Forgotten Truth

by Dawn Cook

  He ran down the faint path to the woods, his thin shoes doing little to protect his feet from the jagged stones and sudden dips. He would do nothing but react, knowing if he tried to reason it out, logic would tell him sensing her across time was impossible, and he would lose her.

  But he couldn’t keep up.

  Staggering to a halt, he bent low with his head between his knees. His breath came in ragged gasps that tore his lungs. His head pounded in time with his pulse. He felt as if he were going to be ill but didn’t care. Alissa, his love, half of what made him alive, was slipping from him.

  11

  Hilder was right. Tidbit was sweet. The horse followed Lodesh and Kally in an easy gait that quickly relaxed

  Alissa. Her hands on the reins went from a death grip to one that was only mildly clutching. She began to look about, noticing what a beautiful day it was. “Strell?” she called breathlessly, then flushed. “Er, Lodesh?” she amended, hoping he hadn’t heard.

  Lodesh eased his mount’s pace until he was even with her. Before she could remember what Hilder had said about how to stop, Tidbit slowed as well. Kally continued on until she was just out of earshot. Alissa wondered just who was actually chaperoning whom.

  “Strell is someone you care for? Someone you left behind when you were drawn to the Hold?” Lodesh asked.

  Embarrassed, Alissa hunched into herself. “Something like that.”

  “Then your slip is a compliment,” he said. “What did you want to ask?”

  “Who is Keribdis?” Alissa asked, thinking Lodesh wouldn’t be interested in the odd shape of the oak tree she had thought to point out to Strell.

  An honest smile came over him. “She is Talo-Toecan’s often-absent spouse.”

  For a moment, Alissa pondered that. “Why does she have a horse if she can’t ride it?”

  “Ah, there’s a story.” Lodesh leaned to flick a fly from Nightshade’s ears. “Someone once told her riding a fine horse at great speed must be very much like flying. She wanted to know if it were true. But as no horse will allow a predator on its back, she couldn’t. When Tidbit was born out of season, Keribdis took the foal in. Fed her from a wineskin, slept with her in the stables all winter as Talo-Toecan wouldn’t allow a horse into the Hold. Drove Hilder and the horses mad. Even so, Tidbit wouldn’t let Keribdis on her back. Caresses and cuddling, yes. But any weight heavier than her hand produced only terror. So for the last five years, Keribdis has had to content herself with brushings and workouts at the end of a rope.”

  “Even when in her human form?” Alissa pressed.

  “Rakus are carnivores, Alissa,” he said. “Despite all the bread and apples they consume when passing as human, the smell of death lingers, betraying their—savage capabilities.”

  Alissa’s brow furrowed. She was a Master, yet Tidbit let her ride. What was the difference? “Perhaps,” Alissa suggested, “if Keribdis refrained from eating meat for a time?”

  Lodesh made a small sound of agreement. “Perhaps. You should suggest it when she returns. She would be indebted to you if it worked. Keribdis dearly loves her little Tidbit.”

  “Maybe I will,” Alissa whispered, hoping she would never have the opportunity. Flashing Lodesh a small smile, she turned the conversation to lighter topics until the way broadened and the smell and sounds of the city became apparent.

  At the edge of the woods, Lodesh halted Nightshade with a subtle movement Alissa didn’t catch. Tidbit drew even and stopped without direction. Kally too, halted, and together they stood at the edge of the damp shade of the trees to look over the sprawling conglomeration of homes and businesses. The noise of the city came faintly, and Alissa met Lodesh’s delighted grin with her own. “There she is,” he said, his voice soft with pride.

  Kally put her heels to her mount and leapt forward. Before Tidbit could think to follow, Lodesh grabbed her bridle. There was a jingle of harness and a quick sidestep, and all was still. Alissa smiled with wide-eyed gratitude, but Lodesh had eyes only for his city. He didn’t seem aware of the fall he had adverted. “Isn’t she wonderful?” he asked as a dog barked.

  “She’s even more beautiful without her walls,” Alissa breathed, then realizing what she had said, she closed her mouth and leaned to rub a spot of dust from her borrowed boots.

  “Walls, Alissa?”

  She winced, then straightened. “Don’t most cities have walls?”

