Hidden Truth

by Dawn Cook

  With the small bird perched on his arm, Lodesh followed the stench of burning metal into the kitchen. His eyebrows rose as he saw the copper teapot, black and tarnished from going dry over the flames. Flinging Talon to the rafters, he pulled the pot from the fire. Alissa would be furious. It was made from enough copper to forge a score of wedding bands, and she was meticulous in its care. Smiling for having caught her in a forgetful moment, Lodesh dropped the acorn into the pot. She would be embarrassed for him knowing she had scorched it, and he loved to make her blush, even if he wouldn’t be there to see it.

  His promise fulfilled, he sent his thoughts through the Hold to find her. Her room was empty, and so he moved his thoughts to the dry goods. Alissa liked the smell of leather and was forever poking about for the odd bit of adornment for her new clothes or her room. She wasn’t there, either. Feeling cold, Lodesh sent his thoughts to Talo-Toecan’s old rooms. With a sigh of relief, he found only Bailic.

  Concerned, Lodesh returned to the great hall and did an entire sweep of the fortress. Starting in the uppermost chambers in the tower, he worked his thoughts down through the rooms and halls to finish in the annexes. He found the piper in the students’ kitchen at his potter’s wheel, but no Alissa. She wasn’t in the Hold.

  Talon had followed him out, and frowning, he soothed the bird on his arm as he recalled Alissa’s footprints had been leading into the great hall, not out. Nevertheless, he sent his thoughts to the garden and the surrounding environs. Perhaps she had decided to take a walk in the snow, unlikely as the prospect was—Alissa’s aversion to the cold was like none he had ever seen—but the garden and overgrown fields and pastures were empty. She was nowhere. Nowhere at all.

  Lodesh’s unease grew as he recalled the forgotten teapot. “Where is she?” he whispered, and Talon took flight to land on the floor at the foot of the stairs. She hopped around behind it, chittering as if urging him to accompany her. Not sure he quite believed what the bird must be doing, Lodesh followed. With an increasingly tight feeling, he watched the bird flutter reluctantly to the closet under the stairs and peck at the nearly invisible seam.

  “No,” he whispered, feeling his face pale. Immediately he unlocked the door and swung it open to find an empty pack, its contents set aside in several piles. Lodesh sent his thoughts to the holden and found, to his dismay, that she was already behind its imprisoning bars. “Oh, Alissa,” he breathed, his eyes flicking to the hole in the floor. “Your curiosity will be the end of us all.”

  “Alissa?” came Strell’s faint call from the students’ kitchen.

  Lodesh took a quick breath. Stepping into the closet, he shut the door behind him, sealing himself in the darkness. There was no need to involve the piper just yet. Slowing his thoughts back to calm, he set them to form a soft glow of light, cupping a hand about the luminescence so as to keep it with him. The stairs were slick, and as he peered uneasily down into the damp, he wondered what he would find at the bottom. He had been told of this passage as part of his Wardenship but had never been invited into the holden, thick with tradition and stately ceremony.

  He began his descent with a resolute grimace. The way was tight, damp, and very uncomfortable. His imagination put the walls closer and the ceiling lower with every step, but he continued, keeping his thoughts on Alissa instead of his mild claustrophobia. Soon the sound of water came to him, and still unsure as to how he would handle the situation, he slipped around the last turn and peeked into the small anteroom he had been told was there.

  Blackness upon blackness soaked up the thin glow from his light. He listened, a smile coming over him as he heard Alissa’s faint singing. Being careful not to touch the bars, he slipped between them. As a Keeper, the bars couldn’t prevent him from passing back through, but they would stop Alissa. No need for her to know that, though.

  He didn’t agree with Talo-Toecan’s wishes for him to stay away from Alissa—Lodesh would do what he wanted when it concerned her—but lately he had been avoiding her for his own peace of mind. There, in the stables, it had almost seemed as if she remembered, speaking of his mirth trees and moonlight. Her words had torn at him worse than the winter’s cold. He hadn’t expected that when he had lured her down to the stables. Like a fool, he had hoped her casual acceptance would shift to true recognition if she only talked with him. But her gentle speech and innocent touch only left him despondent. She was her, but not.

