Forgotten Truth

by Dawn Cook

  “No,” she breathed. “Go enjoy yourselves. You’ll find me later, and then we’ll talk.”

  And with that, Alissa had lost. It was to have been for nothing. It was all her fault.

  Beast made a rude harrumph. “Yes, sleep, old woman. You’re no longer an asset.”

  Alissa stiffened. “Beast,” she hissed in warning, but went still when Mav’s fading awareness pulled from the gray.

  “The girl will take your place,” Beast mocked.

  “She will bake your bread, but she leaves the pans to soak. They will rust.”

  “Who . . .” came Mav’s tremulous thought.

  “She never sweeps the corners unless you tell her,” Beast said slyly.

  “Kally!” came Mav’s indignant cry.

  “Crusty pans, unswept corners. Vermin are gathering,” Beast taunted.

  “No!” Mav cried.

  “Your best cheese knife is scraping moss from the front steps,” Beast jeered.

  “Earan!” It was a horrified shout, and Alissa waited, breath held tight.

  Beast played her last card confidently. “Lodesh,” she said, “wants to dance with you. The mirth trees are budding. You have only a day to find a hat to match the color of your eyes.”

  “The mirth trees,” Mav exclaimed in delight. “Oh! If I don’t hurry, the best will be taken. And there will be a festival. There always is when the mirth trees bloom. Kally will have to bring up an extra sheep or two from the fields, or perhaps a fine sow. And a second cart of produce.” She paused breathlessly. “So much to do!” she wailed, perfectly happy. “Where—” she balked in sudden confusion. “How do I go?”

  Beast gave a satisfied snort. “This way, Mavoureen,” Alissa said, so happy she was almost in tears. “Follow me.” Alissa gathered Mav’s willing thoughts back into a natural sleep she could wake from, then led Connen-Neute to their uppermost thoughts. Opening her eyes, Alissa sighed contentedly. They had done it. Mav would live.

  The look of fear Connen-Neute met Alissa with shocked her cold. With an agonizing jolt, he wrenched his presence from her. Gasping, she dug her fingernails into her palms so she wouldn’t reach out, clutching after his sudden absence. Bone and Ash. He had seen Beast.

  Alissa silently pleaded for understanding as she tried to reach his thoughts, to explain, but he bolted out of the room, terrified. “Connen-Neute,” she whispered, and her outstretched hand dropped. Sick at heart, she looked to find Kally and Lodesh standing beside Redal-Stan. A breakfast tray sat forgotten on the floor beside him. The two were poised expectantly, not caring that Connen-Neute had fled in terror. Redal-Stan, though, eyed her warily. His gaze went from her to the empty hall. His mouth opened with the obvious question, but then Mav sighed.

  “And an extra tray or two of sweet rolls, I think,” she said clearly as she sat up.

  “Mav . . .” Kally gasped, and she flung herself at her. Alissa’s eyes went suddenly damp.

  “Oh!” came Mav’s voice, muffled by Kally. “Did I fall asleep?” The bewildered woman tried to disentangle herself from Kally. “What are you crying for, Kally? Did Lodesh choose you an ugly horse?” Her brow furrowed, and she shot a poisonous look at Lodesh.

  Lodesh beamed. In two enormous steps, he knelt to take them both in an expansive hug.

  “Oh, Mav!” Kally sobbed, wiping her eyes. “You scared me.”

  “What?” Mav gazed at Redal-Stan as he were at fault. “Can’t a woman take a nap?”

  Turning a tear streaked face up to Mav’s wrinkled one, Kally looked at her in wonder. “But Mav,” she began, then caught sight of Redal-Stan. He had his fingers to his lips, and so Kally desisted, contenting herself with simply looking at her.

  Mav swung her feet to the floor. “Oh, so stiff. All my years are showing today. Just look at where the sun is. It’s nearly noon, and no meal prepared. Odd,” she mused. “I thought we already ate.” Then she laughed. “Silly old woman.” She stood, leaning heavily upon a willing Kally as she adjusted her dress. It wasn’t the same she had on two days ago. Frowning, she hobbled to the door. Her movements were stiff and slow, but she was gaining strength every moment. Alissa guessed that by the time she reached the kitchen, she would be her old self.

