Lost Truth

by Dawn Cook

  The sounds of Strell’s music and the singing Masters grew fainter as they reached the path to the beach. The sound of surf rose to replace it, and Lodesh breathed easier when he spotted the two storage huts.

  “I don’t want to go to bed,” Beast complained as they guided her inside the darkness of the first and helped her sit on the small cot. Hayden had brought her pack ashore, and Lodesh was grateful for small favors.

  “Yes, you do.” Lodesh helped her lie on the bed, and he pulled a blanket over her. Neugwin had made it. He recognized the pattern. Frowning, Lodesh glanced at Alissa’s shoes, deciding she would rather suffer the discomfort of waking up with them on than the embarrassment of waking up with them off. Connen-Neute stood in the doorway with a soft, warded light in his hands. Beast stared at him with wide, alert eyes, and Lodesh felt a pang of worry. “Stay here,” he said. “Alissa would want you to stay here. All right?”

  Beast pushed her blanket aside and rubbed a hand under her nose. Her gaze started to go smoky again, and he took a step back, suddenly feeling he was in danger of taking advantage of her befuddled state whether he wanted to or not.

  “Let’s go,” Connen-Neute said uneasily. “We don’t want to be missed.”

  Lodesh nodded. He gave Beast a stern look before following Connen-Neute out.

  The young Master dropped the cloth hanging as a door and exhaled in a long, relieved sound. “She makes my hide crawl when she does that,” Connen-Neute said as they slogged their way through the sand to the path.

  “I don’t mind,” Lodesh admitted. He glanced behind them, wondering if he ought to stay and make sure she didn’t get up and wander back to the music. “I like it,” he added softly.

  Connen-Neute frowned, his face looking longer than usual from the globe of light in his grip. “You’ve never shared the sky with her. Beast isn’t tamed, and she isn’t charmed. She’s feral. She has no idea what emotions she is pulling from you. She would fight you to tatters if you made the slightest move to accept her invitation, despite the apparent indications otherwise.”

  Lodesh looked askance at him. “You’re jesting. How can she not know?”

  The young Master shuddered. “If she knew what her body language was saying, she would turn combative. Feral beasts won’t allow themselves to be brought to ground. That’s why the world isn’t overrun with feral rakus,” he mumbled.

  “Oh . . .” Brow furrowed, Lodesh kept silent on their return trip. There was a way he could turn this to his favor in his pursuit of Alissa. He knew it. He only had to figure out how.

  21

  Strell jogged down the dark path following Lodesh, Connen-Neute, and Alissa. He was lucky the way was smooth, or he would likely have twisted an ankle. His pace thudded up into his head, and his knees were stiff from holding one position too long. Clearly he would have to establish a tradition of rules, or they would have him piping like this every night.

  It had set him aback to find that the Masters raised the Navigator’s Wolves with more abandonment than the father of six girls on the wedding night of his youngest. But it made sense in hindsight. Most of them were nearing their eighth century. What else did they have to do?

  The temptation to not entertain them had been strong. But he had swallowed his anger, realizing he could do more good with his music than any other way. Requests had been honored, but the theme was of forgiveness and tolerance. He had left under the excuse of stretching his legs, but his knees were the last thing on his mind. Something was wrong with Alissa. It had only been the fear in Connen-Neute’s eyes when he and Lodesh had led her away that kept his mouth shut and his distracting music flowing until they were safely out of sight.

  A light on the path drew Strell into a slower pace. “Alissa?” he called breathlessly.

  The light hesitated, then continued forward. “It’s us, Strell,” came Lodesh’s voice.

  Strell felt a wash of bother. Lodesh. The charismatic man had begun to irritate Strell more than usual recently. Strell strode forward in a quick walk as his knees throbbed. He recognized Connen-Neute’s dark form next to Lodesh, but Alissa was gone. They had stopped and were waiting for him. Connen-Neute’s long face looked uncomfortable in his dim, warded light. But even worse was the calculating, devious gleam in Lodesh’s eyes. “Where’s Alissa?” he asked, tensing as he realized they were intentionally blocking his path.

  “I put her to bed,” Lodesh said. “Let’s get back before we’re missed.”

