Heroes at Risk

by Moore, Moira J.

  “I doubt it would ever come up.” The Empress had sent Taro and me to Flatwell, which was an unusual exercise of a monarch’s authority, but that wasn’t the day-to-day interference the others were discussing.

  The door opened and in streamed about half a dozen of the handsomest people I’d ever seen in one place, pushing carts and carrying decanters. Three men and three women, all young, their brushed and shining hair left loose, which was unusual for staff who were serving food. They were dressed in a fashion similar to Akira, with loose trousers and the shirts that flowed closely under breasts and against flat stomachs, in colors that perfectly suited the wearer. And they all had bare feet.

  This was a weird place.

  The food smelled good, though.

  “Please seat yourselves,” Williams invited once the servants had left. Once again, Taro and I found ourselves sitting across the table from each other. Though there was no reason why we should always sit together. We weren’t children in need of proximity for moral support.

  There were the same little clay pots on the table, and we all rubbed the translucent paste within on our hands. I rather liked that little ritual. Maybe it was something I could do at home.

  The food was delivered in the same manner as it had been at Fines’s. Everyone served themselves from the dishes and then passed them along. Each of us had our own decanters of wine. And as had been the case at Fines’s house, everything tasted absolutely delicious.

  “An appalling waste of life,” Ahmad was saying, and I realized I had missed some conversation while contemplating the quality of the food.

  “His actions did result in the death of two jockeys and five horses,” said Fines.

  What was this? I looked at Taro.

  “A ditch appeared in the middle of the track during a race,” he told me. “No one could stop in time. Five horses broke their legs and had to be put down right there. Two jockeys were trampled after they fell off their horses. There were many non-fatal injuries as well.”

  “The ditch just appeared out of nowhere?”

  “That’s what it looked like.”

  “How could that happen?”

  “It’s most likely that someone dug it, early in the morning before there were any staff at the track, and camouflaged it in some way, and no one noticed it until one of the horses actually stepped in it.”

  “Now, Shintaro,” Fines chided him. “I expected better from you.”

  “Excuse me?” was Taro’s frosty response.

  “I take it you weren’t at the track that day.”

  “I was, actually.”

  He’d witnessed this event and hadn’t told me? Why not? It had clearly been a horrible experience. I’d need to talk about it if I’d seen all that. “When was this?”

  My question was ignored.

  “You weren’t questioned by the Runners?”

  “I was.”

  “But they didn’t mention to you that they found the paraphernalia for casting near the track.”

  “They did.”

  I could tell that Taro’s short answers were annoying Fines. I could sympathize with the trader, because they were annoying me, too. It wasn’t like Taro to be so reticent. Nor so impolite. “They think the ditch was created by a spell?” I asked. Why would anyone do that?

  Ahmad snorted. “They don’t know what to think. They claim a spell couldn’t have created the ditch, yet they have convicted and hanged a man for the creation of a ditch resulting in multiple deaths, as well as for possession of implements designed for the purpose of casting spells.”

  “So they believe he created the ditch, and they believe he was trying to use a spell, or pretending to use a spell, but not that he created the ditch with a spell.” I didn’t believe it, either. I just thought there was a piece of information missing in what I was being told.

  “Isn’t it ridiculous?” Ahmad said in apparent agreement.

  “But you don’t believe a spell was involved, Shintaro?” Fines asked.

  Taro was committing the sin of playing with his food, pushing morsels of meat about his plate as he thought about what to say. “It seems an odd thing to do, if one had the ability to do such things.”

  “Oh? What would you do if you had the power to do anything you wanted?”

  “I’m afraid I’d have to give that matter more thought.”

  “Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you haven’t been contemplating the possibilities since people have begun exploring casting so openly?”

  Taro swirled the wine in his goblet. “The sky is obscured by boundaries.”

  Heh. No one understood that.

  “This appears to be a similar wine to what Trader Fines served,” Taro said, in an attempt to divert everyone’s attention. And it worked, to my surprise. Williams complained, in a good-natured way, about how much the wine cost, especially considering how many wealthy clients he exposed the vintage to, which was why, Fines explained, he sold the wine to Williams at such a reduced rate. This somehow led to a lengthy discussion between Gamut and Ahmad about someone Ahmad knew who would best be able to make repairs to the theater in which Gamut worked. And then a further discussion of services Cree supplied to Williams’s prostitutes.

  I liked those topics of conversation much better, even though I couldn’t contribute to them.

  After dessert had been consumed and cleared away, Williams took his wine and sat in one of the chairs in the other half of the room. The others followed, so Taro and I did, too. Conversation felt awkward due to the organization of the seating.

  And then the door opened and seven servants walked in. Five carried basins and towels, one was pushing another cart, and one had a flute of some kind. A light scent of citrus filled the air, carried on a thin waft of cedar, and it relaxed me in spite of myself.

  “Dunleavy, Shintaro, you may not be aware of this,” said Williams, “but many of my patrons enjoy having their feet bathed. It is a service we provide.”

