Hidden Truth

by Dawn Cook

  Lodesh came even with her, brushing his clothes free of imaginary dirt. “She was unaware the warnings were for her,” he said mildly.

  “Stay out of this, Warden,” Useless said coldly, and Lodesh raised a placating hand and took a symbolic step backwards. Alissa blinked in surprise but became all the more determined the day wouldn’t end with them looking like errant children.

  “Your curiosity,” Useless said, “hasn’t only endangered you, but Strell and the Warden.”

  Lodesh cleared his throat. “I was never in danger. And you did ask me to keep an eye on her,” he said, then stiffened at Talo-Toecan’s warning finger.

  “Lodesh pulled me out,” Alissa said, beginning to become angry. “I would have drowned if not for him.”

  Useless turned to her, his eyes carrying an anger she had never seen before. “I heard you taking instruction from him,” he accused, and Alissa felt herself go pale, suddenly afraid.

  “He, um . . . I—” she stammered, realizing her mistake. “I’m sorry,” she said, honestly contrite. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Lodesh drew himself up. Placing one arm before him, one behind, he executed a formal bow. His eyes never left her teacher’s. “My apologies, Master Talo-Toecan. It was harmless information, weighted to pass the time. I accept the penalty you see fit for my—choice.”

  “There is no such thing as harmless information, Warden,” Useless said, and Alissa held her breath. “She is my student.” Leaning close to Lodesh, he barely breathed his next words. “Respect my authority in this matter.”

  Lodesh’s green eyes went still. “Of course, Master Talo-Toecan.”

  Useless made a sound of dissatisfaction. He turned away, took a breath, and straightened, seeming to have put the matter behind him. “I’ll take you both out by air,” he said softly. “I’m not going to remove the ward on the eastern gate. You will not come down here again. And if you do, you won’t be able to get out without my help. Understand?”

  “Air?” came Lodesh’s faint whisper. “Er, Talo-Toecan? I would be the first to admit you are a strong flyer, and the largest beast the skies have seen, but either one of us will be too much for you to carry.”

  Useless raised his eyebrows and eyed Lodesh. “I managed the piper,” he finally said. “And I will have built up a great deal of momentum by the time I catch you.”

  “C-catch?” Lodesh stammered.

  Alissa pulled her contrite eyes from the floor and was shocked at Lodesh’s paleness. As she watched, the self-assured man went whiter still, taking a step back. “Er— thanks, Talo-Toecan, but I’ll go back the way I came.”

  Useless turned to him, a savage humor in his eyes. “How?” he questioned harshly. “You can’t pass the gate. Correct?” The Master leaned close and looked at Lodesh as if he were going to strike him if he disagreed.

  Lodesh glanced at the drop-off frantically. “Ah, yes. Right.”

  Useless eased back and adjusted his sash. “Just so. You will both go by air.”

  Lodesh shot a furtive look behind him. “If you must punish someone, punish me. But don’t do this to Alissa. She’s only a child.”

  “I am not!” she said loudly.

  “There’s no other way,” was Useless’s firm decision, and Lodesh cringed. “I will take Alissa first, as is proper for the lady she deems herself.”

  “Alissa,” Lodesh apologized. His hands taking hers tightened spasmodically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he would get this angry.”

  Alissa stared at him in confusion. “What?”

  “He’s going to take you by air. . . .”

  “So what?”

  “Jump,” said Useless.

  Slowly, Alissa blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Jump,” he repeated.

  Her eyes went to the drop-off. White in the bright light of the afternoon, she could see clouds, big puffy ones, looking small as sheep between her and the unseen ground. Only now understanding, she took a step backwards and shook her head. “No.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Useless growled, and saying no more, he picked her up and threw her out in a flurry of skirts and kicking ankles.

  Her stomach dropped. Alissa tried to scream, but the force of the damp wind in her face forbade it. Her ears hurt, and for the first time she was thankful for her wretchedly long hair as it covered her eyes. She could see nothing. Useless, she thought frantically, he will catch me. On that thin cord, her sanity hung, but he didn’t, and just as she was beginning to believe he had, in his anger, decided to let her perish, there was a terrible snap. Now she screamed, her surprise, prohibiting any other response. The wind blew back her hair. Realizing how close he had let her come to the ground, she shrieked again.

