by Dawn Cook
“Let me get that for you,” Lodesh said, retrieving the copper pot as if nothing had happened.
“Yes. Thank you,” she stammered. She took it without looking at him as he proffered it. “I—I have to take this to Strell.” She took a step back. “Um, he wants to meet you. It won’t take a moment for me to get him. I’ll be right back.” Fleeing, she nearly ran back to the great hall before he could respond.
Her pulse thudded in her chest as she made her flustered way to Strell’s potter’s stead, her feet following the familiar path by rote. She held her cooling pot of tea in one hand, gripping it as if it was the only thing that made any sense, only now realizing she had left the cups in the stables. The heavy confusion from Lodesh’s kiss still swirled high in her as she reached the annex kitchen and stood blinking in the threshold, watching Strell working the clay at his wheel.
The kiln fire was hot, and he had taken off his shirt. The muscles between his shoulders bunched and shifted as he manipulated the clay with a deft gentleness. He didn’t know she was there, and she watched transfixed. The sun glinted on his skin, almost making it seem to glow. Her foot shifted, and he looked up at the small noise.
“Alissa,” he said, smiling. Then his brow bunched and he pulled back from his clay. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She took a quick breath, struggling to remember why she was down here. “Lodesh,” she said, giving herself a little shake. “He’s in the stables. You should come meet him.”
“He’s here?” Strell jumped to his feet, snatching a towel and cleaning his hands. “Show me.” Grabbing his shirt draped on an unused table, he stuffed his arms in the sleeves. He took the teapot from her senseless fingers and set it down. Grasping her hand, he pulled her back up the annex tunnel. She stumbled along behind him, wondering why he had never kissed her like that.
It wasn’t until they were in the stables that she shook off her befuddled shock and eased her hand from Strell’s. “Lodesh?” she called hesitantly as they felt their way in the dark, following the faint glow of candlelight.
There was no answer, and her embarrassment was tinged with relief as they came upon the lavish box stall and found it empty but for a single, lit candle, two cups, and Talon. Strell stiffened as he took in the cloth-draped straw and the plate of candles, all extinguished but for one. He went to investigate, fingering the nut lying on the plate before he set it back down with a harsh clatter. “He hasn’t been gone long,” Strell said. “The wax hasn’t set on the candles that have gone out.”
She said nothing. He must have left as soon as she had. She wasn’t sure what that meant. “He was here,” she finally said. “He was right here. We had tea and we talked.”
“Tea?” Strell said, and she looked up at the dead sound in his voice. His jaw was clenched, and he had a look about him that she had never seen before.
Chittering, Talon hopped to Alissa’s shoulder, and she suffered the small bite of her claws. “Come on,” Strell said, taking her elbow and pulling her back up the aisle and to the great hall. “He’s not here now. Let’s go back where it’s warm.”
16
“Not alone. Not the last. Keribdis. Anyone. Hear me!” Alissa woke with a gasp, the last words from her dream resounding in her thoughts. It was dark, and for an instant she couldn’t place herself. The dream had been almost more genuine than reality. There had been an icy, dark shore, silver under the setting full moon, the rattle of pebbles washing in the water, and the smell of salt, heavy in the air. It had been so vivid, she felt she would recognize the exact spot in the unlikely event she ever made the journey to the ocean. A feeling of aching loneliness, of a promise ignored, roared within her. It wasn’t her emotion, and Alissa studied it carefully before it slipped away. The odd sensation of feelings that clearly weren’t her own was confusing, and she sat up.
She was in her room in her chair before her banked fire. The thin light through the cracks in her shutters said dawn was still some time away, but sleep would be impossible now. Besides, Useless was coming tonight, and she was anxious to speak to him. She had a favor to ask.
With an excitement tempered by dread, Alissa rose and put on layer upon layer of clothing, her fingers slow and fumbling from the cold. Irate thoughts of scissors and Strell ran through her mind as she tied her hair back with a length of green ribbon. He still wouldn’t cut it for her. Shivering, she folded her luck charm into a length of cloth and tucked it into a pocket.