  Oh, damn it to hell. This wasn’t Williams’s home. It was one of his bordellos. Could I be any more stupid?

  Was this why we had bare feet?

  Suddenly, it felt as though my mind were spinning with questions. Was this appropriate? Were they prostitutes? Not that I had anything against prostitutes, but should I be accepting services from them? Was this what anyone had in mind when they talked about Sources and Shields being allowed to requisition goods and services for free? What should I be doing? They never talked about this at the Academy.

  I looked at Taro. He was looking back at me, wearing the tiniest smile, obviously aware of my discomfort and entertained by it. He had no intention of indicating which way we should go with this. Bastard.

  Everyone else, I could tell, was observing me as well, with various degrees of subtlety. What was this, a test?

  Fine. This was something being provided by my host. Something that was not harmful. It was bizarre, but to refuse might offend my host. So, fine, I was going to have my feet bathed. I could accept that attention with a little grace.

  The man with the flute sat in a corner of the room with fluid confidence. The piece he played was unfamiliar to me, but it was lovely, the lower sliding notes curling deep in my belly. Moving, but not dangerous.

  Akira knelt at my feet, setting a basin on the floor. With gentle hands he placed my feet in the basin. Then he poured warm, scented water over my feet, and when he judged that enough water was in the basin, he poured oil into the palms of his hands. He rubbed his hands together and grasped my shin to rest my wet foot against his thigh, unconcerned with the soaking the thin material he was wearing was suffering.

  And then he started rubbing the bottom of my foot.

  I had had my feet rubbed before, primarily by Taro, back on Flatwell when the constant bench dancing wrenched my ankles and made the soles of my feet sting. That had felt nice. But this was different. More skilled, for one thing. And the results were different. Especially at one moment when he pressed his thumb hard against the
sole of my foot. It sent an oddly pleasant jolt right through me, making me sit up straighter in my seat.

  Akira looked up at me and smirked. Clearly, my reaction had been anticipated. He was playing a game with me. I looked at the others, who were all enjoying their foot baths with varying displays of enjoyment. No one appeared shocked.

  They were all playing a game.

  Except for Taro. His attendant was a broad-shouldered youth with closely cropped hair, and his hands looked big on Taro’s slender feet. Taro appeared relaxed, and there was a slight smile playing about his lips.

  The fact that that disappointed me was entirely illogical. Of course he would enjoy the skills of other people. Just as I would enjoy the skills of Akira, if he weren’t being paid to do this, and I didn’t suspect this was all some ploy to make me feel foolish, or something.

  It was all just bizarre, and I worried about what the next step would be.

  “Have you ever enjoyed the services of a bordello, Dunleavy?”

  There it was.

  “No, I haven’t,” I answered Williams.

  “Why not?”

  I didn’t know. Was it something most people contemplated? “I’ve just never thought of it.”

  “You should think of it. You’re welcome at any of my establishments at any time.”

  Um, thank you? I glanced at Taro before I could help it.

  Williams caught the look, of course. “Certainly, the two of you can come together. We provide excellent services for couples.”

  “Thank you.” Seriously? A couple would come and share a prostitute? Or would they each hire one? I really had no idea.

  Well, I was certainly getting an education from these people.

  “Would the two of you like to spend the night and savor some of our services?”

  “No, thank you,” I said quickly.

  Taro chuckled, no doubt delighting in my discomfort.

  “My people can make you feel quite fine. Anyone here can attest to that.”

  Seriously, that was information I neither needed nor wanted. “I am sure that’s true, but I’m really not interested. Sorry.”

  “Perhaps another time.”

  “Perhaps.”

  No one asked Taro anything. He was always the lucky one.

  Once everyone’s feet were determined sufficiently clean, they were gently dried, and Ahmad left. That meant we could leave, too, and we did. I was relieved. Because that had been odd, and I felt there was some kind of agenda going on. And that thought made me feel ridiculous. Because what would such a group want with us?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Where do you and Source Karish go so long at night?” Ben asked me as I enjoyed tea and a huge chunk of fresh bread. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Ben.” I had slept late that day after another fruitless wait at the hub. We weren’t telling anyone what we were doing, mostly because they would think we were insane.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with curiosity.” But his curiosity made me uncomfortable, so I searched for a change of subject. “This bread is incredible. I don’t think you’ve made it before.” It was heavy and dark and rich with nuts.

  “I don’t make it often. It is a laborious recipe.”

  “Oh.” I felt guilty about the fact that I was on my third piece. I was always so hungry after a night at the hub, and the bread had been the only readily available thing to eat.

  Ben smiled. “I made it to be eaten, Shield. Please have as much as you like.”

  I watched Ben clean up some of the crumbs I had spilled on the counter. I wanted to tell him to stop. I could clean up my own crumbs. “How is Sara, Ben?”

  He stilled for a moment, but quickly resumed his wiping. “She is hopeful that she will be vindicated at the trial.”

  “Has new evidence come to light?”