  Lodesh tossed a curl from his eyes. “Of some sort or another. Being so high in the mountains, we’re afforded a measure of natural protection. And there’s always the Hold.”

  “I guess you don’t really need walls, then, do you,” Alissa said, not sure if she should.

  Lodesh broke his gaze with his city. His green eyes were full of a questioning innocence. “I can’t imagine we do.”

  There was a thumping of hooves, and Kally slid to an exuberant halt. “Come on!” she moaned. “The citadel brats will finish their pastries and be out stirring up the field with their noise soon.” She put a quick hand to her mouth. “I meant no offense, Lodesh.”

  His nose in the air, Lodesh adopted a haughty stance. “None taken,” he drawled, every stitch the nobleman’s son. “We privileged few born to the citadel are brats, of the highest caliber, myself included.” A graceful bow, not easily accomplished on horseback, finished his act, and laughing, they rode into the city.

  Alissa hated to admit it, but the farther they went, the more she gawked like the foothills girl she was. The streets weren’t paved yet, and it was dusty. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of hot metal, reminiscent of the time Strell had let her favorite copper teapot run dry over the fire.

  “Lodesh!” a strong voice called, and she turned to find the source of the stench. It was a smith, surrounded by his hammers and hooks. “Where’s your magnificent steed?”

  Lodesh raised his hand in acknowledgment. “The field, my most worthy man, the field. But not alone,” he added slyly.

  The blacksmith laughed and returned to work with a series of sharp clangs.

  Across the way, a middle-aged woman with a basket waved frantically to catch Lodesh’s eye. He drew Nightshade to a halt, a welcoming smile on him. “Lodesh, dear,” the woman said as she drew close and placed a hand upon his knee. “I must thank you.”

  “Ah.” Lodesh beamed. “My introduction of Pella and the baker’s son was agreeable?”

  Squinting from the sun, the woman pulled her scarf over her head to make a tent of sorts. “Yes. Pella is forever using the bread so as to have an excuse to get more.” She looked down demurely. “I will admit, though, I’m sorry her attentions have turned from you.”

  Lodesh glanced nervously at Alissa. “Tell her I’ll pine for her unattainable charms.”

  The woman eyed Alissa. “I will, but I don’t think you will be lamenting for long.” She patted Nightshade. “Frightful in the field?” she asked, and Lodesh nodded. “Good,” she added, and they continued. Almost immediately a shout came from behind them, and Kally sighed.

  “Lodesh!” it came again, and Alissa noticed a thin man with badly hemmed trousers struggling to overtake them. He was slumped under the weight of a young boy sitting astride his shoulders. “Lodesh!” he panted, giving Kally and Alissa a quick nod. “You must come to dinner. I’ve found the woman of my dreams. She works at the dye shop, the one you told me about this spring.”

  Lodesh touched his chin. “The one on the north side, third ring out?” he asked.

  “That’s the one.” The man winced as the boy thumped his heels into the man’s chest, shouting, “Go! Go!” as if he was a horse. “They had the most wonderful deep green as you promised,” the man continued, “but an even more wonderful widow.”

  “Ah,” was Lodesh’s sigh. “Tarma is a jewel that shines when she’s caring for someone.”

  Astonished, Alissa turned to Kally. Clearly Lodesh had intended they should meet. “Does he know everyone?” Alissa asked.

  “Practically.” Kally snorted. “He has intr
oduced in one way or another nearly half of the couples who have gotten joined in the last three years.”

  “You’re jesting.”

  “No.” She arranged the fringe of mane she could easily reach. “Anyone who needs anything and can’t find it asks Lodesh. If he doesn’t know, he knows someone who does.”

  Alissa glanced at Lodesh. The two men were deep in discussion: Lodesh’s arms were flailing wildly, the boy’s eyes were wide in awe, and the man’s lips were curled in amusement. Seeing the direction of Alissa’s gaze, Kally sighed heavily. “And it’s a real bother when you want to do anything with him,” the girl finished loudly.

  The men looked up in a guilty surprise. “Yes, well,” the thin man offered. “I don’t mean to keep you from your afternoon, but if you’re headed for the field, could you finish an errand for me?” His eyes pleaded as the child began bouncing mercilessly on his shoulders.

