Forgotten Truth

by Dawn Cook

  He beamed, his shoulders relaxing as he saw she was all right. He crossed the clearing in eager, long strides.

  “Wait,” she said in alarm. She held up a hand before he could sweep her into an embrace and show the world her lack of footwear. “I lost my shoes.”

  Strell jerked to a stop. His brow furrowed, and he took her shoulders in his hands. “Are you all right?” he asked, his brown eyes intent on hers.

  Her breath caught at his tight grip, and she dropped her gaze, flustered. “Yes. I’m fine. But I left my shoes this side of the garden’s wall. Come with me to get them?”

  “Ashes, Alissa,” he said, reddening as he released her shoulders. “Would you hurry up and learn how to make them?” Taking advantage of the rare opportunity of having no eyes upon them, Strell cupped her hand in his as he helped her over the upturned earth.

  “Thanks.” Eyes lowered, she paced beside him, keeping her steps slow to prolong their walk, as much as from the pain in her lower back. His hand was warm, and rough from his work at keeping the Hold’s few fires lit. She ran her fingertips to the ends of his fingers and back, feeling the calluses from his twin professions of musician and potter. His other hand lacked a full pinkie, and she knew he had shifted to her right side so as to hide it.

  Alissa’s mood went soft. It was foolish, and she knew it meant little, but Strell so rarely felt free to show his feelings for her that even the smallest gesture was a treasure. It didn’t help that he had been raised in the stiff-necked culture of the desert, either. Useless would be annoyed if he found out she had been alone with Strell in the woods.

  It had been made very plain to her that Strell would never be allowed to formally court her. Part of the bargain to bend the rules and let Strell remain at the Hold had been based on the understanding that he would keep his thoughts—and hands—from Alissa. Useless made it no secret that he hoped with time Alissa would turn her fancy to a match more suitable to her Master standing.

  And time stretched forward for her in abundance. As a Master, she now had a life span ten times Strell’s. Again, she didn’t care, or at least that’s what she told herself.

  “Play a tune for me tonight?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “M-m-m,” he sighed, holding a branch for her as they passed into the shadow of the trees.

  A familiar fluttering brought a groan of dismay from both of them. Talon hovered in a noisy complaint, waiting for Alissa to offer her a perch. The robin-sized bird’s chatters were accusing, and Alissa drew her hand from Strell’s with a guilty swiftness. If she didn’t, Talon’s protests would turn physical. And though it wouldn’t be hard to fight off the small bird, it would be difficult explaining to Useless why Strell was scratched.

  Annoyed, she held out a wrist for the kestrel. “Hush,” Alissa soothed as she brought Talon close and tried to cover her head. Talon would have nothing to do with the pacification, worrying Alissa’s fingers with her sharp beak until Alissa gave up and put Talon on her shoulder. The bird’s harangue never slowed, but it at least grew softer, turning into a muttering complaint.

  Alissa looked at Strell and winced. Lodesh had probably flown the bird, knowing she would seek out her mistress. Strell took a reluctant step from her, clearly coming to the same conclusion. “You really should teach that bird to wear a hood and jesses,” he grumbled. Cupping his hands, he looked in the direction Talon had come from. “Lodesh!” he shouted before the Keeper found them and guessed he had been manipulated. “She’s over here!”

  “Is she all right?” came Lodesh’s distinct call.

  “I’m fine,” she said as the outline of Lodesh became obvious, quashing her guilt for not having answered his silent hail earlier.

  “Are you sure?” he asked as he came even with them in a crackling of undergrowth. His gaze ran over her from head to toe, and she flushed. The hint of amusement dancing over him made Alissa wonder if he had known her plan all along, letting her and Strell think they had gotten away with something, but not giving them enough time alone to get into trouble. It was hard to remember the man had a lifetime of experience to draw upon when he looked like—Alissa glanced up at him and away—like a young, handsome, carefree nobleman’s son.

  “I’m fine,” she said again, slouching so her skirt hid her feet. Her back gave a deeper twinge, and she forced her brow smooth so as to not show it. “But I have to fetch my shoes— again.”

  Lodesh brightened. “I’ll make you a pair,” he said cheerfully.

