusion. “There’s no such thing as truly casting spells.”

  “Well, no, of course not, but it doesn’t seem to make sense that pretending to cast is illegal while actually casting isn’t.”

  “Of course it makes sense. One is possible and the other isn’t.”

  I understood her point, but there was a fundamental lack of logic involved that disturbed me. “So why is pretending to cast illegal?”

  “People use it to steal.”

  “How?”

  “You know, selling love potions and things like that.”

  “How is that different from medicine men who sell phys icks that don’t work?”

  Risa scowled. “I don’t write the laws, Dunleavy.”

  Did that mean we couldn’t discuss the inconsistencies? Apparently so.

  “Speaking of fake spells, have you heard what those freaks digging up ash groves are doing with the ashes?”

  “No, and I don’t really care to.” I didn’t want to imagine doing anything with the ashes. Just the act of digging them up was disgusting.

  She gave me a toothy grin. “They mix them into a bowl of the liquid of their choice and rub the mixture on their skin in preparation for casting a spell.”

  My throat closed up in protest and I put down my glass of red wine. “You can’t be serious.”

  “We’ve learned that the victims are all people who were considered particularly fortunate by those who knew them. These spell freaks dig up the ashes and try to absorb the luck of the dead person through their skin.”

  “That’s revolting.” My stomach twinged just at the thought of it.

  “Or they sell them.”

  “They sell the ashes?”

  “There’s quite a market developing. People dig up the ashes and sell them to a slew of customers who are desperate for luck. There’s even talk that they’re running out of people to dig up.”

  “This is insane.” And also none of my business. “Are you supposed to be telling me this?”

  “I’m not giving you any specifics of any particular investigation.” Risa shrugged. “But if it disturbs you, we can talk of other things. Why did Shintaro go storming out of here?”

  I could be so stupid. I kind of set myself up for that. “Storming?”

  “He didn’t tell you where he was going.”

  “He doesn’t always.”

  “Of course he does.”

  How in the world could she claim to know that? “You don’t live here, Risa.”

  “So? Seeing habits isn’t hard for someone with my job.”

  I sighed, because she was right. “We had an argument.”

  “About what?”

  “Do you honestly expect me
to tell you?”

  “That’s what friends do.”

  Not since I left the Academy. I’d never found talking about such things helped me feel any better, nor did they improve the situation in general. Besides, Taro would kill me. “So if I were really your friend, I would feel obligated to tell you, is that it?”

  “No, that’s not it. Sometimes you can be terribly stupid, Dunleavy.”

  Oh. So if I were truly her friend, I would want to tell her. Really? She wanted to play that game? “How much debt are you in right now?” See? I could ask highly inappropriate questions, too.

  “You have a nasty habit of attacking people when they ask questions you don’t want to answer.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

  “How about this, then? I’ll answer your question after you answer mine.”

  Perfectly fair, yet that wasn’t going to happen. Really, Taro would see it as a betrayal, were I to talk about our affairs with Risa or anyone else, and I wouldn’t blame him. I assumed he didn’t talk about us with others and if I was wrong and I found out he did, I’d have to kill him.

  Of course, once he was done with me, things would be different.

  I felt like I’d offended every person I’d encountered that day. It was all catching up with me, the craziness and the people I’d infuriated for no good reason. I didn’t want to add Risa to the list, not that day. “So both of us will have to survive having our curiosity unsatisfied,” I said. “Want more wine?”

  She grinned and I felt relieved. “Sounds great,” she said. “But if you’re not going to tell me about Karish, the least you can do is show me the costume you had to wear while you were away.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you crazy? Believe it or not, I don’t go out of my way to humiliate myself.” That always happened by accident.

  After Taro’s reaction to the costume, I wasn’t going to show it to any other Northerner. Ever.

  “So you still have it.”

  “No,” I lied.

  “I could go to your room and find it.”

  She wasn’t seriously suggesting she would go rifling through my things. “You don’t know which room is mine.”

  She actually pouted. “You won’t wear it for me?”