Hidden Truth

by Dawn Cook

  “For me?” She beamed, not caring it was a month late. “You made me something?”

  “Uh-huh.” He sat down on the edge of his chair and leaned close. “Open it.”

  He extended the fabric, and Alissa took it, her fingers touching his for an instant. She glanced to see if he noticed, flushing at his knowing look. Wondering what he could have made that was so small, she carefully opened the cloth. Nestled among the folds was a thumbnail-sized charm. It looked like it was made from spun thread, the color of gold. “Oh, Strell,” she breathed, entranced. “It’s beautiful!”

  He smiled and looked to the floor, seeming embarrassed. “It’s for luck,” he said as he glanced away. “It’s a luck charm. I wove it from a lock of your hair.”

  “Mine?” Alissa touched her head, her eyes wide in surprise. “When did you—”

  “Ages ago,” he said with a rush, his brow creased in worry. “You were asleep. I wanted it to be a surprise, and if a charm isn’t made out of hair—”

  “It doesn’t work,” she finished for him, smiling to show she didn’t mind. It was done, and she didn’t want him to think she didn’t like his gift.

  Marveling that such an exquisite thing existed, she undid the ribbon that bound her hair and pushed the strands impatiently out of her way. She looped the ribbon through the charm and tied it loosely about her neck. The bit of gold rested well above the pouch of dust she kept hidden. Alissa smiled as she looked at the charm against the dark blue of her dress. “Thank you,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder for an instant. “I like it.”

  “Good,” he said as he knelt to poke needlessly at the fire again.

  Satisfied all was right with the world, Alissa leaned back and watched the flames. She felt her breathing slow as she relaxed in the new warmth of the stirred coals. Strell returned to his chair, and they kept a companionable silence until her head snapped back as she nodded off. Struggling to focus, she looked to see if Strell had noticed. His eyes were shut; his breathing was slow. It shifted his loosely curling hair as he exhaled, and she fought the urge to arrange it.

  “Asleep,” she murmured, not surprised. Rising, she pulled her shawl tightly about her shoulders. It seemed Useless wasn’t coming. Disappointed, she went to her shutters and pushed them open. They squeaked loudly, and she turned to see if it had woken Strell, but he seemed all the more settled. Talon, though, fluffed herself in the sudden chill with a grumpy dissatisfaction.

  Alissa leaned halfway out her window and took a slow breath, enjoying the chill that burned her lungs only because a fire was near. The full moon on the snow made it bright, and the few stars were tiny. Hers was the only window in the Hold without a ward to keep out the cold. She broke both hers and Strell’s while removing the ward Useless had put between her and her source. The ward had been for her protection, but irked he would dare do such a thing, she had tried to remove it. Her attempt not only shattered the window wards but her mind as well. The uncontrolled release of force had torn through her thoughts, burning her tracings to what she had first thought was an unusable ash. They had since healed. She and Strell had put the shutters up shortly thereafter. Deciding to ask Bailic to replace her ward as he had Strell’s would be foolish.

  A gust of wind blew back her hair, and her head snapped up. Squinting into the brief gale, she saw a raku’s fearsome shadow ghost from behind the Hold’s tower in a hiss of leathery black angles and sharp teeth. She stared in awe as the house-sized raku turned against the full moon and circled the tower.

  Talon darted out over her head. “Talon. No!” she cried. She spun back to her fire. “Strell! Wake up. Talon is going to get herself killed!” But Strell didn’t move. Torn between shaking him and watching the demise of her bird, she stood frozen at the window as Talon dove at the raku. A wickedly clawed hind foot slowly reached out, black in the moonlight. Talon gave a startled squawk and dropped. Useless followed with an almost unheard rumble. Alissa’s breath caught. Talon. He was going to eat Talon!

  Come back! she thought, a frantic shout nearly slipping from her, but she could do nothing. Shifting suddenly, the bird darted for height, leaving the raku grasping air. Useless was too massive to keep up with her lightning-quick maneuvers, but it would only be a matter of time.

