Resenting the Hero (28 page)

“For what?” I asked.

“Everything. Art, drama, music, rhetoric.”

Really? I'd never heard he was a dilettante. Of course, I thought he was a crazed barbarian, and crazy people weren't interested in the finer arts, were they? Idiot. “Is he here now?”

“I've run into him in town, several times, but he never stays at the residence,” Wyman told me. “Do you think Creol has something to do with your missing Source? What's that got to do with his title?”

“Are Creol and Karish related?” Lynch asked.

What a horrible idea. Was that possible? They didn't look anything alike, but that didn't mean anything.

Think down one path at a time, girl, or you'll get yourself in a tizzy, and what would that accomplish?

Wyman's question made me feel foolish, so I tried to avoid answering it directly. “Karish had been receiving some correspondence from Creol over the past couple of months,” I said, doing my best to sound like I was competent and rational. “Apparently Creol is trying to establish some kind of independent Source group, to prove to the world what Sources can really do and earn the respect they deserve.”

Ryan snorted. “The Sources here have all the respect they deserve,” he said dryly. “And more.”

“So you haven't heard about this association?”

“Oh, aye,” said Wyman. “He's talked to us about it.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Sources can't function without Shields. Creol recognizes that, even if none of the others do,” Wyman commented acerbically.

“So what did he say to you?”

There was an exchange of glances that immediately roused my curiosity and my suspicions. A short pause—was I trustworthy or not? I caught Lynch nodding at the others. What, was she considered the authority on me, possessed of expert knowledge about my character?

Don't be ridiculous.

I was getting paranoid.

“It's true Creol is trying to found a new association,” said Dakota. “Maybe a new kind of Triple S. Because he doesn't like the way the current Triple S is run. He's been abused by it.”

That, to me, seemed a drastic change of tune. “This is a Source we're talking about, right?”

Irritation flashed across Ryan's face. “We don't believe all Sources are evil or shiftless,” he said coolly. “Just because we've been Paired with bastards doesn't mean we don't recognize that most Sources are decent enough people. We just think they're poorly educated about Shields and how to treat us, and that they're given too much autonomy. Creol is trying to change that.”

I couldn't help cocking a brow at that. “I never heard of Creol being accused of any generosity of spirit.” But then, it seemed I had never heard a lot of things.

Lynch flipped her hair off her shoulders. “Oh, we know all about what you've heard,” she said dismissively. “Tales of rape and torture and possible murder. Creol told us all about it. It's all lies. The Triple S wants to discredit Creol because he's trying to change things. They don't want anyone to be influenced by him, so they spread rumors about him being violent and even crazy. But that's all they did, start rumors. They've never brought him to trial. There's no evidence of anything.”

I couldn't believe the Triple S would bother to destroy a man's character in such a fashion. What did one dissident matter? And I just couldn't picture Creol as the messiah of the downtrodden. “He's a Source. What does he care how Shields are treated?”

“His father was a Shield, and his Source was everything Creol is reputed to be. As soon as Creol was discovered as a Source, his father made him swear to treat everyone, especially his Shield, with respect. It's an oath he takes very seriously.”

“Only Creol has no Shield,” I mused.

“And he's pretty much lost hope of finding one. So has the Triple S, which is why he's allowed to wander around without being Paired. So he's decided to watch out for all Shields.”

But it all sounded too altruistic for a person I'd always heard described as a maniac. “I've met him.”
And he'd looked like a maniac.
“At my Match.”

“And what was your impression of him?”

But not really. Thinking back, I remembered being terrified that I'd be Chosen by him. I remembered steeling myself to meet his gaze and swearing I wouldn't be trampled by him should I be so unfortunate as to be Chosen by him. But if I swept that aside and pictured him . . . “He looked rather bored, to tell the truth.” And normal enough. Regular features. A rather penetrating gaze that could be disturbing, but nothing to be locked up over.

“He hasn't had much hope the last few Matches,” Ryan told me. “So not much interest. But did he seem like a slavering lunatic to you?”

“No.” I hated honesty.

“Because he isn't. He's just trying to make change.”

“From Middle Reach?”

But no one seemed offended. Dakota grinned. “I know it seems an unlikely choice at first glance,” he admitted, “but it really does make sense if you think about it. This is one of the few places where erring Pairs are sent. This is where a lot of us who have something to complain about end up. We talk to each other here, share sympathy and support, and gather evidence to put before others.”

“Are you all the Shields in Middle Reach?” I heard a few notes of muted music. Aiden had pulled out his lyre and was playing a gentle, melancholic air. Perhaps not the best choice for an audience of disgruntled Shields, but the music was softly played, and no one was objecting.

“No,” Wyman said in answer to my question. “There are two more Pairs. Williams and Masters and Smith and Fellows.”

That was an awful lot of Pairs for a site that really wasn't all that active. “Why are they here?”

“Williams is a decent enough person, I suppose, but she's totally incompetent and won't admit it. According to Masters, she let the first three disasters whip right by her. Couldn't do a damn thing.”

I'd never heard of anything like that before. “Are they sure she's a Source?”

“Aye. She can access the forces, she just can't channel enough to be effective. She was offered a teaching position, but she felt she had too much self-respect to teach.” Wyman rolled her eyes. “I'm sure saying she's been posted here does wonderful things for her self-respect.”

“We don't know why Smith and Fellows are out here,” Dakota added. “They won't talk about it. I can only tell you that Fellows is the sweetest fellow you could ever hope to meet, and Smith is a total bastard.”

That was blunt enough. I looked at Wyman. “Why are you out here?”

