Heroes' Reward (3 page)

Aye, that offended
all of them, if their scowls and stiffening postures were any indication. Good.
That would make them feel more inclined to let me go.

“Where will you
be going?” Browne asked me quickly, perhaps to divert the tone of the
conversation.

“Shidonee’s Gap.
Back to the Academy.”

Gidean frowned.
“But you are a particularly talented Pair, right? It doesn’t make sense to take
you out of the field.”

I shrugged. “The
people in charge don’t always make sense, do they?”

As that was a
sentiment absolutely everyone in the world had, I got some smiles and the
subject was dropped.

“All right,
then, back in the circle,” Browne ordered.

Because
releasing me from the group wasn’t merely a matter of saying farewell. They had
used a spell to have me join: it required another spell to let me out.

Browne gave
everyone a candle and then sat in the centre of the circle. She lit her candle.
“I call the Order of Casters of Westsea. Share my light and show our bond.”

Gidean stepped
forward. “I am Morgan Gidean of Flown Raven. I seek knowledge.” He lit his
candle from Browne’s. “I share strength.”

“Do you release
Shield Dunleavy Mallorough from our Circle willingly and in good faith?”

“I do.”

“Thank you for
your trust.”

Gidean stepped
back, and Berlusconi stepped forward to repeat his actions.

This ritual was
considerably shorter than the one we had performed to enable me to join the
Circle. That one had taken all damn day.

After everyone
else had played their part, it was my turn. “I am Shield Dunleavy Mallorough.”
I lighted my candle. “I share strength.”

“You wish to
leave our Circle.”

“Yes.”

“You will honour
the sanctity of the Circle and guard its secrets.”

“I will.”

Browne placed
her candle on the ground and clapped her hands three times. “You are released.”

Yes, a much
simpler ritual. I was grateful. I didn’t really have a lot of time to spare.

“We have other
subjects to discuss,” said Browne.

Then no one said
anything.

Oh, it was time
for me to leave. Now that I was no longer part of the Circle, I was no longer
privy to any further Circle business. “It has been an honour to be a part of
your Circle,” I told them. “Thank you for the trust you have shown me. Good
day.”

I would miss
working with the other casters. Most of them were friendly, and I had learned
so much not only about casting, but about Flown Raven and the people in it.

My walk back to
the manor was much longer than usual, because everyone I encountered stopped to
say farewell and good future.

And Smith Lobien
bluntly asked me, “Is this Pair as good as yours?”

“I imagine they
must be, if they were sent here. This site is very important.”

“Shouldn’t that
mean we’d get a more experienced Pair?”

I didn’t feel I
could tell him that the reason the new Pair had been sent was because Kebit
could cast and the Triple S thought Flown Raven was the best place for him to
learn. That information wasn’t mine to give. “Source Karish and I were assigned
to High Scape, an extremely active site, straight out of our Academies.”

“But the two of
you – you were exceptionally talented. Better than everyone else.”

I hated being
considered the best at anything. It seemed to me that if people thought you
were good at one thing, they thought you were good at everything, and resented
being proven wrong.

But I understood
his concern. His life depended on these people. “Sir, I have spoken to this
Pair, and I have no reason to believe they are anything other than competent.”

Smith Lobien
sniffed. “I suppose that will have to do. Good day, Shield Mallorough.”

I could never be
a politician.

When I returned
to my suite, I found the new Pair there, drinking coffee with Taro. My Source
wasn’t sitting with them, but was leaning back against the sideboard, sipping
tea. That he was keeping his distance meant he was annoyed with them, though
one wouldn’t know it from his face or his tone. “There she is now,” he said
brightly. “Really, my love, you are ridiculously difficult to find at times.”

A sour
expression briefly flashed across the Shield’s face. I could think of many
reasons why he would disapprove of Taro’s words, but I would wager that he was
offended by the reminder that Taro and I were lovers.

Throughout our
education, we had been lectured, again and again, on the dangers of indulging
in sex with one’s partner. The Bond could be a difficult thing, sometimes
creating imbalanced liaisons, soaked with hatred or obsession. Sexual intimacy
could exacerbate negative emotions, especially once that connection fell apart,
as so many did.

Reactions to my
relationship with Taro from other members of the Triple S varied. Some didn’t
care, some thought it was spectacularly stupid, and some thought it was
perverted.

Arrogant brat,
judging me.

“Just saying
farewell to some friends,” I explained. And starving from it. I could have done
with something involving pastry. “What can I do for you?” I asked Kebit.

