The Hero Strikes Back Read Free

were just playing?” my mother asked the startled flutist.
    She blinked. “Uh, Twilight Sonata,” she stuttered.
    â€œPlease, start it again. It will soothe my nerves after hearing about poor Lord Greenmist.” My mother laid her hand against the base of her throat, as though she were worried about fainting. An oddly fragile gesture from a woman I knew to be robust and calm.
    â€œOh my yes, can you believe it?” said a young woman named Delia, who worked at the pie shop Risa loved. As far as I knew, that was the only thing the two of them had in common. Delia made pies and Risa loved eating them. Risa could make friends with absolutely anyone.
    â€œJust disappearing like that,” Delia continued, snapping her fingers. “It’s spooky.”
    â€œOh, no doubt he’ll show up in a ditch somewhere,” said Samuel, a bailiff. “Probably got drunk and was attacked by robbers.”
    Shaka, a street artist who thought he knew everything, snorted. “They’d be wasting their time, wouldn’t they? Greenmist’s pockets have less in them than mine.”
    It never ceased to amaze me, the kinds of intimate details strangers knew about each other. I’d never heard of Greenmist before he went missing. I certainly didn’t know the weight of his purse. But once he disappeared he was famous, and everyone knew how well—or badly—he’d done in school, who he slept with and what he liked to eat for breakfast. Incredible.
    â€œIf he looked the part of a lord, they wouldn’t know he was broke until after they went after his purse,” Captain Wong pointed out.
    â€œAnd then they would have killed him for raising their hopes.”
    â€œDon’t say that, Shaka,” Delia chided him. “There’s no reason to think he’s dead.”
    â€œNo reason to think he isn’t,” Shaka retorted. “No one’s found any of the other High Landers that have gone missing, have they? The Risto Reaper strikes again, and gets away scot free.”
    Puerile name aside, I had to admit—to myself—that I was feeling uneasy, too. Five disappearances over five months, all of them aristocrats, with no indications of why they were disappearing. No one knew for sure that there was a single person behind it, if the disappearances were even connected at all, but stories of the Risto Reaper, some brilliant, mad villain intent on cleaning out the High Landed class of its least appealing members, were making the rounds. And for that reason, I was willing to let Karish linger in Erstwhile for as long as he liked.
    Captain Wong’s eyes narrowed at the less than subtle criticism. “We’re working on it,” he snapped.
    â€œSure you are, Captain, but nothing’s turning up, is it?”
    The party had taken a decidedly dark turn.
    â€œHe might have merely taken a vacation,” said the Captain.
    I wanted to smirk. I couldn’t believe he’d said that. How weak. Captain Wong knew it, too, if the way he flushed were any indication.
    â€œWithout telling anyone about it?” Shaka mocked him.
    â€œBesides,” Samuel added, “he didn’t have any money either. Where was he going to go?”
    Visiting friends and family who had money. I’d heard aristocrats did a lot of leeching.
    â€œWhat would anyone want with landless High Landers?” the Captain challenged them. “All the High Landers who’ve gone missing have had no power, no money, no land. There was no reason to take any of them. Or kill any of them. And we have no evidence at all that the disappearances are related to each other. I tell you, it’s just a bunch of bad coincidences. Or someone’s idea of a joke.”
    â€œOh, who cares?” Zeva piped up, speaking for the first time. She was a prostitute. I found it ironic she had been invited to a Runner’s home for a social engagement. “They’re High Landers.