Lost Truth

by Dawn Cook

  A sudden thought pulled Connen-Neute’s attention from the valuable pipe. “He might be able to engender Keeper children.”

  “You saw his tracings,” Lodesh said quickly. “Talo-Toecan agrees there’s no cohesion under the scarring. Strell’s siblings might have been Keepers, but Strell isn’t.”

  “Perhaps,” Connen-Neute said around a yawn. “Ashes, I’m sleepy. I’m going out on deck to clear my head. I want to try to reach Talo-Toecan tonight.”

  Lodesh yawned as well. “Alissa said she lost contact with him three nights ago.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Connen-Neute persisted. “He might have an idea of how Strell can sense fields. In any case, he’d want to know about it.”

  Lodesh stood when Connen-Neute did, catching himself against a ceiling support. He hesitated, unusually unsteady. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Alissa will need some cheering up.”

  “She’s trying to convince me to abandon ship with her and fly ahead,” Connen-Neute said, watching Lodesh as he rewrapped his eyes.

  Lodesh spun, the haze of fatigue vanishing from him. “You won’t, will you?”

  Grinning, he said nothing, making a pair of red scarves to replace the black ones of Alissa’s that he had gotten gravy on. Still silent, he bound his hands and rose up the stairs and into the dark. It would do the cocky Keeper some good to not know everything for a change.

  12

  "Alissa,” a voice hissed, humming in her head like bees. “Alissa, please. Wake up!”

  She tried to swallow, surprised at the difficulty. Her mouth had a bitter taste she recognized. Drugged? she thought, disoriented. Had Redal-Stan drugged her again? Was he here? She had a word or two to put in his ear about that!

  Confused, she tried to open her eyes with no success. Someone was pulling on her hair. Feathers, she thought, smelling them. Blood? No, carrion. Her thoughts swirled, making the connection. Talon.

  Her mind cleared somewhat. There was a flush of wind, and Talon was gone. Alissa’s head hurt and her arms ached. She thought she was going to be sick. The boat rose with a wave, and the rigging thumped against slack canvas.

  Something bumped her, fumbling at her wrists bound before her. “Ashes,” Strell whispered, panic in his voice. “Why did I ever agree to this? I knew she was going to get herself into trouble. The girl can’t pick flowers without coming home with ghosts.”

  Alissa felt a laugh bubble up to come out as a soft groan. Strell talked to himself? Why not? she decided, her thoughts weaving. She not only talked to herself, but she answered back.

  “Beast?” she slurred into her mind, getting a somnolent murmur of a response. Her alter consciousness was as aware as she was, which meant not at all. But that, Alissa thought, could be rectified—if she could pull herself together long enough to focus.

  Struggling to concentrate, she sent a careful thought into her source to put her tracings alight. She set the pattern for a ward of healing, wagering it would cleanse the drug from her as easily as it mended small cuts and sped bruises on to healing. Unsure of herself, she checked the pattern twice before invoking it. Just as she decided she had it correct, someone yanked her into a sitting position by her hair.

  “Ow,” she groaned, struggling to open her eyes.

  “Don’t touch her!” Strell shouted. There was a surprised grunt, and the grip on her hair vanished. She collapsed. Her head met the deck with a thunk. Pain shocked through her. Cheek pressed against the sun-warmed wood, she heard a derisive shouting and the sound of Strell retching. Sunlight stabbed her eyes. Squinting, she saw a pair of bare feet pad away. Strell was curled into a ball, clearly having been kicked in the stomach. His hands were tied behind him. Blood smeared his shoulder where his shirt had torn.

  “She’s still out,” the barefoot dockman called out in his singsong accent. “She won’t be awake until sunset.”

  Her eyelids opened a slit, and she fought to keep her breathing slow at the sound of approaching boots. A shadow fell over her. Lodesh’s boots, the pair the captain had taken for passage, stopped in front of her. She didn’t think Lodesh or the captain was wearing them. There was a soft sound of regret, and the boots and bare feet moved away.

  Stomach churning, she closed her eyes and returned her attention to her mindscape. She was pleased to see the pattern had held through the abuse. That was good. She didn’t think she had the presence of mind to set it up again. Dizzy, she allowed more energy to flow. Her tracings filled with a soundless force. There was a moment of heavy disorientation as the ward seemed to exist in not only her thoughts but her body as well. Then, with a snap that she swore had to be audible, her tracings went dark. The ward severed itself from her thoughts and acted.