“I’m curious as
to why Her Ladyship has been familiarizing us with the area, rather than
leaving that task to you as the Triple S instructed,” said Kebit.

Uppity little
tadpole, criticizing me.

“Her Ladyship
expressed an interest in doing so. Given her generosity as a hostess, I thought
it basic courtesy to comply with her wishes.”

I watched the
Shield struggle for words. “I was given to understand at the Academy that we
were to avoid complying with the wishes of regulars.”

“You may come to
feel, in time, that some of the things the Academy teaches might not be
feasible in the world outside those walls.”

The Shield’s
expression became even stiffer. Didn’t like what he was hearing. Or didn’t
believe it.

He would learn.
Or he wouldn’t, to the detriment of himself, his Source, and the people they
were protecting.

“Earthquake,”
Taro announced, all out of nowhere.

Which meant it
was time to channel. Taro’s shields went down and mine rose to guard him. The
forces of the earthquake whirled through him, and he deftly directed them from
Flown Raven.

I could feel
Source Ming trying to channel as well. He felt compelled to, as a Source in the
area of an event. One Source could give way to another, though, which was how
so many Pairs had been able to work together in High Scape. Now Ming conceded
to Taro. As he should. He wasn’t the Flown Raven Source yet.

In a few
moments, the event was gone.

It wasn’t
supposed to be that easy. Channelling was normally a struggle, even under the
best of circumstances. And it had been more difficult than usual, at first,
when we had transferred to Flown Raven. Sources weren’t supposed to be posted
to the place of their birth: it made channelling a nightmare. The Source was
too closely tied to the land to channel effectively.

But a strange
series of events had taken place. First, I had found a cast that had helped us
channel. An inconvenient solution – it meant I always had to carry the
necessary ingredients around, and channelling while casting was uncomfortable –
but at least I didn’t have to worry about Taro exploding from the pressure.

Then for some
unaccountable reason, it just got easier. I stopped needing the cast, and the
channelling ceased to be so vicious and frightening. It began to feel as though
being in the land of his birth had made channelling almost effortless to Taro,
instead of more difficult.

It was
unprecedented, as far as I knew. It made no sense. But hey, it worked, so who
cared?

Ming and Kebit
were gaping at us. “I’ve never seen a channelling achieved so quickly,” said
Ming.

“We have been
doing this for eight years,” Taro pointed out.

“You’ll be
wanting those records,” I said in a pathetic attempt to change the subject. We
didn’t need even more speculation about unusual abilities being sent back to
the council. “I’ll get them for you.”

Kebit expressed
no further distaste for Taro and me over the following few days. Perhaps we had
impressed Kebit and Ming to the point that they didn’t care that we were
violating Triple S policy so severely. Sufficient skill often rendered the
breach of rules irrelevant, I’d noticed.

Chapter Three

We had a mild
set-to with Fiona over how much we should take with us. If it had been left up
to her, we would have ended up with two extra horses just to carry the
additional clothes and knickknacks. We pointed out that if we had too much,
especially of the quality upon which Fiona had insisted, we might alienate some
of the regulars we encountered. Some felt we received too much for little – or
no – labour.

Or we could get
robbed. That had happened to us before.

All right, so we
didn’t actually win that dispute vocally. We just gave most of our possessions
away while out of her sight. She glared at us when it was time to say farewell,
but it was too late for her to do anything about it.

It was strange,
leaving Flown Raven. Aside from visits to neighbours, I had never really left
the area since Taro and I first settled there. For the past few years, I hadn’t
even thought of going anywhere else. Aside from letters and some rumours, I’d
pretty much forgotten about the rest of the world.

That couldn’t be
good, could it?

And I actually
felt a little intimidated about the journey, which made no sense at all. I’d
struck out to various places since leaving the Academy, all over the continent
and down to the Southern Islands. How could I possibly feel apprehensive about
a relatively short jaunt?

I was relieved
when we approached the first village, Fair Stop, a lively place close enough to
Flown Raven that its people regularly attended our market days.

But as the
residents watched us ride in, there was a silence we hadn’t encountered the
last time we were there, during our initial journey to Flown Raven. It felt
like genuine hostility. People glared at us as though they thought we had no
right to be there, and it was discomforting. “Maybe we should ride through,” I
suggested in a low voice.

“It’ll be dark,
soon,” Taro pointed out.

So we’d light a
fire and hunker down. We’d done it many times before.

And then an
older man, hair gray and thinning, wearing clothing that was too big for him,
announced, “We have no little ones for you, so you might as well move on.”

Little ones? Why
would we want anyone’s children?

