Heroes Return (8 page)

On the other side of the range was a different world from what we’d left. A world without grass or trees, the rocky ground stretched out before us, and then a sudden drop to the shore lining the sea. Stone cottages were built against the ridge, but they all appeared to be empty.

The sea was beautiful, gray blue in color, waves jagged and frothy. I could hear the waves moving, fresh and harsh as they crashed against rocks. Through an unfamiliar, unpleasant odor, I could smell the sea and taste it, an edge of salt in the air. Above our heads, white birds whirled in the sky and screeched.

These were the sensations I had experienced while channeling the events of Flown Raven, though not as extreme. It wasn’t normal for me to see visions or perceive tastes. Did Taro have some kind of connection to the land that caused me to experience those sensations when we channeled? Was that sort of thing possible?

“I’m taking you first to meet someone very important,” Dane said. “You have to know what she does and recognize what she does, for your own safety.” With that mysterious announcement, he headed off toward a stone structure that I was surprised had survived the earthquakes.

It was a tower, about three stories high, and beside it was an odd structure. A kind of arch with something that looked like a slab of stone somehow suspended within it. A path had been worn in the rocks to the door at the base of the tower. Dane rang a bell hanging by the door.

After a few moments, we heard footsteps, and the heavy door was opened by a beautiful young woman with thick black hair, warm brown skin and lovely brown eyes. She was small, too, no taller than I.

I looked up at Taro, waiting for his reaction to this beautiful woman. He was smiling politely.

“Source Shintaro Karish, Shield Dunleavy Mallorough,” said Dane, “this is Wind Watcher Roshni Radia.”

Radia smiled, a brilliant smile of beautiful white teeth.

I looked up at Taro again. He was still smiling politely.

“Wind Watcher?” I asked, as I had never before heard the term.

“Please come in.” Radia stood back to let us pass, then closed the door behind us.

“That’s very gracious of you,” Tarce said, which was, I thought, kind of a strange thing to say. His tone was just shy of snide. Radia ignored him.

The room we entered was the shape of the round tower, which felt wrong and odd. Along one side was a cooking area with a plain solid table for eating. The rest of the room was taken up with leisure seating. It was a dark room, with few windows, dark walls and dark furniture, and rugs and wall hangings consisting largely of dark red.

“Please have a seat,” Radia invited. “Would anyone like some coffee?”

Dane, Tarce and I said yes, and Taro refrained, having never learned the benefits of the bitter drink. Radia fiddled with her stove and I admired one of her tapestries, which was full of detail one didn’t notice until one got really close. It was a scene of a ball, dozens upon dozens of figures in circles and rows. I could almost see them moving.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dane stood beside me. “Roshni wove it.”

“She made this?” What was it with all these people and their multiple talents?

“I have a great deal of time for such frivolous pursuits,” Radia said dismissively, bringing over a tray of cups and coffee fixings.

“That’s not what you told me,” Tarce commented. “You said you had no time for frivolous pursuits.”

Radia glanced at him. “That’s not precisely what I said.”

“Aye, that’s true. You said I was trivial and you didn’t want to waste time on me.”

“Are you trying to start an argument?”

“Of course not. I would never win. You’re far too clever for me.”

“Yes, I am. You might as well just accept it.”

“Really, I should never talk to you at all, but I, unlike you, have scads of time on my hands. All sorts of time for trivial pursuits.”

For the first time, Radia looked annoyed. “I am not a trivial pursuit.”

Tarce’s face flushed. I wasn’t sure whether he was embarrassed or angry.

“What is a wind watcher?” I asked, partially for the goal of derailing whatever argument appeared to be brewing.

“It’s very simple, really,” Radia said in her original friendly tone. “When the wind is strong enough to make the wind rock move, I warn everyone, to make sure everyone stays indoors.”

“The wind rock is that slab of stone suspended from the arch?” I asked. Radia nodded. “The wind gets strong enough to move that? It’s huge.”

