Heroes Adrift (7 page)

We looked at our feet, and then at the neat collection of sandals piled on the step just inside the door. “We're very sorry,” I said. We hastily pulled off our boots and added them to the collection. They looked out of place, not to mention ugly, next to the dainty beaded sandals.

“Thank you, madam, sir. You need a room?”

It was difficult to see whether this was a place in which we'd want to stay. I could see nothing but walls, bare walls of dull yellow wood, the foyer nothing but the small square in which Karish and I stood, a narrow hall crossing before us. It smelled clean, though, and it was quiet.

“Do you have two rooms available?”

He nodded. “Three grays for each room. That includes nightly bath and morning fruit.”

“Ah.” They really must have had next to no exposure to Sources and Shields. It made sense, as they didn't seem to produce any. “I am Shield Mallorough. This is Source Karish.” I stressed the titles and waited for him to realize his mistake.

He nodded and beamed a smile. “Please call me Vikor. May your sun rise high.”

Did that mean he'd understood? “You are aware that Sources and Shields do not pay for goods and services?”

His smile didn't dim a jot as he said, “Everyone pays.”

“Uh, actually, no, Sources and Shields don't pay. It's the law.”

He frowned then, but in puzzlement, not irritation. “There is no such law.”

“It is the Empress's law.”

The response was a blank stare.

“Empress Constia.” That apparently didn't ring any bells for him. “In Erstwhile.”

“Ah,” he said. “The Northern Empress.”

“The only empress. Her laws are valid here, too.”

He tsked, but sympathetically. As if he pitied me. “She makes no roads here.”

“I'm sorry?”

“She makes no roads. No schools. No tribunals. She sends no Runners here, no teachers or healers or surveyors. Or even”—a gesture in our direction—“your sort. She digs no ditches, builds no canals. So”—he smiled—“she makes no laws.”

I stared at him, a horrible suspicion forming in my mind. “What?” was my most articulate interrogation.

“We have our speakers and our members and our own laws. And by our laws, everyone pays.”

And here was panic, making another visit. “So Sources and Shields are expected to…to pay for accommodation and food and clothing and everything?”

“Why should you not?” And he looked honestly be-mused, as though my expectations truly were bizarre.

Breathe. In. Out. “Because we risk our lives protecting people and their property from natural disasters and don't get paid for it.” That sounded good. Firm. In control. Completely nonhysterical.

“Not here,” he responded. Pleasantly, as he had throughout this upsetting little episode. So calm and reasonable I just wanted to reach out and smack him.

Was this how I made Karish feel?

“All right. Is there another bunker in this area?”

“No. But if there were, you would have to pay there, too.”

“No one feels the need to follow the law here?” I asked coolly.

“That is the law here. Everyone pays.”

“This can't be.” It couldn't be. Surely, surely everyone didn't expect us to pay for things. That was just ridiculous. And the Empress, she wouldn't have sent us here if we were expected to pay our way.

Sources and Shields did not pay for goods and services. That was the law.

And a hell of a lot of good that would do us if no one cared to obey it, and there was no one there to enforce it. I hadn't seen anyone that looked like a Runner yet.

What were we going to do?

It wasn't like that all over the island, was it? It couldn't be.

I looked up at Karish, who was looking a little panicked himself. He dug out the coins I had given him earlier. What had appeared so numerous before now seemed pathetic and thin.

Oh gods. Oh Zaire. Oh hell. Stuck in this foreign place that expected us to pay for things, and we had no money. And no means of making any. And no way of getting back home. And, oh god, we were so nailed.

Breathe breathe breathe.

“Relax,” the hatefully pleasant Vikor assured us. “It can't be too hard for two healthy young people like yourselves to find work.”

“Work?” Karish demanded incredulously.

Vikor chuckled. Chuckled! “Kai. Work. What, are you feeble?”

No. Just useless.

“We are members of the Triple S!” Karish hissed. “We don't work!”

“Then I'm afraid you're going to starve.” There was just a touch of sharpness to his voice, then, as though he were losing patience with us.

That was always a sign it was time to leave. “Thank you for your assistance,” I said, trying not to sound as terrified as I felt. “We have to talk about this. We might be back.”

He didn't appear to be relieved to be getting rid of us. I had to give him a lot of points for that. His gesture was half nod, half bow, and he wished us luck.

