Resenting the Hero (22 page)

 
Reading half a correspondence was just as unsatisfying as eavesdropping on half a conversation. You ended up with less than half a message. It was an interesting letter and one I would have to think about, but no one else needed to see it.

More love letters.

Another letter from Creol, according to the date the first Karish had received in High Scape, and it was by far the longest. In it, Creol reminded Karish that they had met several times while in their academy and had even done some of their training together. I thought that a little odd considering the disparity in their ages. He commiserated with Karish on his miserable assigment—High Scape, a miserable assignment? Was the man crazy?—and warned him that the Triple S would never treat him well. Some details on his own failed career were offered as proof of the incompetence of the Triple S. Then an invitation to join an association of Sources and Shields in Middle Reach, who were seeking independence and power for the “talented.” That was how he referred to anyone with the potential to become a Source or Shield. His association, he claimed, would show the world what the talented truly were.

A very disturbing letter. An association of Sources and Shields. Not Pairs. Something about that tickled my brain. And I'd never heard of any Pair associations outside of the Triple S. There was no need for it, there were so few of us. And whatever this club was, Karish's Shield was not invited. Odd.

Aiden returned from the kitchen. “Find anything?” he asked.

My first impulse was to brush the question aside. Triple S business. But my second thought reminded me of the previously unappreciated wisdom of getting an opinion from outside my own head. “A few letters from this Creol fellow, asking Karish to come out to Middle Reach and join his association.”

“Association? What kind of association?”

“An association seeking independence and power for Sources and Shields,” I paraphrased.

Aiden's eyebrows rose. “Sounds a bit odd.”

“Aye.”

“So what do you think?”

I shrugged. “That's what I was going to ask you.”

“I don't think I know enough about it.” He set a platter of sliced meat and cheese on a nearby table. “Do you think Lord Shintaro is interested in joining this group?”

“From the sound of these letters, I don't think he's said yes.” Karish didn't need to join an association to get power and independence. The ducal title would do that for him.

“There are also some mildly threatening letters from estranged relatives, and one from a Reanist. Any one of them could mean something, and maybe none of them do. Too many choices.” And I really didn't know what to make of any of it.

“Well, leave it for a bit and eat something. You'll be better for a break.”

“Aye.” I still wasn't hungry, not at all, but I felt obliged to eat after Aiden had gone to the trouble to get the food. “How's the leg?” I asked him.

“Not too bad.”

“You were moving really well today. Sometimes you don't even limp.”

He smiled. “Aye.”

“So do you think you'll try dancing again?” I didn't mean in competition. Just a little practice run, with some friends manipulating the bars very slowly.

Aiden looked me in the eye. “I won't dance again, Dunleavy,” he said. “I can walk, and the night this happened I was afraid I'd never get even that much back. I certainly thought I'd be bedridden much longer than I have been. I'm grateful for what I've gotten.” He reached across the table to take my hand in his. “The clicking in my knee is still there, Dunleavy. I don't expect it to go away.”

I rubbed my temple with my free hand. I was developing a headache.

“I didn't tell you that to make you feel guilty,” he said gently. “I told you because you asked. Can I not talk about this?”

“Of course you can,” I answered.

“Without you getting that guilty look on your face?”

“Guilt is a waste of an emotion.”

He looked amused. “One of your tenets?”

“Simple truth.”

Unfortunately, the fact that it was true didn't seem to make it particularly effective. I did feel guilty. Even though I hadn't done anything, either deliberately or accidentally, to cause Aiden's injury. Even though injuries were a risk every dancer faced, including me. I couldn't help feeling responsible for it, and badly about it. My professors would be disappointed.

Chapter Seventeen

Karish was missing.

That was the first clear thought in my head as I woke at an uncharacteristically early hour. The letters I had taken from Karish's desk were on my table. I'd wanted to run them over to the Headquarters as soon as I'd gotten through the lot, but Aiden had persuaded me it would be too difficult to convince the Runners of the letters' significance when it was the middle of the night and everyone was tired and irritable and stubborn. Wait until morning, he'd said, when everyone was rested and thinking clearly and in a better mood. After all, they'd either seen the letters and dismissed them, or had missed them altogether. Either way, they weren't going to like my going in and telling them how to do their job. No point in going out of my way to make the task more difficult than it would naturally be. So he'd gone home and I'd gone to bed, where I barely slept, certain that I would die in my sleep.

I did eventually doze off, and when I woke, before taking note of the time and place, I noticed anew that Karish was gone. It was almost something I could feel, deep in my mind. It was disturbing.

I got up. I dressed. I made myself some coffee. Aiden arrived as early as he had promised to, and we went back to the Runners' Headquarters.

A lot had happened since the day before. There were more familiar faces at Headquarters; I remembered them from the hospital. From them I learned that everyone on the list had been ruthlessly rounded up and questioned. The hospital where Karish had convalesced had been searched, and all the staff had been questioned. Every route out of the city was being posted with Runners, and a house-by-house search had been started. Overnight.

“He's Lord Shintaro,” Aiden said when I commented on this.

