Lost Truth

by Dawn Cook

  “Lodesh?” she asked, a new tremor in her voice.

  He straightened, pushing his hat back so she could see his eyes. “I’m dying, Alissa.”

  Panic washed over her, and she reached up to grip his arm. How could he say that with his voice so calm and even? “No!” she demanded. “You’re cursed! You can’t die.”

  “I gave my curse to Strell,” he said, never dropping her gaze. Alissa’s throat closed up. Tears welled as she saw the love in them. “I gave it to Strell for you,” he whispered. “I promised I’d see you happy. My mistake was assuming that meant you would be with me.”

  Her heart clenched. She took his hands and pulled him a step closer, not caring if anyone was watching or not. “You can’t die,” she said urgently, feeling as if it were her fault. “I won’t let you run away like an old cat to die in the woods. I’ll—I’ll just bring you back again.” she said, her voice loud with a false threat.

  Lodesh smiled from under his hat. His eyes were tired, and she could see lines about them. “No,” he said, running a finger under her eye. “Not without the curse to help, and besides,” he said, glancing beyond her to Strell. “You didn’t bring me back the first time.”

  Alissa blinked, and her eyes overflowed.

  Lodesh’s gaze flicked back to her. “Strell did.”

  “What?” she breathed.

  “He’s a septhama, Alissa. And I think he knows it. He’s been seeing ghosts ever since he smoothed out the scar tissue across his tracings to bring you back from the past. Ask him. A Master can’t bring a ghost to life. Neither can a septhama. But together . . .” His eyes crinkled in heartache, which he hid with a false smile. “Together you can. Strell has the pattern of tracings that made it possible, but it was you who woke me, my sweet Alissa. And gave me substance when you drew on a memory you hadn’t yet lived.”

  She was crying again, resigned that she would be leaking tears for weeks. Useless came up behind her, and she caught back a sob as he put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

  “But it was Strell,” Useless said, seeming to know what they were talking about. “Strell’s tracings, even scarred as they were, made it possible?”

  Lodesh nodded, taking a step back. He looked tired, and her heart was breaking all over again. “But how?” she pleaded. “How can he be a septhama?” She turned to Strell, seeing nothing in him as he gave a man with an empty wagon a coin. “I’ve seen his tracings. They’re a shambles. And Redal-Stan said you don’t get a septhama without the warning of an upsurge of Keepers in the family line. Nothing has ever come from his.”

  “But it should have,” Lodesh said. He gave Useless an unrepentant look, hard with an old anger. “You were going to let my sister’s children go shaduf. I couldn’t let that happen. So I had a pipe warded to gently burn an infant’s tracings, preventing their development.”

  Useless’s face went red with anger. “Connen-Neute!” he shouted, and there was a crash from below.

  “Strell’s grandfather’s pipe . . .” Alissa breathed. “Strell said it gave him headaches when he played it too long. His pipe was scarring his tracings?”

  “Him and all his kin,” Lodesh said. “I had no idea the ward would last this long.” His hand reached out, dropping before it could touch her. “I gave my curse to Strell for you. I couldn’t bear your smile, Alissa. Not when it wouldn’t be for me.”

  She hung her head. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

  Useless was in a state. “You can’t just give Strell your curse,” he said irately. “That’s not what I had intended at all. You had this all planned out, did you?”

  “No.” It was flat, and Alissa wiped her eyes and looked at him. “I didn’t plan on dying quite so soon. That was a surprise, but perhaps it’s for the best.”

  “Lodesh!” she cried in misery. “You can’t.” A loud stomping turned her attention to Captain Sholan coming toward them from where he had left his brother-in-law at the ramp to the dock. Quickly she wiped her eyes and dropped her head, not wanting him to know she was upset.

  “Neute!” the squat man bellowed, his voice echoing against the distant houses. “Get your long-fingered hand up here if you want me to put some money in it!” He turned to Useless, his eyes respectful.

  “Thank you for crewing on my boat,” Captain Sholan said. “You sail a straight tack, brought us in right where I wanted to be. I’ll give you the same advice I give all my crew.” He leaned close as he dropped a paltry few coins in Useless’s hand. “Stay away from the Red Skirt Inn. Their girls bathe too much. Makes for unclean living.”

  Useless blinked in surprise. Captain Sholan laughed, knowing his advice was worthless, which was why he gave it.

  “Lodesh,” the captain said, handing Lodesh a few coins. “I expect you to give word to the Three Crows where I can find you, eh? We ship out as soon as I can get the Albatross careened. My brother-in-law is going to back us.” He smiled, his teeth glinting in the torchlight. “That will put her bells in a twist.”