Taro appeared
baffled as well. “I don’t understand.”

Another man,
younger and in a higher quality of clothing, jeered, “We’re not stupid. We’ve
heard the stories. The Triple S snatches children from their parents, no matter
what anyone feels.”

Ah. That
happened sometimes. Some parents resented the Triple S taking their children
when it was discovered they had talent. The Triple S had no choice, though.
Sources were, eventually, driven to channel when presented with an event, and
if they didn’t have a Shield, they would end up dead from their efforts.

In addition,
Sources and Shields needed to be separated as children and kept in different
academies until they were judged mature enough to handle the emotional turmoil
Bonding could cause. If an undiscovered Source child encountered an
undiscovered Shield child who was meant to be her partner later in life, they
might Bond, and the repercussions could be horrific. Insanity was a
possibility.

But I wasn’t
going to try explaining that. A malevolent crowd was gathering, and anything I
said to defend the motives for Triple S practices would be interpreted as
insulting excuses. “We’re just here to spend the night,” I said. “We haven’t
heard of any children here with the talent.”

Though if we
found any, we would have to take them with us. If the residents let us. Right
then, I wasn’t sure they would. I would have to inform the Triple S of the
circumstances, and they would have to send people to take the child.

The young man
snorted derisively.

“We’ve lived in
Flown Raven for five years,” Taro explained. “The people around here mean a lot
to us.”

Taro could be
very persuasive. He had learned when to flirt, when to charm, when to lay on
aristocratic arrogance, and when to be sincere. This time, he chose the last.

His simple few
words, and perhaps the fact that he didn’t actually disagree with anyone,
seemed to pacify them a little. Not completely, but enough that I didn’t fear
the innkeeper had spat in the stirred potatoes he later served me in his tap
room. Still, there was very little conversation from the other patrons as we
ate. I was sure everyone was watching us, and it felt horrible.

Taro and I said
nothing. We ate as quickly as we could and escaped to the room we had rented.

“I hate being
surrounded by regulars who despise us.” I rubbed my arms. “It makes me feel
naked.” Or exposed. Vulnerable.

Taro smiled.
“Maybe you should give that a try.”

“What?”

“Walk around
naked. It would surely tame their displeasure.”

“I think you
should be the one to make that attempt. You’re the beautiful one.”

“We could both
do it. To make sure we satisfy everyone’s tastes.”

I was no beauty.
I was rather plain, in fact. I lacked the stature to be tall, but was not short
enough to be considered petite. I was neither curvaceous nor slender. My facial
features could only be described as ordinary. The only aspect of my appearance
that might be said to stand out was my red hair.

“Sure,” I said.
“You go first.”

Suddenly, there
was an enormous clatter down on the first floor, the scrape of wooden furniture
being slid and tossed about, and a voice shouting. “Where are they?”

Oh, that could
not be good.

“You know what
happened to Bellus, and you take them in? You spineless bastard!”

“Not these two,”
I heard the innkeeper assert.

“They’re Triple
S!”

“They’ve been
posted at Flown Raven for five years,” the innkeeper responded. “They wouldn’t
have been at the Academies when Bellus was there.”

The shouter
clearly found the innkeeper unconvincing. “Get out of my way!”

This was
followed by pounding up the stairs.

I reached out
for the bar for the door, only to realise there wasn’t one. What kind of inn
was this, that the patrons were rendered unable to bar their doors?

We heard the
door to a room down the hall slam open and bounce off the wall. Then swearing.
Either because the door had rebounded back into the man’s face – that was what
it sounded like – or because we weren’t there.

“Stop destroying
my place, Colin!” The innkeeper was trying to sound forceful, I thought, but
was coming off as fearful.

“Do you want to
bring the Triple S down on us?” another man shouted.

“What can they
do to us?” Colin demanded. “What haven’t they already done?”

Another door
crashed.

The one large
piece of furniture in the room was the bed. It had a heavy wooden frame. That
could probably secure the door. Taro and I stood at either end and heaved.

And it didn’t
move a fraction. The bloody thing weighed so much we couldn’t shift it.

Another room was
invaded. It was occupied. There were startled exclamations and a woman
demanded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Taro stood
before our door, hands placed flat against the wood, feet wide on the floor.
But here was the thing: for a man, Taro was fairly short and slight. I didn’t
think he could hold off a determined man of regular size. The fact that two men
were attempting to restrain Colin and failing at it suggested Colin might be
larger than most.

I stepped
forward to lend my weight – more so no one could claim I just stood there and
did nothing than with any belief I would be able to actually help – just in
time to press against the door as it was shoved open.

