First Truth

by Dawn Cook

  The way was long and monotonous. The hesitant click-step-step, click-step-step of his passage was the only sound beside his breath, harsh in the tight confines. His elbows kept hitting the walls, each time more painfully than the last, and his soles were soon wet through the untreated leather of the makeshift shoes Alissa had made for him. Strell found the last step with a jar that rattled his teeth, and he squinted suspiciously at the narrow crack in the wall before him. The light from his torch burned fitfully in the stronger breeze coming from it.

  “Down there?” he whispered to Talon. This wasn’t good. Descending a staircase was one thing, but this looked like a sure path to nowhere. From his shoulder came soft croons.

  “If Bailic can make it, I can,” he muttered. Walking almost sideways in places, he awkwardly followed the gently sloping tunnel until he thought he heard the sound of water dripping. With a suddenness that surprised him, the passage opened up into a small space.

  The stonesmiths had been more careful here, and the floor and low ceiling were even. The plinking of water could be heard clearly now, the noise echoing about to make its origin uncertain. All this Strell took in at a glance. What drew and held his attention was the widely spaced bars running from floor to ceiling. “I think we found him, old girl,” he whispered to Talon, but immediately began to wonder if he had.

  “This can’t keep any man secure,” he said softly, eyeing the smooth rods. Useless had mentioned a gate, but this couldn’t be it. It would be simple to slip between the rods. Baffled, he yanked out an expired torch from a hole in the wall and replaced it with his own. The small sound of the wood grinding into the stone seemed unnaturally loud, and he frowned.

  “Useless?” he whispered. He looked past the bars into the distance to where the glow of the noonday sun beckoned. The light was all but blocked by the huge pillars rising like gigantic tree trunks.

  Talon sprang to life in a startling whirlwind of motion to vanish beyond the gate. With a caution learned searching in the tower, Strell reached to touch a bar with a careful finger. The cramping hum of a ward took his fingers with a surprising vengeance and he jerked away. The tingle rose up almost to his elbow before it faded to nothing. Strell slumped in relief. Many of the wards in the Hold had been like that, the encounter invariably ending with him cursing and shaking his hand, but this ward clearly dismissed him. Confident the bars would let him pass, he followed the bird into the larger room.

  Strell’s eyes widened. Judging by the echoes, the cavern was enormous. The sense of an ancient wood at twilight was heightened now that he was actually among the thick pillars. He leaned on Alissa’s staff, craning his neck to find the ceiling. He couldn’t. “Useless?” he called louder, not having much hope the man was here. It didn’t look like a cell. It looked like a temple.

  His feet scuffed, sending echoes to whisper into the darkness like ill promises made to be broken. Compared to the murky dusk he now walked in, the small anteroom where he had left his torch was warm and bright. The walls of the cavern spread in a smooth unbroken line to either side of the barred gate, their probable end lost in the black. “Useless!” he shouted. “If you’re here, show yourself.” Strell gave a resigned puff as his words came echoing back. Useless wasn’t here. “Otherwise, I’m leaving!” he added for good measure.

  There was a guttural rumble, and a great gust of wind from behind nearly knocked him down. Strell spun wildly, almost losing Alissa’s staff. He struggled to maintain his balance as, with a gasp, his eyes found the two focused malevolently upon him. They were as large as dinner plates, a good two man-length’s above the ground. Strell thought he saw the curve of a long neck and a glint of teeth. His chest tightened, and he took an involuntary step back.

  With a rush of feathers, Talon dropped between Strell and the shifting shadow. Already near panic, Strell swung wildly, almost hitting her. Talon screamed, hovering until Strell held up an arm in defense, only to have Talon land politely upon it. A soft growl came from the shadows.

  Reminded of the glowing eyes, Strell spun back. His ankle gave way with a stab of pain. This time he did lose his balance. He fell, hitting the floor in a clatter of wood and a sharp cry. Despite the bird’s screeches of annoyance and his pain, Strell managed to awkwardly scoot back. His only thought was to distance himself from whatever was lurking in the shadows.

  “Strell?” came a slow voice from the black. Shocked, Strell froze.