  Alissa’s hand went to her mouth as the raku feinted a swoop to the left, flinging his tail—Wolves, it was as long as the rest of him—into Talon’s path. The bird slammed into it, falling neatly into a waiting claw. Together they dropped to the forest beyond the garden wall.

  Her heart pounding, Alissa flung herself back inside. “Strell!” she cried, shaking him. “Burn you to ash. Wake up!”

  The plainsman frowned in his sleep, saying nothing. Giving up, she grabbed her hat and coat and ran downstairs to the Hold’s door in a terrified flurry of silence. The Navigator’s Wolves take that raku! she thought as she shrugged into her coat. Useless couldn’t eat Talon. She was her friend.

  Pushing open the thick doors of the fortress, she raced into the snow to stop at the edge of the clearing. “Which way?” she agonized, the night’s silvery silence hard upon her ears. Over her thudding pulse and rasping breath came a faint chitter. “Talon!” she called in relief, spinning about only to halt in confusion.

  Useless, in his human guise, was striding out from under the distant trees. He had hidden his Masters’ attire under an ill-fitting wool coat, and his tall height stood out sharply against the snow and moonlight. Grinning wildly, he waved a hand for Alissa to stay where she was. On his other hand sat Talon. The bird’s noise increased as she caught sight of Alissa, but the kestrel made no move to leave her new perch.

  “Hush, little warrior,” Alissa faintly heard Useless admonish as he drew close. “You’ll wake the Hold. All are asleep inside. Let’s keep it that way.” Talon obediently ceased her caterwauling, but in no way could Alissa say the bird grew any calmer.

  Useless took Alissa’s elbow as he came alongside, and without missing a step, began walking her back to the Hold. Flushing, she dug in her heels and tugged her arm free. “What are you doing? You were chasing Talon. I thought you were going to—”

  “Eat her?” Useless finished. He began to laugh, and Alissa stiffened. “We were playing! She wouldn’t make a mouthful.”

  “A mouthful!” Alissa yelled. “Talon is my friend!”

  His mirth vanished. “She’s a bird. And don’t shout at me. Here.” Taking Alissa’s hat, he placed it lopsidedly upon her head. “Put this on before you get cold.” Abnormally long fingers encircled her upper arm, and she found herself moving forward.

  Alissa stumbled into motion, halting in confusion before the formidable wall surrounding the Hold’s garden. Standing straight and unbowed, Useless ran his eyes over the sterile expanse. “This seems about right,” he said, tossing Talon into the air. The bird flew up, then down to land upon Alissa’s shoulder. Useless frowned at them for a long moment before turning to run his fingertips across the frosted stone.

  Reaching up, Alissa touched Talon’s feet to reassure herself her bird was safe. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice still shaky from her recent fright.

  “Looking for the door.”

  “Oh.” Alissa turned to scan the blank stone for anything unusual.

  “This may take a moment.” His eyes on the wall, Useless shifted three steps to the right. “I usually fly into my garden, not crawl in like an insect.”

  “Or a Keeper,” Alissa said as she set her palms firmly against the uneven surface. There was a familiar pull on her awareness followed by an inaudible click as the lock disengaged and the stone swung out to reveal the tangled remains of the long-fallow garden.

  Useless stared at her. “How did you know?”

  “Someone wrote ‘Here’ on the wall.” Pleased she had bested him in this small matter, Alissa pointed out the thin scratchings.

  “Humph!” He leaned forward, squinting to see it in the moonlight. “Impudent students,” he grumbled. “After you.�
�� The Master gestured stiffly, and she stepped inside. “We can talk at the firepit. Do you know where that is?”

  Alissa nodded, looking up at the Hold’s tower to place herself. Useless shut the door to make it all but invisible. The hem of his coat turned dark from the snow as he picked his careful way amongst the dormant vegetation. Alissa followed, trying to memorize where in the rambling garden they were. It might be useful knowing a second way out.

  “There,” Useless said softly, almost to himself.

