The Hero Strikes Back Read Online Free Page A

a brawl. I had a good time.
    But when Mother and I left the warm flat, it was still snowing. That was strange. And I didn’t like strange. The last time things were strange, it was because a twisted crazy Source had used his abilities to deliberately create said cyclones and earthquakes and the like. For the fun of it. Because he could. Because he was bored. And crazy. He had chosen toppling cities and causing the deaths of thousands as a sort of hobby.
    Strange was bad.
    I pulled the collar of my dress closer to my neck. The chill was making even me uncomfortable. And it seemed to me a bad sign. Bad signs put me in a bad mood. And bad moods were just plain unprofessional.
    So I ignored the chill. Problem solved.

Chapter Two
    It had been snowing for three days. Big fat flakes that stayed on the ground, and accumulated, and built up, and soaked through boots and caused collisions in the streets and killed crops and generally infuriated everyone. Except the kids, who were having a grand time building snow forts and engaging in snowball fights. But it was winter, in the middle of summer. It was weird and frightening and really, really irritating.
    I tapped my boot against the door frame, dislodging the snow that had been caked to the sole. On the second day, when I realized that the snow was going to be around for a while, I had dug out my winter wardrobe, which only gave my mother fresh fodder for eye-rolling and pained expressions. My choice of winter clothing caused her some distress. She claimed it was possible to have clothes that were both practical and stylish. I had begged to differ. It seemed to me one always had to be sacrificed to the other, and I preferred to ditch the style and keep the comfort. Besides, there was a rush on materials that merchants had packed away or left to dwindle for the summer season. The tailors were in a panic and their services were scarce. As a Shield I could be put on the top of any list, my orders given priority over any, even the High Landed, but I’d never felt right about pulling rank like that. Especially when I already had clothes I was perfectly happy with, my mother be damned.
    â€œYou’re back quick,” the bedamned woman called out as I pulled off my boots.
    â€œThe stalls weren’t out.” I’d been sent out by my mother to hunt down bay leaves. Being sent out on errands for my mother was a new experience for me. One I couldn’t say I cared for.
    â€œOh well. I guess I can do without it.”
    I hung up my cloak on a peg by the door and wandered into the kitchen. “That smells really good.”
    My mother shrugged. “It’s only stew,” she said, stirring the pot. “Nothing special. I should teach you how to cook.”
    I pulled out some cutlery. “Ben usually cooks for us.”
    â€œBen’s not here, though, is he?”
    There was something censorious about her tone that irked me. “No, Mother, he isn’t.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t have to rely on others to cook for you.”
    I’d often thought so myself. Why did having her say the exact same thing irritate me so much?
    We heard the entrance door open and close. A loud thud on the floor, followed by some lighter ones, as of someone stamping their feet.
    â€œAh, good, one of the others are here,” Mother commented. “I’ve made enough for everyone. I can’t believe, with six and a half Pairs living here, how empty this place always is.”
    I hated being called half a Pair.
    I quietly stepped out of the kitchen, into the corridor to the foyer. I wanted to see who it was before calling out an invitation to join us. If it were La Monte or, far worse, Wilberforce, I’d back into the kitchen unnoticed.
    There was no chance of that once I saw who was standing at the door, reading a letter. He was shorter and slighter than most men, with golden brown skin and his black hair growing long in lazy curves, and he was most