Heroes' Reward (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Two weeks later
we had reached Cracked Plains, a city just beyond half the distance from
Erstwhile to Shidonee’s Gap. This was not as far as Gifford had expected us to
travel, and his displeasure was felt by everyone. We’d been plagued by more bad
weather, and the shrinking rations had impaired the strength and endurance of
the soldiers.

Other
settlements along the route had been stripped bare by Gifford’s caravan – we
didn’t encounter any more that had been destroyed and deserted by their
residents – but this wasn’t enough to return to the previous size of rations.

We could see the
results of the deprivation in the people around us. Cheekbones pushing through
flesh, deep shallows under the eyes, fighting over food, claims of theft
resulting in thrown fists.

Everyone was
eager to reach Cracked Plains, a proper city that had apparently enjoyed a
prosperous year. I was as hungry as everyone else, but the thought of robbing
even more people just made me sick.

It was evening,
so Gifford ordered the establishment of the camp, with the plan of waiting
until the morning to make his speech and strip the city. The residents wouldn’t
be able to properly witness his glory in the dark.

It was only then
that a scout returned and told us that the Triple S forces were settled not too
far west of the city.

Which meant a clash
could occur at any time. I knew Gifford had no intention of actually discussing
anything with the Triple S. My general fear descended into outright terror. A
weight pressed on my chest and my breathing sped up so fast I sometimes saw
spots.

All those
rituals I’d learned at the Academy to create serenity? Useless. Holding on to
Taro? Completely without effect.

This was worse
than when I’d been riding with Fiona to attack Kent. Worse than being buried in
an underground chamber waiting until Creol had time to kill us. Worse than
anything I’d ever experienced before. I felt frozen and powerless.

Taro and I were
in attendance when Gifford announced, “We will launch our attack tomorrow
morning, first light.”

“Your Majesty,”
Todin began hesitantly.

“Your opinion is
not needed.”

Todin bravely
persisted. “The troops have been marching without rest for over a week.”

“Then they have
been forged into hardy weapons.”

“They won’t be
at their best.”

“Do you think
the Triple S doesn’t know We’re here?” Gifford demanded.

“They must.”

“Then We will
act first. We won’t allow anyone to claim We showed any shadow of cowardice.
Deliver the orders.”

So that was
that.

Taro and I
returned to our tent, followed by our most constant companions, Postel and
Mazin. And on the way I thought of a possible idea, some small way I could
think of to help our people.

I was sure there
were some Triple S scouts among Gifford’s forces, but I couldn’t rely on their
ability to escape and get to the Triple S with any news. Knowing a clash was
likely, everyone would be particularly tense. How many would be able to sleep,
to provide any spies a good chance to melt away?

I had to try
something myself. I couldn’t just sit there letting things happen without doing
anything. Once we were back in our tent, I sat on the floor and began arranging
some casting ingredients.

I made a circle
in the floor with clumps of grass, over which I poured a few tiny drops of red
wine. From my scanty supplies, I sprinkled the lightest line of grains of salt
over the circle, then in four rows within the circle, from the centre to the
fringe. I took my common, blunt knife from beneath my belt and spat on it.

I pulled in a
deep breath. Focus. Focus. I could do this.

“Be my focus, sharp and bright.

Fold the distance, so thoughts can touch.

Draw from the sky, the clarity of words.

Help me seek, help me find.

Shorten the paths, my mind to theirs.”

Then I shoved the tip of the knife into the dirt floor, in the
middle of the circle. “Liam Murdoch. Steina Desoto. Insada Hep. Arban Paris.” I
listed off the names of all of the casters I had taught. Some of them had to be
with the forces in Cracked Plains.

“Hear me. My mind to yours. My lips to your ears.

Hear me. Hear me. My mind to yours. My lips to your
ears. Hear me.”

I waited for the sensations that came with the cast.

And felt
nothing.

I waited a
little longer.

And felt
nothing.

I looked at
Taro, baffled. So, all right, fine, this wasn’t exactly the cast Browne had
taught me, and I had experienced the unpredictable results an ill-performed
cast could create, but I should have felt something. The words were right, the
elements of the right ingredients were there. Sort of. Something should have
happened, even if it wasn’t the right thing.

“What’s wrong?”
Taro whispered.

I shrugged helplessly.
I didn’t know what to do. I lacked the supplies to try the cast again.

Was I just out
of practise?

I was good at
this. I had trained for years. A few months without use couldn’t be enough to
eradicate all of my skills.

What else could
it be? Why else would a cast fail?

Then a
possibility came to me. Damn damn damn.

I assembled a
small pile of gray ash, ground white stone, and ground quartz. “Flare,” I
whispered.

It was a child’s
cast, one of the easiest I knew. There was no getting it wrong. But nothing
happened, and I didn’t feel the buzzing of a spell being cast.

Oh Zaire. I
grabbed Taro by the shoulder and pulled him close. “Casts don’t work here!” I
hissed into his ear.

It was something
I’d always known, at a theoretical level. Just as there were people who
couldn’t cast, no matter how intelligent they were, no matter what other
talents they had, no matter how perfectly they performed the steps, there were
places where casts wouldn’t work. I’d never come across one, though.

Gods, why did it
have to be here? And why now?

The Triple S’s
advantage, as far as I could discern, was their larger casting unit. If they
didn’t know casts didn’t work in Cracked Plains – and it was possible they
didn’t – they’d be walking into a situation much more dire than they could have
anticipated.