  The trees were a bare wing’s length below her.

  Useless climbed furiously, and her ears popped. He began to dip and swoop in a horrendous example of the worst drunk at the best of markets. Alissa’s belly rolled. As the Hold came underneath them, he dropped like a stone, pulling up at the last moment to lurch to a landing at the uppermost balcony in the tower. There was a tug on her thoughts as the ward was disengaged from the window, and then they were through.

  Breathless, Alissa nearly collapsed as his grip about her middle loosened. She staggered to a stand on the wide balcony. Useless dropped her wet coat from between two talons before shifting to his man guise. His expression was decidedly smug. “Oh, Useless!” Alissa cried. “Can we do it again?”

  He stiffened, his satisfied air evaporating, scowling in disgust.

  She leaned over the railing to estimate the drop. “If I jump from here, can you catch me?” Turning, her elated smile vanished at the anger in his face.

  “Get yourself out of this tower,” he said darkly as he proffered her coat. “Don’t ever go back down there again. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Why?” she asked, her curiosity stronger than her alarm at his obvious anger. “What’s down there I shouldn’t see?”

  Useless took a wrathful breath, then seemed to slowly collapse. “Nothing,” he said softly. “There’s nothing down there you shouldn’t see.” Shaking his head, he slumped further into himself. “You frightened me out of a hundred years with your call. Why didn’t you answer me?”

  Her eyes widened. His anger was from his fright. She had worried him. “I couldn’t hear you,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you even heard me.”

  “Hm-m-m. We will take care of that directly. Meet me at the firepit tonight. You will practice until we get it right every time.”

  Alissa started to smile but then squashed it. She was in disgrace. Her extra lesson wasn’t a reward. “Yes, Useless,” she said meekly. She wiggled out of Lodesh’s coat and handed it to Useless, shivering in the sudden chill.

  Apparently satisfied, he turned to leave but hesitated, looking at her with pleading eyes. “Did you really fall into the cistern?”

  She nodded, and he passed a worried hand over his eyes.

  “Don’t tell anyone, all right?”

  Mystified, she nodded again, guessing she had violated some raku taboo. Lodesh, though, hadn’t seemed to think it was a problem. Besides, who would she tell?

  “I’m going to get that Warden out,” he grumbled. “You would do well to leave him alone. You showed a horrible lack of discretion in allowing him to instruct you on the theory of wards of creation.” He smiled faintly, as if in a memory. “Not that I can truly blame you.” He stepped lightly to the top of the thick railing of the balcony, and Alissa gasped, reaching out for him before he turned and smiled reassuringly. There was a strong tug on her tracings as he shifted. As a raku, he dropped into space. Feeling left behind, she stood and watched as he circled the tower, thoughtfully replacing the ward on the window before he left.

  22

  “Wake, child.”

  It was a soft whisper in her thoughts, but Alissa was warm, so she ignored it.

  “Wake. I’m here,” it came again.

  “No,” she mumbled
, burrowing down among her blankets, determined to remain asleep. She was having such a nice dream, about a warm sea. It was the third such dream this week.

  “Alissa.” It was loud and impatient. “Wake up.”

  “Go away, Strell. I’m fine,” she said around a sigh.

  “Strell?” the voice thought incredulously. “I’m not Strell. Wake up!”

  The last word was a veritable shout in her mind, and Alissa jumped. Her room was empty except for Talon, blinking at her from her perch. From habit, Alissa looked to see if her ward of disguise was still in place. It was. It had been weeks since waking to find it gone. Pleased, Alissa tugged her blanket over her shoulders and rose. “Looks like I have another lesson,” she whispered to Talon as she minced barefoot to her shutters.

  The cold pricked at her nose and slipped under her blanket as she leaned out into the night, or perhaps it was early morning. It was hard to tell. By the waxing, crescent moon rising, she thought morning. The stars that did show were few and becoming fewer as the snow clouds that threatened all of yesterday finally reached the Hold.