She went to peek out her shutters, and they groaned in complaint as she leaned out. Dim and faint, the light from the moon setting behind the Hold did little to light the early morning. The frost slipped in to pool about her ankles like water in a snow-melt stream. Talon fluffed herself in the sudden draft, fixing a sharp eye upon Alissa. “Your play-mate is coming,” Alissa whispered, smiling as the bird began to preen in anticipation of a terrifying game of tag.
As much as it unnerved Alissa, Useless and Talon’s predawn diversion had become something of a ritual. Useless was generally it, and their murderously silent, aerial acrobatics left Alissa breathless. Talon had become increasingly inventive in trying to remain out of the raku’s grip. It was obvious they spent more time at their play than she witnessed.
Alissa took Talon in hand and crept down to the kitchen without bothering with a candle. The way was as familiar as the old trails about her mother’s farm by now. The bird fussed as they entered the kitchen, and Alissa let her out through the garden door before going to raise the fire and start the tea. Her dream had woken her unusually early, and she found herself waiting alone at the firepit with a cooling pot before Useless arrived.
Huddled before the snow-covered ashes, Alissa managed to start the fire with her candle, despite the dampness of the wood. Useless usually did this with a lot less effort, she thought sourly as she slipped her mittens back on. Despite her pleading, he stubbornly refused to grant her permission to try it with a ward. Lodesh knew how to start a fire with his thoughts, but using that information to convince Useless would only get the Warden in trouble.
“Where are you, Useless?” Alissa whispered, scanning the purple sky. It was breathlessly still, the icy sharpness seeming cold enough to crack the last of the stars. A few scattered clouds showed gray above the neglected garden’s wall, but no Useless. She ran a nervous hand under her nose. Perhaps she had the wrong morning. It was difficult to tell a perfect moon from one just shy of full, and she hadn’t seen it at all last night due to snow. But then his silhouette ghosted over the Hold, cutting a familiar swath through the brightening sky.
Ignoring Talon’s valiant efforts to distract him, Useless refused their usual game, landing nearby to shift to his human form in a swirl of gray and a tug on Alissa’s thoughts. He held up an impossibly long hand for Talon, and together they made their way to the fire. Alissa rose to her feet and waited. Something was bothering Useless; it showed in his step and his slumped shoulders. She watched the play of emotions over his face as he whispered something to Talon and launched her into the predawn sky. Talon disappeared soundlessly over the garden wall.
“Good morning, Alissa.” He smiled in greeting.
“Morning,” she returned guardedly.
Useless arranged himself in his usual fashion before the fire, pouring out a share of the dark brew. He sighed contentedly as he breathed deeply of its steam. “You make splendid tea, young one. For this, I’d gladly travel half a continent.” Turning to his cup, he lost himself in the steam and took a sedate draught of the scalding liquid.
Alissa shifted uneasily. This wasn’t the Useless she had come to know. He said all the right words but seemed preoccupied, as if he were repeating a lesson, not listening to what he said. Seeming to realize she was still standing, he smiled faintly. “Don’t worry about me, Alissa. I’ve had a trying night is all. How goes Strell’s tutelage?”
She abruptly sat down, ready to forget his mood. “It’s been fields again all week. Internal, exterior . . . He�
��s been over the same things before.”
“He goes too fast.”
“I’m keeping up,” she said and poured herself a cup of tea.
“Yes . . .” Useless drawled. “But you have a real teacher.”
Shrugging, she took a sip, wincing as she burnt her tongue. The silence grew awkward as she pondered how to bring up her request. It seemed Useless was content to simply savor her tea, reluctant to mar the serenity with his teachings quite yet. “I have a question,” she finally said.
His cup met the stone bench with a small clink. Eyebrows raised, he gave Alissa his full attention. She looked down, embarrassed. Determined to be out with it, she took a resolute breath. “I’m concerned for Strell,” she said boldly, her eyes flicking to his. “Ever since Bailic gave him that dusting of source, he has been pushing him. Soon Strell will have to show some tangible results. His acting is wonderful,” Alissa pleaded, “but he can’t make a field. He can’t even see the source Bailic gave him.”
