Heroes' Reward (8 page)

“We see that lot
all damn day,” Taro complained. “I haven’t been so inundated by Triple S
members since I left the Academy. I didn’t miss it.”

“Can we sit with
you?” I asked. Maybe Risa would prefer not to associate with us before her
peers.

“Mado, Aiguo,
shift yourselves,” she ordered.

There wasn’t
really a lot of room to shift, but Mado and Aiguo rolled their eyes and
squished into their neighbours, who squished into
their
neighbours,
until there was just enough space for Taro and I to squeeze onto the end of the
benches on either side of the table.

“Well,” said a
woman a few people down, staring at Taro. “You’re a handsome fellow.”

“Yes,” Taro
answered easily.

The woman
appeared caught between amusement and disapproval. “And modest, too.”

“Would you have
thought me sincere if I’d disagreed with you?”

“Well, no.”

“Sincerity is an
admirable trait, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hm.” She didn’t
appear convinced.

“So are you two
really lovers?” a young man interrupted.

People were
going to talk about that so much, and it was going to be so aggravating.
Perhaps we should just wear signs.
Yes, we sleep together. Yes, we know it’s
perverted and careless. No, we don’t want to talk about it.

“Do you really
not know?” Taro asked. “Or were you just wanting to open the subject for
discussion?”

He flushed a
little. “Um ….”

“Who are you
having sex with?” Taro demanded.

We asked that a
lot, to remind our inquisitors they were being rude.

This time it
didn’t work. “Inez,” he answered, gesturing at the woman beside him. “And
Bingwen.” He gestured at the man across the table from him.

“We are not!”
Inez objected.

The man’s
eyebrows rose. “We slept together last night.”

“Aye, but that
was the last time.”

“Again?”

And they were
off, everyone around our end of the table talking about who they were sleeping
with, who they had slept with, and whether their partners were any good at it.

I was getting a
lot of information I didn’t need or want, but at least they weren’t talking
about Taro or me anymore, so I could deal with that.

Chapter Nine

That night, I
read the book Murdoch had recommended. It had more to do with how to teach than
how to cast. Some of the plans were great, and some looked spectacularly
stupid. I wondered if the students would lose any respect for me they might
have had when they realised I was using the same lesson plans Murdoch had used.

The next morning
I commenced as Murdoch had suggested. Steina Desoto, the woman who’d question
the replacement of Murdoch as instructor, said, “Murdoch already taught us
that. Ages ago.”

Being challenged
once in a while was good. It kept one from getting complacement, expecting
people to just flow with one’s wishes. And really, why should they all just accept
me without seeking some confirmation that I was competent to perform the task
I’d been given?

It was
uncomfortable, though.

“Shield Murdoch
did tell me something of your progress,” I told her. “I would like to see a bit
for myself, though, before moving forward.” Taking a page from Taro’s book.

The response was
silence. Even Murdoch appeared to have nothing to say. The air didn’t feel
hostile: I just got the impression that no one was prepared to help me out.

There was no
reason why they should. The logical side of me knew this. That didn’t prevent
me from feeling intimidated, though.

So I had to
prove myself. I had to demonstrate the reason I’d been chosen to teach them.
How could I do that right then and there?

By performing a
cast they didn’t know.

How could I know
which casts they hadn’t learned?

Ah. I could be
confident that they wouldn’t know anything about the sort of casts Browne had
created.

“If you’ll
excuse me,” I said. “I need to go back to my quarters to get some more
supplies.” Without waiting for a response, I jogged away from them and went to
my room.

I’d never
thought the spell I had in mind would have any real or honourable use. I never
was very good at predicting the future. Still, at least I had everything I
needed.

“Guard me
from light.”

The ebony dust.

“
Let the
light flow.”

The glass.

“Let their
gaze slide.”

The butterfly
powder.

“Let them not
know.”

When I returned
to the others, most of them had taken to practising casts, and yes, they were
all more advanced than the lesson I had planned. Still, I did need to confirm
Murdoch’s estimates of their skill, and it wouldn’t be useful to just pick a
place in the book at random. It made more sense to start at the beginning and
go forward. The lessons they already knew would proceed quickly enough, I
imagined.