  “Ma’hr,” Lodesh said, pocketing the money. Alissa’s heart broke at hearing the term of respect come out of Lodesh, but he didn’t seem to find any shame in it.

  Strell stood with his hand outstretched, and Captain Sholan looked at him in disgust. “I’m not paying you,” he said. “You ought to be paying me. Lying abed most of the day . . . Turning a woman’s eyes to gold. Wolves and hagfish. Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Strell grinned as his hand dropped. “That’s the Stryska in me,” he jested, but it lacked feeling.

  A very long and shaky hand gripped the hatch opening behind them, and Connen-Neute emerged to stand awkwardly next to Lodesh. He flicked a guilty look at him. Alissa frowned, not knowing what he was worried about. Useless grimaced in irritation. She watched an unheard comment pass between them, and Connen-Neute slumped in relief.

  “Here,” the captain said, pulling Connen-Neute’s ear down to his level and dropping a few coins in his hand. “Spend it on her,” he said, looking at Silla as she came up on deck. “Spend it all on her.”

  Connen-Neute flushed, glancing at Silla and away.

  “Everyone but Lodesh off my boat,” the captain said. “My brother is buying me dinner.”

  They all stared blankly at each other. Alissa panicked. How could she just say good-bye? Captain Sholan made an exclamation of disgust and flung his hands in the air. Stomping to the bow, he checked lines that needed no checking.

  Alissa looked at Lodesh, her eyes wide as she refused to cry. Useless gripped Lodesh’s arm in farewell and walked away. Connen-Neute did the same, hesitating to give the Keeper a look deep with gratitude and friendship. Silla pulled Lodesh down for a quick, inexpert hug, whispering something in his ear that made him smile. Turning, she hastened to catch up with Connen-Neute. The sound of her bells as she descended the bobbing plank made a lovely counterpoint to someone on the dock singing a lullaby.

  There was only her, Lodesh, and Strell.

  “Strell,” Lodesh said, his face holding a frightening emptiness. “Once you’re Warden, take my damned wall down. That’s all I ask. I know you’ll take care of everything else.”

  Alissa clasped her arms about herself, pinching her healing hand painfully.

  Strell nodded. “I’ll make a road out of it,” he said solemnly. “All the way to the plains. And if there’s enough left, I’ll take it to the coast.”

  “A road?” Lodesh said in disbelief. “That will take a thousand years.”

  Strell pulled Alissa close, and her eyes closed against a tear. “That’s what I have.” He hesitated, his silence saying more than words ever could. “Thank you,” he whispered. Strell took a step away, clinging to her hand to draw her with him.

  Alissa couldn’t move, unable to leave Lodesh standing alone on the deck of a ship—dying of a disease that killed him once before. “Lodesh?” she quavered.

  Strell’s grip dropped. She heard him move away. As if unable to speak, Lodesh took her in a last embrac
e. Feeling his strength for the last time, she didn’t want to let go. The clean smell of mirth wood filled her. She knew she would never be able to stand in Ese’ Nawoer’s field and not think of him when the wind pushed against the autumn-gold grass.

  “Here,” Lodesh said as he gently pushed her away and pressed his box of cuttings into her hand. “Make my field a forest?”

  She took it, choking on her sorrow. How could she just walk away?

  Lodesh put his hand on the back of her head and drew her close. “Don’t let him be alone,” Lodesh whispered, and tears sprang into her eyes. “The guilt of the curse is terrible, Alissa. And now that I’m free of it, I find myself feeling guilty for having given it to him.” He was smiling forlornly as he dropped his grip on her. Only a hint of his usual recklessness peeped through his melancholy. “Perhaps I’ve lived with guilt for so long, I need it.”

  “Lodesh . . .” she pleaded, her head pounding with the effort not to fall into sobs. Her fingers gripped the box so tightly that it hurt.

  “Go on,” he said, and she let Strell draw her away and down the plank.

  She turned as her feet found the dock, but he was gone. The deck of the ship was empty. Miserable, she turned away. “I’m supposed to be happy,” she said, hiccupping around a quick intake of breath, and Strell gave her a sideways squeeze. She had done everything she had set out to do. Wasn’t she supposed to be happy?

  “Come on,” Strell said as they followed slowly behind Useless, Connen-Neute, and Silla in a wagon. “Let me get you something to eat.”

  “Something to eat,” she said, sniffing morosely. She felt the edges of Lodesh’s box of cuttings as her feet moved slowly. “Is that your answer to everything?”

  “Yes!” he exclaimed with a forced cheerfulness. “Look,” he said, pointing to where the wagon had stopped. “They seem to have read my mind. See? They stopped at an inn.”