  A sigh sounding like a moan slipped from her. Warmth from the ward mixed with the sun. It pulsed in time with the shush of the water against the hull and the rocking of the boat. The mind-slowing taste of the bitter drug dissolved. She stretched languorously upon the deck, basking in the somnolent peace instilled by the ward. It was only when she reached to brush the hair tickling her nose that she remembered her hands were tied.

  She jolted awake. Heart pounding, she held herself still, hiding her open eyes behind her bound hands. From her hand span height on the deck, she saw the sails were down. It was late morning. Strell was slumped nearby, his hands bound and his hair wild. What the ashes was going on?

  “Get your chull hands offa me!” she heard the captain shout. There was a thump, and her gaze shot across the deck to where he had been dropped near the main mast. The ship’s boy and the dockman usually on night watch were checking the ropes about the captain’s hands and feet. Captain Sholan was barefoot, his white toes looking vulnerable in the sun. A gash across his skull bled sluggishly to drip into his eyes and beard. He shook his head, scattering clotted blood against the deck and gray sails. Sickened, she wiggled her hands to test her ropes.

  “Strell,” she whispered, he turned to her. Relief so strong it was painful to see cascaded over his haggard face.

  “Thank the Navigator,” he breathed, clearly forcing his heartfelt gaze from hers. He licked his cracked lips and glanced at the three dockmen taunting the captain. “Stay asleep,” he muttered, scooting until his bound hands shuffled into her view. The smell of wet rope and sand assailed her. And blood. She could smell blood. Fear chilled her through the strong sun.

  Immediately she began to pick at the ropes on his wrists. Her fingers were cold and unresponsive. Stifling a cry of frustration, she added her teeth. “What happened?” she asked, her words muffled by the thick cord. It tasted like sweat.

  “Captain Sholan was right,” he said, leaning so his shadow shaded her eyes. “The dockmen took the boat.”

  She didn’t care about the boat. “Where are Lodesh and Connen-Neute?”

  “I don’t know. They drugged last night’s dinner. They didn’t expect me to wake up. I watched them kill the first mate and one of Captain Sholan’s regular crew. They probably killed that missing sailor, too. I’m sorry they hurt you, Alissa. Are you all right?”

  She nodded. The knots were slick with his sweat. His fingers looked white, with the truncated tip of his pinky showing a stark red. Strell had been seasick and had barely eaten a thing. She had fallen asleep unusually early. They were all fools.

  As she worked, she sent her thoughts over the boat. Panic took her as she couldn’t find Connen-Neute and Lodesh. They are dead, she thought. They have to be! Stomach knotting, she fearfully widened her search. Her shoulders slumped as she found them bobbing in a dinghy resting against the boat. They were asleep, too deep to be natural. “I found Connen-Neute and Lodesh,” she whispered. “They’re in one of the dinghies.”

  “Are they alive?” he asked, frightened.

  “They’re asleep,” she whispered, feeling ill at his question.

  “You’re a dog!” the captain suddenly shouted. “I’ll see you hanged by your own entrails. Let me up!” he raged. “Fight me. We’ll see how brave you
are, then. Poison and venom. Dock whores have more honor than—”

  His words ended with a sodden thump and a pained grunt. Alissa worked harder. “Almost,” she whispered, feeling the knots begin to loosen. With Strell’s wiggling, the wraps came apart. He tensed, shifting to sit upon his ropes. “Can you ward them?” he asked, keeping his back to her as he reached behind him for her bound wrists. “Put them to sleep? Still them?”

  “Only one at a time. Warding people is hard. Let me get the poison from Connen-Neute and Lodesh first. As long as they are ignoring us, we have time.”

  “You can do that? From here?” he said. His hands behind his back took her bound hands in his. “How could I have been so stupid, Alissa?” he whispered. “I put you in so much danger. They want to sell you!”

  Tears threatened, not at his words but at the love behind them. She kissed his fingertips, then urged him back to freeing her. “We’ll be all right. Let me wake them up.”

  As Strell worked at her bonds, Alissa sent her thoughts to the rowboat. Trembling, she set up her tracings. They were within a raku length, so her wards would reach. Blood rushed into her hands as Strell freed her. Ignoring the tingling pain in her fingers, she first set a ward over Lodesh. A heartbeat later, she warded Connen-Neute. The young Master fell into a natural sleep as he always did after a ward of healing, but Lodesh woke up.

