Heroes Return (29 page)

It was the middle of the day in front of another, not alone in our bed at midnight.

Reid went red. I didn’t blame him. Taro was being ridiculously blatant.

“I’m not working,” I said.

His eyes widened in feigned shock. “You’re not distracting poor Alex, are you?” His gaze shifted to Reid. “She can be so deliciously distracting, can’t she?”

Now it was my turn to blush. Damn him. “We’re merely discussing history.”

“That’s work,” he declared, “and you’re doing far too much of it. Come.” He held out a hand. “Let me be the one to distract you.”

I hated being propositioned in front of other people, especially when I thought the person doing the propositioning was insincere. But I didn’t know how to react. I couldn’t bring myself to just say no—that seemed too blunt—but I sure as hell wasn’t going to say yes.

I put the pages on the table in a manner I hoped was subtle. “Actually, I’m feeling quite unwell.” I hated using a complaint of ill health as an escape. I just couldn’t think of anything else on the fly. I put a hand to my stomach. “I’m just going to lie down by myself for a while.”

“I’m sure I can make you feel better,” Taro smirked.

“All I need is some sleep.” I escaped from the library.

Taro didn’t follow me. I was relieved but also puzzled. If he had believed my excuse, he would have wanted to escort me to the bedroom and made sure I had everything. If he didn’t, he would have wanted to torment me.

He was acting so strangely. It had to be this house. And his mother. They were dismantling his character before my very eyes. I hated it, and I didn’t know what to do about it.

I went to our suite and stared out the window for a while. Then I picked up my current novel, but it didn’t hold my interest. I had to do something, or I would brood about Taro, and that would make me crazy.

I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to try casting again. I wanted to get it right. I was sure I could do this. I had will and focus. I was apparently in a place of power. I just had to make sure I followed the instructions exactly.

Could it really be that easy?

I opened the overmantel again. I avoided the book I’d looked at before. No more glamors for me. I wanted something really simple, something that wouldn’t cause trouble if it didn’t work. And what I found, both surprising and disturbing, was a child’s book of spells.

It was horrible to be teaching children how to cast spells.

That was my first reflexive thought. But, really, why? Unless I thought there was something wrong with casting spells.

Well, there was something wrong with casting. It was unnatural.

If it was unnatural, how was anyone able to do it?

Oh, just read the damn book.

The book began with a chapter explaining why it was important for children to learn about spells as early as possible. Spells, if held out as something only adults were allowed to do, would be irresistible to children, tempting them to experimentation with unfortunate results. It was better to allow them to learn spells within the scope of their abilities. As well, it was best to teach ethics and responsibility to young minds when they were at their most open and impressionable. Which, I thought, made a certain amount of sense.

Still, the thought of it made me uneasy.

The next chapter was filled with games for children to play, games meant to encourage concentration and focus. Memorizing items on a tray, counting backward from a hundred by twos, threes, or fives, drawing through drafted mazes, and finding patterns in a series of simple pictures. I started with counting back from one hundred by threes and found it easier than expected. The other games proved to be equally simple, though my recall wasn’t perfect.

I had the spell I wanted to try in mind. It required being outside, so I headed out through the back door. I decided to go out to the grass beyond the garden. I would look odd out there, but I would see anyone long before they were able to hear me, and the curves of the yard would shield what I was doing.

I should be able to perform a child’s spell, shouldn’t I?

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining for once, there was a gentle breeze, and the temperature was pleasantly cool. And no one was working in the garden; another rarity.

I sat in the grass for a while, enjoying the silence and the solitude. It had never been so quiet in High Scape. I wondered that the constant racket hadn’t made me a little crazy.

I breathed with concentration, as I had been taught to breathe in the Academy when I needed to be serene. Breathe in all the annoyance created by Taro being an idiot; push it all out in one slow exhalation. Breathe in all the aggravation of knowing Taro’s mother lived only a few steps away; push it all slowly out. And so on until the knot was gone from my stomach, my shoulders were down and my mind was comfortably blank.

I crouched down low on the grass and focused on a single blade. I imagined that it was blue. I could see it in my head, a blade of grass as blue as Fiona’s dark blue eyes.

“Calling on east,

“Calling on west,

“Change the hue of this blade,

“At my behest.”

I blew on the blade of grass.

I felt a strange buzzing sensation.

And the grass turned blue.

Oh my gods.

It worked.

It couldn’t be that simple.

And as soon as I thought that, the blade faded back to green. But I could make it blue again, as long as I concentrated. I could make other blades blue, too. And though the explanation of the spell didn’t call for it, I changed the blades to red, then purple, then pink. The pink looked the most disturbingly unnatural.

Still, I couldn’t believe I’d actually done it. This was a spell, it was real, and I’d done it.

I didn’t want to believe in it. I didn’t want to have to face the fact that any idiot could pick up this book and cast a spell. The possibilities were terrifying.

That was what bothered me the most about casting. Not that the existence of spells didn’t make sense. Not even that it was a tool used by people unwilling to work for things the natural way. The worst thing about it was that there was no control over who learned what and how they used what they learned.

The Emperor was trying to control it, of course, by outlawing the possessions of the tools of casting. I didn’t think that was the right way to go about it, and not just because I never thought he did anything the right way. I couldn’t imagine outlawing any kind of knowledge ever made it go away completely, and that meant someone was in possession of it, using it in the shadows. Wouldn’t it be better to have those people and what they were doing out in the open, with rules they had to follow for safety? How could anyone protect themselves against the use of something they didn’t know anything about?

I searched for another spell. My goal was to successfully perform every spell in the book. Even if I had to go back to Nab Browne for supplies.