  Alissa wiped her eyes. Nothing could make her feel any better right now. Nothing.

  “I’ll get you a cup of tea, and everything will be all right,” he muttered grimly. It was obvious he knew tea would do no good but was determined to do something.

  “Thank you,” she said, not wanting it. “That would be nice.”

  It was a very subdued group that clustered inside the inn’s stables about their wagonload of belongings. Strell was elected to go in and get a pot of tea and some biscuits to tide them over until Yar-Taw and the rest met them outside of town. Alissa sat miserably on a bale of straw and picked at the twine as she waited. She appreciated that everyone left her alone. The price Lodesh had paid for her happiness was like an anchor about her heart. It wasn’t fair. None of it.

  There was a small stir when Strell returned. The Masters clustered about the impromptu table they had fashioned of two bales of straw and a torn horse blanket, fussing cheerfully as Strell made a great show of presenting the tea. Alissa had no choice but to take the cup as he came to her corner and proffered it with a hopeful smile.

  She took a sip, making a face. “This is awful!” she exclaimed, looking up into questioning faces. “How can you drink it? It’s bitter.” Playacting to cover misery was one thing, but pretending that this swill was good was an entirely different matter. She hadn’t had a good cup of tea for days, but this had to be the worst.

  “Bitter?” Strell said, taking a hasty sip. His eyes were puzzled. “It tastes fine to me.”

  “Me, too,” Silla interjected. Connen-Neute simply shrugged.

  Useless took a sip, then another, saying nothing as his brow furrowed. Alissa watched as he started at a sudden thought, looking at her with wondering eyes. She shook her head. “Bitter,” she affirmed, setting the cup aside, not wanting any more. “Worst cup I’ve had in days. And that’s saying a lot.”

  Useless peered at her. “Alissa?” he questioned, and she looked across the dim stables as he hesitated. His head was cocked, and he had the most peculiar expression on his lightly wrinkled face.

  “What,” she said flatly.

  “Would you mind if—” He cut his thought short, and she grew curious.

  “What?” she asked again.

  Useless put a hand to his chin and eyed her. He turned to Strell. “Been shrewish lately? Especially at sunup?” Useless asked him, and Alissa frowned.

  “Yes,” Strell answered cautiously. “It gets better after her morning flight.”

  Bobbing his head, Useless looked at Connen-Neute. “Is she tending to glide more in flight? Carrying her head higher than usual?”

  Connen-Neute’s jaw dropped, making his long face even longer. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she is.”

  A delighted grin came over Useless. He took three steps to her, his hand outstretched toward her middle. Frightened, she backed away. “What?” she demanded.

  “Can I . . .” He hesitated, and a grin came over him. “May I be so bold as to run a search through you, Alissa?”

  She felt her face go ashen. “What for?” she said, thinking she already knew.

  Strell picked her up, spinning her around before plunking her down. Her hair flung into her eyes, and she cried out in surprise.

  “What is it going to be, Alissa?” Strell asked, his sudden delight frightening. “You have to choose now, seeing as it’s too dangerous to shift after the first few weeks. I asked Talo-Toecan all about it. He told me everything.”

  Bewildered, she pulled her hair out of her mouth. “What?” she finally stammered.

  “Strell is right,” Useless said, his white eyebrows jumping. “You have a few weeks to decide before you need to chose a shift and stay in it for the term. Tradition would point to raku, but it’s your choice, naturally. Just because human hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean it shouldn’t. I’d suggest human, seeing as you’ll have a hard time getting enough protein as a raku, and it takes three months longer as a winged monstrosity than a frail human being. And being able to talk silently to Keepers is a skill no raku-born Master can duplicate.”

  His voice prattled on, stirring Silla to an almost comical state of excitement as she whispered in Connen-Neute’s ears nearly loud enough for Alissa to hear. “Months?” Alissa said, but nothing came out. Strell was a septhama. She didn’t need to do a chart on her and Strell to know that she had a fifty-fifty chance of raku child, fifty-fifty for a human septhama. Her heart pounded, and she felt weak. Useless seemed to think he knew already.

  “Don’t unpack when we get home, Alissa,” Strell whispered. His eyes were glinting as he slid a sly look toward Useless. “We have to go to the plains. Very, very soon.”

  “Plains?” she stammered.

  Strell grinned, giving her a hug to leave her breathless. “I have to register you, my love, or my children will lose the chartered status of their name.” Arms still around her, he beamed at Useless. “And I’m sure your teacher will want your children to have all the status they deserve. He can’t say no now to a trip to the plains.”

  A low growl of discontent slipped from Useless.

  Alissa felt sick. A child? So soon? “Oh, Ashes,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”

  And Strell laughed.