The official name for the building was the observation post. McKenna had dubbed it the paranoia stall, which was then shortened to the Stall. It had been designed to keep the Pair suitably bored. A stove, a table with two chairs, no windows. I had the feeling all the books, games, and decks of cards were contraband.

  And so, three out of every four days, for seven hours a day, Karish and I sat in the Stall and warded off events. Every shift there were at least two, possibly three events to channel, and while at first I found myself exhausted by the end of a shift, I quickly built up my stamina. It soon got to the point where we could carry on a conversation while we channeled. If we wanted to.

  We usually didn’t. Not out of any ill feeling. We simply had little to discuss. Karish and I had nothing in common. Really. He liked to play cards and considered drinking alcohol a form of recreation. He loved to watch the races, both horse and dog, and the results were the only part of the news circulars he cared to read. I, on the other hand, read history and poetry, preferred bench dancing over any sport, and couldn’t think of anything to say that might be of interest to an aristocrat.

  I started bringing Triple S records, stored at the residence, to read while waiting for Karish to channel. I had hoped to find some explanation for the increase in the frequency of events. I was bound for disappointment. The reports were full of speculation, some accusations, some counterarguments, but nothing that could explain anything about what was happening in High Scape, because no one really knew.

  All of the Sources had made recent reports claiming the disturbances had been unusual in their execution, but they couldn’t really say how. It was just a feeling. One Source claimed to feel some kind of intent in the forces, as though there were a mind directing them. That perception was firmly denied by every other Source. With good reason, I thought. The idea was ridiculous.

  During my free time, I explored the city. A task, I thought, that could take the rest of my life. Every new street was another little adventure. Though getting lost, as I frequently did, was frightening, I never suffered for it.

  I visited Aiden. A lot. At first, yes, it was primarily an issue of guilt, a sense of duty and responsibility. It quickly became something more. I liked him. It took a big man not to resent the person who did him such an injury, with such far-reaching and permanent results. He had a quick wit I enjoyed. He had traveled a great deal, in his pursuit of dancing purses, and he told excellent stories.

  He was not a member of the Triple S. The first regular I had ever known who wasn’t family.

  And he was my excuse whenever Karish asked me out for a drink after our watch. I spent enough time with Karish. We worked together and lived in the same building. I didn’t think it was healthy for partners to spend too much time together. They might start to lose sight of their professional relationship and become overly irritated with each other.

  Besides, I heard what Karish got up to in his free time. Drunken debaucheries, for the most part. That wasn’t my idea of fun, and I was rather disappointed that he indulged in that sort of thing. However, as he never once appeared for a watch at anything less than his best, it was none of my business, and I didn’t speak of it.

  Karish didn’t like Aiden. I wasn’t sure why. True, Aiden had been snarky to him during their brief meeting at the Star Festival, but then Karish hadn’t hesitated to help Aiden when he was hurt. I had thought the tension had been forgotten. Yet Karish sneered every time I mentioned Aiden’s name.

  So I think I could be forgiven when, after declining to join Karish for a drink so I could instead visit with Aiden, I suspected some childish motivation when I felt Karish’s inner shields drop in the middle of said visit.

  He was channeling. Halfway through a comment to Aiden, I closed my eyes, picturing Karish in my head. This was why I had spent all that time staring at him.

  Really.

  There was a Pair on duty. There was no reason for him to be doing this.

  He was channeling. For the moment it didn’t matter why. I would Shield. I would yell at him about it later.

  It was more difficult than I’d expected, though. We had slid easily into a pattern of channeling and Shielding during our time in High Scape, and I had felt confident that I knew what to expect. But there was something strange about the power Karish was channeling.

  For one thing, I seemed to feel it myself. I didn’t simply observe it through him. I could feel it. Me.

  For another, it felt . . . sharp. Like it was scraping over me, the teeth of a bread knife not quite weighted enough to hurt. That wasn’t normal.