  Alissa and Strell exchanged wondering looks. Lodesh had never offered to before. She hadn’t known he could make shoes from his thoughts. “But it takes years for a Keeper to learn how to craft something,” Alissa said. “I didn’t know you had been practicing.”

  Lodesh put a finger to his nose. His eyes glinted roguishly. “Years is what I’ve had, yes? And you aren’t the only one who has small, dainty feet, Alissa.”

  She took a breath to speak, then shut her mouth, embarrassed. It had been vain to assume he had fixed a new form in his thoughts solely for her. There was a tug on her awareness as Lodesh worked his ward. Curiosity prompted her to unfocus her attention to see the pattern of tracings he used. When she was close enough, the creation of a ward set up a resonance within her own tracings, setting her dormant pathways to faintly glow. It was how wards were taught to students.

  A pair of soft, gray slippers ghosted into existence, cradled in Lodesh’s hands. Alissa accepted them gratefully. Both men looked away. Strell’s back was stiff as he turned. She wanted to think it was to give her some privacy, but she knew it was because he hated Lodesh using his Keeper skills. Alissa wedged her feet into the gray slippers and shook her skirt out to cover them. “Thank you, Lodesh,” she said softly, not liking how he had made Strell feel.

  Strell was unable to hide his sliver of frustration. Lodesh held an arm out to help her back to the Hold, and Alissa miserably declined it. Undeterred, Lodesh gave her a good-natured smile. “Let me escort you back to the Hold, Alissa. If I remember correctly, you have a lesson in the garden tonight. You’re late.”

  Alissa’s eyes widened, and her gaze darted to the Hold’s tower showing beyond the pines. “Ashes,” she exclaimed softly, tensing in worry. “Is it after six already? Last week the sun wasn’t much higher at six,” she complained. “How am I supposed to be on time if it changes that fast!” Then another thought pushed her concern to alarm. She glanced over her shoulder toward her clearing. “You don’t think Useless saw that, do you?”

  Lodesh shook his head, grinning mischievously. “If he had, I’m sure you would have known it by now.”

  Reassured, she took a quick step toward the Hold, then hesitated, knowing she ought not leave her other shoes outside the garden wall just because she had a new pair.

  “I’ll get your shoes,” Strell volunteered, apparently knowing where her thoughts lay. “You go ahead with Lodesh.”

  Alissa dropped her gaze. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Preoccupied with his thoughts, Strell gave her only a wave before stomping off in a direction that was nowhere near the garden wall. She allowed herself a small sigh as she turned to Lodesh and accepted his arm. They silently made their way to the Hold. Talon’s complaining finally stopped.

  It was obvious Strell loved her. Lodesh had also made it clear with intent looks and uncommon courtesies that he cared for her, too. Lately, Alissa had come to believe Lodesh was biding his time, betting Strell would eventually make a mistake that couldn’t be overlooked and find himself banished from the Hold, leaving Alissa all to Lodesh. But for now, he seemed content to be a friend to them both, knowing until he absolved his curse, he would remain in existence for as long as Alissa did—in some form or another. He need only to wait.

  The situation put Alissa in a foul mood when she thought about it too long. But it was hard not to like Lodesh, with his quick wit and cheerful disposition. She also appreciated his steadfast tolerance of her. She was putting all three of them through the Nav
igator’s hell as she refused to abandon what her heart wanted over what she knew was right, proper, and inevitable.

  Alissa glanced up at Lodesh’s firm profile. The handsome Keeper was clearly a better match for her, seeing as there were no Masters left to choose from. With Lodesh, her children might make the jump to Master as she had; with Strell, they likely wouldn’t even make Keeper. And she did like Lodesh. . . . But there had to be a way to get what she wanted. She just hadn’t found it yet.

  Squinting, Alissa brought them to a halt as they found the edge of the trees and the setting sun. The Hold stood before them, gray in the shadowy light. Her breath slipped from her in a sigh as she tried to imagine what the Hold had been like when it was full of Keepers, Masters, and students. It was easy this time of day, the few moments between sunset and the lamps being lit. She could pretend the stillness hard upon her ears and eyes was from grace being said, not twenty years of near abandonment.

  Lodesh stirred, and she flashed him a quick smile. The sun was almost down. Useless would have undoubtedly spent the interim planning out a fine lecture as to the proper use of time.

