The Hero Strikes Back Read Free Page A

Useless High Landers. If there is someone picking them off, they’re doing us a favor.”
    â€œThat’s a terrible thing to say,” Delia scolded her.
    â€œOh, grow up.”
    â€œ If someone’s doing something to these people,” said the Captain, “it is a crime, and they will be punished.”
    â€œAye, as soon as you can figure out what is going on and who is doing it,” said Shaka, his voice nicely laced with derision.
    And they were off. Suddenly the whole room was taken over with competing discussions concerning the uselessness of High Landers and the ineffectiveness of Runners. I folded my collection of sodden serviettes and put them on a table. I made my way through the crowd, sneaking up to my mother’s side. “Well done, Mother.”
    â€œI thought so,” my mother responded without a trace of remorse. “It’s certainly more interesting than talking about the most fashionable length of skirts this season.”
    She had a point there. I didn’t know if Risa would appreciate my mother setting her guests at each other’s throats, though.
    â€œYou seem to be enjoying Erin’s company,” my mother said.
    â€œYou seem to be enjoying the Captain’s,” I retorted sharply. Ooh, bad. Keep the tone even.
    â€œYes, he’s interesting,” she answered, unmoved by my obvious disapproval. “I spend so much time talking to holders and traders, it’s nice to meet someone with a completely different perspective on things. I’m sure you understand.”
    The hell I did. I wasn’t laughing coyly and flipping my hair at anyone. “What would Father say if he saw you flirting that way?” And why was I still talking? It had nothing to do with me.
    Mother stared at me, surprised. Then she started laughing. Not the reaction I’d been expecting. “My dear sweet cloistered child! That wasn’t flirting!”
    I was not sweet, cloistered, or a child. “You were fiddling with your hair,” I pointed out.
    â€œYes, well, I wasn’t trained out of my natural twitches, dear,” my mother said dryly. “Unlike some.”
    I’d never had any twitches. “I’m serious, Mother.”
    â€œYes, dear, aren’t you always.”
    I had discovered that my mother was never short of a quick comeback. That could be annoying. “It is not appropriate for you to be making up to another man—”
    Mother rolled her eyes. “I was not making up to him, Lee. I was just talking to him, and enjoying it. We are people. People are meant to enjoy each other’s attractions.”
    â€œMother!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
    â€œI’m not talking about sex, Lee.”
    Gods. Struck speechless. I was not hearing this. Surely I wasn’t too old to stick my fingers in my ears and hum? Surely.
    â€œWhat is wrong with enjoying another person’s wit? Or the timber of their voice? What’s wrong with liking the knowledge that they enjoy your company, too?”
    I tried again. “When you’re married—”
    â€œYou swear your loyalty to one person. And your fidelity. It doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the company of other people. And it doesn’t mean we can’t like being attractive to others. Else we’d all be wearing black.” She looked me up and down with blatant censure.
    I wasn’t wearing black. I was wearing a dark blue gown of simple, practical lines. It wasn’t the most attractive gown I had, but it was warm. I’d wanted something warm. “Don’t start, Mother.”
    â€œThat dress—”
    â€œI like this dress.”
    â€œIt’s a lovely dress. For someone twice your years.”
    So? I hadn’t noticed a real difference in the fashion of young girls and mature women, more’s the pity. “It’s fine.”
    â€œIt does nothing for your complexion or your