  “Can I take the lad home for you?” Lodesh held out his hands, and the delighted boy was deposited behind Nightshade’s neck.

  “Could you?” was the man’s relieved reply. “I found him wandering down here looking for a flower. He insists his mama sent him, but I think he slipped his nurse again.”

  Lodesh chuckled and tousled the boy’s black curls. “Trook,” he asked. “Does your mama know you went shopping?”

  Alissa’s smile froze. Trook? she wondered. Strell’s grandfather had been named that.

  “Uh-uh.” Eyes blue and wondering gazed up at Lodesh in unconcern. “Mama wanted a white flower, and I couldn’t find one in the garden.”

  “So you went off by yourself?” Kally cried in mock fright. “Weren’t you scared?”

  “Uh-uh.” He shook his head solemnly. “Papa says I’m a brave boy and must do what Mama says. Mama wanted a white flower, and I couldn’t find one.” His face puckered in distress. “I can’t find a white flower for Mama,” he warbled, his eyes going dark and wide.

  “Hey, now,” Lodesh said. “You don’t think I would allow you to go home with your quest unfinished, do you?”

  “No?” His upturned face nearly melted with relief.

  “Absolutely not,” was Lodesh’s firm reply. “Once a gentleman makes a promise, he must follow through to the best of his abilities. Right?”

  “Right.” The child enthusiastically thumped his heels into Nightshade’s shoulders. The patient beast flicked an ear back, then forward. Lodesh whispered into the boy’s ear. Immediately the youngster turned to the tall man. “Thank you for your hosp—hosp—” he stammered, deliciously charming.

  “Hospitality,” Lodesh prompted softly.

  “Hospitality this morning, craftsman weaver,” the boy said in relief. “And I ask you let me—ah—extend it to you full measure—um—someday,” he finished, terribly pleased.

  The man, who was apparently not the child’s father, smiled. “It was my pleasure to entertain a member of the Hirdune household, young Trook.”

  “Hirdune?” Alissa whispered, her gut tightening. It couldn’t be. Not Strell’s ancestor!

  “Did I say it right, Uncle Lodesh?” the boy asked, and her face went colder still.

  “Worthy of any fine gentleman, Trook,” Lodesh praised.

  Alissa’s eyes went unseeing. The child was Strell’s ancestor. Not his grandfather, though he carried the same name. No, he was farther back than that. Lodesh once said his sister ran away with a man from the coast by the name of Hirdune. Swallowing hard, Alissa looked for any sign of Strell in Trook, finding none.

  So disconcerted was she that she nearly fell from Tidbit when they leapt forward, Trook howling in delight. Mercifully, there were no more interruptions as Lodesh fended off all salutations with an overly dramatic, “We are on a most dire mission and cannot be detained!”

  The proper flower was found, and in due course the brave lad was deposited into a tearful nanny’s arms, which he immediately wiggled free from. Amid much noise, confusion, and many interruptions of smartly attired people, all was explained. Wilted flower clutched in a grubby hand, Trook rested a sun-reddened cheek against his mother’s shoulder and struggled to stay awake as their final good-byes were said.

  Clattering from the tiled courtyard, they passed through a maze of alleys, coming upon the field rather abruptly. By unspoken agreement, they halted. Alissa felt herself smile as she tucked an annoying strand of her tangled hair out of the new breeze.

  Not yet surrounded by the city’s most affluent houses was a wide plain of ripening grass, fodder for the city’s wild and domesticated herds. Most towns had green fields, but Ese’-Nawoer had designed theirs on a grander scale. Set to one side, but still near the center, was the distant circle of mirth trees.

  There was a rumbling and the shrill bugle of challenge from a small herd of horses. This, Alissa mused sadly, wasn’t in her memories of Ese’Nawoer. The field she knew was silent of hoofbeats. “Bachelor herd,” Lodesh offered. “And there’s Tempest, just where I’d expect him.” Lodesh nodded in satisfaction. “He looks fine.”

  The animals ran upon catching wind of them, their ears flat against their heads. Lodesh stared, frowning. Nudging their horses forward, they continued, unable to get more than within hailing distance of anything on four hooves. Even Alissa could recognize the fear in them, but it wasn’t until they came upon a spring that she found a way to distance herself and keep her secret.