  “Come along, Kally,” Mav said eagerly. “We have a lot to do today in my kitchen. The grove is budding!”

  Lodesh jumped as if stung, his eyes alight.

  “Did you hear the lovely music, dearie?” came her bird-light voice from the hall. “Such sorrow in that pipe. And Kally? You will get the corners when you sweep today, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Mav.” The slow twosome made their unseen way down the empty hall.

  “Lodesh,” Redal-Stan said as Lodesh fidgeted, wavering between Mav and Alissa. “Run ahead and warn everyone to keep quiet about Mavoureen’s nap. Take special care with the kitchen help. She has blocked it out. I’ll explain tonight when I escort her home.”

  Lodesh nodded, darting to the threshold. Hesitating, he gave Alissa a heartfelt look. “Thank you,” he said, and before she could respond, he jogged down the hall, calling after them.

  In the new silence, Alissa sat on the floor and clutched her arms to herself, shivering with the cold memory of Mistress Death. She wished she could pretend to not remember. It would make things easier. “Mav does remember,” Alissa whispered.

  Redal-Stan returned to the windowsill. His shadow touched her, and she shivered. “Yes,” he said. “But if everyone pretends ignorance, she won’t lose her pride. I won’t strip her self-imposed protection where others could witness it. This way, she will hate only me.”

  An uncomfortable silence grew as he tried to catch her eye. Finally he gave up and cleared his throat. “Why,” he asked, “did Connen-Neute run away?”

  Her eyes widened. Connen-Neute. She had to get to him before Redal-Stan did! He would tell Redal-Stan about Beast! Rolling to her feet, she stumbled to the door, muscles stiff.

  “Alissa,” Redal-Stan said warily. “Where are you going?”

  Shrugging apologetically, she bolted.

  “Alissa!” came his irate thought. “Get your winged-behind back in here and tell me what you did to Connen-Neute!”

  18

  Alissa raced for the stairs, knowing she would have a pre-cious few moments before Redal-Stan caught her. Chasing a mad Keeper through the Hold’s halls was beneath his dignity unless it was at a properly sedate pace. Heart pounding, she sent a thought for Connen-Neute, finding him in one of the practice rooms two flights down. There was a distinct fuzziness about him, as if he had set up a field to hide his presence. She saw through it in a moment. Pickabacking had destroyed any chance of him being able to hide from her.

  Setting up her own field to disguise her whereabouts from Redal-Stan, she jogged through the silent halls until she stood in the doorway of a practice room. She took a step in, blinking at the clutter as she waited for her breathing to slow. The tall, narrow room was filled with stacks of canvas, nasty-smelling, stagnant solutions of paint, brushes, screens, berries, bark, flowers, clay, and all sorts of things for making pigment. The sun poured in to make glorious puddles spilling from the disorderly tables and onto the jam-packed floor. There was hardly enough space to walk.

  She entered quietly, not seeing him. Her eyes were drawn to a huge canvas, and her breath slipped from her in recognition. It was the intriguing picture she had found last winter in the annexes, the one done entirely in swirling shades of blue that she had set in the place of honor above the mantel in the Keepers’ dining hall last year. Her attention went from the canvas to the window, and she went slack in understanding. It was the sky above Ese’Nawoer, swirling with the city’s updrafts! She reached out a finger to find the exquisite thing was still damp.

  “Oh, Connen-Neute,” she whispered in awe, and he popped up from behind a stack of canvases so fast he nearly knocked them over. His narrow face was white with panic as he glanced furtively at the door behind her. She felt a wash of pity as she realized he must f
eel as if he were caged with an animal. Struggling to make eye contact, she edged from the door so he wouldn’t be compelled to jump out a window to escape. “Wait. Give me the chance to explain,” she said.

  “Explain?” he said, his voice cracking. “There’s nothing to explain.”

  Still he refused to meet her eyes. “I know you saw something that scared you,” she said.

  “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His spoken words took on the length and depth of his mental speech, as if he were afraid to touch her thoughts. She took a step closer, and he shouted, “Don’t!” It was frantic, and she halted, frightened at the terror in his voice.

  Keeping the length of the room between them, Alissa touched her chest. “She is here,” she admitted softly. “Part of me. But she won’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “It’s feral!” he said. His long fingers gripped the chair between them until his knuckles went white.

