Resenting the Hero by Moira J. Moore Page B

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.
    â€œMy 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.
    â€œ. . . 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.
    â€œI did not know your son well but . . .”
    I was writing letters of condolence to all the