by Dawn Cook
Strell put the irons back with more force than necessary. “Do you know how long that would take?”
“Do you have anything better to do?” she shot back.
Strell frowned, clearly taken aback. “I don’t have the proper tools.”
“They’re in the annexes. I saw them.”
“I don’t have the right wood.”
“Annexes,” she said again.
Strell shook his head, a wisp of a smile pulling the farthest corners of his mouth. “You have this all figured out, don’t you.”
She grinned, but it faded quickly. “I can’t let Bailic do this to you,” she said. “I can’t let him take away your music, your livelihood. Please,” she said, taking the pipe and pressing it into his hands. “I want to hear you play. I know you will be good again. It will only take time to figure out the new fingering or make a new pipe so you don’t have to.”
A wash of relief went through her as she saw his grip tighten on the pipe. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asked, sounding afraid.
“Then you haven’t lost anything but the time spent.”
“But what if it does work?” he said, almost whispering. “What if I can play? I will have given Bailic a way to control me again. I can’t let him do that. He might do worse.”
Alissa dropped her eyes. “Don’t let Bailic take away what you love because of fear. Your finger means nothing. Its loss is a false weakness that only you can make true.”
He was silent, his eyes on the instrument. His eyes closed in a long blink, and his fingers, where they rested upon the wood, trembled. “All right,” he said, his eyes opening. “I’ll try.”
Relief so strong it made tears threaten her vision swept her. She smiled up at him. “Play me something?” she said, and he nodded, not meeting her eyes.
He settled himself cross-legged before the hearth as she had seen him hundreds of times before. Not wanting to leave the warm circle of light for the hard chair, Alissa remained where she was, sitting quietly beside him with her hands in her lap. Strell flicked a sideways glance at her and focused upon the pipe in his hands. There was a moment of thought, then he played three notes. Hesitating, he started over, playing them higher. Alissa smiled as she recognized the tune. It was the lullaby they had shared on their way to the Hold, the one she taught him even before they met, camped on opposite sides of a small valley. She had played it to ease her pain of leaving home, and Strell had heard, scaring her when he mimicked it back.
The last of her worry loosened as his first hesitant, unsure notes eased into a smoother pace. Her shoulders slumped, and she closed her eyes before they could fill. He was going to be all right. Strell was going to be all right. Bailic hadn’t broken his will.
Slowly the tune became stronger with emotion, the way he used to play for her. His awkward indecisions eased, and the flow became certain. Alissa smiled, curling her legs up under her to be more comfortable. She leaned forward to rearrange the fire, and when she leaned back, she found Strell had shifted to offer her the front of his shoulder to lean up against.
Shyly, hesitantly, she accepted his support, leaning into him as he played, not knowing how much weight he could hold without becoming unbalanced. She dropped her head to rest against him, smiling as he bobbled the melody from surprise. The scent of desert filled her senses again, and she breathed deeply, her eyes closing as she imagined that the warmth of the fire was that of the sun, and she was far from the Hold and the snow and the cold, back in the fields where she had played as a child. Safe.
His music lured her into a deep state of ease as it often did. Slumped against him, she drowsed to the sound of Strell’s heartbeat and his music, gentle and slow, never realizing when the music stopped, not caring that it had, and that Strell’s arms were now around her. “Alissa,” he said, and she felt his breath shift the top of her hair.
“Hum . . .” she said sleepily, not knowing if she said it aloud.
“Are you awake?”
“No,” she murmured, uncaring if she was. There was the sound of dry coals sliding and a brief flush of heat.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his words accompanied by the lightest touch and breath on her forehead.
15
Alissa searched the rafters as she put the tea leaves in the teapot. She hadn’t seen Talon since Strell delivered Bailic’s noon tray. It was unlike the small bird to accompany Strell when he took Bailic his meals, and even more unusual for Talon to stay with him afterward. But Strell was ready to fire his pottery and had probably gone directly to his potter’s stead from the tower. If he had the fire going, her bird would undoubtedly be with him, basking in the warmth.