I walked up to
Desoto, waited until she finished her cast, and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Ho, there.”

She jerked
slightly. She looked in my direction and frowned when she didn’t see anything.
She rubbed her shoulder.

I stepped over to
Murdoch and rose to my toes to speak directly into his ear. “What do you think
of this?”

He was startled
and recoiled a little to one side, but he quickly regained his composure.
“Everyone, here please.”

They all pulled
out of their casts and trotted over.

“It appears
Shield Mallorough is among us,” Murdoch announced.

People frowned,
but no one asked any stupid questions.

I rubbed off the
butterfly powder, eliciting more gasps from the others as I reappeared.

“How the hell
did you learn to do that?” Desoto demanded.

“I’ve never
heard of anything like it,” Murdoch added.

“Someone taught
it to me,” I answered. “But don’t ask me who, because I’m not telling you.”

“But you will
teach it to us?” Murdoch queried.

“Not yet. There
are certain casts I believe you need to know before you can use this one. That
was how I was taught, and I believe that is a sound process.” I looked to
Desoto, raising my eyebrows in a silent invitation for further opposition.

Instead, she
nodded.

I decided this
little episode had been beneficial. I’d been challenged and I’d demonstrated my
worth. That was better than having them blindly follow me only because someone
else told them they must.

“Let’s start
over, shall we?”

The rest of the
lesson went much more smoothly, and the others performed the tasks I set for
them without further reluctance. As I’d predicted, they flew through the early
ones. They didn’t seem to feel they had wasted their time when I dismissed
them.

I went to the
mid-day meal, where Taro and I were subjected to more descriptions of the
sexual exploits of strangers.

Almost no one
was speaking of why we were there. I found this odd and disturbing.

And then, it was
back to the fields to work with the Pairs.

Taro had with
him one of his travel bags, and he wouldn’t tell me what it was for. He wanted
me to wheedle, and I refused to, because that was how we did things.

As he had the
day before, Taro separated the group between those who could create events and
those who couldn’t, choosing to work with those who couldn’t. “We’re going to
try something a little different today,” he announced. “Source Santham, if you
would.”

Santham stepped
forward.

Taro reached
into his bag and took from it a sheathed Ottawa knife. “If you would examine
this as thoroughly as you can.”

Without
question, Santham looked the knife over.

After a few
moments, Taro took the knife back and put it in his bag. “How long is the
knife?”

Santham frowned
in thought. “About the length of my forearm.”

“How long is the
handle?”

“About the
length of my palm.”

“What colour is
the sheath?”

“Black.”

“What colour is
the stitching?”

“Black.”

“What was the
texture of the leather?”

Santham
hesitated a moment before saying, “I don’t understand.”

“Smooth? Rough?
Sticky? Soft?”

“Smooth?”

He was guessing.
His examination of the knife had consisted entirely of looking at it from
different angles. He hadn’t paid any attention to the feel of the leather.

“How sharp is
the blade? Would it easily cut your finger?”

His shoulders
slumped. He had removed the sheath, but he hadn’t touched the edge of the
blade. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Has the blade
been recently polished?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think a moment.
You would have been able to smell it.”

He paused, but I
thought it was because Taro had told him to, not because he thought he would
remember. “I don’t know.”

Taro reached
into his bag again and pulled out a small vase. He handed it to Santham.

This time
Santham was more thorough. When Taro took the vase from him, Santham was able
to say, in addition to the general size, that there was a maker’s mark on the
bottom, that the sides of the vase were rough on the upper half but smooth on
the lower, and that the colour faded from navy to sky blue. He was not,
however, able to remember the colour of the interior of the vase or what it
smelled like, or the thickness of the clay.

“The point of
all this,” said Taro, “is that creating events requires a better grasp of fine
details than channelling them. What does a cyclone look like in your
imagination? Do the forces press harder against your mind or your chest? Do you
hear anything? When you watch me create a cyclone, soak in as much information
as you can, and it will help you create events of your own.”

Taro hadn’t
always been able to perceive such nuances in forces. This was something he had
developed over time, enabling him to create both more powerful and more precise
events.

“For now, I’m
going to focus on one Source at a time.” Taro clapped Santham on the shoulder.
“And today, you’re the lucky one.”