  I gasped as a small, sharp pain pierced the back of my left eye. It lodged itself in firmly, grew roots, and expanded. Jagged agony crawling across my brain, cutting in, pushing out, until it threatened to crack my skull open from the inside.

  I opened my eyes and found myself staring at my own Shields. Never before had they appeared to me as an image. Thick walls made of solid black bricks. The bricks wanted to slip apart, I could see them shivering in their places, but I held them up with my hands and my mind. That was causing the pain. If I released the bricks, the pain would stop.

  Where had the wind come from? Ragged, slicing wind that filled my ears and tore at my throat. I winced.

  The bricks were growing heavier, the mortar flaking away. The bricks loosened. I saw one sliding away from its fellows. Through the red haze of pain I glared at it and willed it back into place.

  And a part of my mind went black.

  More bricks shook and slid, scraping apart piercingly. I grabbed at them and pushed them back. But it was hard to move my hands. They were sluggish and slow, it was like pushing them through water, only there was no water there. My hands were numb; I could not feel. I pushed my hands against the bricks, and they disappeared within them. My throat was raw, my ears shrieked, and I could not see.

  What the hell was going on?

  Another part of my mind darkened, and then another. Panic welled up and was forced back down. More and more bricks trembled, started to fall. I pushed myself to catch them all. I felt my skull cracking under the pressure.

  And then it all disappeared.

  When I woke, the first thing I became aware of was a headache so intense my nose stung and my stomach heaved. Knowing my head wouldn’t survive an action so violent as vomiting, I took careful shallow breaths and kept my stomach under control. My skin crawled. My clothes felt cold and grimy, soaked with sweat. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, cotton filled with broken, rusted razors. And every single muscle I possessed was tied into a thousand little knots.

  I opened my eyes. Big mistake. I shut them again.

  “She’s coming up,” said a voice I didn’t know.

  “I can see that,” was the tense response. That was Aiden.

  Water hit my forehead. It did not feel good. I let my breath hiss through my teeth.

  “What happened?” Aiden demanded.

  I presumed he was addressing me. I had no intention of answering, not right then. I was in no shape to be answering questions. I was pretty sure I was supposed to be dead. Though no one ever died while they were channeling anymore. Except when they were really old, or drunk, and didn’t have the focus for it.

  “Talk to me, Dunleavy!”

  Shut up, Aiden. Can’t you see my brain is in danger of exploding?

  “Talk to me!”

  “Zaire, mate, back off,” said the voice I didn’t know. A wonderfully sensible woman. “She’s not settled back, yet.” She wiped more water on my forehead.

  I raised a feeble hand. “Please, no,” I muttered in a terrible, rasping voice.

  “Aye, girl, no worries. Rest for a bit. I’ll look out for you.”

  She had an interesting voice. Oddly clipped consonants and flattened vowels. I wagered she could insult people impressively.

  I woke again when someone started poking at me. I could open my eyes without feeling pain, and glare at the man who insisted on pressing my temples. That didn’t feel wonderful. “What are you doing?” I asked in a pathetically weak voice. I sounded like I had a vicious cold. My throat felt that way, too, only worse.

  “You collapsed for no reason,” he said.

  “Who are you?” I asked bluntly.

  “Healer Dickens.”

  “Healer Dickens, there is nothing wrong with me that lemon tea won’t fix. Sorry for the wasted trip.” Especially since he wasn’t going to get paid for it.

  “I’m not finished my examination,” he said, trying for my temples again.

  I blocked his hands and glared at him as hard as I could. “It’s a Shield thing.” Here’s to hoping he didn’t really know anything about Shields. It sounded like he didn’t. “I need sleep. Please go.”

  He was offended. Too bad. Whatever had happened, it was nothing he could do anything about. He was willing enough to leave, though. I got the feeling he didn’t care for the neighborhood. He lingered a little too long, hoping to be paid and offended all over again when he realized that wasn’t going to happen. Then he left, finally.

  I really didn’t like healers.