  “She isn’t telling me much about it. She’s afraid what might happen if the information got into the wrong hands.”

  “I see. I understand.” I didn’t really, as I didn’t know what kind of information and whose were the wrong hands, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and I could respect that.

  “But you’re kind to ask.”

  “No, not at all.” But I was very uncomfortable. I shoved another piece of bread into my mouth.

  I went back up to my room to read the last of the spell books. I would be getting rid of them soon. I didn’t like how obsessed people were getting with the idea of casting. While I really didn’t think I’d be punished for having the books, I couldn’t help feeling leery about the sheer lack of logic people were displaying about spells, and I didn’t want to get caught up in anything crazy. So the books would be gone.

  After I read them. Because some of them were entertaining. In fact, some of them were hysterical. There were points where I wondered if the writer was insane. Or had been smoking something creative.

  There was just so much about the practice of casting that was ridiculous. Wearing wool when it was hot and silk when it was cold. Honey gathered under a full moon—neat trick, that—or blood gathered from a sheep slaughtered at the mark of noon. Powerful locations included the peak of a mountain, the crossing of two or more rivers and the east end of a ravine. Some spells needed a particular timbre of voice, soprano or alto or tenor or bass. And the tools needed, all made out of materials that, if not expensive, needed to be constructed in ridiculously complex fashions.

  Seriously, who had the money to cast spells? Who had the time?

  But aye, an entertaining read.

  Then Ben knocked on my door, telling me Doran had come to see me.

  Damn it, I hadn’t seen Doran since before he’d sent me that yellow-flowered monstrosity. I had sent it back to him. I’d also sent a note telling him not to be an idiot.

  I knew I needed to have it out with him, but I really didn’t want to. I just wanted him to accept the words in my messages and just go away. That was cowardly of me, but I felt Doran was being too pushy.

  I didn’t want what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation overheard by everyone in the house. I asked Ben to show Doran to my sitting room, and I quickly hid the book I’d been reading in my bedroom.

  “Lee, dearest, I’m so glad to finally be able to see you,” Doran said upon his entrance. He made no effort to make the emphasis on the word “finally” at all subtle.

  I had to admit, there was something that irked me about the belief that a person who showed up unexpectedly should be able to see you, just because you happened to be there when they arrived. “I am very sorry,” I said, as an apology was expected. “Things have been busy here.”

  “But you’re up for anything now, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” I didn’t know that I would ever be up for the conversation we had to have.

  He grinned. “Want to go dancing?”

  What was he doing? He had sent me all that stuff, and I had sent it all back. Why was he pretending nothing had changed?

  He was going to make me say it. That was ungentlemanly of him. “Doran, we have to talk.”

  “We are talking.”

  “Doran, I’m being serious.”

  He sobered. “You look a little pale.”

  “I’m always pale.”

  “I don’t think you should make final decisions when you’re not at your best.”

  “This is a decision I’ve made. Are you really going to make me say it?”

  “You don’t have to say anything. I understand what’s going on. Shintaro is handsome and a Source and he’s full of flair. But he’s not the sort to last. And if I have to wait, I will.”

  “You can’t mean that.” No man with any pride would.

  “Don’t tell me what I feel.”

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t mean you’re prepared to wait until Taro’s done with me and you’re going to step in. That doesn’t make any sense.”
r />   “I don’t think of you in such base terms, but yes, I’m prepared to wait.”

  This was unbelievable. There was no way I could inspire such insanity in a man. What was I supposed to say to this?

  There was a knock on the door. “Lee?”

  Ah, hell, Taro. What was the best thing to do? I wanted to get this conversation out of the way before I talked to Taro. On the other hand, had Ben told Taro Doran was there? “I can’t talk to you right now, Taro.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m here,” Doran answered.

  Taro, of course, charged in. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “You’re not suggesting you have a right to control who Lee sees, are you?” Doran asked, attempting to sound innocent.

  “Her name is Dunleavy!” Taro snapped back. “And if you had any honor, you would have taken the hints she’s given to you to leave her alone.”

  “And yet, she agreed to see me today.”

  Only because he’d left me no choice.

  “Lee has manners. You apparently have no sense of what’s proper.”

  “What do you know about what’s proper?” Doran scoffed.

  “I know you come sniffing around like a vagrant hoping for a spare crumb instead of declaring your true intentions as an honorable gentleman would.”

  I couldn’t quite figure out whom Taro was insulting more with that simile, Doran or me. And hadn’t that yellow-flower monstrosity been all about declaring unwanted intentions?

  Doran was laughing with disbelief. “You’re not seriously expecting me to announce a challenge.”

  A challenge?

  “Not at all. Such requires a certain elevation of character that you clearly lack.”

  Doran flushed. “You are hardly in a position to criticize someone else’s character.”

  “And you are? Who are you? What do you do? Spend all your days playing and gambling while your mother and your sisters handle all of your responsibilities. You do nothing for anyone else. Just another useless lordling whose existence is irrelevant.”

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