Hidden Truth

by Dawn Cook

  She narrowed her eyes, wondering at his shift in tone from dominating to almost respectful. “You’ll have to put your thoughts into mine?” she asked warily. She didn’t like that. Every time he did, it left her afraid he might see more than what she wanted him to.

  He nodded. “The technique becomes easier with practice, a teaching tool, a common event between instructor and student. But if you can’t manage it . . .” He let the challenge hang.

  She took a deep breath, willing her unreasonable fear away. Useless wasn’t going to hurt her. “What do I do?”

  Glancing up at the dark sky, Useless drew his legs up under him. He eyed her tightly, grimaced, and finally nodded. Cross-legged upon the bench, he hid his odd hands among the folds of his coat sleeves. “If you would find your tracings?”

  “All right.” Her pulse quickened in anxiety, and she divided her attention to visualize her tracings with her mind’s eye. The thin, spiderweb-like lines seemed to melt into existence in a fantastic tangle, fracturing off in every direction. The pathways were dark and still as they were empty of power, barely visible against the blue black of her consciousness by way of the thin streaks of gold that ran through them, seeming to glint where the tracings joined and crossed one another.

  Close beside them, but seeming to be half an angle away, was her source. The sphere of power was enveloped by a tight weave of shimmering threads. She couldn’t tell what lay within the gold, almost white, hollow ball. Alissa’s breath slipped easily from her as she reveled that she was intact, her tracings no longer burned to an unusable char by her own stupidity.

  Useless’s eyebrows rose. “You have them?” he accused. “Your eyes are still focused.”

  “I can close them if you like.”

  “No, that’s fine,” he said remotely. “If you’re ready, we can try.” He looked to the fire, and Alissa’s eyes slammed shut of their own accord as his presence materialized within her thoughts. Instantly, a wave of affronted panic washed through her, and she found herself struggling to keep from mentally lashing out at him. For a terrifying moment she kept her lethal response in check, then another. With a gasp, Alissa felt a surge of power around her source, an instinctive reaction to drive him out with a blast of mental fire.

  His thoughts vanished from hers, and she sagged in relief. She opened her eyes to find Useless staring back, his amber eyes round and unreadable, seeming to glint in the firelight. “This isn’t a good idea,” he said slowly. “I’ve never begun with someone as untutored as you.”

  “No.” She gulped, her pulse beginning to slow. “I—I can do better. I almost had it.”

  “Better?” he grumbled. “You must be entirely trustworthy, or I can’t stay.”

  Trustworthy! Alissa thought, affronted. “Maybe if you didn’t storm in so high and mighty, I might be more accommodating!” she said, not wanting to admit she couldn’t control herself.

  The Master’s face tightened. “Again,” he demanded, goaded into trying once more.

  Alissa closed her eyes and found her tracings, surprised to realize she was scared. If she couldn’t do this, Useless would teach her nothing. She shivered as much from anticipation as the cold. Her breath came fast, and she tensed. Burn her to ash. What if she couldn’t do it?

  There was a sigh, and a markedly cautious thought slipped between hers, a hint of presence that slowly grew to a whisper. His unusually submissive presence made it easier, and it took only a moment of struggle before she mastered herself. Slowly she exhaled. “See?” she thought, shoving her primitive thoughts away. “I can do this.”

  “You’re sure?” Useless asked into her mind, giving Alissa the impression of settling himself. “Well, let’s see what you can manage.”

  Alissa was silent, trying not to squirm as she felt his light thought among hers. “I’m going to set up a ward,” he explained. “If your tracings are fully . . . er . . . healed, there should be an echo of it reflecting on your neural net. Do you see which circuit is resonating?”

  “Yes,” she thought nervously as several loops began to shimmer. They formed a convoluted pattern sprawling in six directions whose end and beginning were the same.

  The glow faded and was replaced with a more complex form. “How about this one?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Really? How about . . . m-m-m . . . this?”

  “Yes. What does it do?”

  Immediately the glow vanished. “Never mind that.” There was a slight hesitation. “I would say you healed properly.”