  Alissa nodded. Hiking up her skirt, she stepped down into the huge firepit and brushed the snow from a bench. Strell had served her dinner here last fall to try to make up for having twisted his ankle and leaving her with all the work. His attentive behavior had left her flustered, not knowing what to think. All that remained of their evening under the stars was black, snow-dusted charcoal. That, and her memories. Alissa hid a smile, remembering she had fallen asleep on his shoulder, waking to the sound of his heart and the warmth of his arms around her. It had been a most pleasant evening.

  She gingerly settled herself on the cold bench. Useless took the seat beside her, and Alissa’s eyes widened as she saw his hands. His fingers did have an extra joint. Seeming to realize she was staring, the Master hid his hands in his sleeves. As suddenly and unexpectedly as a sneeze, a fire burst into existence in the ashes of the old. Before she could comment, an ugly teapot appeared in the snow. Startled, Alissa divided her attention to take a peek at the web of tracings that lay silent within her unconscious. Useless had made a ward, and the pattern of tracings he used would resonate upon her own, showing her a part of how it was done.

  A smiled eased over her as she examined her mindscape. The faint resonance showed a multitude of intertwining lines, joined at several spots and sprawling in just as many directions. That doesn’t look too hard, she thought as the subtle luminescence faded. Perhaps, if I—

  “Don’t even think to try it,” Useless murmured as he filled the pot with snow and set it right in the flames. “You’re far from ready. Now,” he said firmly. “I will be brief, as it’s not prudent for me to be here. Is Bailic trying to teach Strell enough lore to open the book as I hoped?”

  Alissa nodded. “He gave him a source today. Not much. A pinch, perhaps.”

  “Really?” Useless said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “I wonder where he found even that much?” He held his hands out to the fire, his long fingers almost amongst the flames. “It can’t do the piper much good, seeing as he is not Keeper stock, but commoner.”

  Alissa frowned. Strell’s tracings might be a useless, defunct scramble of dead ends and tangled knots, but to call him common was insulting. Talon pinched her shoulder, responding to Alissa’s ire, and she moved the bird to a nearby leafless shrub.

  “As it stands,” he continued, “I’m not actually barred from my Hold, just from killing Bailic while he hides here. I won’t be staying, though. It wouldn’t be . . . prudent.”

  Alissa shifted on the cold stone. “Can’t you just take the book and we all leave?”

  “No. I gave my word. It was either that or he would have burned you to ash.”

  “But it would be so easy,” she cajoled. “It’s just up in his room.”

  Useless raised his eyebrows. “You’re asking me to break my word?”

  Though shamed, Alissa refused to drop her eyes. “Well, I never said I wouldn’t take it.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, his disgust obvious. “Save me the trouble of keeping you alive.”

  “Bailic doesn’t scare me,” she said boldly, and Useless shook his head.

  “Bailic murdered every last Keeper,” he said. “Killed or drove away the students, and destroyed what remained of my kin. I’m sure you could manage, though.” Useless rubbed his long-fingered hand over his eyes. “I’m going to lose this one to outright stupidity,” he murmured.

  Anger trickled through Alissa.

  “You,” he demanded, “will lie low. Use your ears, not your tracings, which you have untimely discovered. If you care to eavesdrop upon Strell’s tutelage, Bailic can impart at least the basics of their use to you, if not the reasonings behind them.” He turned severe. “But along that same line of sight, I want no more tampering with your neural net. I understand you managed to remove the ward I put about your source. You must have burnt your tracings quite proper.”

  She dropped her gaze with a flush of guilt. “How did you know?”

  “Strell told me, but I had already guessed. The entire Hold shook,” he accused. “You could have taken out all of the eighth floor with your unauthorized tinkering. It was luck Bailic thought it was Strell. See that it doesn’t happen again.

  Alissa looked up, stifling a surge of irritation. It was difficult to listen while he sat dictating orders as if he had the right to. Seeing her scowl, Useless chuckled. “Get used to it,” he said shortly. “You’re only a student, one of many who have come and gone.”

  “Like my papa?” she snapped, immediately regretting it.