Which was exactly where she wanted to be, she thought as she took the copper teapot in one hand and two cups in the other. She could do with a good soak in some warm air. The window wards were wonderful at keeping the Hold from getting cold, but she hadn’t been warm, truly warm, in ages.
Her smile deepened as she passed through the dining hall. It was barren no longer. Though Strell had dragged his feet and given her warning glances from under lowered brows, he had helped bring up two lovely chairs from storage. There was a small table between them, and a rug to keep her feet from the cold floor. She was longing to do more but prudently paced herself. Should she push Strell too fast he might not help her, or even worse, Bailic might notice.
The scuff of her shoes seemed loud as she entered the great hall and hesitated, frowning at a small object on the otherwise pristine floor. Curious, she went to investigate. “A nut?” she whispered. She shifted the two cups to her hand with the teapot and bent to pick it up. Seeing another a few steps away, she slipped the first into her pocket and picked that one up, too. A third rested against the tunnel leading to the abandoned stables. There was a fourth lying just beyond where the shadow of the tunnel took over the light. Her eyebrows rose as she spotted yet another farther down the tunnel.
A wisp of a smile quirked the corners of her mouth. What was Strell up to? She let the rest of the nuts lay and followed the trail. It became darker as the tunnel opened up into the long-abandoned stables. Wood replaced the stone underfoot, and the smell of straw long gone bad mixed with the scent of leather soaked in horse sweat. She didn’t like horses. And though there hadn’t been a horse down here in what looked like decades, she could almost hear the frightened blowing and angry stomping of hooves in her imagination.
Just as she had decided to go back for a candle, her dark-adjusted eyes made out a faint light. She went ahead on tiptoe, curious to see what Strell had lured her down here for. Her slight tension eased as she heard the chitter of her bird and the sharp crack of a nut being broken. The glow of light became obvious as she turned a corner and entered a row of box stalls. From within one came a steady, white light, reflecting off the dark wood of the ceiling and surrounding walls. A faint resonance had set her tracings to shimmer faintly, telling her it was a ward of some kind. It looked horribly complicated. Useless? she wondered. The scent of apples and pine eased into her awareness. She reached the stall and halted in surprise as she looked inside. “Lodesh?”
The Warden glanced up so quickly, he nearly fell off the bale of straw he was reclining on. “Alissa!” He jumped to his feet and brushed the shells from him. His green eyes were wide, and he looked charmingly surprised. The brilliant light came from a fist-sized globe hanging in midair. Useless had never told her that was possible!
Before she could comment, the light vanished. She gasped and froze, but then with a familiar tweak on her tracings, a small flame flickered. Lodesh’s face was abruptly illuminated by candlelight. Silently he lit several more until the large box stall was warm with a yellow glow. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you,” he said. “Here. Let me take that.”
He reached for the heavy teapot and cups, setting them on a slatted box covered by a fine cloth. Eyebrows raised, she dropped the nuts she had collected into the half-empty bowl beside the plate of candles.
“I was
n’t expecting you so soon,” he amended, not a trace of guilt showing. “It’s good to see you again,” he said as he took her hand and drew her forward into the light. Immediately her bravado vanished in a flush of self-consciousness and she put a hand to her neckline. She wasn’t used to being treated with this much grace.
Talon chittered merrily from the short wall, and Alissa ran her fingers over the small bird’s feathers in greeting, surprised to find her with Lodesh. “What are you doing down here?” she asked Lodesh as she set her cups beside the teapot and ran her eyes over the small hidey-hole. He had strewn fabric over everything to disguise the rough timbers and old dust, enough good material to make an entire dress and underskirt. He must have gotten it from the annexes. It reminded her of a child’s playhouse, only made from silk and linen instead of rough woolen sheets. “Is Talo-Toecan here, too?”
Lodesh shook his head, pulling her farther in. “No. Just me, milady.”
Feeling a faint wash of caution, Alissa took her hands from him. He hadn’t answered her question. “I was taking Strell some tea,” she said. “He’s next door in the kitchen annex. Come with me and meet him? We could have tea together.”