  “But what do the patterns do?” she persisted, then brightened. “That’s how you make a ward, isn’t it!”

  Clearly uncomfortable, Useless muttered into her thoughts, “It’s very complex.”

  Alissa felt a thrill of excitement. “Do I have to set up that crossed loop first?” she thought, then pierced through the weave surrounding her source. A shimmering dart of force shot to her tracings in an elegant S shape. It looped back in a mirror image of itself to her source to make a glowing, twisted loop.

  “Stop! Shut it down!” Useless exclaimed, his thoughts slamming into hers.

  Frightened, Alissa broke the connection. The crossed loop faded as the force vanished back into her source. He fled from her thoughts, leaving her with a unexpected sensation of loss. Alone again, she looked up to see him with his head in his hands, muttering at the fire. Something had upset Talon, and the small bird was grousing, shifting in agitation from foot to foot.

  “Old fool,” she heard Useless grumble as if he had forgotten she was there. “I should have known by the way she is yammering on about my book.”

  “It isn’t your book,” Alissa said with a sudden rush of dismay.

  His head came up. “It most certainly is,” he said, sounding affronted.

  “It’s mine!” she cried in alarm. It was as she had feared. Now that Useless was free, he was going to take it. She hadn’t crossed the mountains and trapped herself with a madman for the winter so Useless could claim it for himself!

  “That will be enough, student,” he said calmly to the fire. “It’s my book.”

  “You gave it to my papa!” she cried, fear pulling her to a stand. “He gave it to me. It’s mine! I won’t let you take it.”

  Useless turned to her. “What did you say?”

  “I won’t let you,” she repeated shakily, a tinge of self-preservation lowering her voice.

  He rose in a single, fluid motion, drawing himself up to his full height. “Sit down.”

  “No,” she whispered, feeling her face go white. She wouldn’t let him tell her what to do.

  “You will sit down!” Useless said, taking an unnerving step closer.

  “But it’s mine!” she exclaimed, past caring what happened next.

  In a breath, he went still. His arm dropped, and he slowly exhaled. Terribly afraid, Alissa stared at him. “You will, student,” he said softly, dangerously. “If you look to me for instruction, you will do as I say, or as I say not. I will teach you what I want, your instruction proceeding as fast or slow as I deem fit. This isn’t from malice or dominance but to save . . . your . . . hide.” He stepped back, crossing his arms before him. “There will be no constraints or wards to stop you, only your word. But you will put yourself under my discretion, or I will leave for good.”

  He would leave me? Alissa thought, panicking. She would learn nothing, have nothing. Bone and Ash, she cursed herself as she felt her throat tighten and her shoulders slump. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, her fear washing from her in misery.

  The Master blinked, his anger vanishing in surprise. “Excuse me?” he said, incredulous.

  “I said,” she shouted, furious at herself, “I don’t know if I can!” Alissa slumped on the cold bench. There was a lump in her throat, and she angrily wiped a tear of frustration away with the back of her hand. She had been so close, she thought bitterly. Now she would have nothing.

  Useless’s brow furrowed, then he chuckled, easing back to his
seat. “M-m-m,” he said. “I imagine any other answer from you would be false.”

  “You mean you’re not angry?” She wiped her eyes and stared at him incredulously.

  “No, just concerned.” He paused, considering his next words. “You see, it’s a rather dangerous turn for you. You’re standing in a threshold, so to speak. It would be wise to push you through, and I would, except for one thing.”

  “Bailic?” she guessed, darting a glance at the tower, dark above them.

  Useless resettled his robes. “No, he isn’t an issue. It’s the present state of the Hold.”

  That made no sense whatsoever, and Alissa patiently waited until he noticed her silence and continued. “I am one and alone. It’s too risky. Someone should be here to help in case complications arise, and from what I have read, they always do.”

  “I thought you taught my papa,” she said, becoming more confused.

  “Um . . . I did,” Useless stammered, “but each student has their own peculiarities.”

  “I see.” Alissa eyed him warily. There was something off about his words.