  Lodesh shifted his pack higher as he strode to the square of light that was the western gate. Leaving acorns for her to find was his cowardly way to keep his sanity. Now, though, she had gone and gotten herself stuck behind a warded gate. He had to make sure she was all right, and if he kept their conversations to mundane topics, he could pretend she knew him.

  Anticipation quickened his steps as he followed the sound of her voice to the far end of the spacious cell. A smile crossed him as he recognized her song. Thinking to surprise her, he joined his voice to hers, sending it to echo among the thick pillars like a forgotten memory.

  21

  “Strell?” Alissa said in astonishment. She spun towards the eastern gate. Her foot rolled on the discarded torch. She slipped, and with a small shriek, she toppled into the water. Just before she hit, she heard, “Alissa!” Then there was only the rush of bubbles as she sank. Her skirt and coat weighed her down. After a brief struggle, she realized her only chance was to either get out of them or push off from the bottom. “Useless!” she shrieked with her thoughts, praying her teacher might hear her, not knowing if he had or not. Reaching him from a distance was not a certainty, despite their practice, but possible. Lungs aching, she struggled with her coat tie. Her feet hit bottom. Relief flooded her—she half expected the pool to be bottomless—and she kicked off, angling to the edge.

  She reached the surface and gasped in a lungful of air and water. Choking, she felt the water threaten to slip over her head. She grasped for the edge. A strong hand fumbled into hers. Another tight grip fastened on her arm, and she was pulled to the side. Hacking and coughing, she was dragged to hang over the cistern’s wall. Alissa struggled to breathe, trying to clear her eyes. The hand upon her shoulder had all its fingers. It wasn’t Strell.

  Still choking, she pulled away.

  “It’s me, Alissa,” a resonant, clear voice said, and she slumped in relief.

  “Lodesh?” she wheezed. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Watching out for you,” he said, a curious softness to his voice.

  Water dripped from her to puddle as she righted herself and slid her feet to the floor. Her relief turned to embarrassment. “I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” she said, even as she tried to take her first, good breath.

  Lodesh took a step back. He ran his gaze over her as she slumped against the cistern wall. A hint of a smile drifted over him. “Yes, milady. You do, or you wouldn’t be soaking wet.”

  For a moment, she could say nothing. Frowning, she pulled her hand from his. She hadn’t even known he had taken it. Her pulse was racing, but if it was from Lodesh or her efforts to keep from drowning, she didn’t know. Tugging her coat and skirt free of the wall, she lurched to a stand, unbalanced from the weight of her soaking clothes.

  Lodesh picked her torch from the floor. She had dripped over it, and it was out. “I don’t think I can make this burn,” he said. “Why don’t we go to the western gate and consider your options. It will be warmer in the sun.”

  Alissa ran her eyes over herself disparagingly. “Yes. I’m rather wet, aren’t I. But I think I should go upstairs and hope Bailic and Strell don’t catch me on the way.”

  “You can’t, Alissa. The gate won’t let you back through.”

  Surprise shocked through her. “Strell made it past the bars on the western gate,” she said. “Before Talo-Toecan ripped it from its hinges, Strell climbed out and opened the latch. He told me.”

  “Yes, well, he’s a commoner.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Warden or not, he need not be insulting. “Stre
ll is the last of a great house of artisans. He comes from a chartered name,” she said. “He’s not a—a— commoner! ”

  “He is, milady,” Lodesh said as if it gave him pleasure. “I meant it as no disrespect, simply a classification. The wards on the gate respond to the complexity of one’s tracings.”

  His calmly spoken words stood in sharp contrast to hers, and she dropped her eyes, flustered. She had no right to yell at Lodesh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really ought to learn not to shout at my rescuers.”

  Smiling, Lodesh took a small step closer. “Let’s go to the sun. You’ll dry faster.”

  Alissa didn’t move, a drift of worry building within her. “Can’t you unward them?”

  He shook his head, regret in his eyes. “Only Talo-Toecan can do that. I’m sure he is close about and will get you where you belong. If not, perhaps we can climb out of here.”