  Lodesh put a hand on Strell’s shoulder to turn him around, and Strell shrugged it off. Beyond him were the dark huts above the high tide mark. Something was wrong. Lodesh didn’t want him to see her. “Is she all right?” he asked, wondering if it would be easier to play along and slip back when they weren’t looking.

  “She is at the moment,” Lodesh said dryly. “I imagine the morning will be different.”

  “She is inebriated,” Connen-Neute said softy, giving the Keeper a dark look.

  Strell’s brow furrowed. “She only had the one drink. I’ve been watching her.”

  “So has Keribdis,” Lodesh said. “That’s why we got her out so quickly. Come on,” he added, putting a companionable arm across Strell’s shoulders. “We don’t want them to search you out. Hounds, your music has charmed them thoroughly. Quite an accomplishment, Strell!”

  The flattery pulled Strell’s warning into focus. Again, he pushed the arm from him, refusing to move. The tension grew thick. “Get out of my way,” he threatened, his voice dropping.

  Lodesh’s smile looked false. “She’s fine,” he soothed. “She’s probably asleep already.”

  “Strell?” Alissa called from the beach, and Lodesh groaned softly.

  Strell pushed past them. He moved quickly down the shadowedpath to find her standing by the first hut, holding it as if for balance. He slowed at the odd sound of her voice. It was smoother, more precise, as if she were making a conscious effort to keep from slurring. “Alissa,” he called as he came even with her. “Are you all right?”

  “Alissa is sleeping,” she said, shocking his feet to stillness. “I’m awake, though.”

  Connen-Neute had come silently up beside him. Strell stared at Alissa, unsure what to do. Lodesh took her arm and tried to lead her away. “Go back inside,” the man almost hissed. “You promised you would stay inside.”

  “I did not,” she said, sounding more affronted than usual. The bells on her ankle chimed as she resisted Lodesh pulling at her.

  “Stop it,” Strell demanded, ready to hit the Keeper and risk being warded into some unpleasant position. But Lodesh desisted, and Alissa tugged free of him. His anger vanished as her gray eyes fastened on his. She was . . . different. It was obvious by her wavering stance that she was drunk, but that wasn’t it. “Alissa?” he questioned as he pulled her into the starlight.

  “Tell him,” Connen-Neute said.

  A pang of fear went through Strell at what those words might lead to. “Tell me what?”

  Lodesh visibly gathered himself. “Talo-Toecan made a mistake,” he said, pitching his voice low. “That afternoon Alissa first shifted and went feral?” he asked, and Strell nodded.

  Connen-Neute glanced over his shoulder at the muffled noise at the shelter. “Alissa didn’t destroy her beast, she made a pact with it.”

  Strell went cold. Feral? He dropped Alissa’s hands and swallowed hard. He searched her face for any sign of savagery, finding only a look of sly smugness. “You mean . . .”

  Lodesh’s smile was forced, his concern behind it painfully obvious. “Alissa has been harboring a second, feral consciousness for the last few years. Her arrangement, though questionable, has saved her sanity several times, helped her come back from the past, and I think is what enabled her to reach Silla’s thoughts past the curve of the earth. The arrangementseems to work most of the time, though when Alissa passes out, Beast tends to take over.”

  “I’m not taking over,” Alissa said in a huff. “If Alissa was awake, she’d be in cont
rol.”

  Strell stared at her, knowing what Lodesh had said was probably true. Alissa had been subtly different since learning how to shift into a raku: more reserved, less inclined to take advantage of their moments alone. He had attributed it to the shock of learning she was a Master and trying to live up to her new status. But now, seeing her making eyes at him, he wondered. “How long have you known?” he heard himself ask. Wolves, they must think him a fool.

  “Since before you were born,” Lodesh said, and Strell’s jaw clenched. It grated on him that Lodesh had trapped Alissa in the past, almost forced her to live a lifetime there. Lodesh and Alissa may have danced under the mirth trees before Strell’s great-grandfather existed, but from Alissa’s perspective, it had been the other way around, and that’s what mattered.

  “Connen-Neute found out when he pickabacked his thoughts on hers,” Lodesh continued. “Talo-Toecan doesn’t know.”