  “And there was always someone to seek counsel from,” he continued as if trying to convince himself. He certainly wasn’t convincing her. Useless eyed her warily. “I do believe I have had enough of you tonight. Expect my return on the extremes of the moon’s drift; otherwise, I’ll be searching. Someone besides me may be left.”

  Alissa pulled her coat tighter, not trusting his rapid shifts of emotion. “There is,” she said hesitantly. “I saw a raku just outside the foothills this fall. It was my third day out from home, and it scared me into a puddle of pudding.”

  “It must have been a feral beast,” Useless said, his gaze going distant into the flames.

  “A what?” she asked.

  His eyes went sad as he leaned to rearrange the fire. “A feral beast. Masters are subject to few ills, but one we share with men is that of madness. Whether by accident or punishment, sentience will occasionally be lost. Unable to remember, they exist as any predator. We watch over them, trying to keep them from the lands of men. It’s of these unfortunates your conventional idea of rakus being beasts come from. But they’re not truly insane, just unaware.”

  “They never recall themselves?” Alissa asked in a small voice, trying not to imagine Useless’s strength unbridled by wisdom.

  “Never,” he asserted, sounding angry but not at her. “It’s something we don’t talk about, as they all have names, though they don’t hear them anymore.”

  “I’m sorry.” Useless seemed so sad, Alissa wished she hadn’t asked for an explanation.

  “Was he a younger beast?” he asked.

  “I . . . I think so.”

  “It was probably Connen-Neute. He was an astonishing student, much potential. Here,” he said, sketching a figure in the snow with his finger. “This is his name. It shouldn’t be forgotten, now that he doesn’t know it.” Useless sighed. “I wonder what drew him from the mountains and into the foothills?”

  She leaned to study the simple figure, grateful he thought enough of her to teach it to her. Useless’s fingers drummed a slow, intricate pattern on the stone. Unsure of what to say, she waited until he looked up with a faint, mirthless smile. “Go,” he said. “It’s cold.”

  Alissa dutifully stood and gathered her skirts. With a final nod to Useless, she began to pick her way along the snow-covered path to the kitchen. She looked back before rounding the bend in the path and saw him unawares in the bright moonlight. Chin in his hands, he was contemplating his fire, the two unused cups beside him. He looked worried. Without knowing how, she sent a wisp of an understanding thought to him. He jumped but didn’t turn.

  “Go, young one. My troubles aren’t your concern,” she sensed in her thoughts, light and sure as spider silk. It startled her, and she hastened to the kitchen. Hesitating at the door, Alissa unintentionally caught more of his thoughts which confused her even more.

  “Old fool,” she heard him complain. “You know better than to jump into a novice’s thoughts like that. She had every right to char you proper—but she didn’t. Where did she learn her control?” Alissa felt him sigh. “Curse you, Keribdis. Convincing the Hold to chase your rainbows to punish me has brought the Hold’s downfall twice over. I wasn’t trained for this. It would be done perfectly if you were here. She guesses far too much. Totally out of control. I’ve never worked with children before.” He hesitated. “Burn me to ash if that wasn’t fun, though.”

  Then the faint touch was gone, and Alissa was left with her disconcerted thoughts, alone once more in the empty, silent kitchen.

  4

  “Just look at it, Alissa. It’s perfect!”

  Smiling thinly, Alissa levered herself up onto the long, black table and wrapped her arms about her knees. It was frigid down in the Hold’s second kitchen unless the sun was out. The large room was at the end of one of the short tunnels off the great hall, unused for what looked like decades with its empty hooks and cupboards. “It’s cold,” she complained, her voice echoing off the flat stone walls. “You won’t be able to work the clay. Your fingers will stiffen up.”

  Plainsmen lived or died by how skilled they were in their profession, and the chance to practice his original family craft of clay work seemed to have become an obsession since Strell found the large barrels of clay three days ago. Upon discovering the small jars of what he claimed were powdered glazes, setting up a potter’s stead was a foregone conclusion. He needed good light to work by, a convenient water source, and a kiln, though he claimed he could make do with a smolder pit in the garden, whatever that was.

