Heroes Adrift (23 page)

“I haven't heard that one before,” I commented to Taro. “Stringless?”

He shrugged.

“Well, at least it's a pleasant place to stop.” A little cooler, as we were so close to the water.

“Kai, but how long will it stay that way?” said Taro. “They feel a little like the regulars did last year, before the weather returned to normal. All jittery. Like when they were all getting ready for a reason to tear down a building. I don't like it.”

Great. Nice to know Beril's paranoia was contagious.

The rest of the day was spent searching the camp for the idol. The search took longer than I thought it needed to, because the whole troupe was involved. Every single tent, including Kahlia's and Atara's, was dismantled, the possessions stretched out on the ground to be picked through. Only one tent was searched at a time, a handful doing the dismantling while everyone else watched, and no one was permitted to take a hand in the dismantling of their own tent. It seemed to take forever.

And, of course, nothing was found.

Kahlia wasted a day she should have spent preparing her argument. Though I didn't know what she could say. The charge lacked the details to demonstrate that Kahlia hadn't been in the building when the idol was stolen, or that she wouldn't have access to the area where it had been kept.

Kahlia found nothing odd about the scanty details. It was considered normal on the island. Then, the speech presented to the Accounting Clerks would be believed, as it wouldn't be crafted to accommodate the nature of the crime.

That didn't mean she wasn't tense. She was. I'd never seen her features so stiff. Nor her patience so short.

But then, she wasn't the only one.

“What is wrong with these people?” Aryne asked, as we sat under our ovcas and waited for the sun to go down.

“They're worried about Kahlia,” I said. Aryne snorted, as if such a level of concern for another was so foreign as to be incredible. “And they think they're cursed.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “They're cursed?”

Oh, Zaire, not another one. “So they think. They think by staying in the same place for as long as they have, one of them is going to die.”

“Krick!” She leapt to her feet, looking panicked. “You never told me!”

Wonderful. I didn't need this. “Because it's none of your business.”

“None of my business!” she shrieked. “I'm getting—”

“Sit down!” I found myself barking.

I was stunned when she dropped back into her cropper. From the look on her face, she was rather surprised herself.

“You will not add to these people's fears.”

“They're right to be afraid, ain't they?”

“You don't have to be.”

“Why not?” she demanded suspiciously.

“You weren't among them when the curse was made.” That sounded reasonable, didn't it? As reasonable as talking about a curse could sound. “So it doesn't apply to you.”

I wasn't going to try to convince her there were no such things as curses. She'd probably grown up believing in them. And wouldn't she be having a lovely time of it at the Academy, with beliefs like that?

She studied me skeptically. “Huh,” she said.

So I hadn't won her over. I'd calmed her down and shut her up. That had been the only goal.

Too bad I couldn't do the same for everyone else. The very air about the camp felt awful, everyone snapping at each other, stiff with fear.

It didn't help that none of us had anything to do. I wasn't sure whether the residents of Sunset Shores had been forbidden to see us, or if the members of the troupe were afraid of the risks inherent in their acts, but there were no performances. Nor were there any practices, which were nearly as dangerous. And we weren't permitted to go to the market.

Nothing to do but sit and think.

And worry. Because what if Kahlia was found guilty?

I didn't believe for a moment that she had stolen the idol. I couldn't imagine someone so brutally honest, not to mention proud, lowering herself to theft. Especially when it wasn't necessary for her survival. But what if this Accounting found differently? They would kill her.

I'd asked to go to the Accounting. I was told it was not permitted, for it was none of my affair. Which was true, and even I knew that claiming I might be able to help would be just too arrogant. I hadn't been with Kahlia when she'd gone to the merchant's house. I had no gift for advocacy.

But what if Kahlia went to the Accounting, and never came back?

Yes, she was an aggravating person. She was also a good person. Generous with her time and her care. And I would miss her.

And I hated the fact that someone could die over stealing a useless little idol. It was such a stupid waste. I just wanted to storm into this merchant's fancy home and smack him.

The fourth day came. Kahlia left, with only Panol in attendance. Atara stayed behind, which seemed to me a little cold.

Taro and I were sitting in our croppers in front of our tent, sipping wine and trying not to think about what might be going on, when Sirok, Rinis's partner, came running up, sweating and agitated. “Please come,” he gasped out. “Something's wrong with Rinis.” Then he dashed away again.

We ran to Rinis's tent, finding a crowd already collected around it. From inside I could hear Rinis screaming. “What's happened?”

“Something's wrong with the baby,” said Leverett.

Well, I'd gathered that much.

“I can't heal!” Karish said urgently.

“Please!” Sirok said. “They won't let me fetch the village healer!”

Taro looked to me.

I didn't know what to say. I did think he could heal, to an extent. But I didn't know whether he could help Rinis, whatever her ailment was.

Taro swallowed. “I can't heal her, Sirok. Truly, I can't. But I can—I can ease her pain. A little.”

Sirok just nodded and ducked into the tent.

Taro gave me a pleading look. So I followed, though I didn't wish to, and it wasn't necessary. I didn't need to see him to Shield him, especially from such a short distance.

The interior of the tent held the heavy, suffocating scent of blood, ill concealed by incense. It was too hot, the many candles adding to the discomfort. I could see Rinis lying on the mat, shining with sweat and clutching at Corla, who knelt beside her. “Make it stop,” she whimpered. “Please make it stop.”

Corla looked up at our entrance.

“Shintaro's going to heal you,” Sirok announced.

“Stop saying that!” Taro snapped. Then he took a deep breath, kneeling on the other side of Rinis. “Rinis?”

