by Dawn Cook
“Great!” Connen-Neute rose to plunk himself down in front of the headless, charred body, expertly slicing off a dripping portion and stuffing his face. “I told you,” he said cheerfully around his full mouth. “She’s a grand, fine, young woman. Very understanding.”
Strell collapsed where he stood, his head in his hands. Lodesh didn’t look any better. Tucking his knife away, he snuck envious glances at Connen-Neute.
Head shaking in amusement, Useless entered the camp. “May I join you?” he asked Connen-Neute, and starting at the respect in his tone, Connen-Neute shifted to make room.
Alissa sat at the edge of camp and tried not to gag. Realizing Useless wasn’t going to commandeer the meat, Connen-Neute slowed his pace and began cutting small pieces for Talon as well as for himself. The small bird was coaxed back to his shoulder, no doubt appreciating the switch from cold junco. Lodesh and Strell watched jealously. “That bird eats better than we do,” Lodesh whispered.
Useless chose his portion with care, delicately dabbing the excess juice with a quickly crafted bit of cloth. “It has occurred to me,” he said casually, “that a reckoning is due. Thanks should be extended and punishments meted out.”
Connen-Neute looked up in sudden concern, and Alissa, her fingers busy taming Connen-Neute’s snack, went still.
“This is very good,” Useless said, all attention focused on him. “Who did the braising?”
“I did,” Strell said quickly.
Useless nodded. “Tastes like plainsman’s fare. Spare on amenities but rich in natural substance.”
“Thank you.” Strell shifted nervously.
“But I digress.” Useless wiped the tip of one of his fingers clean. “As you recently pointed out, Strell, I have been remiss in the sincerity of my offer of shelter.” He paused. “Consider yourself welcome, Strell Hirdune, Piper of the Hold.”
Lodesh gasped. Alissa turned to Connen-Neute, reading in his wide, golden eyes, the honor that title held.
“Your room is inadequate,” Useless said, feigning ignorance of the effects of his words. “Find one in the tower.”
“My room is fine,” Strell whispered.
Useless looked at him, his brow furrowing. “You will move to the tower.”
“Thank you,” Strell said, clearly shocked.
“No. Thank you.” Useless inclined his head and poured himself a cup of Lodesh’s tea.
“A commoner permanently granted shelter in the Hold?” Connen-Neute blurted.
“There’s a precedent.” Useless frowned to hide his unease. “Redal-Stan once allowed an elderly woman to stay. She was too aged to comfortably make the daily journey from the city.”
Alissa couldn’t let that go without comment. “Mavoureen wasn’t granted anything,” she said dryly. “She won it in a wager.”
Useless stared, his face slack. “No. Redal-Stan told me—” Connen-Neute nodded, and Useless sighed. For a moment, she thought it was going to end there, but Useless turned a sharp eye to Lodesh. “Now,” he said, and she tensed. “For you, Lodesh, Warden of Ese’Nawoer, I have disappointment.”
Lodesh held his head level; no expression crossed his features.
“You have been callous, selfish, and found lacking in honor. Reeve would be shamed,” Useless intoned, and Lodesh paled. “What have to you say in your defense?”
“I have none.” It was softly spoken, even toned.
“Useless . . .” Alissa pleaded.
“Hush,” he said, then turned to Lodesh. “It’s my decision that your title of Warden be struck from you, Lodesh Stryska, and that you be allowed to wear the mirth flower as a family honor only, not as token of the city’s affections.”
Lodesh went paler still, his green eyes turning frightened for the first time.
“You will not be allowed entry to the citadel,” Useless continued, “until such time as you recover your title or the grace of one who holds court there.”
“Useless!” Alissa cried. Lodesh was being exiled!
“Furthermore,” he continued, “you will be reduced to probationary Keeper status.”
Lodesh’s head came up, a fire in his eyes Alissa didn’t understand.
“And as such, you shall be confined to the Hold and its environs unless accompanied by an appropriate escort. You will resume your moral studies under my guidance until such time as I deem you have fully comprehended the ramifications of your—choices.”
“What?” Alissa said to Connen-Neute. “What does that mean?”
Connen-Neute grinned. “He’s a student Keeper again.”
“He’s been forgiven?” she asked.
“No. But his debt to the Hold for his betrayal has been paid by the loss of his title.”
“That is,” Useless interjected into their private conversation, “if you agree to it.”
“Yes!” Alissa exclaimed. “I do!”
“Fine,” Useless said. “So it is.” He drained his cup and reached for the pot.
“You can stay?” Strell asked in disbelief
Lodesh nodded. “But I’m a lowly Keeper,” he said, smiling, “ranking only a cell in the Keepers’ hall. Wolves!” He pushed on Strell’s shoulder. “A room in the tower!”
Strell eyed Alissa with an unspoken longing. “I’d rather stay where I am.”
