TALENT BEYOND LIMIT: Stacking Many Talents

Mary returned to Blackwood before the winter roads closed.

This time she came without the rest of the family.

Mike objected.

Lily objected more.

Mary came anyway.

Simon had offered her the spare room for a month while she tried work in town, and Mira had already found two possibilities before Mary arrived: bookkeeping assistance for a cloth merchant and packaging work through one of the medicine workshops.

Mary preferred the first.

Simon preferred whichever kept her closest to his house.

Mary noticed.

“You understand I traveled here without you before.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“I wasn’t responsible for you.”

Mary stared at him.

“You became my father after getting married?”

Simon frowned.

“That is not what I said.”

“It sounded like it.”

Joe sat beneath the courtyard plum tree and continued sorting medicine.

Mira leaned toward him.

“Should we help?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“They seem happy.”

Simon looked over.

“We can hear you.”

Joe nodded.

“I know.”

----------

Mary settled into Blackwood faster than Simon expected.

Within two weeks she knew the route between the house, eastern market and cloth merchant without asking directions. She learned which stalls overcharged newcomers, which baker reduced prices near closing and which guard gates took longest during morning freight traffic.

She also knew more people than Simon realized.

That became important.

Teren saw her first.

He had finished afternoon work near the southern warehouses when he noticed Mary walking with three men.

Not willingly.

Nothing dramatic enough to make strangers immediately intervene.

One man walked beside her.

Another several steps behind.

The third kept close enough that every time Mary changed direction, he changed with her.

Teren recognized one of them.

Red cord around the wrist.

Southern warehouse crew.

He also recognized Mary from Simon’s wedding.

He followed long enough to see them leave the normal road toward the old freight track.

Then he ran.

---------

Simon was at the guard compound.

Joe was not.

Teren found Simon first.

“Your sister.”

That was enough to make Simon stand.

“What?”

“I saw Mary with three warehouse men. South track.”

Simon’s face changed.

“Was she hurt?”

“Didn’t look like it. Didn’t look willing either.”

“Where?”

Teren told him.

Daren had been sitting nearby.

He stood too.

Simon shook his head.

“No uniform.”

Daren understood immediately.

If Simon marched out with guards before knowing what had happened, the men could panic.

Or move Mary.

Simon removed his guard coat.

“Find Joe.”

Teren nodded.

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Daren asked, “You want me?”

Simon hesitated.

Then shook his head.

“Too many people might scare them.”

Daren did not like it.

Neither did Simon.

But Mary was already out there.

Simon left.

-----------

The old freight track had once served a timber yard south of Blackwood.

The yard had closed years earlier after newer warehouses were built closer to the road. Several sheds remained between patches of young forest, along with broken loading platforms and an overgrown cart lane.

Simon saw the men before they saw him.

Two outside.

One near the larger shed.

No Mary.

His stomach tightened.

Then the door opened.

Bret stepped outside.

Simon stopped.

For several seconds neither spoke.

Bret looked worse than he had during Starlight.

Not filthy.

Not staggering.

But his eyes carried the unfocused sharpness of someone who had been drinking enough to make bad decisions feel reasonable.

Simon looked past him.

“Where is Mary?”

Bret smiled.

“So, you came.”

“Where is my sister?”

“Inside.”

Simon started forward.

The two warehouse men moved.

Simon stopped.

“Let her out.”

Bret’s smile disappeared.

“You don’t give orders here.”

Simon looked at the men.

Then back at Bret.

“This is about me.”

“Finally figured that out.”

“So let her go.”

Bret laughed.

“You really think everything works because you ask now?”

Simon said nothing.

Bret continued.

“You file against me. You hide behind Blacks. You get their daughter, their house, their routes—”

“I didn’t take anything from you.”

That stopped him.

Only briefly.

“You think you’re better than me.”

Simon stared.

“No.”

Bret seemed almost offended.

That answer had somehow been worse.

Simon continued.

“I barely think about you.”

Silence.

One of the warehouse men looked away.

Wrong answer.

Or perhaps the correct one.

Bret’s face reddened.

“You were nobody.”

“So were you without your father.”

The words escaped before Simon could reconsider them.

Bret stepped forward.

The red-cord man muttered, “Bret.”

Too late.

Bret shoved Simon.

Simon barely moved.

That seemed to surprise him.

Simon had entered Muscle.

Bret apparently still remembered the village guard from years earlier.

“You wanted me here,” Simon said. “I’m here. Let Mary go.”

The red-cord man spoke quietly.

“Do it.”

Bret turned.

“What?”

“This has gone far enough.”

“You were paid.”

“To scare him.”

The broad man beside him nodded.

“Not take his sister.”

Bret looked between them.

Something in the plan was slipping.

Simon saw it.

So did everyone else.

Bret had imagined control.

He had gathered men, chosen the location and brought Mary because he wanted Simon frightened.

Instead, his own people were beginning to understand how stupid the situation had become.

Bret turned toward the shed.

“Bring her out.”

--------

Mary emerged angry rather than frightened.

That made Simon breathe again.

Her wrists were free.

One sleeve had been torn where someone had grabbed her, but she was standing and alert.

“Simon.”

He moved toward her.