She just whimpered, her hands clutched into fists into the blankets beneath her.

There was blood trailing down her legs.

I had never been around a pregnant woman in need of medical attention. It was a terrifying experience.

“Rinis.” Taro put a palm to her forehead, smoothing back her sweat-soaked hair. “I'm going to make you feel a little better, all right?”

“Make it stop,” she pleaded.

“I can't do that, Rinis. I can only ease the pain a little.”

I Shielded him as he worked, though the nature of his work was beyond my perception. More delicate than when he channeled, I was unable to feel what he did.

I was able to see the effects, however. The gradual loosening of Rinis's muscles. The easing of her breathing.

“Thank the wind,” Sirok murmured to himself. “Thank the wind.”

I was thinking he was precipitous in his relief.

Then again, maybe Taro had healed her. He had done so many other amazing things.

In moments, Rinis's eyes closed, and Sirok gasped. “Is she—?”

“She's sleeping,” Taro said quietly. “She needs a healer.”

“They won't let us to the healer!”

Taro looked up at Sirok hesitantly. “I—I don't know what's wrong with her, Sirok.”

“You will heal her.”

“I can't.”

“You will heal her!” he insisted.

What could Taro say in the face of that?

Brilliant man, he thought of something. “She would be more comfortable with a change of sheets and some fresh water.”

Sirok nodded briskly and left the tent.

“Does she have something to wear that's less confining?” Taro asked Corla.

“She's soiled everything,” Corla said. “I'll fetch something from my tent.”

“Thank you. A clean mat, too, if you can.”

Corla left, and Taro looked at me. He tilted his head toward the entrance flap. I didn't like the idea of leaving Rinis alone, but evidently he didn't want to risk her hearing what he had to say. So we left the tent, moving a good distance away from Rinis and everyone else. “The child,” he said in a low voice. “It has no force.”

“What does that mean?”

“It's dead.”

I gaped at him. “Are you sure?”

“Aye.”

“Hell.” What did that mean? Could a woman give birth to a dead baby? I had no idea. And what if one couldn't? What were we supposed to do then? “Are you going to tell them?”

“How? How will I explain how I know?”

He had a point. I looked back at the tent Rinis was in, and frowned as I saw it shake. “Something's going on.”

He strode back to the tent, ducked in, and nearly shoved me aside as he ducked out again. “Stranger!” he shouted, running around to the back of the tent. I followed him, seeing him take a leap at the man running from the back of Rinis's tent.

The man went down under Taro's weight, but was quickly able to twist around and shove Taro off. Then he punched Taro in the face.

Not the face!

Next thing I knew, I was flying at the stranger, and I landed against him with a stomach wrenching crunch. Then a dizzying whirl, and I found myself lying on the ground with a fist heading toward my own face.

The man was shoved off me, and I crawled backward from the melee. I looked for Taro, and saw him sprawled on the ground with a hand pressed to his nose, blood leaking through his fingers.

Our savior was Beril, and Sacey and Fin were piling on top of a man who looked vaguely familiar. “Yesit!” Beril shouted. “What are you doing here?”

Taro sat up, still holding his nose. “He was in Rinis's tent,” he said. Then he looked at me. “It's just bleeding, not broken,” he assured me. “Go check on Rinis.”

Sirok and Corla were back. Sirok was hovering over Rinis, hysterically demanding if she was all right. Rinis was choking and coughing and unable to answer in anything better than gibberish.

Corla looked up at me. “She said Yesit was here,” she told me. “He tried to strangle her.”

And my brain finally caught up and reminded me that Yesit was Atara's brother.

And that I'd seen him before. He was the stranger I'd seen wandering around our tent one night. I'd forgotten all about him. I went back outside.

The whole troupe had by this time been attracted by the noise, including Aryne. “That's the one with the snake,” she told me.

“The snake.”

“What bit Panol.”

“Oh.” It was starting to make sense to me. Yesit cast the curse on the troupe. Then he followed them around—or perhaps merely arranged to be in the same place at the same time at certain points in their journey—and sabotaged acts to make the curse appear real.

He had nearly killed Panol and Rinis. He had apparently succeeded in actually killing other members of the troupe. All over possession of a circus that seemed to make just enough to keep moving on. It was really quite insane. And it was really quite convenient that he had been discovered in this location. He could be turned over to the island Runners who had arrested Kahlia. And everyone would realize there was no real curse and be able to settle into more normal lives.

Atara, apparently, hadn't gotten that far in her thinking. She stood over Yesit, who was being held on his back by Fin and Beril. “Yesit,” she drawled. “You have back.”

You have back. You have spine? You have nerve to be coming back here?

“Nothing wrong with visiting my friends,” he snarled back.

Oh. He was going to try to deny everything. Interesting choice.

“And killing them?” Atara demanded coolly.

“Of course not!”

“You were strangling Rinis,” Taro accused him, his voice muffled as he continued to attempt to staunch the blood flowing from his nose.

“What weight is the word of an offlander?” Yesit sneered.

“I saw you throw the snake what bit Panol,” Aryne piped up.

“Whose life the offlander then saved,” Atara added.

“And I saw you a while ago,” I said. “Lurking around the tents.”

“That's three blows, Yesit,” said Atara.

“Given by offlanders,” Yesit sneered.

“I'm not an offlander!” Aryne objected.

“They have been our omens,” Atara said. “They have brought us good fortune. You have brought us ill. Whose word do you believe holds more weight?”

Yesit's expression slid from belligerence to pleading. “I am your brother.”