“No.” His eyes met hers, his look sending a pang of emotion through her. Her pulse quickened, and she looked toward the unseen tunnel. That feeling of forgotten memory coursed through her, the same she felt at the grove, and her heart seemed to clench in an unnamed grief. Her face went cold. Frightened by feelings that couldn’t be hers, she stepped back.
“Alissa,” Lodesh said, his eyes crinkling from worry. “Don’t go. Not just yet. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just—”
“It’s not you. It’s the stables.” Alissa looked away from the half lie, glancing at the forgotten brushes and shovels. Horses made her uneasy, but the paradoxical emotions Lodesh stirred in her were far more troubling. But to be frightened by a feeling was childish. And the emotions were gone now.
His worried look shifted to dismay. “I forgot. You don’t like horses, do you.”
Talon chattered a warning and hopped to her shoulder. Wincing from the claws, Alissa wrapped her hand in the tea towel and moved the kestrel back to the short, rug-draped wall. “No, I don’t,” she said. Her brow furrowed. “How did you know—”
“Oh. Well.” Lodesh turned to relight one of the candles that had gone out. “You were raised foothills, yes? All foothills folk dislike horses, don’t they?”
“No,” she said. “My mother used to have one, but she told me it broke the fence and ran away shortly after I was born. We never had the need to get another.” She scuffed her slipper over a rug. “Horses don’t like me,” she finished, feeling a sliver of childhood fear.
“My mistake,” he said. “Sit with me?” He slipped an arm about her waist and eased her forward to sit on a bale of straw covered in a warm red linen. “Just for a moment? I promise, I won’t . . . embarrass you again.”
Her brows rose as she settled herself. It sounded like a challenge. “You haven’t,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “But why don’t you come up with me? Strell has a fire going. I don’t think he believes me that you exist.”
Lodesh shook his head as he sat down across from her. His high mannerisms had fallen from him, leaving him, Alissa thought, all the more charming. “I ought not to be here at all,” he said. “I’m pushing my luck as it is. If Bailic should run a general search of the Hold rather than a specific one for you or Strell, he’ll find me. My presence might be difficult to explain.”
“I didn’t know he could do that,” she said softly, now realizing how Bailic found them so quickly whenever they were noisy.
“The stables offer a modicum of protection,” Lodesh continued. “Horses are sensitive beasts. Can’t even run a ward to keep out the dust. The walls are partially shielded here, but a concentrated effort, or if Bailic knows who he’s looking for, would reveal me. I’ll stay here until the afternoon snow is heavy enough to cover my tracks on my way back home.”
She smiled. Home must be Ese’ Nawoer. It was quite a trek. But then a frown pinched her brow. What was he doing here, sitting in the dark, eating nuts? “You’ve been here before,” she said, feeling a stir of ire. “You’ve been checking up on me between my lessons, haven’t you.”
Lodesh seemed to wince. “Please, Alissa. Don’t tell Talo-Toecan I let you find me.”
He had been here before? she thought angrily. “Let me find you?” she said, her voice rising. “Did Useless send you to spy on me between his visits?”
Lodesh straightened. “Um, no, not really, well. Mayhap.” His eyes pleaded with her. “Don’t tell him you caught me. He would outright tell me to stay away, and I would be bound to listen to him if he makes his request flat out.” Lodesh reached across the small space to take her hands, and she pulled away, angry he would try to soothe her like that.
“You have been spying on me!” she shouted.
Talon chittered again from her perch, responding to Alissa’s voice. Chagrined, Lodesh sat upon his cloth-covered straw and dropped his head. When he looked up, there was true regret in his eyes. “Yes. I have. It was wrong of me. I promise I’ll let you know every time I’m here from now on.” He reached out, drawing back as she raised her chin. “Please, Alissa. I only wanted to see you. And I did tell you this time.”
Her lips pursed, but he wasn’t arguing back, and it wasn’t much fun. She brushed needlessly at her skirt, trying to soothe her anger. Useless was only looking out for her, but it still rankled her.