  Nodding a rueful acceptance, Alissa scooted up upon a cluttered table and swung her legs, trying to look harmless. “True,” she said. “But I have civilized her somewhat.” She smiled at a stray thought of Strell. “Charmed, perhaps,” she added, “but definitely not tamed.” Leaning across the narrow aisle, she arranged a line of chalk in order of size. “Let me tell you of how I found my wings,” she said, “so you’ll understand why I risk keeping her safe.”

  “Safe!”

  Smiling, Alissa caught his gaze. He stiffened as she hopped off the table. “You know every raku generation, a human is born whose neural net is equal to that of a Master?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I’ve studied the texts concerning the breeding necessary to achieve it.”

  Breeding necessary? Alissa thought darkly, then set it aside for later. “Put simply, something went wrong. I was drawn to the Hold thinking I was a Keeper, finding it empty but for Talo-Toecan imprisoned in the holden and an insane Keeper named Bailic trying to put the plains and foothills at war for his own use.”

  “A Keeper grounded Talo-Toecan?” Connen-Neute’s eyes were large. “Where was everyone?”

  “Somewhere else,” she said, avoiding his question. “But Strell,” she caught her breath in misery, “freed him, and my studies began in secret. Talo-Toecan never told me of my Master status. I assumed I was a Keeper.”

  “You didn’t know you were a Master?” Connen-Neute whispered in disbelief.

  “Not a hint.” She snorted, judging he wouldn’t notice if she took a step forward. “Eventually Bailic figured out I was the one doing the wards, not Strell, and he forced me to open the book of First Truth for him. “He,” Alissa said scornfully, “thought that once opened, he could use the book’s wisdom for himself. Instead, I absorbed its lessons.”

  “And shifted,” Connen-Neute breathed, his eyes bright.

  “Much to Talo-Toecan’s dismay,” she said cheerfully, edging closer yet. “There wasn’t anything to keep me from flying. I was Beast,” Alissa said dreamily, not caring that her eyes were glowing with an almost hungry look. “Thoroughly and utterly. I was joyfully feral. There was no reason to live but to fly. . . .”

  Beside her, Connen-Neute shuddered. “Wolves’ ashes,” he whispered.

  Alissa blinked, bringing herself back. “It was glorious. Talo-Toecan brought me down, and he along with Strell and Lod—uh—a Keeper tried to force me to destroy Beast.”

  He bobbed his head. “As every Master has. As is proper.”

  She stifled a surge of irritation at self-imposed fences. “I didn’t want to. I refused.”

  Silently he digested that, frowning. “Why?” he finally asked, and she scuffed to a halt before him. “You have to destroy the beast to survive.”

  She slowly shook her head. “I might have chosen to destroy her. Or I might have chosen to remain feral. But they took my choice away.” Alissa took a breath, remembering how close she had come to dying. “So I did the only thing I still had control over. I chose to die.” Her chin rose at her past defiance. “Strell realized what I was doing and freed me. He would have rather had me alive and feral then sentient and dead. Once I was free to decide what I wanted, I found it was possible to make a pact with her.”

  “With a beast?” He glanced at her and away in furtive, frightened jumps. “Don’t you fear it—she will someday take over?”

  Alissa smiled faintly. He still didn’t understand. “Beast is more trustworthy than several Masters or Keepers I could name. She doesn’t make promises with the intent to find a way around them. She can’t lie. She doesn’t understand how.”

  “But, Alissa,” he protested, his fear clearly replaced by the desire to understand. “It can’t be worth the risk.”

  Her gaze went unseeing, and she felt her breathing slow. The memory of the wind filled her with an aching longing. Freedom. Everything at her wing tips—hers. “I remember what it’s like to be free,” she whispered, closing her eyes until she was sure they wouldn’t fill with tears. “So free it’s a natural existence. Do you?”

  Connen-Neute fidgeted. “I’m free,” he said.

  “Are you?” she asked, hearing his doubt, and he was silent.

  “Redal-Stan will make you destroy her,” he finally said.

  “Then he had better not find out.”

  His head came up. “I won’t tell,” he said, his eyes holding an unexpected determination.