  Alissa felt herself go white. “He’s going to be so angry with me.”

  “Probably. But we have to get you dry before we do anything.”

  He took her dripping arm and gingerly set it across his own, leading her to the drop-off as if she were a grand lady, not half drowned. “Yes, thank you,” she mumbled. She numbly followed his lead, her thoughts on what Useless was going to say. Her coat was a soggy, slimy mass of wool and leather, weighing heavily on her, and as they found the patch of sun, she took it off. It was going to dry to an unusable stiffness. She just knew it.

  The opening that faced the sky was warmer than it looked as the wind was directed past the cavern rather than through it. Settling herself on the sun-warmed stone, she was struck by a sudden thought. “Lodesh? You followed me down here, knowing you would be stuck behind the gates, too?”

  He took a breath as if to speak. Slowly he let it out. “Yes. I guess I did.”

  “Thanks,” she said shyly as she untied her hair ribbon and tried to shake her hair out.

  He sank down beside her, sitting in the sun. “I’m sorry for making you fall in.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said, grimacing as she squeezed the water from her sleeve.

  Giving her a quick smile, he took the pack off his back and removed his coat. He leaned close and gallantly draped it over her shoulders. It smelled like mirth wood, and she breathed deeply. “Would you be interested in joining me for my noon meal?” he asked lightly.

  It was obviously a ploy to distract her, but Alissa’s looked up, intrigued. “You have something to eat?”

  Clearly pleased, Lodesh opened his pack and spread a small kerchief between them. From his pack he produced a large wedge of cheese, a greasy-looking sausage, and a battered biscuit beginning to crumble. He handed Alissa the cheese and half the biscuit.

  Alissa went for the cheese first, wrinkling her nose at the faint smell of sausage on it. She was raised foothills and had never eaten meat. Foothills farmers kept sheep, pigs, and goats, but they sold them to the plains. That the plains ate them only proved they were hard up for food. She had never eaten anything with feet, and she wasn’t going to start now. Slightly queasy at the lingering smell, she set the cheese aside to concentrate on the biscuit. Lodesh saw her distaste and chuckled. “I make no apologies for my diet,” he said, his pleasure in consuming the nasty little morsel obvious.

  Trying to ignore him, Alissa sent her eyes to the view. She could almost imagine she could see the sparkle of water on the horizon. “Have you ever been there?” she asked wistfully as she blotted a crumb off her soggy knee.

  “Sorry?” came Lodesh’s confused voice.

  Alissa blinked and turned to him. Strell would have known what she meant by the tone in her voice and the direction of her eyes. “The sea,” she repeated. “Have you ever been there?”

  “Ah, yes. Once or twice.”

  “What’s it like?” She sent her eyes to the distant horizon, waiting.

  He shrugged. “People are born there, they live, they work, they laugh and cry. And when they die, those they leave behind mourn their passing. It’s much the same as anyplace.”

  “Oh.” It wasn’t quite what she was looking for, and unsure what to think, Alissa picked up the cheese and took a bite. “It’s a shame you can’t make tea appear with those cups of yours,” she said, half jesting.

  Lodesh surreptitiously cleaned his fingers of grease on the kerchief between them. “Well, even the most skilled Master can’t make food or drink.”

  Creating things from one’s thoughts was a topic Talo-Toecan avoided like the plague. Alissa felt a smile come over her as she realized Lodesh might be a font of information if handled correctly. “Why not?” she asked, forcing her voice to be casual.

  Lodesh hesitated. “You won’t try it?”

  “No,” she agreed lightly, a thrill of anticipation going through her.

  “To craft an object with your tracings,” he said, “you must first master its creation with your hands. And since only a tree can make an apple, you can’t craft one with your thoughts.”

  Alissa frowned. “I make bread. Why couldn’t I make a loaf of it with my tracings?”