  “Told you there was no point,” a woman—the same one as earlier—said to Aiden. “Right quack, he was.”

  “Something was wrong with her,” Aiden said sullenly.

  “Nothing a healer can fix.” I sat up slowly. I’d been stretched out on the bed, and though I didn’t really want to be going anywhere, I thought I’d better find out what had happened.

  “So what was it?” Aiden asked.

  “Strange channeling.”

  “It has to be more than that. You were screaming.”

  “Aye,” the woman said dryly. “I heard you from one street over.”

  So that’s what happened to my throat. Lovely. I must have looked like a lunatic. I had to find Karish and ask him what he’d done. Maybe I’d smack him around a bit, too. I rose to my feet, and my head didn’t swim too much.

  “Where are you going?” Aiden said sharply.

  “Home.” And if he wasn’t there, to the taverns until I found him.

  “Sit back down! You’re not going anywhere.”

  Oh, lord, I was in no condition to be patient. “Sorry to scare you, Aiden. I will come back soon.”

  He struggled up to his feet. “Lie down, Dunleavy,” he tried to order me.

  I looked at the woman, who was watching Aiden with amusement. “Dunleavy Mallorough.” I offered my hand.

  She shook it. “Clair Donner.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No worries. Take care.”

  “I mean it, Dunleavy.”

  I looked back at him. “Aiden,” I said, and that was all I said. It was enough, for he was silent as I left. It appeared he was a smart lad. I liked that in a man.

  The streets looked normal. No sign of imminent disaster hastily averted. That, I supposed, was only how it should be, but I felt that a few of the buildings should have fallen down, or that there should be a wild eye or two. Well, a wild eye caused by something other than a stimulant.

  Maybe it hadn’t been a near disaster at all. Maybe it had been something totally unrelated to what Karish and I were supposed to be doing. Some other secret talent Karish hadn’t bothered to tell me about.

  I didn’t find Karish at the residence. I didn’t find anyone else there, either. I did find Karish in a tavern, surrounded by people. The atmosphere was subdued, though. Karish and about four others sat around a table, talking quietly. Only Karish wasn’t talking, but staring off into space. He looked a little pale, his eyes a little wild, and his hair was particularly disordered. He saw me as soon as I entered and rose from the table, rushing over to me.

  He hugged me, and I was so shocked by it I could neither fend him off nor hug him back. “Are you all right?” he asked when he pulled back, his voice a rusty mess. He put a hand to the side of my face, careful of the temple. He knew where the pain had been. “I went to the residence but you weren’t there.”

  I suddenly felt wonderful. Warm and relaxed, and my throat didn’t hurt at all. “What happened?” I asked in a whisper, for the regulars were watching us.

  He shrugged, standing back a pace. “It wasn’t normal,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t know what disaster it was going to be.”

  He was saving his words, but he’d said enough to alarm me, for of course Sources always knew what kind of disaster was coming. They could just tell.

  Karish seemed uncomfortable. He wasn’t looking straight at me. He was rubbing the palm of my hand with his thumb. “Are you in pain?” I asked him.

  He smiled a little. “Not now.” He tugged on my hand. “Come. Sit.”

  There was no need for that. As he was all right, I would go back to Aiden and reassure him that I wasn’t about to keel over. “No, thanks. I’ll go home.”

  He let my hand drop. Every ache and pain came screaming back.

  A group of men crowded into the tavern. One glanced our way, eyes lighting on our braids. “You two’d best head over to the Upper Eastern hospital,” he said bluntly. I wondered how he knew we had suffered some pain. Did we look that bad? “There’s word some of your crew are dead.”

  We gaped at him, then at each other, and then we ran. Not fun, with the way my head was feeling.

  We got to the hospital, where we were instantly recognized for what we were, and we were shown to a cool room in the basement where the bodies of Van Staal, Rundle, South, and Ali were laid out. There wasn’t a single mark on any of them, and they were dead. Over the next few hours, the pale and silent bodies of McKenna, Farin, Mao, Arter, Febray, and Heiner were brought in. Ogawa and Tenneson had been brought to the hospital, too, but they weren’t dead. They were in a deep sleep and couldn’t be roused.