“Great,” Santham
responded in a dry tone.

Taro took a
small statuette from his bag.

And on it went.
Santham improved. Not consistently, but after an hour, his ability to recall
details was much greater.

“So,” said Taro.
“Ready to give the real thing a try?”

Santham looked
weary, but he nodded.

“Lee?”

“Ready when you
are.”

Taro swiftly
created a small cyclone a short distance from the group. He let it swirl for a
while, and then he let it fade.

Santham took a
deep breath and looked to his Shield, who responded with a nod. Santham stared
at the location in which Taro had placed his cyclone.

It took several
long moments, but I was able to feel it. It wasn’t really a cyclone, more a
faint breeze, but everyone knew what that breeze meant.

The others
relaxed. A few grinned. One applauded. And a level of tension I hadn’t quite
perceived faded away.

Taro gave
Santham a bright grin. “Excellent,” he said. “You can stop.”

The wind
disappeared.

“Very, very
good,” Taro added.

This was the
first time I’d seen Santham smile.

“All right, I
have to make an admission,” Taro said. “I didn’t expect this to go so quickly,
and I didn’t bring enough props,” he raised his bag, “to do any more tests, so
we’re going to stop now.” There were a few sighs of relief. “Don’t get used to
it, though. We’ll be back to proper hours tomorrow.” Taro dismissed both
groups.

“I think I can
do this,” he whispered to me.

“Of course you
can. I never doubted it.”

This time at
dinner, everyone at Risa’s table was chattering with a level of excitement I
hadn’t witnessed in them before. “What’s going on?” Taro asked.

“We’ve finally
got someone who knows what he’s doing!” Risa announced gleefully. “Captain
Abejide from the Runners’ Headquarters in Li Dec. They’ve put him in charge and
they’ve pulled out an old rank for him. We’re supposed to call him the
Commissioner.”

“They’re putting
him in charge of everything?” That was a lot of faith to put in one person.

“Right now, just
training the soldiers. But if there is some sort of battle, he’ll be organizing
everyone. Your lot and ours.”

“What does he
know of managing casters and Pairs?”

“As much as
anyone, I imagine. He was the Captain of Headquarters. He knows all about
arranging different groups of people and dealing with unexpected violence.”

It made sense, I
supposed, but I really didn’t like the idea of someone who, I assumed, knew
nothing about Pairs and casters being in charge of us.

And then, all
out of nowhere, Aryne showed up at our table.

Risa’s eyes
narrowed. “I don’t remember seeing you here before,” she said. “And I wouldn’t
have missed someone like you.”

Aryne scowled.
“What that supposed to mean, someone like me?”

Her accent was
pure Flatwell. It surprised the audience.

“Gorgeous,” one
of the women told her.

Aryne snorted.

“You seem a bit
young to have been released from the Academy,” Risa continued.

“Older than I
look,” Aryne lied. She tugged on my shoulder. “Are you going to talk to us or
what?”

In my shock at
seeing Aryne, I had failed to notice the young woman standing slightly behind
her. She had very dark red hair, warm brown eyes, and a lot of curves.

Aryne chose not
to introduce us. “Come on.”

“Have you had
supper?” Taro asked.

“Kai. Let’s go.”

We took them to
our room. We passed people on the way, and many of them looked at Aryne with
curiosity, but no one spoke to us. Maybe they had gotten used to seeing new
people about.

As soon as the
door was closed I demanded, “How the hell did you get in here?”

“Jacked the
lock,” the redhead answered with resignation.

“And no one said
anything to you while you were walking about the grounds?” Taro was having as
much difficulty believing it as I.

“Not a word,”
said Aryne. “We’re here, so we must belong here, kai?”

And I had no
doubt Aryne could pretend to belong somewhere with an ease I lacked.

“This is Source
Shintaro Karish and Shield Dunleavy Mallorough,” Aryne said to her companion.
“This is Druce Steeler. My Source.”

Aryne wore a
triumphant little smile. That was a relief. It seemed her relationship with
Steeler was a positive one.

Druce’s smile
was warm as she shook Taro’s hand and then mine. “I’ve heard so much about
you.”