  “I think it’s Keribdis’s boots,” Alissa said, wiggling one out of the stirrup and holding it out. “They think a raku is on the field.”

  Lodesh’s brow smoothed. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, then his frown returned. Alissa could almost see his quandary. It wasn’t as if she could take her boots off and go barefoot.

  “I’ll wait here at the spring,” she said, slipping from Tidbit in an ungraceful motion, stumbling as her knees refused to work properly.

  “Are you sure?”

  Feeling like she was at the bottom of a well, Alissa squinted up at him, her breath catching at the green of his eyes. “Yes. Go on. I, uh, could use a moment to stretch my legs.”

  His smile turned knowing. As he reached for Tidbit’s reins, Alissa pulled him closer. “You’ll be sure she gets the gray?” she whispered.

  “I wouldn’t allow her to choose another,” he whispered back. After darting a wary glance at Kally, he pointed to a dead-looking weed. “Can you hand me that?” he asked. “Watch the thorns. I only want the soft bits underneath.”

  Alissa angled her hand between the needles, surprised she had to nudge Tidbit away once the soft gathering of leaves was in her grip. Even Nightshade seemed interested, and Lodesh quickly tucked the greenery behind his lightweight coat.

  Giving Alissa a final wave, Lodesh and Kally rode toward the nearby herd of mares and young. Tidbit trailed willingly behind them. Alissa settled herself on a large, flat rock half embedded into the spring’s bank, watching as they ambled among the horses.

  Lodesh’s voice came faintly as he extolled the finer points of each foal they passed. To her surprise, he brushed past the gray Kally was interested in. Then Lodesh thumped her companionably upon her shoulders and directed her attention across the field. But he had, with that friendly pat, stuck that weed on her. The gray colt saw it, though. Ears pricked, he cautiously nibbled it from her. In an instant, it was gone, and he shoved Kally for more. Kally spun, delighted and charmed.

  Still Lodesh pulled her reluctant attention to another horse, all the while placing another leaf of that weed on her shoulder. Then he turned away, pretending ignorance.

  Lodesh purposely missed the look of rapture that befell Kally as the soft snuffling of the colt filled her ear, but Alissa saw it, and she felt the tears prickle as she knew Kally had a lifelong friend. The colt was hers and she was the colt’s, more than they could possibly know yet.

  “That one?” Lodesh called in mock distress, and Alissa smiled at Kally’s hot reply.

  Shaking her head, Alissa turned to the spring to watch the horses who had come to d
rink. The wind shifted her hair about her ears, and snorting in alarm, they dashed away in a rumble of hooves. “I’m not going to eat you,” she muttered, then hesitated. One hadn’t run. He looked like he might be diseased, and perhaps that was why he was risking the water. No self-respecting carnivore would touch him, looking like that.

  “You must belong to someone at the Hold,” she said, thinking the mangy beast was used to the scent of rakus. Pleased for the company, no matter how ugly, Alissa settled on her rock and soaked in the sun’s warmth, eyes closed, listening to the insects.

  The horse stirred her from her light doze with a soft nicker. Alissa sat up to find Lodesh striding toward her, leading Tidbit and Nightshade. Lodesh drop-tied them and sat down beside Alissa to watch Kally play with her new charge. The colt now sported a red ribbon plaited into his stubby mane, presumably a sign of ownership.

  “What was that you stuck on Kally’s back?” Alissa asked, her speech slow and lazy from the warmth of the sun.

  “Ah—you saw that? Don’t tell her.”

  Curious, she shook off her lethargy. “I won’t,” she promised. “But what was it?”

  “Salt weed.” Lodesh leaned back and gazed straight up. “The hardest part was putting it on her when only the little gray would see it. After that, it was a foregone conclusion.”

  “You knew this would happen?” With her chin, she gestured to Kally and her colt running circles around the patient mare.

  His smile held the warmth of memory. “How do you think I got stuck with my horse.”

  “Nightshade?” Alissa said in disbelief.

  “No.” Lodesh sat up and gestured weakly toward the malnourished vision of long-legged awkwardness that still bided within earshot. “I mean Frightful there.”

  “That’s your horse?” Alissa exploded thoughtlessly.

  Lodesh winced. “Yes. He’s something, isn’t he.”