With no hope at all, we walked the curving stone streets of the village. After making a few inquiries we learned that there were, indeed, no other boarding houses. And that people expected us to pay for things. We went to merchant after merchant, and all of them, with varying degrees of patience and amusement, pointed out that they didn't care who or what we were, everyone paid.

We were in so much trouble.

I couldn't believe it. How could this happen? How could we end up in a place where our skills were worthless? Why did no one warn us?

Maybe that was why the Empress had sent us, of all people, on this ridiculous mission of hers. Cheap labor. She wouldn't have to pay us, or pay our way. Only that had blown up in our faces. Mine and Karish's. Her Imperial Majesty was safe and comfortable and well fed in her palace in Erstwhile. Probably had a new pretty boy to decorate her court. Probably had forgotten all about us. Damn damn damn, what were we going to do?

We found a place to sit on the ground away from any of the performances sprinkled throughout the village. We didn't want an audience while we panicked.

And I was panicking. I had that roiling in my stomach, that sour taste in my mouth. My breath was coming short and sharp. Hell.

“We don't have nearly enough, Lee,” Karish was telling me, flipping the coins over in his palm. “These coins are different from the ones back home, but I'm not sure we've got enough even for one night at that bunker.”

Nightmare. A total nightmare.

“I've got a few earrings on me,” he said. “I wish I'd kept my ring.” When I'd first met Karish, he'd worn a family ring. He'd removed it after abjuring his family's title, in order to continue working as a Source.

I wished he'd kept it, too. I wished I'd cultivated the habit of wearing jewelry myself. I had nothing of value. Except, apparently, my shirts, and I had only a couple more of them on me.

What were we going to do?

That stupid, ignorant, careless bitch. How dare she do this to us? When we got back, if we got back, I was going to throw a tantrum worthy of Her Imperial Majesty Empress Constia herself.

All right. Breathe.

“Damn, it's hot,” Karish muttered, pulling his collar from his skin.

There was nothing for it. We'd just have to find work of some kind. Lie to get a job and learn the skills after, if necessary. I didn't like that idea, and it might jerk back to smack us in the face, but I didn't know what else to do. We needed a place to sleep and food to eat. And really, it couldn't be impossible to find work. Thousands of people found work without having any real skills. Surely, we could as well.

It so happened that we did have enough currency to spend a single night at Vikor's bunker, provided we shared one room. We even had a couple of coins left over, but we were too afraid to spend them. I was starving. Karish wasn't hungry, due to his difficult voyage, but he should have eaten something. We didn't have the money for a meal.

We had spent a terrifying and futile evening looking for work. It was obvious to everyone that we didn't have the first clue how to go about it. When asked what I could do, I listed my pitiful collection of non–Triple S related skills. People were shaking their heads before the words were half out of my mouth. Later, when asked what I could do, I asked what they needed doing. No one liked that response.

Everyone was very kind, of course. All very sympathetic and pleasant as they told me they had no use for me. Some of them referred me to their neighbors, naming names, and I wondered if the so named went back to the namees and visited upon them some physical retribution. But in the end, as the sun slid out of the sky, I met up with Karish and had any faint hopes destroyed when he said he'd had no more luck than I.

How could that be? Look at him. Who wouldn't pay to have him stand in a room and beautify their home?

We went back to Vikor. Karish held out his hand with all the money we had in the world in his palm, and Vikor told us that while we didn't have enough currency for two rooms, we could afford one. I didn't know whether this was true or whether we were the recipients of pity. At that point I didn't care. I was too scared to care about anything but being scared.

We were shown to a small room with a huge window and no furniture aside from a mattress and a lantern. It smelled like dried grass.

Karish insisted on sleeping on the floor. It didn't matter much. The mattress serving as a bed was no thicker than the length of my thumb, and was laid directly onto the woven matting on the floor. We took advantage of the water sent up to wash off the grime of the day. Separately, one standing outside the room while the other bathed. And despite the early hour we blew out our candle and stretched out to sleep.

Only I couldn't sleep. How could I? We were deserted in a strange place with no means of support. What were we going to do?

My breathing kept speeding up. Whenever I noticed this, I worked to smooth it out and slow it down, but as soon as I resumed thinking about our circumstances my breathing once more became fast and short. I couldn't get comfortable; my muscles were clenched too tightly. After rolling over a few times I realized I was moving merely for the sake of moving, and I forced myself to lie still. While I didn't feel the heat nearly as badly as Karish seemed to, it was too warm to be tossing about.