  A soft glow broke over him, gently bathing the shadows to light. The monster was gone. Illuminated by a head-sized globe of light was the figure of a tall man.

  38

  Sprawled upon the floor, Strell peered up in relief and embarrassment at the indistinct figure standing before him. It had to be Useless. He was dressed like Bailic, in shades of yellow and gold rather than black. His sleeves, though, were so wide, they went halfway to the floor.

  Frowning slightly, the man stared back. “How the Wolves did you get down here?” he said, his voice surprisingly deep for such a thin frame.

  “I jammed the door behind Bailic,” Strell said breathlessly.

  The man’s eyebrows rose. Tucking the globe of light under an arm, he strode forward. He held out a strong-looking, strangely formed hand to help Strell rise.

  Strell hesitated, then extended his own hand, snatching it back as Talon began to hiss.

  “Go away, bird,” the man said irately. “See to your mistress.”

  Talon gave a startled peep and winged toward the distant rectangle of light. The man stood still as stone and watched, his eyes never shifting from her until she vanished. A small sigh slipped from him. “Here, let me help you up,” he said, and he offered his hand once more.

  The two clasped firmly as the man hauled Strell to his feet. “Ah . . .” Strell cried as his ankle, having twisted again when he fell, clamored for attention. His vision grayed as he slipped back to the floor. His eyes closed, and he desperately clasped his ankle with both hands. Burn it to ash, he thought. His ankle was back to where it was last week.

  “Oh,” the gaunt figure was saying. “Let me help.”

  There was a warm pressure upon his temple. From there it flowed, as honest and pure as honey in summer, warming him from within. The heat eddied and swirled, concentrating on his ankle until it hurt no more. Then, like water slipping into the sand, the sensation vanished. Strell shuddered. The pain in his ankle had been so long a part of his existence that its absence was almost a tangible impression.

  He opened his eyes. Shocking in its nearness was a wise face, lightly wrinkled and tan. Not old, but far from youth, the man exuded a curious blend of quiet peace and bound intensity. It was his eyes, though, that commanded attention. They were tired, but also clear and true. Their color was an astounding, unnatural golden-brown. “Hum-m-m,” the man murmured, and he sat down with his legs crossed, silently considering him. The globe of light went on the floor between them like a cooking fire.

  Bailic had never made anything like that, Strell thought, extending a finger to see if it was warm. The man cleared his throat, and Strell jerked his hand away. “You . . .” Strell’s voice cracked. “You’re Useless.”

  “Not altogether so, but yes,” the figure said with a chortle.

  Strell’s face brightened. “Out!” he cried, beginning to rise. “I’ve come to get you out!”

  Useless shook his head. “If there were a way, I’d be gone.”

  Nearly standing, he hesitated. “I made it past the bars.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t. They’re warded specifically for my kind. There’s no escape for me.”

  With those words, Strell’s grand plan of freeing himself and Alissa from Bailic’s devices crashed to nothing. He dropped heavily back to the cool stone floor and looked bitterly at the dark green of his damp shoes. How he could have been so foolish to think he could free Useless when Useless couldn’t free himself? His gamble to save Alissa had failed. Wolves take him. He was a dreamer staked out in the sun.

  In a single, flu
id motion, Useless stood and extended a hand. “Forgive me for not meeting you at the front gate. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Of course,” Strell said absently, his thoughts on Alissa. He only had a day. He would talk to Bailic again, arrange an extension. Anything. Bone and Ash. What was he going to do?

  Taking the oddly shaped hand, Strell was pulled to a stand. He shivered at Useless’s touch, recalling his panic when his imagination convinced him the man was a beast with glowing eyes. Strell’s eyes darted to the black corner where he thought he had first seen the monster.

  “There,” Useless said, interrupting his uneasy thoughts, “it’s warmer over there.” He pointed to the glowing rectangle of light. “I know for a fact,” he said dryly, “that it is.”

  As he gingerly put his foot down, Strell’s mouth fell open. There was no pain. His ankle was healed! This was the stuff of stories and tales, not reality! “Thank you,” he breathed, stomping hard upon the floor to assure himself it was really restored. “Ashes. You completely healed my ankle. How—”

  Useless strode to the light. “Completely healed?” he said over his shoulder. “No.”