“It also gets strong enough to blow people and animals off their feet,” said Dane. “It blows carriages over, and capsizes boats. It’s just too dangerous for anyone to be out.”

“Can’t people figure it out for themselves when it’s too windy?”

“People anxious to get work done will ignore it. The warning is like an order from the titleholder to stay i nside.”

“My family have been wind watchers here for generations,” said Radia. “It’s an honor to be able to serve Flown Raven in this way.”

“And you must stay here all the time in case the wind gets too strong and you have to give the warning?” That sounded horrible.

She laughed, a pleasant, throaty sound. “Nothing so grim, Shield Mallorough. I do spend a lot of time here, but I have the freedom to be out and about when the weather is fine, and usually I can predict when the wind might get too strong, and it gives me the time to return to the tower.”

“How can you predict something like that?”

She shrugged. “I just can. My father could, too.”

Huh. Interesting.

“I felt some tremors earlier,” Radia said. “Are we supposed to be able to feel that with you here?”

I was going to get sick of that question. Taro gave her the standard lie about having to get used to the post.

After our coffee had been consumed, Radia took us to the second floor, which was, she said, where she slept.

“That’s a huge bedroom you have,” I exclaimed.

She laughed again. “No, no, it’s divided into four rooms. If I ever have a partner and children, they will live here with me.”

“Of course, you’ll never have either if you insist on hiding in your tower,” Tarce said. Radia said nothing.

The top floor was all stone and huge windows. Within the bare room was a loom and a huge, long brass instrument, some kind of long horn, on a stand. The horn had no keys, and was just a mouthpiece attached to an ever-widening tube. “This is how you warn everyone?” I asked.

“I’ll show you,” she said, standing on the small stool that sat beneath the mouthpiece. “I’ll blow a light note, so you’ll recognize it when you hear it again, but it won’t be as loud as I usually blow it. I don’t want anyone else to hear it and get confused.” She put her mouth to the mouthpiece, pulled a breath from deep in her stomach and blew.

The sound that came out was like the lowest, most rumbling trumpet note I’d ever heard. It made the pit of my stomach vibrate.

Radia took her mouth away. “I usually play three notes in succession, again and again, until I see black spots in front of my eyes. That gives everyone time to hear and understand. And I only play when I see the slab move. I don’t play for entertainment or other trivial reasons.”

“And when you hear it, you get inside,” Dane told us. “Drop whatever you’re doing and run to the nearest shelter, whatever it might be. No one will deny you shelter. And you don’t delay. I don’t care how important whatever you’re handling is. You run. People have been killed by the wind.”

“How often does this happen?” I asked.

“It varies. Not every day. Not even every week, usually. But it’s very unpredictable.”

“So it’s not according to season,” I said.

“No.”

It seemed to me a lonely life. I wouldn’t like it. Yet while Radia offered an open invitation to visit when we left, she didn’t seem desperate for company.

As soon as we left Radia’s tower, the odor hit me again. I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose. “What is that smell?”

“I’ll show you,” Dane said.

“I think I’ve had enough fresh air,” said Tarce. “Have a glorious day.” Without waiting for a response, he headed off toward the ridge.

Dane took us down a rocky path to the waterfront, and then along it, around a sharp bend that suddenly revealed to us the sight of a huge carcass on the rocks. It was a whale, an animal I’d only ever read about and never thought to see. What I saw was a disgusting violation of the animal. And it stank.

It was a gigantic creature, even stripped of its fins and tail. Swaths of skin had been peeled away, and people were engaged in the process of cutting out strips of fat and dumping them into large copper cauldrons.

“They’re rendering the blubber into oil,” Dane explained. “Much of the duchy’s wealth comes from whale oil.”

That surprised me. I didn’t think I’d ever encountered whale oil in my life. And when I thought of Flown Raven, I’d always thought of farming.

“Please don’t get too close,” Dane said. “The oil can spit, and your clothes aren’t fit for protecting your skin.”

I had no intention of getting any closer to that smell. And the people working around the whale and the cauldrons were not only covered in leather but seemed really competent as they moved about. I would just get in their way.