And there was a
very good chance any Triple S spies among Gifford’s ranks didn’t know it,
either. Even if they could escape, they wouldn’t be able to give the Triple S
the information they needed most.

The entrance
flap of our tent was thrown open and Postel and Mazin strode in. “Thought if we
waited a bit we’d catch you at something,” Mazin said with satisfaction.

Postel grabbed
my arm and yanked me to my feet. “Green’ll give us something when we tell her
you’ve been casting,” he said. “Something better than watching you two.”

I wondered how
they’d choose to execute us: flogging, beheading, or hanging? Something out in
the open for all to view. The ignoble end of Source Shintaro Karish and Shield
Dunleavy Mallorough.

“We can get you
something better than more work,” Taro promised, all out of nowhere.

What the hell?

Keep your face
blank.

Mazin snorted.
“What have you two got?” he asked derisively.

Taro rose to his
feet. And smiled. That delicious, flirtatious little smile. When we’d first
met, that smile had engendered in me a certain amount of disdain. I had come to
love it.

Postel’s facial
expression sort of softened. I fought down my own totally inappropriate smile.
Taro certainly hadn’t fallen out of practise.

“Don’t you know
who I am?”

Mazin frowned
with uncertainty.

“The Stallion of
the Triple S. I don’t believe you haven’t heard of me.”

And Mazin
clearly had. “So you’ll sleep with anything that moves. What good does that do
us?”

Taro gave no
indication that he found that common claim offensive. “Oh, it is so much more
than that. Clearly you have no idea.”

“What then?”
Postel demanded.

“You wouldn’t
believe
the benefits I can procure. And not just people to roll, much as I enjoy that.
Don’t you know? Pairs can take anything they want, from anyone they want. Not
just food and clothing. Jewellery, as elaborate as we can find. Art. Carriages
covered in gold, and the finest horses to pull them. And we don’t even have to
keep them. We can give them to anyone we want. And the people we give them to,
they can sell them. Do you know what you can buy with enough money? Things much
better than a higher rank where you’ll still have to eat bad food and obey
idiots.”

Taro leaned a
little closer to Postel than I liked. “And then there’s me. I can get things
people don’t know they don’t have to give Pairs. Money? I’ve got piles of it. I
don’t even spend it. I just like to look at it and know I took it away from
them.”

Postel’s grip on
my arm loosened and he took a step closer to Taro.

Mazin yanked him
back. “Green can give us titles and land,” he countered.

“She hasn’t
given titles or estates to anyone who isn’t High Landed.”

That was true.
Would Mazin know that?

“The Triple S
can give you land,” Taro lied with a tone of smooth confidence.

“The Triple S
doesn’t have land.”

“Haven’t you
been listening to Gifford and Green? The Triple S has been taking land for
years. They’ve been threatening settlements, demanding money and goods if the
residents wanted us to channel their events. When settlements refuse, the
Triple S creates events and destroys everything the residents have, and takes
the land anyway. And then they use the money to lure in a whole new bunch of
settlers. Settlers who are loyal to the Triple S. More loyal than they are to
any monarch.”

They weren’t
dragging us out of the tent. Good sign, right?

“And what about
all of the casters and soldiers the Triple S has? You heard the report, you
know they’re there. Why would any of them support the Triple S against the
Emperor unless they were convinced the Triple S can give them something the
Emperor can’t? Or won’t?”

Mazin snorted.
“You want us to let you go on your word your people will give us something if
they win?”

Taro smiled
again. “No, I’m suggesting you come with us.”

Did they have to?
Why didn’t he use that smile to persuade them to stay behind?

I wasn’t going
to say anything, though. I wasn’t even going to move. I didn’t want to draw
their attention from Taro’s influence.

“Everyone’s used
to seeing you with us,” he said. “No one will question us, no matter where we
go. With you with us, everyone who sees us will assume we’re acting on the
Emperor’s orders.”

“And then we get
nailed down by your sort,” said Postel.

“Not when I tell
them how well you’ve treated us.” Taro winked. “Showing us extra care, getting
us extra food. And they’ll see for themselves that you helped us escape. We’re
their favourite Pair. Out of gratitude, they’ll give you something more than
Green ever would.”

They finally
started looking like they might be swayed, their posture relaxing, their frowns
softening and appearing more contemplative than hostile.

They weren’t
particularly bright. I could think of a dozen other questions they should be
asking before taking such an enormous risk. A huge concern they should have was
the fact their alleged reward would rely on the Triple S being successful in
whatever the hell this all was.

“They have a lot
more casters than Gifford does,” Taro reminded them. “They can kill from a
distance, without risking themselves. This all comes down to the casters.”

Had these two
had much exposure to the casters? Did they know what casters could do, and what
their limits were?

Taro continued
to cast his own particular sort of spell. “Dunleavy just told the Triple S
casters Gifford’s plans. That was the cast she just performed. They’re getting
ready right now. Do you want to fight in the dark? Aren’t you as exhausted as
everyone else?”

Postel traded
glances with Mazin. After a moment, Mazin nodded at the entrance, and they took
a step towards it.

We’d lost them.
“Wait!” I said desperately.

“Shut up!” Mazin
snapped. “Don’t try sneaking off. We’re not going far.”

I guessed that
meant they were going to talk about their options. We still had a chance.

We’d done it.
Taken an irrevocable step. If Mazin and Postel reported us to anyone, Gifford –
and certainly Green – wouldn’t believe any protestations of innocence from
Taro.