Brow furrowed, Alissa glared at Useless. The “honor” had moved Strell farther away from her, putting Lodesh that much closer in his room down the hall. Didn’t he trust her?
Useless rose, excusing himself from the cloud of male exuberance to bring Alissa a cup of tea. He sank down beside her, never spilling a drop. The lamb squirmed from her and trotted happily to Strell. Clearly he had been the one caring for the little ram even as Strell seasoned his mother. The lamb frolicked about his feet, butting him in the shins. Talon jumped to the ground to vie for some of the attention.
Alissa raised her cup, and Lodesh’s tea was in her mouth before she realized what she was doing. She held it there, trying to decide if she really wanted to swallow when she stopped short. The tea was good. Really good! “This is good!” she exclaimed, earning a curious look from Useless. “No, really,” she protested. “It is.”
“Well, yes. Lodesh said he made it.” Useless settled himself. “He has always made excellent tea. Ever since becoming Warden.”
Dumbfounded, Alissa set the cup down and eyed at it as if it were a snake. Slowly she picked it back up and took a careful sip. She glanced at Lodesh, and when he wasn’t looking, checked the finish of the cup. There was no blemish under the handle. None at all. She had changed something else, something small, something worthless, and no one but she knew it.
Useless cleared his throat. “You do realize you have a problem, don’t you?”
Alissa turned to him. “What’s that?”
Taking a slow, measured sip, Useless nodded to Strell and Lodesh. “They’re on equal footing.” He sat back rather smugly. “You will have to choose.”
Alarm trickled through her. “But you won’t sanction a Master/commoner union.”
Useless nodded. “Ordinarily.” Setting his cup down, he pulled out from his sash a tube stopped at both ends. The fragrance of mirth wood bloomed, and she watched in surprise as he twisted open one end and shook out a piece of rolled parchment. Silently he handed it to her.
The paper crackled as she unrolled it, slowly reading the tight, cramped penmanship. It was from Redal-Stan. She couldn’t make out the last bit, not because her eyes had filled and the writing had become blurry, but because it was written in Strell’s script. The first half, however, was plain enough. “What does the last part say?” she asked, her throat tight. She missed Redal-Stan more than she wanted to admit.
Useless took the letter from her and rolled it up. “If he wanted you to know, he would have written it so you could read it.”
She was too miserable to argue. Strell’s laugh drew her eyes up to see the lamb charge at Talon, stopping dead in his tracks when his playmate disappeared up into the
air. Alissa snuffled back a tear. “Then you’ll give your blessing for me to wed either of them?”
“No,” he said, and she turned in surprise. “If you read it carefully, you will see Redal-Stan only requested I allow them to freely court you.”
“And that means . . .” she prompted.
He leaned to place her cup into her slack fingers. “You were raised foothills, right?” She nodded, and he smiled, clearly pleased. “Marriage isn’t anything I’ve a say in, is it?”
Alissa thought about that. “My mother must show favor,” she breathed in dismay.
“Yes,” Useless agreed smugly. “Your mother, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.”
“But I don’t know where she is!” Alissa protested. “The farm’s abandoned! She’s gone back to the plains! You know that!”
Lodesh and Strell looked up at her cry. Their brows rose in thought, and something she couldn’t name passed between them.
“I suppose things will have to wait until she meets them, then, eh?” Useless said, and Alissa scrubbed a hand over her face, trying to find the justice in this new wrinkle. Strell and Lodesh would have to come with her. The trip would be on foot. The earliest she could start would be spring. Months of travel through hostile territory. And that was assuming she could find her mother’s thought signature. Alissa sighed and tucked her hair behind an ear. She would work all winter on it, then shove her accomplishment in Useless’s face.
Useless chuckled. “I won’t have my student bare of choices or taking the easy path when there’s a harder one available.”
Connen-Neute shook his head in sympathy and went back to his breakfast. Lodesh gave Strell a challenging look, then rose to join the young Master. Her eyes widened as he cut a portion of the carcass and took a mocking bite, never moving his gaze from Strell. “I have eight hundred years to make this up to her,” he said, the dare heavy in his voice as he wiped his chin.
Strell’s eyes narrowed as he sat with his jaw clenched. The hard anger of perseverance the plains taught fell over him, almost frightening in its intensity. She watched in alarm as he leaned to cut a portion of meat. He chewed methodically, his eyes riveted to Lodesh’s. “I only need a night,” he said.
Alissa’s jaw dropped. She had lost control. Somehow she had become a prize in an asinine man contest. That was going to change. Right now. Lips pursed, she started to rise.
“Alissa?” Useless stopped her with a single hand. He grinned knowingly as she fell back. “I have to ask. Did you really break Earan’s arm over a pair of slippers?”
She closed her eyes to gather her strength. It was going to be a long winter.