It pushed into
our room about a hand span before our weight forced it closed. This, of course,
alerted Colin to the fact that he now had the right room. Perhaps we should
have hidden under the bed instead of trying to move it.

I didn’t know
exactly how he hit the door the second time, but the power of it sent Taro and
me stumbling back into the centre of the small room. The door slammed against
the wall.

Colin
was
a big man, his head nearly touching the ceiling, his shoulders broad to a
degree that I would have found pleasing in other circumstances. His hair was
solid gray, his very brown face – from the sun, not natural colour – was
heavily lined, but despite his age, he was all solid muscle.

The innkeeper
and a third man tumbled in after him.

Colin looked at
Taro, he looked at me, he looked at Taro again, and then he punched my Source
right in the face. The impact of it hurled Taro back against the nearest wall,
his hands covering his nose.

Colin charged at
him again, but the innkeeper leapt on his back while the third man kicked him
in the ankle. Colin went down, and the lack of space had him falling against
the tiny vanity, with its hard wooden corners, before he hit the floor.

“That’s enough,
Colin, damn you!” the innkeeper shouted.

I jumped over
Colin to get to Taro. He’d removed one hand from his face and his fingers were
covered with blood. “Hell,” I said, resisting the urge to touch. “Is it
broken?”

“I don’t think
so.”

He sounded
certain. Thank Zaire. Taro could ease the pain of others – and heal them to
some degree, I suspected, though he denied it – by touching them and using a
particular form of channelling he’d developed while still at the Source
Academy. Unfortunately, he couldn’t manage his own pain, or heal himself.

I turned towards
Colin, who was being held to the floor by the other two men. His face was dark
red. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

At this point,
Colin was gasping heavily. He appeared too enraged to speak.

“His son was a
Shield,” the innkeeper explained. “He killed himself.”

My anger drained
away. What a terrible thing. I couldn’t even imagine how devastating it would
be for a parent to lose a child in such a way. “I’m truly sorry.”

Colin regained
some control over his breathing. “No one would Bond with him. He went to
Matching after Matching, but he never got picked.”

That happened to
a lot of Shields, because there were many more Shields than Sources. It was
unfortunate. I couldn’t imagine living as an unBonded Shield. It meant no posts
and no ability to use one’s skills after years of training. But that wasn’t
something the Triple S could control. They couldn’t determine who Bonded and
who didn’t.

“He was a good
lad,” Colin continued, almost spitting the words out. “Smart. A hard worker.
Treated everyone real good. Played a lute beautifully, even though he was just
a little one when the Triple S took him away. I didn’t know what all they
taught him, but his whole life turned to learning to be a Shield, to take care
of a Source. Only he never got the chance, did he? All that work, giving up a
normal life, and it was all for nothing. And after a while they told him he was
too old, and he had no special skills, couldn’t even teach. He was going to be
pushing a broom. He could have been so much here, and he was to be turned into
the lowest kind of servant.”

Yes, that
happened. The Academies needed only so many professors, so many to administrate
affairs. Some unBonded Shields ended up doing repairs and cleaning the
buildings. They didn’t have to. After the Triple S gave up on trying to find a
match for a Shield, the Shield was given the option of leaving, of going
anywhere they wanted. They still wore the braid, were still entitled to support
from the regulars.

Surprisingly few
took this option, and many of those who did ultimately returned to the Academy.
Some weren’t prepared to spend the rest of their lives doing nothing, as they
weren’t permitted to assume any occupation. Some weren’t able to handle the
scorn of regulars who were forced to provide resources to a Shield that did
nothing in return. Some found the prospect of living outside the walls of the
Academy without the support of a Source intimidating. Some weren’t prepared to
go out into the world, even return to their original homes and families, as
failures.

“So what was
wrong with him, eh?” Colin demanded, of Taro. When Taro failed to respond, the
man practically shouted, “Hey! Source! You’re going to listen to me!”

The innkeeper
and his pal seemed to think Colin had calmed down enough to be let up off the
floor. That wasn’t an estimate I agreed with, but when Colin stood, he didn’t
charge again, angry though he was.

“Did he not come
from a good enough family? Like this one?” He nodded at me. I was surprised he
knew anything about my family. “Was it because he came from a farming family in
an unimportant village no one had ever heard of?”

Taro cleared his
throat. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “Anything I do say would be
inadequate. I feel deeply for you, your family, and your son.”

So did I. I
didn’t blame Colin for his rage, misdirected though it was.