The Trouble With Heroes.... by Jo Beverley Page A

necessary, we smuggle him in and carry
on the fight from here. Once people see he's just Dan, they'll
change. Most of them want the fixing back. Medical technology
doesn’t fix things. Are we agreed?"
    She thought for a terrible moment that
they'd chorus no, but then Yas, of all people, said, "Yes. Fine.
After all, you're such a careful sort. If you think he's safe, he's
probably comatose."
    It hurt, but Jenny hid it and waited until
they'd all agreed. Then she stood. "All right. Let's do it."
    The easiest way out was through the storage
basement of Gyrth's uncle's grocery. They'd used it as teenagers
when sneaking outside had seemed like an adventure. It didn't take
long to move the stack of heavy boxes, then work out the loose
stones that blocked the tunnel through the thick wall. Wriggling
down the rough, dusty hole wasn't Jenny's favorite thing, but right
now it seemed a small challenge. She wriggled backward so her feet
went out first, hung on with her fingers a second longer than
necessary and then dropped the six feet or so to the grass.
    She was committed now.
     
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    She waved at Gyrth, whose blond head was
sticking out of the hole to make sure she was all right, then
turned toward that glowing fire.
    She shivered under the swamp of chill air
and dark infinity. Once again she couldn't see the ground beneath
her feet and Dan wasn't guiding her. She made herself step forward.
She knew this was smooth grass, but she still felt for each step as
if an abrupt crevasse might pitch her into destruction.
    Then light shimmered, forming a silvery path
across the grass, a path to the fire. To that figure by the fire,
even though he hadn't moved.
    She froze. He could do this. What else could
he do?
    Then he turned. "Hello, Jen."
    He was still just a shape against the glow,
but it was Dan's voice for sure, just the same as before except for
the tone. She searched that tone for welcome, for warmth, and found
none. Something inside shrank, wanting to run away. What if he
didn't even remember the night that was so important to her? Combat
stress caused neural damage that could show in many ways.
    "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."
    She walked forward, picking that apart. I
won't hurt you. Not, I can't hurt you.
    She'd known that -- that he was controlled
not by what he could do but by what he allowed himself to do -- yet
she was suddenly crushed by the mission she'd so carelessly chosen.
Who was she to decide the fate of a town? Of a world, even. Who was
she to assess Dan’s capacity to harm and destroy?
    When she arrived close to the fire and was
touched by its light and warmth, she finally saw him clearly.
    Changed. Very.
    Dan. Still.
    She realized what made him look harsher –
his hair was drawn back in a plait, into that rope of hair hanging
down his back.
    Hair didn't grow that much in the time he’d
been away.
    "Would you like to sit,” he said, “or did
you just come to stare?" She flinched at his tone, but then he
added, "I have tea, and two cups. It's not stewed."
    She sat suddenly on the grass, on the
opposite side of the low fire.
    He remembered.
    "How are you?" It was a stupid question, but
had to be asked.
    "Better." He poured tea into a cup she
remembered so well and passed it to her.
    Better than what? she wanted to ask, but she
was groping through the dark here, afraid of rocks and
crevasses.
    "Have the governors sent you any message?"
she asked, sipping. It was perfectly made tea, delicate and fresh.
It made her want to laugh and cry.
    "I thought perhaps you were it."
    "Unlikely."
    "Sometimes messages are judiciously
indirect."
    It was a subtle point, made with a cynicism
that was strange from him.
    "So?" he asked. "What's going on?"
    "They've formed a committee."
    His lips didn't even twitch. He might as
well know the truth. "They're afraid of you, Dan. Grateful, mind,
but afraid."
    "That's fair. I'm afraid of myself."
    Well, there was the answer to her question.
She put down the cup