  The light was too dim in the upstairs kitchen. Any of the countless practice rooms had enough sun but no water. The same went for the dining hall. That left only the annex kitchen. Alissa just knew he was going to spend all his time down here. And as it was too cold for her to keep him company, her days would soon stretch long and lonely.

  “Too cold? Maybe,” was his muffled reply. He had crawled partway into the largest oven to estimate its size, and his long legs stuck out, looking like a spider’s. “But I won’t be down here unless the sun is bright, and you know how warm it gets then.” Slowly he backed out of the oven, humming a child’s tune.

  Alissa gave him a dour nod he couldn’t possibly see as he had turned to the narrow windows high overhead. “It’s hard enough finding wood for our rooms, the kitchen, and the dining hall,” she grumbled. “If you use that oven as a kiln, you’re going to need a lot of wood.”

  He stood with his hands on his hips looking tall, confident, and happy. “I won’t need to have a fire but once every week or so.” Singing softly, he peered down the kitchen’s well, listening to his voice echo.

  “There’s probably no water down there,” she predicted, hoping he would abandon his latest diversion and come back with her to the warm upper rooms. Strell reached for the cracked bucket tied to an even more ancient-looking coil of rope. Curious despite her glum mood, she hopped off the table, the thin soles of her shoes making a hard landing. Their heads nearly touched as she and Strell peered down into the shadows of the well. “Careful,” she advised. “That rope looks thin in spots.”

  “Nonsense,” he cried as the faint sound of the bucket finding water reached them. “It’ll hold. Besides, I’m not going to fill it. I just want to see what’s down there.” Ignoring the dubious arch of her eyebrows, he turned the large crank, drawing the bucket up. The pulley’s piercing squeaks seemed to go right through her head, until there was an audible snap and an even louder splash.

  “Ah . . . oops.” Strell stared mournfully down into the depths as Alissa laughed, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. It really wasn’t funny.

  “Oh, Strell,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry.” But he was peering into the well, apparently not having heard even her laugh.

  Talon left her perch to land upon Strell’s shoulder, crooning softly. “Sand and wind,” he sighed, eyeing the frayed end of the rope.
“Now I’ll have to find a hook.”

  Alissa slumped as she finally admitted how much this meant to him. She would be selfish not to help. “I know where there’s another bucket,” she offered.

  “No. I should get that one out, or it’s going to molder down there and contaminate the well.” He sighed, peering into the black. “Hounds. I really wanted to try to find a wheel today. Now I’ll have to play fisherman.” A dark hand ran through his mop of brown tangles as he glanced at the ceiling to estimate how much light was left.

  “Tell you what,” Alissa said cheerfully, “I’ll find a wheel for you, and a new rope, too.”

  “No, that’s all right,” he said. “I know it’s too cold down here for you. I’ll find everything all right. Why don’t you go have a cup of tea or something?”

  Her eyebrows went up, and her mouth went down. She wasn’t sure how she should take that. It sounded patronizing. Strell glanced up at her silence, and recognizing the cast on her face he quickly added, “To warm you up! You know the annexes better than I do. I’m sure you could find everything faster, but you, Alissa,” he leaned to lightly tap her nose, “look positively chilled.”

  Alissa blinked in surprise, then smiled at the attention. “Why don’t we both go look?” she suggested. “At least until we find a hook and rope.”

  Pushing himself from the well, Strell headed for the tunnel archway. “Castoffs?”

  “Dry goods,” she said confidently as they left. Talon stayed behind, peering down into the well. Strell was humming, and she smiled as the last of her ire at his attention being focused from her slipped away. He hadn’t been in this good a mood since . . . since . . . She hesitated. She hadn’t ever seen him this happy before. And who knew? Her mother had wanted a nested set of Hirdune bowls. Perhaps Alissa could get them for her now.

  5

  Wait! Strell?” she called, but he was gone, his rope and hook draped over his shoulder. She had agreed to find a potter’s wheel for him while he fished his bucket out from the kitchen well, but there was one problem. “I don’t know what it looks like—exactly,” she finished softly. Alissa gazed at the empty mouth of the tunnel, debating if she should follow him and ask, but decided she would probably know one when she saw one.