  “Thank you, Lodesh,” she said as she flung Talon into the air and they moved forward. “If it weren’t for you, I would have completely forgotten. How late am I?”

  “You have no idea, Alissa,” he said mysteriously, but if his look of alarm was contrived or not, she couldn’t tell.

  2

  Lodesh met Alissa’s quickening stride as they entered the smaller of the Hold’s two kitchens. “Why,” she complained, “did Useless get it into his head to hold class at night, anyway?”

  “You really should call Master Talo-Toecan by his given name, Alissa.”

  She shifted her shoulders. “He told me I could call him that, and at the time, he was.”

  “A Master of the Hold is anything but useless,” Lodesh insisted.

  “Perhaps,” she muttered. “Unless bound by his word or her lack of skill.”

  Lodesh put out a hand and stopped her. Ashamed, she dropped her gaze. “You,” he said gently, “are not useless.” The clean scent of mirth wood filled her senses, and his hand lifted her chin. She went still as their gazes met. When she had first made his acquaintance, he had diligently striven with subtle words and sly looks to get her to blush. Repeated exposure and a comfortable friendship had made her immune to his considerable charms—for the most part. That, and her slow awareness of the old grief he hid behind his eyes.

  His eyes were old. In them was the pain Lodesh had endured as his beloved, cursed city faltered and fell: watching his people leave family by family, seeing the prosperous streets go empty and silent, knowing it was his fault and his fault alone. Uncomfortable, she looked away.

  “Even in the best of circumstances a Master takes the better part of two centuries to become proficient,” he continued, clearly not knowing she could see. “Be patient.”

  “Now you sound like Useless,” she said.

  “Just so.” He smiled. “And you should call him Talo-Toecan. Besides,” he said as he picked up a cloth and moved a kettle from the flames, “your schooling is going frighteningly quickly. I imagine he’s currently deep into the theory of line tripping.”

  “How—how did you know?” she asked.

  He looked up from filling a teapot with the lukewarm water from the hearth. There was a flash of resonance across her tracings as he used a warming ward and the teapot began to steam. “Your evening lesson gave it away,” he said. “Tripping the lines of time to view the past is complicated. It would be unlike Talo-Toecan to allow you to sleep on half the lesson, risking you would figure the rest out on your own and get yourself into trouble.”

  Alissa winced, knowing Useless had cause to worry. “Ah, yes.”

  Smiling, Lodesh found a soft cloth and dabbed at her jaw-line. It came away with a red smear, and she reached up to touch her jaw. “Did you fall because of Beast?” he asked lightly.

  Her breath seemed to freeze. Taking the towel from his hands, she turned away. “No,” she said, too embarrassed to tell him she couldn’t yet fly on her own.

  He hesitated. “I’m concerned, Alissa. Masters always destroy the second, feral consciousness that evolves when learning how to shift from raku to human. None have ever agreed to live with it. Perhaps this is why?” His green eyes went worried. “Is Beast—trying to take over?”

  “No. She isn’t,” Alissa said defensively, not liking to talk of Beast so openly. If Useless realized Alissa had retained her feral conscious, he would make her destroy Beast. Even Strell didn’t know. How Lodesh had guessed was beyond her.

  Lodesh’s head tilted, his worried stance saying more than words that he wasn’t convinced. “Here,” he finally said, extending the brewing pot. “You’re late, but if you bring him tea, he will most likely overlook your tardiness.” Alissa’s brow pinched at the reminder. “You had better run,” he said, leading her by the elbow to the door.

  With a final, extravagant gesture, Lodesh opened the garden door. The sound of crickets slipped in to pool behind her, urging her to be out among them in the dew-ridden darkness of a night with no moon. Alissa gathered her skirts in one hand, the pot of tea in the other. Her back protested as she started down the weed-lined path to the large, sunken firepit that often served as her schoolroom. Behind her, the door shut with a gentle thump.

  Talking of Beast had tightened Alissa’s sense of unease. Her lower back gave a strong twinge, and she slowed, wishing she knew how to tell time. It didn’t make sense that the hours shifted independent of the sun. Moving as fast as her back would allow, she turned a corner and came to a dismayed halt. Not only was Useless at the firepit, but he had already lit the fire.

