The Hero Strikes Back by Moira J. Moore Page A

perversely amusing about the idea of forcing the superior Dowager Duchess of Westsea to spend an evening in our non-aristocratic company. “What does Taro think of that idea?”
    â€œWell, he didn’t really like the idea, but he agreed to pass along the invitation. I think it’s only appropriate that we all get to know each other, especially when we’re so fortunate as to be in High Scape at the same time. It’s almost like we’re family, after all.”
    What was she up to? Because she did not think of the Dowager as family, and she’d never before given any hint of interest in meeting her.
    Still, I was glad she was doing it. It was probably the only chance I would have to meet Karish’s mother. He seemed anxious to keep us separated.
    After breakfast I felt well enough to move without wincing, and even to work on some reports for the council. I wasn’t in any shape to bench dance, though, and I felt strangely toxic. I didn’t think I’d be drinking again for a good long while. If ever.
    The blizzard struck later that afternoon.

Chapter Seven
    I’d never been so cold. The frigid air tingled and scraped against my skin. I had to keep blinking strangely aching eyes. My breath rasped in my throat. My feet hurt. I’d made the mistake of stomping them once, in an attempt to warm them up, and it had felt like something very fragile within them—bones, maybe?—had sharply shattered.
    Beside me, I heard Karish’s teeth rattling. I could see his breath streaming out like smoke. For once he was keeping his hands strictly to himself. His arms were tightly crossed as he tried to control his shivering. The other Sources in the Stall were in just as bad a state, hunched over and stiff with cold, their Shields quiet and withdrawn as they all struggled with a level of discomfort none of them had ever before experienced.
    The fire blazing in the stove looked real pretty, though.
    â€œWe will tell the regulars we have a plan,” La Monte said through chattering teeth. No attempts at an appropriate introduction this time. Just straight to the point. Bless the man.
    â€œWe’ve had an answer back from the council?” Riley asked.
    â€œNo,” La Monte snapped. “But I’ve had a brick narrowly miss my head and a horde of non-apologetic regulars telling me to get off my ass to do something.” He paused, so we could all be shocked by his news and his manner of relaying it. “So I told them we were working on it. I’m not going to wait until the council puts together a commission that will look into the matter and give us a report in a couple of years. The regulars looked ready to throw ropes over tree branches. I had to say something and telling them I was waiting to hear back from the council wasn’t going to cut it.” He clapped his hands together to warm them. I thought of bones shattering. “They weren’t terribly impressed with my answer but at least they left without stoning me.”
    All right, I supposed there wasn’t much I could say against that. A brick at his head! What was that about? It certainly wasn’t a rational or productive response to circumstances. What was that like, calmly walking down the street, minding your own business, to find your peace broken by a projectile flying at your head? La Monte was obviously rattled to be using something other than the pristine language that was his habit, and I couldn’t blame him.
    â€œAnything to say, Dunleavy?” he asked me archly, the prat.
    Well then, yes, I did. “What are we going to say when nothing happens?” Because, while I understood La Monte’s use of the lie, the problems with the lie still existed. “When whatever we’re supposed to be doing doesn’t work?”
    â€œThere was alliteration happening all over the place in that sentence,” Karish muttered.
    â€œThis will pass,” La Monte announced in a