  “But the pain—” Strell jumped as the globe winked out of existence.

  “Illusionary. The pain has been deadened. But if you keep stomping about like that, you’re going to lose the benefit of the three-day accelerated healing I was able to give you, and you’ll be in twice the hurt in the morning.”

  Feeling foolish, Strell hastened to catch up with Useless. “Can you do it again? To give my ankle six days of healing?”

  “Not shy about asking for things, are you?” Useless smiled at Strell’s embarrassment. “It’s a good thought, but you only have so much reserves in your body. To force it to repair itself again so quickly would cause more damage than it would mend.”

  Not sure he really understood, Strell remained silent as he followed Useless to the patch of sun. As they passed close by one of the pillars, he paused. It was covered with Alissa’s script. After a quick glance at Useless’s back, he ran a finger over a familiar word. Alissa had been merciless in her tutorial, and he was beginning to wish he had never seen his map, much less traded for it. Strell’s finger lightly traced the elegant lines before reluctantly turning away. Perhaps Useless could help him in some way, a trinket or bit of information to buy more time.

  As the last column fell behind him, his feet faltered and slowed to a stop before the fabulous view. Too large to be called a mere window, the opening began where the floor ended, rising twice as high as he was tall and stretching a full twenty paces wide. Through another set of wide-set bars was the clear blue of a winter sky, unmarked by bird or cloud. The cavern, he realized in astonishment, went entirely through the mountain. He was looking west.

  The horizon was utterly flat. There were hills between him and the sea, but they were all dwarfed by the one he now stared from in wonder. In great, undulating waves, the land seemed to flow from his perch to go gray in the distance. The ocean itself was lost in the haze, but he knew it was there.

  There was a small scuff and Strell looked to find Useless arranging himself cross-legged upon the stone floor in a patch of sun. The man gestured for Strell to join him, and slowly Strell sank down before him.

  “I’m in truth called Talo-Toecan,” said Useless, and he held out his hand, palm up.

  “That’s it?” Strell blurted as he crossed it with his own, starting at how long the man’s fingers were.

  Useless’s eyes narrowed. “My full title has little meaning now.”

  Strell stiffened. “I’m Strell,” he accused. “My family name has little meaning now either—seeing that it has apparently been culled.”

  “Burn me to ash.” Useless scowled and leaned back. “Is that why you glare at me? I spoke out of turn before. We agreed ages ago that there would be no more mass manipulations. Your ancestral line’s demise must have been a true accident.”

  Strell looked at Useless as if he had a bad taste in his mouth, unsure if he should believe him. His family had a disturbing history of rebounding from only one or two members. And what did he mean by “We agreed no more mass manipulations”? Strell was very close to leaving Useless forgotten in his spacious cell when the tall man cleared his throat.

  “Why,” Useless said tiredly, “didn’t you take her home like I said?”

  “You don’t think I tried!” Strell exclaimed. “Alissa does as she wants! She’s—”

  “She’s alive!” Useless shouted, and Strell jumped. “Please.” Useless leaned forward, his eyes bright. “What happened when the mountain shook? Bailic, who has less honor than a trencher worm, tells me nothing.” Useless turned a clear eye upon Strell, and his voice lost its eagerness and grew deadly. “He hints and leaves. I no longer trouble to shift myself when he summons me to the east gate to listen to him gloat. When I’m through with him, there will be nothing left to mark his perfidious existence except for a horrific fable to frighten small children into exemplary behavior.”

  Strell gulped. The hatred pouring from Useless felt strong enough to bend a monarch’s knee. Even though it wasn’t directed at him now, it made him shudder.

  “But you were going to tell me, were you not?” Useless said with a sudden calm.

  “Um, yes.” Strell shifted, unsettled by the swift mood changes. “Simply put, Alissa grew tired of your constraints.”

  “She what!” Useless exploded. The deep sound rumbled and echoed, making Strell wince. “Tired of my constraints? They were for her benefit, to prevent a catastrophe, not precipitate one!” Taking a deliberate breath, he raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment. “Please, continue,” he murmured.