Bret stepped between them.

“No.”

Simon stopped.

The warehouse men stared at Bret.

The red-cord man swore.

“What are you doing?”

Bret looked at Simon.

“You don’t leave until we’re finished.”

“We’re finished.”

Simon stepped forward.

The broad warehouse man moved automatically.

Simon hit him once.

Not with everything.

Enough.

The man went down and stayed there.

The red-cord man backed away immediately.

He had met the stranger in the brown coat once already.

Perhaps some instinct told him this family produced bad surprises.

The third man rushed Simon from the side.

Simon turned, blocked and drove him backward into the loading rail.

The man fell.

Fast.

Messy.

Over.

Simon looked toward Mary.

“Come here.”

She moved.

Bret caught her arm.

Everything stopped.

“Let go,” Simon said.

Bret’s breathing had become ragged.

“Stay back.”

Mary twisted.

Bret pulled her closer.

The red-cord man took another step away.

“Bret. Let her go.”

“Shut up.”

Simon saw the knife when Bret drew it.

Small.

Utility blade.

Enough.

Mary went still.

Simon did too.

Bret’s hand shook.

“I said stay back.”

Simon looked at his sister.

Then at Bret.

“You don’t want to do this.”

“I already did it.”

“No.”

Simon took one careful step.

“You haven’t.”

For one second, Bret seemed to hear him.

Then Mary drove her heel backward into his shin.

Bret jerked.

The knife moved.

Simon moved faster.

He crossed the distance and struck.

One full Muscle-powered blow.

No training-yard restraint.

No thought beyond stopping the hand near Mary.

Bret left his feet.

He hit the wooden support beside the shed and collapsed.

The knife dropped.

Mary stumbled away.

Simon caught her.

The yard became silent.

---------

Bret did not get back up.

Simon stared.

The anger disappeared first.

Then everything else.

He released Mary carefully.

“Stay here.”

He crossed the few steps.

Kneeling beside Bret made no difference.

Simon knew enough first aid.

Enough guard medicine.

Enough death.

The red-cord man whispered, “Gods.”

Simon looked at him.

The man backed away.

“We’re leaving.”

The broad man had recovered enough to stand with help.

Nobody argued.

Simon did not stop them.

Within moments, the three disappeared down the old cart track.

Mary stood near the shed.

“Simon.”

He looked at her.

She was shaking now.

Only now.

Simon crossed back and pulled her into his arms.

For several seconds neither spoke.

Then Mary said against his shoulder, “You killed him.”

Simon closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

He would make the same choice again.

That did not make the body behind him easier to ignore.

---------

Joe arrived with Teren and Daren less than ten minutes later.

One look told him most of the story.

Mary.

Simon.

The knife.

Bret.

Joe crossed directly to Mary.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He checked anyway.

Bruised arm.

Torn sleeve.

No serious injury.

Then he looked at Simon.

His brother’s hands were trembling slightly.

“What happened?”

Simon told him.

Short sentences.

No excuses.

When he reached the knife, Joe looked toward Bret.

Then back at Simon.

“He had Mary.”

“Yes.”

“With a blade.”

“Yes.”

“You stopped him.”

Simon stared at the ground.

“I hit too hard.”

Joe said nothing for a moment.

There was no useful argument about how hard one should strike while someone held a knife near his sister.

Daren inspected Bret from several steps away.

“We need to go.”

Simon looked up.

“To the guard?”

Daren hesitated.

That hesitation answered more than words.

A senior officer’s son lay dead at an abandoned yard.

Three southern warehouse men had been involved.

Mary had been taken there.

Simon had killed Bret.

The facts favored Simon morally.

The politics might not.

Especially once Garrick learned his son was dead.

Joe looked around.

Bret had chosen the place.

No official patrol.

No assignment.

No reason for Simon to have been there except Mary.

The warehouse men had every reason not to explain their own involvement.

Joe made the decision.

“Mary goes home.”

Simon looked at him.

“And Bret?”

Joe met his eyes.

“We don’t solve that tonight.”

That was all.

No elaborate plan.

No pretending they could control every consequence.

They left the old freight yard because staying created nothing useful.

Behind them, Bret remained where his final decision had put him.

--------

Mary walked between Joe and Simon on the way back.

Daren and Teren took a different road.

Nobody spoke much.

At Simon’s house, Mira opened the door.

One look at Mary ended every question except the important one.

“What happened?”

Simon answered.

Not everything.

Enough.

Mira took Mary inside.

Simon remained in the courtyard.

Joe stayed with him.

For a long time, Simon stared at his hands.

Finally, he said, “I killed a guard officer’s son.”

“Yes.”

“Garrick will come.”

Probably.

Joe looked toward the dark street.

If Garrick came as a senior officer asking questions, Joe would let him ask.

If he came as a father looking for vengeance—

That was different.

Simon looked at him.

“What do we do?”

Joe’s answer came calmly.

“We wait.”

For once, waiting did not mean helplessness.

Joe had completed Bone VIII.

More than two tons of controlled strength sat inside a body Garrick still believed to be Muscle Completion.

If Garrick made the correct choice, none of that would matter.

If he made the wrong one, Joe intended to stop hiding.