“Can you?”
“I—I don’t know. I never tried.”
Useless reached across her for the teapot, topping off his cup. “You might be able to see it in your thoughts until it’s bound into someone’s being. It’s good to know you’re not greedy. Many Keepers would have jumped at the chance to snatch even a dusting of unbound source. In the past, a few unfortunates were killed for it, their murderers not realizing its power was tied to them and them alone—once bound. It’s one of the reasons the origin of source is so well guarded. Actually, I’m surprised Bailic managed to give some away.”
Alissa’s stomach gave a flip-flop. Her own source still lay hidden around her neck, unbound and apparently vulnerable. Content to let things sit as they were, Useless hadn’t seen fit to show her how yet. She hadn’t known it was so desirable. Against her will, Alissa’s hand found the small bag and clutched it possessively. Bailic couldn’t take this, she thought.
Suddenly she realized she had a nasty choice to make. Asking two favors of Useless in one night wasn’t an option. She had worked extensively with external fields during his last visit but had been expressly forbidden to practice on her own, especially in front of Bailic. She could ask to be allowed to manipulate fields alone to cover for Strell, or she could ask how to bind her source to ally her newest, desperate fear. Her decision was absurdly simple.
“Please,” she whispered, her eyes nailed to the cup in her hands, “I would ask to be allowed to manipulate internal and external containment fields unchaperoned.” She looked up into his unreadable eyes. “For Strell,” she quavered.“If he doesn’t produce a field soon, Bailic will do something terrible to him.”
“Well done, Alissa. Very well done!” Useless shouted, clapping her across the shoulders.
Her tea went flying, and she blankly watched her cup sail into the dark to find the frozen ground with a dull crack. Confounded, she stared at him.
“Here, let me,” and he made a new cup from seemingly nothing. It was identical in its brown ugliness to her original, and she held it loosely, not sure what to do. Looking annoyingly pleased with himself, Useless filled it, adjusted his coat, and turned to her, his eyes dancing.
“What?” she finally got out.
“You asked, young one. You asked.”
“But I thought . . . All I needed to do was ask?” she sputtered.
“No.” He grinned. “Asking wasn’t enough. You were willing to forgo the safety of your own source for that of someone else. You’re starting to think. That,” he said firmly, “is why I will allow you to do as you want.”
Feeling like she had been tricked, Alissa sullenly held her cup to try to warm her hands through her mittens. “Strell means more than a stinky bag of dust.”
“Really?” Somehow he managed to sound worried and incredulous at the same time.
“Well, anyone would,” she added, so it wouldn’t seem like she cared.
“M-m-m-m.” Useless became very still. His eyes went to the ground, and he slumped his shoulders passively. “So . . .” he said softly. “You wouldn’t mind if I took your source back?”
Alissa’s cup of untasted tea spilled across the packed snow as she stood. “Don’t you dare,” she spat, shocked at the vehemence in her voice. She scowled down at him, clutching her small bag of source. It was hers. He wouldn’t dare. Instructor or not, it was hers!
He chuckled, his docile posture vanishing. “Alissa, sit down. I was jesting.”
“It wasn’t funny,” she said tightly.
“No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry. Sit down.” He seemed pleased by her temper, making Alissa angrier still. But she sat, and with sharp, abrupt motions, refilled her cup. “I apologized, Alissa,” he said. “I simply wanted to see if you understood the value of your source.”
“Do I?” she asked bitterly.
“Offhand, I would say . . . m-m-m . . . yes.”
Alissa glared into the dark, ignoring him.
“We should get started if you’re going to accomplish anything tonight,” he said brightly.
Knowing her temper would do her no good, Alissa set her cup aside and settled herself.
“Watch,” he rumbled, making a dramatic and absolutely needless gesture toward the fire. The flames flickered and died. There was no pull on her awareness or resonance upon her tracings. It had been done entirely with a field, without the aid of his source and tracings. She might not have noticed his field at all but for his warning he was going to do something.