  “No, you misunderstand.” He met her gaze, and she flushed. The devious light in his eyes made it clear that, not only did he know she was charming information from him, but that he didn’t mind. “When I was learning to craft a cup using my tracings, I first made innumerable cups on a potter’s wheel. Then, when I was satisfied I could make them in my sleep, so to speak, I secluded myself from all possible distractions and crafted a final one. I was focused solely upon its creation to such a degree that it became my entire world for the space of time it took.”

  “But it takes weeks to make a cup,” Alissa protested, nibbling the cheese to nothing.

  “True,” he admitted. “But since time is what you make of it, you can string the pertinent memories together, skipping the space where you’re simply waiting. Now, when I go to create a cup, I simply relive those memories. The ward harnesses my thoughts and gives them substance. The result is what you see before you.” With a tweak on her awareness so quick she hadn’t a hope of seeing a pattern mirrored in her tracings, a cup materialized on the smooth floor.

  “So in theory I could make a loaf of bread,” she asserted doubtfully as she picked it up.

  “Probably not. The more components an object has, the less likely you will be successful. A cup is made of clay, glaze, heat, and lots of effort. True, the glaze is often formed of many things, as is the clay, but in your thoughts, they’re one thing. Bread is flour, lard, yeast, milk, and any number of things. They exist in your mind as separate identities, no matter how much you would like to believe it otherwise. It would be too difficult. Most Keepers only manage one or two objects,” he said. “Masters have more time and so generally have a lots of things they can make. But if you observe closely, you will note they specialize in only one medium. One may craft things of wood, another of clay, a third of fabric. It’s easier.”

  “Talo-Toecan seems to excel in everything,” Alissa said, sure he had an answer for that.

  “Yes, well, he doesn’t care what anything looks like and skimps on the time spent perfecting each object. His bench has splinters, the stitching on his cushion is loose. He glazed his cups that ugly brown because he was too impatient to find anything better.”

  “M-m-m-m.” Alissa thoughtfully turned Lodesh’s cup over in her grip. “So every cup you make is identical to the last one you crafted by hand?”

  “Exactly right,” he agreed. “That’s why you don’t imprint a form upon your consciousness until you’re sure you can make it the way you want. Once you have a form, you can’t replace it with anything similar, or it falls apart because your thoughts weren’t decisive enough.”

  “Oh!” she teased. “So every cup you make will have that spot of glaze missing from the underside of the handle?”

  “Missing!” Lodesh shouted. “Where?” He took the cup from her, and his shoulders slumped. “Oh no,” he moaned, and Alissa’s eyes widened as he threw the c
up out the window.“I never noticed it before. Now I’ll see it every single time.”

  “The ward,” she said, ignoring his distress, “draws from your source, uses your memory to fix the energy into your idea of a cup, then turns your thoughts to reality.”

  “Ah—yes,” he stammered. “But please, Alissa, don’t try it. It’s very complex and draws upon many diverse areas of practice you have yet to be introduced to.”

  “Doesn’t it use up a lot of source?” she asked.

  His head bobbed. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it does. But as Warden, I’ve been instructed how to circumvent that problem.”

  “How?”

  Talon streaked into the cavern, chattering wildly. They turned to see a dark shadow cover the opening. “Look out!” Lodesh shouted. He lunged, grasping her around the waist and pulling her into the shadow at the edge of the opening.

  A huge gust of wind buffeted them. Alissa impatiently brushed the hair out of her eyes, gasping as a raku was suddenly standing where she had been only a moment ago. “Useless,” she cried as she disentangled herself from Lodesh and struggled to her feet. “You heard me!”

  He shifted to his human shape in a tight swirl of gray mist, solidifying with his arms crossed disapprovingly. “Why are you wet?” he snapped, glowering down at her.

  “I fell into the water,” was her soft response, and Lodesh snickered.

  “Into the cistern!” he cried, looking aghast, and Alissa winced, resigning herself to a lecture. Talon took refuge upon her shoulder but silently winged out as Useless gave the bird a black look. “What are you doing down here in the first place?”

  She shrugged. “I saw a hole in the floor; I went down it.” His eyes grew dark, and his lips pressed together. “You never said I couldn’t!” she said defiantly.

  “Didn’t you feel the warning on the bars?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” Alissa protested, “but they didn’t hurt me.”