  “What the Wolves am I doing down here?” she heard his elegant accent echo up over the side. She met Strell’s eyes. He glanced at the three dockmen and shook his head. They were arguing and hadn’t heard Lodesh.

  “Lodesh,” she sent silently as she rubbed her wrists, hidden behind Strell. “The dockmen drugged you. Strell and I are on deck. We’re both free, but they don’t know it.”

  “Mutiny?” Lodesh thought, his emotions tinged with anger.

  “Give Connen-Neute a shake. We need to—”

  She cut her thought short as two pairs of bare feet and one booted came toward her. Strell kept his hands clasped behind him to appear bound. She slit her eyes, watching Strell squint up. Sweat trickled over his brow. She tucked her hands under her.

  “Alissa?” Connen-Neute blurted into her thoughts. He sounded bewildered. Frightened at how fast things were spiraling out of control, she relaxed to fall into an intense state of connection. Connen-Neute’s awareness seemed to stumble, falling past the usual barriers to land deep into her thoughts. The young Master hesitated, then, realizing she was asking him to pickaback his consciousness on hers so he would know what was happening on deck, he agreed.

  Alissa stifled a shudder as he lowered his own defenses and their thoughts came close to mingling freely. It wasn’t difficult to maintain such a close link with another soul, just highly ill-advised. But they had done this before. And it was easier than relaying everything.

  Feeling a glimmer of Connen-Neute’s fear, her pulse slowed to match his. Their breathing synchronized. Connen-Neute saw through her eyes, and she felt her lips move as he told Lodesh what he was seeing through her slit lids.

  “Look,” the ship’s boy said, his usual meekness having changed to a bullying scorn. “She’s a-talkin’ in her sleep.” Her lips stopped as Connen-Neute realized what he was doing.

  “She looks mighty pretty, just a-lying there,” the barefoot man said, and she fought not to move as a work-blackened toe brushed the hair from her face.

  “If you touch her,” Strell threatened, “I’ll kill you. I swear it. Somehow, I’ll kill you.”

  Alissa stifled a shudder at the heavy promise in his voice. Connen-Neute was right. None of them knew the depths to which he would go.

  “Shaddup!” a high, rough voice shouted. “Or I’ll slit your throat and make her watch.”

  “No,” she heard Hayden, the galley man, say. “I told you no killin’ or rapin’. You listen to me this time.” Lodesh’s boots appeared in her sight to take an aggressive stance. “You don’t like it, you can get in the rower with what you left alive,” Hayden exclaimed. “Or do you want to settle this right now? Eh, Clen? You and me? I cut you under the docks when you touched my sister. I’ll spill your guts right here if you kill anyone else afore I say so! You know I can!”

  Her heart pounded wildly as the bare feet edged away with a reluctant slowness.

  From the mast, Captain Sholan shouted, “You’ll be a murderer sure as slicing our throats if you put us in a dinghy out here. Give me a knife. Let me die fighting. Or are you afraid I’ll best you? Worthless dock chull!”

  Hayden turned, Lodesh’s boots scraping. “It’s up to the Navigator if you live or die in a rower, not me.” There was a moment of silence. “Clen, we’re keeping the piper ’cause he’s worth something now that he ain’t seasick. And the woman. But you ain’t touchin’ her. Red runny eyes don’t sell as well as angry ones.”

  “Let me have a bell, then, Hayden,” Clen almost whined. “I should get at least one.”

  Alissa stiffened. Her pulse raced. Not her bells. They couldn’t have those!

  “Alissa,” warned Connen-Neute in her thoughts, his fear thick. “I’ll buy you new ones. I’m almost free. With all three of us, no one will get hurt!”

  But someone touched her ankle. “Get off!” she shrieked, hearing Connen-Neute shout the same, linked together as they were. Panicked, she flung Connen-Neute out of her thoughts. She lashed out with her foot, hitting nothing. Sitting up, she stared at the three startled dockmen.

  “Wolves,” she heard Connen-Neute swear.

  “Burn it to ash, Alissa,” Lodesh thought. “We aren’t ready yet.”