  Strell licked his lips and tried again. “She caused a terrible explosion.”

  “That I surmised.” A careless hand was tossed into the air, wafting the warm scent of wood ash to Strell. “Is she conscious?”

  “Conscious?”

  “You say she lives. I wish to assess the damage. Is she truly alive, or trapped in a death state?”

  Not liking Useless’s cavalier manner, Strell’s eyes narrowed. “She lives.”

  “Ha! Don’t sit in judgment of me!” the man guffawed. “I warned her. They all ignore me—once. She will learn not to cross me except under dire need or die from her own ignorance. At the very least it might teach her—restraint.”

  Strell leaned back and eyed Useless in disgust. “Who,” he said, “do you think you are?”

  The man drew himself up, letting the question hang dangerously in the air. He leaned forward, and the force of his words hammered at Strell. “I,” he said, his voice as brittle and frigid as ice, “am Talo-Toecan, a Master of this Hold and architect of the same.”

  “So what!” Strell shot back. Flushed, he met the man’s wrathful eyes, refusing to back down. He didn’t have to take this. His clothes might be ragtag, and he might be sleeping in a borrowed bed, but he carried a chartered name, able to trace his lineage back untold generations to the handful of families who first settled the plains. He just didn’t rub anyone’s nose in it.

  For a terrible, long moment Useless stared at him with a stiff outrage. Finally he grimaced and sighed, slumping as his brow smoothed out. “Quite right, Strell,” he rumbled. “I forgot your unique position. It has been long since any have been in my Hold who weren’t students—or those who once were. Please continue.” Appearing to grow drowsy in the sun, he closed his eyes.

  The use of his given name was a surprise. Always Strell had been bard, or minstrel, or even mender of misplayed melodies, whatever that was, but seldom his name. Perhaps, Strell thought, he had been accepted as what he was and not an underling to be taught and tutored. Suddenly conscious of how hazardous his words might have been, Strell dropped his eyes. Useless’s mood could have easily turned the other way. He was as sensitive as a plainsman with six ugly daughters.

  “Alissa grows strong again.”

  “Really?” Useless’s eyes opened. “Not simply aliv
e, but prospering.” As if unable to prevent it, he closed his eyes again.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Strell muttered, walking the thin line of accusation. “Your ward burned her utterly. She refuses to look at her tracings, and from what she described, I don’t blame her.”

  “Does the girl have no sense of circumspection,” Useless cried, his eyes open wide, “blathering about things she barely comprehends!”

  “The wards on the windows of each of our rooms blew out as well,” Strell said, ignoring the continual interruptions.

  “Blew out the wards?” Useless blurted. “What under the Eight Wolves did she do?” Then he caught himself and inclined his head. “If I may interrupt?”

  Strell nodded stiffly.

  “Did she tell you what she attempted?”

  Furrowing his brow, Strell tried to remember what Alissa had told him that night. It hadn’t been the time to ask questions then, and later it had seemed pointless and cruel. “She said she captured a bit of the ward and tried to change it so as to be able to get rid of it safely.” Strell raised a pained expression to Useless, only to be surprised at the deep understanding in his quiet eyes. “She brought it from her thoughts to right in front of her, then let go of it. Then, and this is my idea, as she will say little after that, it exploded like a badly dried bowl in a kiln.”

  Useless sat back in a stunned silence. “All with no training. How did she manage that?” he directed out the enormous window. “It’s a miracle she didn’t take the entire Hold with her. No wonder Bailic thought it was me.” He turned to Strell. “It was fortunate she was in her father’s chamber.” Seeing Strell’s confused look, he smiled faintly. “Eighth floor, southernmost room?” He nodded at Strell’s astonished blink. “Only two hearths in the Keepers’ hall share a chimney. I was brought to task over my lapse soon after it was discovered. To placate everyone’s sensibilities, I agreed to lodge only my students in those rooms.” Shifting slightly to keep the sun full upon him, Useless closed his eyes. “Her choice of rooms was serendipitous in the extreme. It probably saved her life.”