“What, you think all the Runners in High Scape are in love with him, too?”

He chuckled, and smiled, and kissed my cheek. “I forget how . . . innocent you are, sometimes.”

I looked at him for a long moment. “I'm going to hit you now,” I announced.

“It's not your fault. You've been holed up in an academy for most of your life, so you don't know how the world works for the rest of us.” His mouth crooked up with sympathetic amusement. “Lord Shintaro isn't human, you know.”

I didn't think so, either, but I suspected the reason for Aiden's belief was different from mine. “Isn't he?”

“He's a duke,” Aiden told me gently, with all the condescension of a tutor with a particularly dense student. “Or he will be soon. He's practically royalty. To the rest of the world he might as well be, for he's just as remote in his way, just as privileged and blessed and untouchable. People will deny it to their last breath, but buried in the back of our minds is the knowledge that Karish and his kind are, in many ways, different from us. Better than us. No, I'm serious.” For I had smiled at that. And how could anyone think Karish untouchable?

“The aristocracy is worshipped,” Aiden continued. “When something like this happens”—he nodded at a Runner rushing by him—“people do everything they can to fix it.”

I couldn't deny that was how it appeared. The Runners had accomplished in one night what I would have thought would take days. I did doubt that so much effort would be made for an ordinary person.

“Aside from his godliness, Karish is an extremely important person. I don't know much about Westsea, but I know it's huge. He'll have enormous political power. He'll be a magistrate director. He'll be extremely wealthy. If he dies now with no clear immediate heir to step in, it'll be a mess. The political and economic repercussions could be staggering. Every potential heir he's got will be up in arms, grabbing for the seat. Hell, an estate that size, it could start a war.”

I stared at him. I'd had no idea. Well, I had, in a vague sort of way, but I hadn't really thought about it. It had never had anything to do with me.

“Don't be embarrassed,” he said. “I'll wager Lord Shintaro doesn't understand, either. But he'll find out once he's able to get to Flown Raven and look into his affairs.”

And any faint hope I'd had that he really would refuse the title evaporated. He couldn't refuse. If Westsea was that important, if his refusal could do that much damage, he would have to take the title. I really had to start looking into what I was going to do as a bonded but Sourceless Shield.

Later. After I found him. I had Karish's letters, and I had to point out their significance to someone in authority. The Runners in the common area tried to tell me the captain was too busy to see me. Risa Demaris was there, and she remembered me from the hospital. She easily brushed off the Runner holding me back and led me to the door to the captain's office. After a brisk knock I entered, Aiden at my heels.

Mulroney was too busy? Hah. He was alone, staring sightlessly at the one paper he held in his hand. He looked up at me with the worn face and reddened eyes of a man who'd had too little sleep or too much alcohol. Possibly both. Irritation at the interruption gave way to resignation as he rolled his eyes. “Zaire,” he swore. Then he spied Aiden. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

“I belong to her,” Aiden answered, and I suppressed my surprise at his choice of words.

“This has nothing to do with you. Unless you're intimately familiar with Lord Shintaro's activities of the past couple days.”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Then get out.”

That seemed unnecessarily brusque.

Looking almost humble, Aiden bowed and left the office.

“I've got some letters that might be of use to you,” I said quickly, before the captain could start yelling. “And I want to know what's going on.”

“I told you yesterday I would contact you if anything came up.”

Had he really expected me to sit at home and wait until he decided to send word to me? “The letters were sent to Karish. I think they might have some useful information.”

“We looked through Lord Karish's correspondence.”

“I know,” I said, to be polite, “but none of you are his intimates.” And I felt like a bit of a fraud as I said that, for I could hardly be called one of Karish's intimates, either. I held out the letters to him. “I think these might give you some ideas about who might have taken Karish.”

He accepted them gracefully enough. “I'll have another look at them,” he promised me, “but it's pretty clear he's been taken to Flown Raven.”

“Why is it clear?” And why had no one told me that? What was that he had just said about informing me when anything new came to light?

“Dosh's livery got an order for a small carriage with sprung wheels from some out-of-towners who claimed to be from Shina Lake. One of them had a tattoo of a black sun over his left temple. Have you heard of the Reanists?”

“Of course,” I said, a little too sharply, for he gave me a look.

“They're on the rise again. Guess they've gotten sick of the flash floods Shina Lake's been getting and decided to soothe their gods' nerves with a little aristocratic blood.”

“That's what they do.” And why every last one of them hadn't been rounded up, I couldn't fathom. They all insisted on wearing those ridiculous tattoos on their faces. And they were fanatics. Pretty easy to spot. The fact that a handful of them had managed to get hold of a prince about eightieth in line to the throne and stake him before the Imperial Guards caught them should have been all the excuse anyone needed. Instead, they'd executed the ringleaders and let the others free to wander about and be abused by the general population. It had been claimed that only the ringleaders had been actually involved in the murder, and therefore only they could be executed, but I found that hard to believe. “One of those letters is from a Reanist, inviting Karish to be their next sacrifice.”