As we walked about, I noticed people spotting Taro, nudging their neighbors, and then all of them watching him. I assumed they were merely taking note of his beauty. That was what such attention usually meant. But then a man came charging over, glaring at Taro, and it became clear that admiration was not what motivated him.

“You’re the duke’s kin,” the man accused Taro. “You were supposed to take the title after him.”

That was what they were angry about? What the hell? He didn’t even know Taro. Why would he want Taro as the titleholder?

“Now, Leland,” Dane said in what was clearly the beginning of a placating comment.

“You whisht,” Leland snapped, shocking the hell out of me. Was that any way to talk to his duke? “Not talking to you. I’m talking to you.” He nodded at Taro. “You’re of the family. This is your home. These things mean nothing to you?”

Actually, they probably didn’t, but Taro wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to admit to feelings either way in this situation. “I wasn’t born to be a duke, Leland. And I was never trained for it. I was born to be a Source.”

“Family is more important than any of that tripe.”

I couldn’t believe he could feel that way after the community had lost two children to earthquakes. Did they really not understand what Sources did?

“Didn’t they teach you anything about loyalty in that fancy school of yours?”

They certainly did. Loyalty to the Triple S.

“What I didn’t learn, at the Academy or anywhere else, was the first thing about taking care of a duchy of this or any size.”

“It’s not about what you know,” Leland said. “It’s what you are. It’s your blood.”

“It’s your duty,” a woman added. “Our families have given your family everything we’ve got for generations. You can’t just step out of your obligations because something more interesting comes along.”

“I’m a Source,” Taro protested. “I can’t be a titleholder.”

“You could if you gave a damn,” the woman accused him. “It’s been done.”

“That’s enough,” I warned her. Yes, it had been done. I knew of Sources who’d taken hereditary titles. But there weren’t many, and the Sources involved hadn’t actually lived in the lands of the estates. And none of this gave these people the right to attack Taro. It didn’t even make sense to want Taro as a titleholder. Fiona had experience running an estate in Centerfield. Didn’t they know their own best interests?

“Is it you, then?” the woman demanded, looking at me. “Are you keeping him from taking his rightful place?”

“I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

“I have no training,” Taro insisted.

“It’s not training. It’s blood.”

“Fi—Her Ladyship shares my father’s blood.”

“She’s not a direct heir. You are. It was your duty to come here. And since you’ve neglected your duty, the sea has gotten angry. Deaths are up and numbers are down.”

Please tell me these people didn’t actually believe the sea was capable of having moods.

“That’s not true,” Dane objected. “I’ve shown you the books. There have been no more casualties than earlier years, and the catches have remained similar.”

“Books.” The man spat in an expression of contempt. “You can write whatever you want in books. I know what I’ve seen. We all have eyes.”

“And we never had earthquakes before,” the woman added. “You can’t write that away in your books.”

“And now we have a Pair to deal with the earthquakes,” Dane reminded them. “Source Karish can’t have both responsibilities.”

“If he’d come when he was supposed to, we would have never had any earthquakes, and Parcin Woodward and Jeeno Drake wouldn’t have died.”

I wasn’t brave enough to tell these hostile people that I was actually the person responsible for the deaths of those children. I was the one who had convinced Taro not to channel the events from Flown Raven. All right, so I hadn’t known the events Taro had been feeling in High Scape had been from Flown Raven, but I’d made no effort to find out. I should have.

“I’m sorry you feel ill-used,” said Taro. “But there is nothing to be done about it now. The title is held by Her Ladyship. That’s the end of it.”

“There is always something to be done,” the man said in a tone I found threatening.

But Dane didn’t seem to feel it. He just rolled his eyes. “We apologize for disrupting your work.” It was a clear dismissal of the discussion. “Come along, Shintaro, Dunleavy.”

So the Dowager had been telling the truth when she said Fiona didn’t have the affection of all the tenants. I hated it when the Dowager was right. She was such a nasty creature that it seemed fitting that she be wrong about everything.