Karish reached over and stroked my temple with his thumb. “We'll be all right, Lee.”

“I know,” I lied.

I saw him smile. “Of the two of us, I actually mean what I say.”

He would. But he was insane.

“Honestly, Lee. It'll turn out in the end.”

“How?” I challenged him.

“I don't know.” He shrugged. “But it always does.”

“Optimist.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” He continued to stroke my temple. The muscles along my back loosened despite themselves, worry swamped under fatigue.

I fell asleep.

I thought Vikor was generous with the amount of fruit and bread he sent up to us the next morning. It was more than needed to satisfy one person, which was all we had paid for. It was fruit like nothing I'd had before, bright and juicy and sweet. We freshened up with what was left of the water, and were almost—kind of—ready to face the day.

Except for the lack of coffee. I
wanted
coffee.

And, of course, the lack of money and of any hope of acquiring some.

I couldn't believe I was worrying about money. I was a Shield. I wasn't supposed to have to do that.

The performers were out again. So were the crowds, far thicker than they had been the day before. Perhaps the day before had been a work day for the villagers, while the current day was a rest day. To me it just meant more people to maneuver around, more people gawking at me, more people trying to paw at my hair.

“I wonder,” Karish muttered, watching the contortionist.

“What?”

“Why don't we ask them if they need any laborers?”

“The contortionist?”

“The troupe. Or circus. Whatever they are.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you not remember our dismal performance at the Hallin Festival?” Because I sure did. It was way up there as one of the most embarrassing events of my life.

“Not as performers.”

“Then what?”

“I don't know,” he snapped with impatience. “But there's no harm in asking.”

True enough. And it wasn't as though I had any ideas of my own. So we waited and watched the contortionist go through her routine, and I tried to be polite as I fended off the soft touches to my skin and hair.

The contortionist, in time, stood upright for a moment, and we took that as a sign that she was done for a bit. The spectators tossed coins at her feet. Some of them moved on but many lingered, watching us. Apparently, the prospect of us speaking was a form of entertainment all its own.

“Excuse me, my lady,” said Karish, flashing his brightest smile and dropping his voice about half an octave. “May I beg a moment of your time?”

She looked at him with an amused smirk, lithe brown hand propped on her extremely bony hip. “First you take my speccies,” she said in the same thick, syrupy drawl of the roadkeeper, “and now you want my time?”

Speccies? What the heck were those?

Ah. Spectators.

“Two such poor creatures as ourselves could never distract anyone from such a vision of beauty.”

The woman, young and lovely, was entertained, but not, to my surprise, bowled over. There were some people immune to Karish's charm. They were usually older, cynical, or jealous. This girl didn't seem to fit the profile. She snickered. “Kai, charmer. What's fly?”

“I am,” he said after hesitating just a hair of a moment, “Taro Karish. This is Lee Mallorough. We're strangers here.” She snickered again because, aye, obvious. “We are looking for work. Who do we speak to about such things?”

“We travel, eh?” she said. “We're here just a few days.”

“That actually suits us.”

The smile dropped off and her eyes narrowed. “Why?” she demanded, suddenly cold.

Karish was surprised by the abrupt change in demeanor, but he rallied. “Because we need to get to another part of the island but lack the means to get there. If we can travel as we earn, it will be a benefit to us. Unless, of course, you're traveling in the wrong direction.”

The woman relaxed. She looked us over. Karish, she scanned fairly quickly, but her gaze lingered on me for a disturbing length of time. What, had I put my shirt on backward? She nodded. “Follow that road north,” she said, pointing. “Go left at the gray post. All the tents are there. Stop the first person you see and ask for Atara. Tell them Rinis sent you.”

Karish gave her his biggest brightest grin, and she didn't melt at all. Was she blind? “Thank you for your assistance, Rinis.”

“Kai, kai.” She rolled her eyes. “Go, will you? You're disturbing the speccies.”

We thanked her again and moved away. Too many people moved with us. Were we really that strange to look at?

Karish didn't seem to notice, or didn't seem to care. He took my hand and walked with a buoyant step. “She wouldn't have sent us to this Atara if there were no hope of us finding work.”

“Unless she finds pleasure in sending ignorant strangers to get their heads taken off by her irascible employer.”