I looked up just in time to see one of the Imperial Guards approaching me. It was Corporal Oteroy, the female Guard. My heart beating faster, I slipped the book under my skirt and spared a thought to be relieved that this book of children’s spells didn’t require any tools.

She stood before me, and I, sitting on the ground, had to look up at her. I felt vulnerable.

“Shield Mallorough,” she said.

“Corporal Oteroy,” I answered.

“What are you doing out here?”

If she had not been so blunt, I would have given a more civil answer. “That’s no concern of yours.”

She sighed. “I wouldn’t have thought you had been here long enough to catch the belligerence of the local residents.”

That meant the residents weren’t cooperating. Good for them. “They resent the Emperor prying into their concerns.”

“He has every right to pry! He’s the Emperor!”

She seemed rather emotional about this. She was younger than I. Perhaps I was witnessing the fervor of youth. “He might try using a palm instead of a fist.”

“It isn’t our place to question the methods of the Emperor,” she declared pompously.

“It’s our duty to question the Emperor in everything he does. We’re not mindless animals.”

“We’ve sworn an oath of loyalty to him,” she said hotly.

“I never swore any such oath.”

She gasped. “You feel no obligation to obey the Emperor?”

“I have obeyed the Emperor. He sent my Source and me from High Scape to Flown Raven. Only the Triple S is to decide where Pairs are to be posted, yet we obeyed the Emperor.”

“Of course you did. The Emperor’s is the final word in all things.”

I pushed out a long breath. I was wasting my time. “Is there something I can do for you, Corporal?” I could feel the book against my leg. What was I going to do if she tried to make me stand up?

“I understand that of the Pair, the Shield is the more responsible and dutiful.”

“That’s the common rumor. Like anything else, it depends on the people involved.”

“So I can rely on you to inform us of any incidents of the pretense of casting spells, or any incidents of possession of casting tools.”

“I’m not going to spy on people for you,” I said sharply.

“You have to.”

“I most certainly do not.”

She glared at me. “Facts concerning your cooperation or the lack of it will be reported to the Emperor.”

“Tattle to him all you like. Clearly you have found nothing and you’re getting desperate. I’m not going to help you invade the privacy of these people any more than you already have.”

“You’ll regret this.”

“I have no doubt, but that’s all you’re getting from me.”

She stomped away. I waited until I was sure I was alone, then I took my book out of hiding. There were more spells to try.

Chapter Twenty-two

There were a great many High Landed living around Westsea’s borders. Not as many as lived around Erstwhile, but more than lived around High Scape. None held a title equal or superior in power to Fiona’s. This meant, apparently, that to show their true worth, said titleholders had to wear the most colorful clothes and piles of glittering jewelry when attending a ball given in honor of a Source and Shield.

Taro and I looked like paupers among all that finery. Taro looked a little out of place in solid black. He was pretty enough, however, to pull that off. I wore a blue gown that had been in style when I’d had it made in High Scape, a low neckline with a tight waist and wide sleeves. Lila had tied my hair up rather elaborately. I, like Taro, had no jewelry to wear. I looked nice enough, but nothing like the ladies with their wider skirts, higher hair and mountains of gems.

That was all right. I’d wager I was far more comfortable.

The ballroom, like the court room on the other side of the manor, had a wide staircase from the first to the second floor. Taro and I had to wait out of sight on the second floor while all of the several dozen titleholders and their spouses and grown children were announced. Then, when it was decided everyone who was going to come had arrived, Fiona stood at the base of the stairs. That was our cue. I took Taro’s offered arm and we stepped out from the shadows.

“It is my great honor and pleasure to present to you,” Fiona announced, “Source Shintaro Karish and Shield Dunleavy Mallorough.”

And they applauded as we descended the stairs, which I hadn’t expected.

And then, as we reached the floor, Fiona said, “His Lordship and I are privileged to grant the honor of the first dance to our Source and Shield.”

I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that. Why had no one warned me? I shot Fiona a hard look. Her grin in return was unrepentant.

So everyone stood in a circle to watch Taro and me dance. The music started up, and I realized, to my annoyance, that the piece was a long and slow one, not one that would make me act irrationally, but was sure to keep us in everyone’s view for a good long while. Once again, I thanked the forethought of my academy instructors for insisting we all learn to dance. It had seemed a frivolous pursuit at the time.

“So, my love,” Taro said in a low voice. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in the library lately.”

He stroked his thumb along the underside of my wrist, and it made me shiver. “Not really.”

“And yet I catch you in there with him all the time.”

“Every time I’ve been in there, you’ve walked in.” Which was unbelievably bad luck.

“Just what are you and Academic Reid talking about so intensely?”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s translating the book.” Should I tell him?

He was being a prat.

That was no reason not to tell him, damn it. I whispered, “It’s a book of spells for controlling the weather.”

“A book of spells about the weather,” he said with his voice a little louder than I liked.

“Shh!”

“And you’re truly interested in this.”

“Of course.”

“You burned all the spell books you were reading in High Scape.”

“Because people were getting crazy about casting and I didn’t want to get caught up in it. People treat it more naturally here. Besides, it’s Fiona’s book. And it was created by the First Landed. I wouldn’t dream of burning it.”

“You’re being evasive.”

“I am not.”

“Pedantic, then.”

“How am I being pedantic? Are you just throwing words out there until one sticks?”

He scowled. “After what you did to your hair, a sensible person would have nothing more to do with spells.”

“I can’t give up after one failure. That would be pathetic. Besides, I have nothing else to do.”

“You can’t give up?” he demanded. “Have you been making other attempts?”

“I don’t know that ‘attempts’ is the right word.”

He ducked his head a little closer. “You’ve been casting spells?” he hissed.