  “Thanks.” Relieved, she let out her breath in a heavy sigh. “Then you aren’t afraid of me anymore?” She reached out and touched his hand.

  Connen-Neute stiffened, then relaxed, and she knew she had won. “No,” he said boldly, then grimaced. “Yes, well, sort of.”

  Now Alissa laughed. “Just as long as you don’t quiver in fear at the sight of me.”

  “I never did,” he protested loudly.

  “You did!” she said cheerfully. “But we’ll have to figure out what we’re going to tell Redal-Stan.” Connen-Neute squirmed uneasily, and a stab of angst went through her. It was obvious Redal-Stan had a tight rein on him. He still might tell. “Me?” she said slowly. “I’m going to ignore him. I’m not a child. My personal life is none of his affair.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Connen-Neute straighten with a new determination. A loud “Harrumph,” from the open door made them both jump, and she spun to find Redal-Stan eyeing them severely with his hands on his hips. It was obvious he had just arrived, otherwise he would be more than irate. Incensed, probably.

  “Have we reached an understanding, children?” he said dryly, then turned at the sound of rapid steps in the hall.

  Ren slid to an excited halt behind him. “Redal-Stan!” he shouted, tugging his too-big shirt straight as he bobbed a greeting to Connen-Neute and Alissa. “The city. They say the mirth trees are budding!”

  “I know,” he muttered, spinning on a heel to quietly stomp down the hall. “Mavoureen told me.” Ren hovered in indecision, then with an apologetic shrug, darted after him.

  “How did you know?” Alissa asked Beast.

  “You asked them to,” Beast said, somehow giving Alissa the impression of a smirk as she settled herself back to slumber.

  19

  Strell sank into Alissa’s battered chair before her hearth. Hot and sticky, he ran his thumb across the fabric so faded that the pattern of ivy could only be imagined. He had spent the last two days here in Alissa’s room, learning the finer aspects of wraith detection until his head felt as if it was going to explode like a badly dried bowl in the kiln. But now he could tell when she left for her morning and evening walks in the garden.

  He let his breath slip from him in a sigh, knowing it must look insane to Talo-Toecan and Lodesh as he haunted the Hold, following the whisper of Alissa’s presence. Strell refused to believe her voice in the tower had been his imagination, and he would do anything if it meant he would hear it again. He lived for the hope she might hear him next time.

  Strell pulled his shirt from his neck to cool himself, sending his gaze over her lavish room
. It settled upon her shoes carefully set under her bed for her return, and he clenched in a flash of heartache. Left behind yet again.

  The easternmost window’s curtain was shut against the sun. It billowed fitfully in the breeze. The weather was from the coast. Unusual this time of year. The summers of his youth had been insufferably hot, but this sticky, heavy air drained one’s spirit. And it was only morning.

  The curtains blew outward again, and Strell took his pipe to sit next to Talon in the shaded, southern windowsill, hoping to catch the next gust. It was appreciably cooler in the annexes, but he wouldn’t leave Alissa. The irritating buzz of a cicada rose to fill his world, dying in a harsh gurgle. In the distance, another answered. Strell’s head thumped back against the sill, and he closed his eyes. Slowly he stilled his mind and reached for her thoughts. A sad, slow smile grew as he found her somewhere before the hearth. His head started a soft throb. Knowing the two were connected, he let his awareness of her fade.

  The curtains shifted, and Strell raised his pipe and began to play “Taykell’s Adventure” in a mournful, lackluster fashion. This was the only pipe he could play proficiently now, meticulously made with the last hole placed where his mutilated finger could reach it. He glanced to Alissa’s mantel where his first mirth wood pipe lay. Though he had shattered it last year in a fit of frustration, Alissa refused to let him burn his family heirloom. And so it sat.

  His tune drifted out over the roof of the great hall, seeming to wedge itself into the hazy, stifling sky without shifting the air at all. Talon drowsed, keeping him company. She shook herself awake in a rustle of feathers and oriented on a speck in the breathless heavens. Almost too quickly to be believed, the speck grew to a fearsome size and familiar silhouette. It was a raku, larger than Alissa would be but smaller than Talo-Toecan. Strell recognized it as the feral beast that had been haunting him lately.