“You used no ward for that,” she said into the sudden dark.
“Correct. It was an impervious field. A permeable field has no effect on fire.”
Alissa pulled her coat tighter, chilled. “Bailic never mentioned impervious fields.”
“He wouldn’t. Keepers are generally taught only permeable ones.”
“But you’re telling me.”
He grinned, his teeth startling white in the darkness. “I like you.” His smile quickly turned into a laugh, and the sound of it rolled out into the garden to fill the broken space with the warmth of his good humor. From somewhere, Talon answered him.
“That’s nice.” She smiled thinly. “But what’s the point?”
“The point is, I snuffed the life from the fire, and because I didn’t use my source and neural net, there was no resonance upon yours to give me away. My actions were harder to sense. It gave me a measure of stealth. Use an imperviousfield carefully, if you use it at all,” he warned, his features grim with shadow. “It will take the life from anything without the skill to break it.”
“Oh . . .” Alissa’s eyes widened as she realized what a powerful weapon Useless had given her. It had felt like every other field she had made, only tighter in concentration, thicker. No wonder Bailic had never been told. They were potentially deadly.
“Good,” Useless said, seeing her understanding. “Now, Bailic knows, as all Keepers do, or—ah—did, of permeable fields. It’s all they’re taught. An impervious field takes more concentration, but it’s by no means beyond their capabilities. Don’t make one when he is close enough to sense it. If Bailic sees one, he will realize they’re possible. That knowledge is something I wouldn’t wish him to have. Permeable fields are adequate for anyone.”
“What if a Keeper figured impervious fields out for herself?” she interrupted.
“She was asked to forget.” Useless frowned until she looked away. “Permeable fields are sufficient to contain even the more wild reactions such as this.” With a tweak upon her tracings, the fire blossomed into existence. She shifted closer to the flames in gratitude.
“And, as you have also guessed,” he continued dryly, “a permeable containment field is used to carry matter or energy from your thoughts to reality.”
“Like the cups you make?”
“M-m-m, or that wonderful explosion of yours last fall,” he finished slyly.
Chagrined, Alissa shut her mouth and found great interest in the fire, but not for long. “The energy used to create somet
hing—once it’s fixed into an object, can it ever be returned to your source?” she asked.
Useless bobbed his head, swallowing a gulp of tea. “Yes. The task uses an impervious field so Keepers generally don’t know it. But by far,” he said, pointedly changing the subject, “a field’s most popular use is serving as a stepping-stone from one’s thoughts to one’s reality.”
“To create a ward,” Alissa asserted.
“Yes.” Useless rubbed his smooth chin in thought. “A field gives a ward a place in which to act.” Seeing her dubious look, he added, “It’s much easier than it sounds.”
She caught her breath. “Show me?” she asked eagerly.
His eyes narrowed, considering it. “You’ve seen the pattern of tracings in your thoughts required for a ward of stillness from Bailic, no doubt?”
Alissa felt her pulse quicken as she nodded, remembering the horrible morning Bailic had removed Strell’s finger. It was a pattern she would never forget.
Useless grimaced. “Set up the ward by allowing a thin trace of your source to enter the proper paths. If you have it correctly, the pattern will resonate upon my own tracings.”
Immediately Alissa sent a small thought to pierce her source to set up the first loop, or circuit as Useless called it. From there, she directed the flow to the proper tracings. Her network glowed with a scintillating pattern, and she held it as her instructor’s eyes went distant and unseeing as he looked for any mistakes. His eyes cleared and he grimaced, slumping as if in defeat. “All right,” he agreed. “You have it properly.”
Alissa grinned. She knew she had.
“Let me see.” Useless gazed about the garden. With a pleased sound, he rose and went to a stand of milkweed plants gone to seed. Breaking off one of the half-open pods, he returned and sat down. “Your father and Bailic loved to play this,” he murmured, opening the brittle case farther. A few tufted seeds were still within its embrace, and Useless teased them forth. With a breath of air, he sent them aloft. They slowly began to fall, drifting on the draft from the fire.