  Alissa sniffed. “He can’t know,” she said plaintively, jerking Strell’s attention back to her. “He’ll make Alissa destroy me. And she promised me she wouldn’t.”

  Strell’s breath shook as he exhaled. It was still her, he thought, finding the idea she could be one or the other more frightening than the idea she might be completely feral. He reached out, and after hesitating to be sure she would let him, tilted her chin to put her face in the faint light from Connen-Neute’s ward. Puzzled, he searched her features. They must be mistaken, he thought. Alissa might have a second consciousness, but she was still herself. Why hadn’t she told him? Was she afraid he would hate her? “Alissa?” he asked, feeling ill.

  “No,” Connen-Neute said. “It’s Beast.”

  Strell forced his hands to drop from her and to take a step back. He searched her slowly blinking eyes for a difference. Apart from the way she said her words, there wasn’t any. “You’re still Alissa,” he said as he turned to Connen-Neute and Lodesh. “That’s still Alissa.”

  Connen-Neute shook his head. “Only on the outside. The one animating her is Beast.”

  The last of Strell’s fears melted away. “No. I’ve seen the difference when Talo-Toecan animated Alissa. That’s still Alissa.”

  “I’m not,” Alissa said as she reached out to take Strell’s hand.

  He went willingly forward to steady her. She gave his hands a firm squeeze, and he looked up in surprise to find a warm, sultry expression simmering in her gaze. His heart pounded, and his entire body seemed to jerk in response. It wasn’t that Strell hadn’t seen that look directed at him before, but it was rather unexpected, considering the situation. “Ah, no,” he said with a gentle refusal but not letting go of her. He couldn’t just yet, not with Lodesh standing so near. “You have to go to bed so no one else will find out.”

  “I’d rather stay with you,” she said, pulling him off balance and almost in to her.

  Her hands went around his neck. Lodesh was positively green, and Strell felt a jolt of satisfaction, even as he disentangled himself from her. “Please, Alissa,” Strell said as he gripped her wrists gently before him. “It’s important no one else see you. They won’t understand as I do. I—” He glanced at Lodesh, both glad and annoyed he was here to overhear. “I love you, Alissa,” he said, knowing his face was flushed. “Even with a beast in your thoughts. Remember that when you wake up, all right? Please?”

  Alissa’s breath came out in a long exhalation, and she stopped trying to wiggle from his grip. “They think themselves so wise, but they forget they can see the wind.” She pouted, allowing Strell to help her across the sand and back to the dark hut.

  Knowing she would rather sleep in a chair than a bed, Strell pulled the bedclothes off and piled them on the hut’s woven seat. He helped her sit, scowling at Lodesh when he got in the way. “I’ll do it,” he said darkly as he knelt to arrange the covers, his motions gentle as he tucked them under her chin. The memories it brought back forced his eyes closed in brief pain. She probably wouldn’t remember this, either.

  “Will you stay here?” Lodesh asked from the doorway, and she frowned.

  “Please, Alissa?” Strell added as he rose to his feet, and her frown eased. She sighed her agreement, and he dropped the curtain over the door between them with mixed feelings.

  “Let’s get back,” the Warden said tightly.

  Thoughts churning, Strell turned and followed Connen-Neute’s bobbing light. He felt ill. Alissa had kept her feral consciousness? Why hadn’t he seen it before? He darted a sidelong glance behind him at the beach. But she was still Alissa. Though free with her emotions—unnervingly so—and though her voice had become as seductive as the desert wind, she was still Alissa. It wasn’t his fault if Lodesh and Connen-Neute had never glimpsed the passion she hid behind her embarrassed stammering and hot temperament. He had known it was there since finding her in that ravine with a twisted ankle. Every time he pulled her desires into the light to surprise both of them, it was a joy.

  “Are you sure that wasn’t Alissa?” he asked, thinking perhaps she was simply drunk.

  Connen-Neute shuddered at his elbow. “Yes. You can see it when she flies. She flies like a feral beast. With no fear of anything. And Beast sounds different in my head.”