  She took a deep breath and exhaled, watching her breath steam as it met the cold air. Though spring was officially two weeks away, the dampness held a hint of it, filling her with a thrill of expectation. Spring had always been her favorite time of the year.

  “When you’re through tasting the night, come to the garden,” arose Useless’s dry thought.

  “A moment,” she thought back. Once intermittent and not under conscious control, her skills at voiceless speech at a distance were improving. She could now hear Useless and be heard as she wished despite the Hold’s ward of silence. When she had asked Useless about this incongruity during her intense lesson on nonverbal speech, he had abruptly changed the subject, saying only that Bailic ought not to be able to hear her, even if she should go past the ward’s boundaries, and not to worry about it. His put-offs were happening a lot lately, and she was tiring of them.

  Lately, their meetings were sporadic and unpredictable, as Useless had begun holding class whenever the mood struck him. Her lessons were delightfully more frequent, but they invariably occurred in the dead of night. Alissa didn’t care when they met as long as they did. Judging by the lack of acorns, Lodesh’s visits had stopped completely, and she hoped she hadn’t gotten the Warden in trouble.

  She dressed for the cold with as much haste as she could. Useless would let her light the fire if she hurried. “Coming?” she asked Talon. The bird fluffed her feathers and sank down, her bright eyes closing. “Last chance,” Alissa warned as she slipped her luck charm into her pocket and her feet into her boots. Apparently it was too early for a game of chase, and so Alissa left. If Talon wanted, she could still leave by the hole Alissa had notched out in her shutters.

  Ghosting down the hall, Alissa ran a finger over Strell’s door in passing, wishing him peaceful dreams. He looked so tired lately, blaming it upon restless sleep. The Hold was silent; only the small sounds of her boots disturbed the darkness as she made her confident way. She caught sight of herself in the mirror at the landing and paused, having to lean close to see in the dark.

  “Mother would never recognize me,” Alissa said, feeling a stab of homesickness. Dressed as she was in such fine clothes, she looked far from the foothills-raised girl she was. Practically everything she had on was new, crafted from materials of an almost unreal quality. There was no second-rate fabric to be found in the annexes. As a result, her clothes had none of the usual telltale signs of foothill frugality. They were extravagant, making her at least look like a well-mannered lady. Only her ugly boots, her coat, and Strell’s dilapidated hat remained of her old clothes, and eyeing the hat sourly, she resolved to do something about it—someday.

  “Student . . .” Useless called wearily.

  “I’m coming!” Alissa ran down the remaining stairs. Slipping into the dark kitchen, she filled a teapot with water. Two cups were next, and she skidded out into the darkness, her coat flapping loose about her ankles. Useless could supply either piece of crockery, but the kitchen was full of them, all distressingly alike. They didn’t need any more.

  The night was marginally lighter than the halls, and it was bitterly cold. Alissa hurried down the path’s frozen turns until she was before Useless. The fire was yet unlit. She had made it in time.

  “Good morning, student,” Useless intoned seriously, his voice rumbling through the dark. “Would you care to light the fire?”

  “Good morning, Useless. Yes, I would, thank you.” Grinning like an idiot, Alissa formed a containment field about the wood. An immeasurable moment later, energy slipped coolly through her thoughts, creating a ward that set the very molecules of the wood vibrating so rapidly they ignited. Well, that’s what Useless said; she only knew it worked. The first time she had tried it, the wood was consumed in a startling instant. Useless had harrumphed, thrown more wood on the ash, and told her to try again. Her control was improving, though, and tonight her fire began with a satisfying whoosh. Pleased, Alissa waited until the blue-hot flame shifted to its more normal orange before she set the pot to boil.

  “Quite nice.” Useless edged closer to the flames. “Very efficient use of your resources. Just enough and no more. Have you been practicing?”

  She nodded.

  Useless sat and closed his eyes. “It shows.”