  Wide-eyed, she scuttled back to Strell. Her heart pounded. Together they rose. Strell stood protectively in front of her. The dockmen’s surprise melted back into confidence. Hayden dropped back a step and fingered the hilt of his knife. “Not so sleepy? It don’t matter.” He gestured to Clen and the boy. “Tie them back up. And keep them apart this time.”

  Alissa gasped. She tried to think of a ward, but her mind went blank. Strell dropped into a fighting crouch. Hayden’s face went sour as he urged the other two dockmen to attack. The ship’s boy looked frightened, not so brave now that they were awake, but Clen stepped close, eagerly swinging his knife in a threatening arc. Jaw clenched, Strell stepped into the swing, ducking the blade. Grabbing the man’s hand, he twisted.

  “Stop!” Alissa shouted as the boy stepped forward to help. She heard Talon chitter in anger from the mast. Alissa jumped when the bird landed on her shoulder and hissed.

  “Don’t kill him!” Hayden shouted irately. “He’s worth more than both of you!”

  “It’s nice to be appreciated,” Strell grunted, falling back. Blood stained his upper arm, but Alissa didn’t think it was his. White-faced, she warded Clen’s knife to make it hot. It was the ward she used the most, and the only one she could remember. The dockman dropped it with a curse, staring at the knife on the deck. The boy gasped, backing up as he whispered a chant over and over to ward off evil. She stood blankly, trying to recall a ward of stillness, but her swirling thoughts wouldn’t slow.

  “Lodesh?” Strell shouted. “Alissa is a bit preoccupied. I could use a little help up here!”

  “That’s enough,” Connen-Neute muttered into her thoughts. “I’m tired of masks and scarves. I’m tired of Talo-Toecan telling me what I can and can’t do.”

  “Wait!” Lodesh cried. “I almost have you free.”

  “I can do it myself,” he snarled into her thoughts, and Alissa felt a pull on her tracings.

  “Don’t!” she shouted, knowing he had shifted to a raku. They had promised they wouldn’t! The deck tilted violently. Talon’s nails vanished from her shoulder as Alissa lost her balance and rolled to the edge. Clen’s knife slid to a halt beside her. Clawed hands large enough to encircle a horse gripped the railing above her. The dockmen stopped their advance, holding onto the boat to keep from sliding as they stared in fear.

  Strell slid down next to Alissa. He took Clen’s knife. “Stay here,” he hissed. She reached ou
t after him as he half-crawled up the sloping deck to the captain. The crewmen stared in horror at the long, wet tail coiling heavily up onto the deck. Strell knelt behind Captain Sholan and worked at the knots.

  The timbers groaned, and the boom swung as the boat leaned farther when Connen-Neute peered over the side of the boat. His reptilian head was larger than the boat’s wheel. He grinned, showing canines as thick and long as her arm.

  “It’s a serpent!” the boy screamed, jolting everyone into motion.

  “Serpent?” Connen-Neute roared, not understood by anyone but Alissa as his word was repeated in her thoughts. “I’m a Master!” Snarling fiercely, Connen-Neute lurched onto the deck. Alissa gasped as the boat nearly swamped. It righted itself as Connen-Neute found the center of the boat. The boom swung, splintering against his thigh.

  “That’s a raku!” Hayden shouted, terrified.

  Alissa’s heart pounded. They weren’t supposed to shift. They had promised they wouldn’t let anyone know who they were! The dockmen might guess it was Connen-Neute!

  Lodesh’s arm appeared over the railing. Using the rope tied to the dinghy, he pulled himself up, straining. He was soaked. The rowboat must have sunk when Connen-Neute shifted. Taking everything in with a glance, the Keeper levered himself onto the deck with a sodden splat. “Well, if you’re going to do it the hard way . . .” he said, slicking his hair back as he joined her. Strell had freed the captain and was back with them.

  Connen-Neute spread his wings and roared magnificently. With his neck extended, he was almost as tall as the largest mast. Even knowing he would never hurt anyone, Alissa was taken aback. The crewmen cowered. Hunched, they retreated to the stern, knives in hand. Lodesh grinned, and Alissa gave him a backhanded whack on his shoulder to be still. “It’s not funny,” she said.

  “They can’t fight that,” he said merrily as he gestured at Connen-Neute. “We’ve won.”

  Her ire shifted to a deadly concern as she saw the captain standing with the mutineers. “Truce?” Captain Sholan said. Hayden nodded, tossing him a dagger.