  Deep in thought, Strell followed them. He would have breakfast with Alissa tomorrow. Make sure he understood it all. Make sure she knew this changed nothing and that he loved her all the more. The entire situation smelled like trouble simmering over a too-hot fire. And he didn’t know if he could survive another one of her willful rebellions again.

  Perhaps . . . he wondered as tugged at his short beard. Perhaps it was time to add his own wrinkle to the brew? A feeling of deviltry slipped through him, laced with a heavy confidence. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t come prepared, and there would be no better time. And since her adopted kin seemed so disappointed in her, Alissa had nothing to lose by saying yes.

  A smile eased over Strell, and he felt his steps grow eager. He was not above taking advantage of the situation. If Lodesh didn’t know enough to capitalize upon it himself, then he really didn’t know Alissa at all.

  The beginnings of a dance tune stirred in him, setting his feet to move in time with its unheard rhythm. He pushed past Lodesh and Connen-Neute, not caring that they were glancing between themselves, probably wondering about his change in mood. He would keep the Masters dancing until dawn. They would sleep past noon. By tomorrow night, it would be too late.

  And it would start with dinner, he thought, eager for the sunrise.

  22

  The cord holding the corner of his tent made a soft twang as Strell tugged at it, and he frowned. “Too loose,” he breathed. It had been ages since he set up a tent, but that wasn’t why he was having trouble. The sand was loose. Jittery, he yanked out the post. That the sand was a beach and the flat horizon was water could be tolerated. A loose tent support could not.

  He hammered the post in at a sharper angle. Testing the cord, he decided it would do. It wasn’t as if she would judge him on how well he set up a tent. Not like a plainswoman would.

  Not like a plainswoman, he thought, his stomach clenching. His village would have stoned him for marrying a woman from the foothills, but he didn’t care. He loved her, and Alissa needed him. A smile warmed him. She needed him more now that her kin seemed so disappointed.

  Strell tossed his makeshift hammer into the nearby vegetation and wiped his hands free of the sand. He glanced at the sun setting behind the hills and crouched at the small fire just outside the tent. Neugwin, the Master who reminded him of his grandmother, had made him a set of rugs in return for the promise of putting Connen-Neute’s return to sentience into a song. Strell didn’t think it necessary to tell her the ballad was already halfway written.

  Strell had properly rolled the rugs and placed them to make a companionable V between the fire and the tent entrance. A pot lay simmering in the coals. The smell of what might be potatoes and the flesh of a clam mixed with the scent of the fire. Dumplings made from the starch of a thic
k-skinned root floated on top. Strell breathed deeply, nervous that Alissa might not approve. It wasn’t the traditional dinner a plainsman made for a potential spouse, but she wouldn’t know that, either.

  His brow furrowed in worry that she might not come. Apart from the miserable breakfast where they had discussed Beast, Alissa had hidden herself in her hut all day. He imagined it was as much from her headache as it was from Keribdis’s morning harangue. The angry Master had denied Alissa the relief of a healing ward, but he thought Alissa would have refused it anyway. She was determined to keep her tracings clouded as long as possible to avoid Keribdis’s lesson.

  The entire island had echoed with Keribdis’s fury that Alissa had drunk her tracings into uselessness. He and Lodesh had disagreed upon whether they should interfere or not. It was only because Lodesh had used his physical strength and not his wards that Strell’s dwindling esteem for the man hadn’t disappeared completely. Strell was beginning to think Lodesh was afraid of the Masters, hiding his fear behind the word “respect.” He gingerly ran a finger across his jawline and winced, glad his beard hid most of his new bruise.

  But even Strell would admit Alissa had handled the verbal attack with a grace and dignity that seemed to have come from nowhere. She had stood and listened, and when it was clear Keribdis would say no more, Alissa walked away without offering a defense or apology. Strell grinned at the memory. Keribdis had nearly choked on her outrage.

  Glancing up at the empty beach, Strell wondered if Alissa’s conspicuous absence might simply be placed at the feet of the headache and uneasy stomach she was suffering. He had thought an anonymous, unsigned note would pique her curiosity enough to venture forth, but the young woman’s moods were as unpredictable as a colt in spring. A flash of worry went through him. What if she had taken the invitation as a command? He would never see her then.