“Pessimist.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

We followed Rinis's directions, which were simple and correct. They led us, as she had said, to a huge collection of tents. No tents like I'd ever seen. Brilliant colors, every one of them, various sizes but all of them with large flaps suspended far beyond the entrance of the tent. They all shaded what I supposed were chairs, low to the ground and comprised of thick poles of wood, held together by thick sections of cloth that served as the seat and the back, so people could sit outside yet remain shielded from the sun. Ribbons hung from the flaps, tokens I couldn't identify tied to the ends. People sat in these chairs and watched us, a little wary but not overtly hostile.

A group of children ran by us with a chorus of “Kiyo!” I recognized them as the group who had run past us the day before. That explained why they hadn't been watching the performers with the rest of the villagers. It was all old news to them.

Slightly older children were practicing the stunts I'd seen their elders performing. Wires and trapezes were lowered, the items juggled were neither sharp nor on fire, but the activities still seemed too dangerous for children to me. Especially as adult supervision was pretty lax.

“Excuse me,” I said to a youth who appeared to be standing around doing nothing. “This is Shintaro Karish. I am Dunleavy Mallorough. A woman named Rinis suggested we talk to Atara.”

He looked me up and down and grinned. Karish, he barely glanced at. What was with these people? The youth started walking and, assuming he was taking us where we wanted to go, we followed.

The tent he took us to didn't look significantly different from the others, but then I couldn't find any tent in my sight that suggested a person of authority lived within. As soon as the youth was under the tent's flap he was toeing off his sandals. “Ma!” he nearly shouted. “Got seekers here!”

There was no response that I could hear, but that didn't keep the boy from ducking into the tent. A moment or so later his head popped back out. “Come now,” he said to us with a trace of impatience.

We quickly divested ourselves of our boots and followed him in.

And damn that place was hot. I heard Karish gasp beside me. Over a dozen candles and lamps increased the temperature, and I felt the moisture accumulating on my face and under my arms. In the brutal light I was well able to see the colorful carpets stretched over the ground, hangings suspended from ceiling to floor in a bid to create rooms in the tent, and the occupant herself.

She was scary looking. That was the first, juvenile word to pop into my head. And I wasn't sure why, because she was also beautiful. She was tall and lean, with that hard, chiseled beauty middle age brought to some women. Her skin was a darker brown than the others I had seen, almost black. The weight of her black gaze when she glanced at me seemed to hit me like a blow to my stomach. Her stance and her movements and her very aura rang with intimidating confidence.

Her skirt and her shirt, as scanty as everyone else's, were brilliant red, each ear was filled with earrings, and a gaudy collection of chains and torques graced her throat and both wrists and ankles. She wore rings on every finger and—and this made me cringe with imagined discomfort—every toe.

I was surprised to see such a blatantly strong woman wearing such an excessive amount of decoration. I was also surprised to realize that I had previously assumed competence and extravagant frippery were mutually exclusive concepts. Always fun to learn new things about oneself.

She was standing by a small table. Most of the candles were arranged in a large square on its surface. Within the square was what looked like a map. It appeared to be a map of the island, though its shape was slightly different from mine and it had far more detail. The woman held a length of silver, laced through the bored center of a small white stone, suspended over the map. She was slowly moving the stone above the map, up and down, side to side. “Ah, she said, cocking her head to one side as she slowed her movements, shifting the stone at a slower and slower pace. Then she stopped. The stone rested in stillness for a moment. The next moment, the stone started spinning.

Frowning, I looked up the length of silver to her fingers. They were utterly still. There was nothing about the woman to suggest how the stone might be spinning.

The woman grinned, a glorious wide smile that filled me with sudden envy. A smile like that could halt conversations. “Harvest Moon,” she announced, grabbing the stone into her palm. “Tell Fin, will you, Ori?”

“Yes, Ma,” and with another curious look at us the youth ducked out of the tent.

The woman straightened, raking over first Karish and then me with those relentless eyes. “I am Atara,” she said, and I realized her accent, although there, was fainter than any I'd heard yet. “You are seeking work?”

Ah. Seekers. Seeking work. Got it. There were some real interesting language ticks at play. “Yes, ma'am.” I introduced us, then added, “We are from High Scape. Have you heard of it?”

“I have.” The woman pulled a small bag from a dresser by one of the “walls,” dropping the chain and stone into it. “The place is popular with the dark spirits.”

“The…dark spirits?” Oh no.