  The Master straightened at the sound of her approach, his white eyebrows rising in question. Alissa tossed her tangled hair from her eyes and sedately continued down the path with a false nonchalance. At least he was in his human shift. Trying to reason with him when he was a raku was impossible.

  “Alissa?” came his clipped accent. He sounded puzzled, not annoyed as she had feared.

  “Good evening, Useless,” she said meekly.

  “You’re early tonight.”

  “Early?” Her head came up. “Lodesh said I was late!”

  Her teacher’s expression went from amusement to bother. “Then you probably are,” he amended, frowning in what she recognized as irritation at himself, not her. Apparently Useless had the same problem as she when it came to time. Perhaps, she mused, stepping down into the bench-lined pit surrounding the fire, it had something to do with how their minds were laid out.

  Useless held his comments to a grimace as he took in her Keeper attire. He made a great show of shaking out his long Master’s vest. It was the color of ripe wheat and went all the way to the ground, giving her the impression of a sleeveless robe. Having it bound tightly about his waist with a black scarf only strengthened the image. Peeping from under the vest were trousers and a wide-sleeved tunic. Though of a simple cut and pattern, the fabric was of a quality that had never made it to her foothills home, being tight of weave and even of color.

  The Master had no beard and kept his hair cropped close to his skull—to hide the whiteness of it, Lodesh had once said in jest. He was as tall as Strell and nearly as dark, with a ramrod stiffness about him whether he was sitting or standing. Since he was quick to anger and even quicker to admit to a mistake, keeping abreast of his moods was often a losing battle.

  Though in his human shift, his eyes retained the unreal golden color characteristic of all Masters. His hands, too, couldn’t hide his raku origins and were abnormally long. Each finger had four segments instead of the usual three. Alissa had long ago adjusted her thinking to see them as normal, but tonight her gaze lingered on them as he reached for the teapot. Her fingers looked as they always had. Alissa exhaled heavily. Even as a Master, she didn’t quite fit in.

  The stone benches built into the surrounding earth still held the day’s warmth, and she
settled to his right, glad the night was dark enough to hide the scrape on her chin. She winced when she realized she had forgotten the cups. Seeing it, Useless sighed, and with a tug on her awareness and a flash of resonance across her tracings, two cups glazed a hideous brown materialized on the bench between them. He silently poured the tea and handed her the first cup. Taking a sip, he grimaced and set it down. “Lodesh’s tea?” he asserted sourly.

  Blinking, Alissa nodded. “How did you know?”

  “He always wards the water to boiling. The kettle never warms sufficiently, so the leaves don’t brew properly.”

  She took a cautious sip. It tasted fine to her, but then, she wasn’t over eight centuries old.

  Holding the cup to warm her hands, Alissa sat and tried not to fidget. As soon as she had stopped moving, her back had begun to throb, all the way down to her rear. Clearly some of the mass for wings came from that area, and she wondered what sort of mischief had managed that. She glanced nervously at her teacher. How was she going to hide the tear until it healed?

  Useless shook his head at some private thought and drained his cup. Lodesh’s brew or not, he was still apparently going to drink it. He adjusted his vest over his spare frame, and his slippered feet withdrew underneath him to sit cross-legged upon the bench. Alissa’s breath quickened. He was ready to teach.

  “This morning,” he began, “I explained the theory behind line tripping. Tell it to me.”

  She sat straighter, frowning at the ache in her back. The stone bench wasn’t helping. “Sending your thoughts to the past is reexperiencing a memory, be it yours or someone else’s gifted to you. There’s no way to change it because the threads have already been tightened. You’re not so much reliving the past as seeing one person’s view of it.”

  “Excellent,” Useless praised. “The difference is subtle but tantamount to success.”

  “You mean you’re going to let me try tonight!”

  Useless chuckled, hiding his smile behind a hastily raised cup. “No-o-o,” he drawled, and she collapsed against the back of the bench, straightening as a rush of pain shot through her. It was getting worse. “But I’ll explain how it’s done,” he continued. “You should be decades along in your studies before learning this, not years. Seeing as you’ve been among the lines last fall, it would be prudent to present it to you now.” He frowned. “Before you decide you can figure it out by yourself.”