She snorted. “O'Sullivan got drunk one day, forced the driver of a public carriage to turn the reins over to her, and ran over the thirteen-year-old son of a member of the Triple S council. This was about a week after our bonding. We were sent straight here. That was about eight years ago.”

Good lord. “All the Shields are here because of their Sources?” That was unbelievable.

They all looked at each other again. “Aye,” said Ryan.

One sudden, discordant note from Aiden. It seemed to strike right into my heart, but I managed to keep from jumping in my seat. “I see.” I loosened my iron grip on the arm of my chair.
Must stay calm.

“How are you going to go about looking for your Source?” Wyman asked me.

“I really have no idea,” I admitted. “Just . . . look, I guess.” Excellent plan. I was a genius.

“I'll take you about,” Ryan offered quickly.

I hesitated. “You're very kind,” I said. “But for the first time I want to check things out on my own.” Without anyone looking over my shoulder. “I want to feel things out myself, so I'll know what questions to ask. And it's not like I can get lost here.”

Ryan nodded. Aiden segued into a more cheerful tune.

“And it's not like you can do anything tonight, either,” said Lynch. “We'll have enough work to do soon enough. Come on, Mallorough, tell us about you.”

I was supposed to spill my life story? Was that the deal? I never agreed to that. “Karish and I were bonded—”

“We don't want to hear about Karish,” Dakota interrupted me. “I'm sure everyone gets to hear about Karish to the point of wanting to scream with it.” That was a little harsh. “We want to know about you.”

What was I supposed to tell them? They were the ones with the interesting, tragic lives. But to be polite I told them a little about my family and about High Scape, and when their questions started to irritate me, Aiden, blessed boy, distracted them with music. And then
they
started talking, about the lighter side of Middle Reach, the jokes they had played on each other and some of the good times they'd had. The atmosphere in the residence changed in time to one of cheer and goodwill. The gathering began to feel like a party.

I relaxed for what seemed like the first time in weeks. I had made it to Middle Reach, and my Source was still alive. I had a half-dozen intelligent people willing to help me find him. It was going to be all right. I could feel it.

Chapter Twenty

Karish invaded my dreams that night. I didn't appreciate it. He didn't do anything useful. He didn't speak to me, giving me directions to his exact location or beseeching me for help. All I recalled about the dream was that he had cut his hair quite short, and he was ignoring me. If there was any significance to that, it eluded me.

I woke while it was still dark and couldn't get back to sleep. I slipped out of bed. I dressed as quietly as I could and left the bedroom for the living room, where there were plates and goblets left over from the night before. Now that the party was over I was heartily ashamed of drinking and eating and laughing while my Source was being held in who knew what kind of environment.

Aiden would wake long before I returned, probably, but he would know where I'd gone and he would just have to understand. I couldn't wait until he woke.

It was time to get to work.

I knew where I wanted to start. The abandoned civic center. Perhaps it was too obvious, but then Karish's abductors probably weren't expecting anyone to be looking in Middle Reach. And it was an easy place to start, something to look into. I had to look everywhere.

I started off at a smart pace.

He's not going to be there,
I said to myself. It would be too easy. Only an idiot would keep him in a place that practically screamed “Criminal activity here!”
He's
not
going to be there.

Yet no matter how often I repeated that most sensible sentiment to myself, excitement insisted on thrumming through my veins.

Because what if he was?

Once I passed the last line of buildings I began to jog. It wasn't a conscious decision. I felt driven to it. The sun peeked over the eastern horizon. I scarcely noticed. Warmth wafted through the early dawn air.

When I found him, I was going to kill him. How dare he do this to me? What did he mean by getting himself kidnapped? He was a man, for gods' sake. He was supposed to be able to fight off kidnappers. He was a bloody hero, talented and beautiful and an aristocrat to boot. Heroes didn't get kidnapped. Heroes rescued kidnap victims.

Leave it to a man, and a Source, to screw up something so simple.

He was not
going
to be there.

When I found him I would probably kiss him. Yes, I had to be honest. It would be my only chance to find out just what was so entrancing about one Lord Shintaro Karish. I could say it was because of the stress I'd been under. He would believe that. Or I could claim I was drunk. Or that I'd been listening to music. Sure.

Of course, I'd be honestly relieved when I found him. If for no reason other than it would be the first step to putting my life back in order. But one must have one's priorities.

“I am not in love with him,” I swore. “And I will stop talking to myself.”

He was not going to be
there.

But what if he was? What was I going to do? Charge in there like the cavalry? The only meat I'd ever used a knife on had been lying on a plate. If Karish was being held captive in the civic center, and there were a few good stout guards about, I had no hope of accomplishing anything on my own. I would only get myself captured, too. And I remembered all too easily Captain Mulroney's warning about slicing off body parts. After all, I was no one's prize. For Karish's sake they had to keep me alive, but they didn't have to keep me whole. There wasn't much I could do to defend myself from the violently inclined.

I swallowed. I would be careful. I would be quiet. I would watch, remember, sneak back out and get help. I was not seeking glory, I was not playing amateur Runner. As soon as I saw anything worth seeing, I would be out of there. I would leave the heroics to people suited to such games.

But he would not be there.

I couldn't sneak up on the place. There were no trees, no hills or buildings to hide behind. If there were anyone lurking around, they would easily see me coming. Perhaps it would have been wiser to come back at night, but I thought that would make me look suspicious. During the day, I could claim I was a visitor with an urge to explore. No harm there. Even if someone stopped me and made me turn back, it would sort of answer a question or two. I'd know someone didn't want me there.