  The healers asked us what had happened. All Karish could say was that there had been a strange sort of disaster, which didn’t help the healers any. Or us. Because for the moment what had happened didn’t really matter. All that was important right then was that the only thing standing between High Scape and its next disaster was us. One novice Pair.

  I couldn’t help glaring at Karish. I would have never landed in this situation if he weren’t my Source. It was starting already. The trials and tribulations of being Paired to a hero. It was a childish thought. And selfish. But it was true.

  Chapter Eight

  Karish was watching me. It annoyed me. Not that he was watching me, but that I was aware of it. My attention should have been wholly absorbed by the letter in front of me, the letter I hadn’t even started writing yet and had to finish as soon as possible. I rubbed the back of my neck, which was aching nicely, and dipped the quill in the ink.

  “My lord and lady Mao, it is with deepest regret that I beg leave to inform you . . .”

  The event we had helped channel was not a normal occurrence in High Scape. Obviously, as the Pairs in High Scape didn’t have a habit of dying due to channeling. Karish said he’d had to channel it, even though we weren’t on duty, for it had felt as though the forces were aimed right at him, and he’d had to react almost in self-defense. He had then refused to elaborate on what he meant in making that claim. Natural disasters didn’t have minds of their own; they didn’t attack people. They just happened.

  As the only functioning Pair left in High Scape, Karish and I were on duty constantly until other Pairs arrived in High Scape to relieve us. So we had to stay together all the time. We didn’t go to the Stall, which was too small to actually live in for any length of time, but we also never left the Triple S residence.

  “. . . while in the line of duty . . .”

  It had been a hellish two days. “Seeing to the others,” and all that entailed. Mostly contacting everyone in High Scape who knew them, arranging to have their belongings collected, arranging interment procedures. I’d sent messages to the nearest sites begging any Pairs who could be spared to come to High Scape. Karish and I had written reports describing what had happened, to be sent to Shidonee’s Gap.

  “I did not know your son well but . . .”

  I was writing letters of condolence to all the next of kin. Each letter took forever, as I struggled to put something personal into missives about people I barely knew, to people I had never met. I had been taught how to write such letters at the academy, formal phrases that were probably offensive to read, phrases that I’d always sworn never to use. That was why it took so long.

  “. . . kind to me from our first meeting, always ready with a warm smile and sensible advice . . .”

  This was the job of the veteran Shield of the site. That was what I was, until Ogawa and Tenneson woke up. Less than two months out of the academy, and I was a veteran. What a horrible joke.

  I jumped at the touch of hands on my shoulders. I smudged some of the ink on the paper. I glared up at Karish, even as a wave of warmth flooded through me, easing out the pains I still carried from that horrible channeling.

  He ignored the look. “Take a break, Lee.” His voice was still a little rough. “You haven’t stopped since the Rush.”

  That was what he’d called it. That was what it had felt like to him, an overwhelming rush of power that, he’d said, almost drowned him. “I have to finish these,” I said, and my voice wouldn’t have won any prizes, either.

  “Not tonight.”

  “As soon as possible. They have the right to know as soon as possible.” It was the very least I could do, after all that had happened. “Before they start hearing rumors.”

  He released my shoulders and knelt beside my chair. The aches and pains came rushing back. “Granted,” he said, and it took me a moment to remember in response to what. “But it’s not a priority right now. We’re the only Pair left, Lee. We need our minds to be clear and alert. How well could you Shield right now?”

  I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes. The truth was that I really didn’t want to think about Shielding again. It hadn’t been much fun the last time.

  “You know I’m right.”

  Of course I knew he was right. My brain was numb, and a headache was humming at the base of my skull. But I was afraid of stopping. I knew once I stopped it would be very hard to start up again. Unpleasant jobs were best done quickly, with no pauses.