  “Yes, like your father.” Useless winced, his eyebrows bunching together. “Meson was an excellent student, almost a friend, but he couldn’t get past the wings, so to speak. Always with him, there was an awe, or reverence. It gets tiresome.” Rearranging the fire, he watched her over the low flames he had stirred up. “You, I see, didn’t inherit that as you did his gray eyes. It’s fortunate Bailic is so nearsighted, or he might guess you were Meson’s daughter by the sight of them alone.” He hesitated, frowning. “Yours are almost blue, though. Not as distinctive as Meson’s. Still, I would advise you to keep to the shadows.”

  She couldn’t help but be pleased he had noticed. It was her opinion, too, that her eyes were blue, but her gaze dropped at the reminder of how easily their deception could be broken.

  “I wish I could have warned him of Bailic’s treachery,” Useless continued. “But when he returned my book, I was already trapped under the Hold. And Keepers and Masters can’t speak silently between each other as they can between themselves.”

  “We did,” she said bluntly, recalling his disastrous attempts to frighten her home before she reached the Hold. Being able to tell that someone was in her thoughts had shocked both of them, and she had driven him from her mind with a surprisingly potent force.

  “Yes,” he said. “It shouldn’t be possible. Your thought patterns must be laid out . . . differently.” Useless drew back, blinking at her like an owl with a sudden thought. “How much did Meson tell you of being a Keeper?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “But I was only five when—when he left.” Feeling alone, Alissa curled her feet under her, cold and damp in their slippers.

  “Yes, and Strell told me your father taught you how to read.”

  Alissa nodded. “Me and my mother both. Well, he started, but she finished it.”

  “Why did he bother?” Useless said, more to himself than her. “He couldn’t have known that early you had inherited his neural pattern and were bound to the Hold. He must have perceived something in you. . . . I don’t know. You aren’t like any other Keeper I have known.”

  Embarrassed, Alissa looked down, but he continued, clearly not expecting her to answer.

  “You don’t let your fear dull your temper, and how, under my Master’s Hounds, did you find your source and tracings in your thoughts when no one told you they existed? It’s almost as if . . . You remind me of—”

  Alissa raised her head. Useless was regarding her with a peculiar mix of dismay and delight. His scrutiny continued as she leaned to fuss with the fire so as to have something to do. “Tell me,” he said abruptly. “You like Strell’s music?”

  “Yes,” she blurted, wondering at the sudden shift in topics.

  “He says you fall asleep.”

  She shrugged. “His piping is very restful—usually.”

  Useless nodded. “Growing up on a farm, you must have had a lot of pets.”

  Alissa stared at him. What kind of question is that? she thought. “No
. We couldn’t even keep a cat in the barn. Everything that could, ran away.”

  “And you like the cold, I see?”

  “I adore it,” she said sarcastically as she hunched into her coat.

  “Yes, of course.” Useless’s thoughts were clearly somewhere else. “That book you found last month, you seemed most reluctant to give it to Bailic when you pulled it from the well, despite knowing if you didn’t, you would die right there in the woods.”

  Alissa fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, trying to deny her stab of longing at the mere mention of it. Giving the First Truth to Bailic had been the hardest thing she had ever done. “I’m going to get it back,” she said. “It’s mine.”

  “It’s my book, not yours,” he said, a marked softness in his gravelly voice.

  “That’s not what it said!” she shouted, then put a hand to her mouth, shocked at her outburst.

  “Just so,” Useless said mildly. “Perhaps my book did, at that. It would explain many inconsistencies.” As if taking on a heavy burden, he shook his head and sighed in resignation. The ugly pot over the flames began to steam, and much to Alissa’s astonishment, Useless pushed on the seat of the bench beside him. The seat slid off with a grinding sound to reveal a small stone box within it. She eagerly leaned forward as he took out the box and opened it, slumping back when she found it contained only tea leaves. Unaware or uncaring of her disappointment, Useless set the pot to brew, shut the box, and replaced the seat. There was a tug on her thoughts and a ward so quick she hadn’t a chance of memorizing the pattern resonating in her unconscious. Two brown cups equal in ugliness to the pot appeared. “If I may, Alissa,” he said slowly, “I would like to look at your tracings. To see . . . ah . . . if the burn across your tracings that you received while removing that ward has healed properly.”