Lodesh shifted uncomfortably. “Here. Let me pour you some tea.” She silently waited as he took the pot she had meant for Strell and poured out two cups. He handed her the first, and she met his eyes as his fingers touched hers. She didn’t jerk away, her usual embarrassment overwhelmed by the traces of her disappearing anger.
“So-o-o,” Lodesh drawled as he eased back to his seat. “How are your lessons going?”
The last of her anger vanished as she saw the comical arch to his eyebrows. Forgiving him, she took a sip of her drink. “Slow.”
Lodesh laughed, the sound seeming to fill the small space. “Isn’t that the way of it? My instructor, Redal-Stan, once accused me of listening at doors to catch resonances.”
“That’s awful,” she said, smiling at the mental picture of Lodesh crouched at a door.
Lodesh shrugged and took a swallow of tea. “I was.”
“Useless gave me a ward of disguise,” she said, proud of her first, real accomplishment.
“Can you hold it yet when you sleep?”
She nodded, feeling warm as Lodesh bobbed his head in approval. It was nice to have someone tell her she had done well. “Tell me of Ese’ Nawoer?” she asked. “It must have been a grand city, with its orchards and paved streets. Did you ever have festivals out in the grove?”
Lodesh went still. “Festivals?” he said softly. “Such as with music and drums?”
Alissa smiled. “And dancing, with the moon high.”
“And the mirth trees blooming?” he said wistfully.
“And the wind, tugging at you to join with it?” Alissa’s eyes closed as she imagined it.
“Yes,” Lodesh said, and her eyes flashed open at the flat sound of his voice. “Exactly like that.” His eyes seemed to grow dusky in the candlelight.
She shifted her shoulders, uneasy at the depth in his voice. “Tell me of one?” she said as she took another swallow of tea.
“No.” Lodesh looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “Not now. Maybe later.”
He looked genuinely distressed, and Alissa reached across the space between them to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
His eyes were clear as he looked up at her light pressure. “You didn’t,” he said as he ran a finger across her cheek. “Even painful memories can bring a moment of contentment.”
Her pulse quickened, and not knowing what to say, Alissa leaned back and hid behind her
tea. “I should go,” she said, setting her nearly full cup down beside the plate of candles.
“I know.”
His voice was tired, and she felt bad for leaving him. “It’s been nice,” she said as she stood up. “Talking with you, I mean. Strell doesn’t understand—about Keeper things.”
Lodesh smiled at her, but it looked forced, as if he was hiding something. “To share, and know another understands completely, is worth more than gold.”
Alissa nodded, feeling as if something more was being said than she understood. Taking the teapot, Lodesh refilled it from a jug he had tucked under a fabric-draped box. “You had better go,” he said. “If you promise not to look at your tracings, I’ll heat your water back to boiling for you.”
She nodded again, not knowing that was possible. Useless always let the fire warm their tea water. There was a brief tug upon her awareness, and he handed her the pot, heavy and warm. “Thank you, Lodesh,” she said, pausing in the aisle. “You’ll make it back all right? It’s getting cold.”
His smile grew true. “The longest night couldn’t take the warmth from me right now, Alissa. I’ll be fine.”
Again she hesitated. “Promise you’ll tell me every time you come back?”
Beaming, he took her hand and brought it close to his lips. “Every time,” he breathed upon her skin. He held her eyes for a moment, and she struggled not to shiver at the dark, serious tone in his voice. He leaned close. The scent of mirth wood filled her. Before she realized his intent, he had touched his lips to hers. Shock shifted to curiosity as a warm feeling rose within her. Denying her first reaction to pull away, she leaned into the kiss, prolonging it. An image of her and Lodesh fell through the layers of her thoughts: a vision of them under the mirth trees, the sound of drums and pipes, her pulse pounding from more than the dance, and an urgency that she had to leave but that she didn’t want to.
Her fingers slipped from the handle of the teapot, and it crashed to the floor.
Startled, Alissa jerked away. Her face burned as she dropped her eyes to the rocking teapot. There was a warm coolness to her lips.