  Glowing from the praise, Alissa sat as well. She kept her eyes open, however, eager for whatever tonight’s lesson might entail. Each midnight session brought her closer to what she imagined a Keeper was capable of. It seemed the more she knew, the easier everything became. But it was never enough. She always left hungry for more of Useless’s teachings.

  The water slowly warmed, and Alissa waited, knowing there would be no instruction until Useless had a cup of tea in his long fingers. She could have made the water boil now as quickly as Lodesh, but she didn’t. Patience, Useless would say. Use the time given you. Instant gratification teaches nothing and cheats yourself. So she sat, trying not to watch the pot. Instead, Alissa gazed up at the star aptly named after the Navigator, the hub of the night sky. It was disappearing behind the thickening clouds, and she held her breath to see if it would show itself before she needed to breathe again.

  Much to her relief, Useless hadn’t ever brought up her “error in judgment” in allowing Lodesh to impart the theory behind wards of creation. Her teacher’s attempt at punishment had failed miserably, and Alissa thought he was reluctant to discuss the incident at all, preferring to let sleeping rakus lie. If the truth be told, he hadn’t answered any of her questions concerning what she had seen down in the Hold’s cellar, spouting a dazzling plenitude of double-talk and jargon that left her blinking in shock. Alissa had been hesitant to ask again, not wanting to subject herself to such a disgraceful display of twaddle a second time, but she had one burning question she hoped he’d explain.

  “Useless?” Alissa’s breath slipped out to obscure the now-visible star.

  “Yes, Alissa?”

  “Down in the cavern,” she lowered her gaze, “that pool of water . . .”

  “The cistern, yes,” he prompted warily, opening his eyes.

  Alissa straightened, encouraged. “There were names engraved upon it?”

  “Yes. The names of Masters.” Useless’s golden brown eyes went softly into the past.

  “There weren’t very many,” she said. “Rakus have been around since mankind can remember. I would have thought there would be uncountable more.”

  Useless smiled faintly. “They are names of Masters, not rakus.”

  “They aren’t the same?”

  “They are, and they aren’t.”

  Patiently she waited.

  “The names inscribed on the cistern are only the last seven generations of rakus,” he said. “Before that, we couldn’t read or write.”

  “You were all feral?” she said with a gasp.

  Useless chuckled. “By my Master’s Wolves, no! We have been sentient for
as long as mankind, perhaps more. But it has only been the last few generations we acquired the wisdom to shift to a form that can hold a pen and focus upon paper. Our weaker kin has given us a great gift, and we have striven to repay it by instructing those who possess a partially functional neural net on the use of it. The names you saw are Masters, not rakus. They’re inscribed only after the first shift to a human form has been accomplished. Until then, their names are only a promise.”

  “Still, there were so few. . . .” she pressed.

  “Sentient or not, we’re still carnivores, and large ones at that. The surrounding land can only support so many of us.”

  She thought about that, recalling her mother’s small flock of sheep and the constant threat of inbreeding it posed. “Doesn’t that,” she stammered, feeling constrained, but needing to know. “Doesn’t that pose a problem, with— with who you may join with?”

  Useless politely ignored her blush. “Yes,” he said with a sigh. “It does. We keep a close record of ancestral ties, and there is the occasional new bloodline that usually results in a slight population explosion.”

  “New bloodline?”

  “Yes.” Only now did he seem uncomfortable.

  “The feral beasts?” she asked, remembering Connen-Neute.

  “Ah—no,” he muttered. “Unions between Masters are often prearranged far before maturity is reached,” he said, clearly changing the subject.

  “Marriages of convenience are barbaric,” Alissa interrupted. Strell held a similar belief, and she wondered if the plains tradition stemmed from here.

  Useless eyed her warily. “Be that as it may, it’s a necessity. No one has complained yet. The two intended are schooled together. They’re usually pleased with the situation. If not, changes are made. Our population is . . . ah . . . wasn’t so small that mobility was nonexistent.”

  Alissa nodded, surprised he had explained it so fully. It wasn’t often he imparted anything concerning his background. She had one last question though, and she stirred uncomfortably.

  Useless sighed. “Yes, Alissa?”