by Dawn Cook
Talo-Toecan clenched his hands at his sides, his face lined and angry. “You betrayed us in the name of desire?”
Lodesh straightened. “I don’t care what you think,” he said in a shockingly even voice. “You won’t take my time with her from me.” He tensed in a sudden grief. “I couldn’t! And I won’t help you get her back. She’s with me now. She’ll stay with me. You can’t force me to tell you how she can get back!”
Strell’s pulse pounded. Now he knew why Lodesh had never been worried about Alissa. The Keeper knew how to get her back. He as much as said so with his last words. How could he best a Keeper? Strell thought. He was nothing. He didn’t deserve Alissa. He couldn’t protect her. Couldn’t help her. His enemy was more powerful than he, and was his friend. But he would be damned if he wouldn’t try.
“Lodesh?” he said quietly. As Lodesh turned, Strell swung his left fist with all his frustration. It connected just under Lodesh’s eye with a hand-numbing force, jarring him to his feet, sending shivers of pain up his arm and into his own skull.
Lodesh fell like a stone. First onto the table, then the floor. Strell watched, clutching his hand. Wolves, it felt as if he had broken it, but everything moved when he told it to. “Wrong, Lodesh,” he whispered as he flexed his hand. “You will help me.”
Ignoring Talo-Toecan, he bent to check Lodesh’s breathing. He glanced up, not caring what he might find in Talo-Toecan’s eyes, only to be surprised at his questioning sadness. “Can you make me a rope or something?” Strell asked.
Talo-Toecan shook his head. “What are you doing?”
Strell grimaced. “A scarf? A stocking? Anything?
Saying nothing, Talo-Toecan crafted a long, shimmery scarf. It looked very feminine, and Talo-Toecan shrugged, “It was to have been—” He halted, then steeled his features and handed it to him. “It was to have been a surprise for Keribdis.”
Strell nodded, hearing how much the admission cost him. Taking Lodesh’s boots off, he tied his ankles together. If the Keeper escaped, it wouldn’t be because of his ineptness.
“Strell. What are you doing?”
“Would you help me?” he asked. “My hand hurts too much to make the knots tight.” He waited with a stoic patience until the Master silently knelt beside him and knotted the scarf. Finished with his ankles, Strell turned to Lodesh’s hands. “Lodesh is going to accompany me to the city,” he said grimly. “He’s going to help me get Alissa back.”
With a heavy sigh, Talo-Toecan stood. “You can’t hold a Keeper against his will. As soon as he wakes up, he’ll ward you and escape.”
Strell felt a wash of panic. “I know that. But he wouldn’t if you warded him first.”
The lines in Talo-Toecan’s face deepened. “Ward an unconscious man? That’s not honorable.”
“Do you think he’s deserving of any consideration when it comes to honor?” he asked bitterly, not caring if the Master saw his desperation.
“No.” It was a quiet admission, full of regret, and Strell’s hopes rose when he heard it. “A ward won’t do any good, though,” Talo-Toecan continued. “He can sunder any I put on him.”
But another scarf appeared, and Strell took it without comment. Straining, he propped Lodesh against a table leg. “What about that ward you put between Alissa’s tracings and her source last fall so she couldn’t use them? The one she burned her tracings with?”
Talo-Toecan crouched to hold Lodesh as Strell bound the Keeper’s wrists. “That would work for a time. But it’s wrong to use it unless someone is in danger.”
Strell arched his eyebrows. “If you don’t ward him, I will keep knocking him out.”
“That will do,” Talo-Toecan said as he nodded.
A wash of delirium came over Strell. “We’re going to Ese’Nawoer, the Warden and I,” he said. “Lodesh said Alissa disappeared. He said he wouldn’t tell us how to get her back. He knows how, and he’s going to tell me.” Strell eyed his final knot. It was one he learned from the coast. It was to have been a gift for his eldest brother. He would be happy to give it to Lodesh. This one didn’t have to be tight. Any movement on Lodesh’s part would make it all the stronger.
Strell looked up. “Can you take him to the city for me?”
Talo-Toecan shook his head. “He’s too heavy without a large fall to build momentum. I might get airborne, but without help, I’d probably drop him.”
“I don’t have any problem with that,” Strell said dryly as he stood and looked down at Lodesh. “I’ll take him in a hand-cart from the stables, then. It will be slower, but I’ll manage.”
“Even if you get him there, what good will it do?”
Strell pushed down his doubts. “Lodesh kept chasing Connen-Neute away. He has been keeping himself scarce as well. I’m going to get both of them together at the city. If Alissa is there, the other Lodesh must be with her. With any luck, Connen-Neute will be there as well.” He felt his face turn ugly. “I’ll reach Alissa’s thoughts. Lodesh will tell me how she can get back, and then I’ll tell Alissa.” His stomach clenched with an old fear. Talo-Toecan said his tracings were what made it possible to reach her. Septhama points, septhama lines, he would use them if he could, the ghosts he had once seen at Ese’Nawoer be damned.
“What about Connen-Neute?” Talo-Toecan sighed. “You haven’t been able to coax him in since that last scare.”
He swallowed as his determination faltered. “I’ll manage.” Curse Lodesh, Strell thought. He was a fool. He should have known Lodesh was betraying them all at that point.
“But even if you do lure him in,” Talo-Toecan persisted, “Lodesh will make too much noise, scare Connen-Neute away. The ward I can bind him with won’t keep his mouth shut.”
Strell made a mirthless smile. These Masters were very wise, but they tended to rely upon their mental skills too much. Not saying a word, he took the last scarf and bound it about Lodesh’s mouth, tightening it with far too much satisfaction. Perhaps he wasn’t so helpless after all.
Talo-Toecan stood and pushed the pan of burning eggs from the fire. “I’ll find Connen-Neute and lure him close enough so you may ground him with your music. The smell of blood will probably bring him out of hiding.”
Astonished, Strell looked up, and Talo-Toecan added, “I can use more than wards as well, Piper. I’ll find a sheep and slaughter it.”
Strell took a deep breath. He had a chance. Talo-Toecan had gifted him with a chance. He refused to believe it couldn’t be done. He would force Lodesh to tell. Alissa would get home. What happened after that, he didn’t care. Slowly his breath slipped from him. “Fine.”
44
It was hot in the middle of Ese’Nawoer’s field despite the lateness of the day. Alissa and Lodesh were lounging upon the flat rock by the spring. A breeze shifted her hair, and she sat up so as to see the city’s green field better. It wasn’t truly green but golden. The wind came from the distant mountains to push upon it, and slowly, gently, the field pushed back, making great undulating waves of autumn fragrance.
Lodesh sat up beside her. His curls were tinged red from the setting sun. “Hungry?” he asked around a stem of grass he had slid between his teeth.
“No,” she said, ignoring her pained stomach. She was famished, having had nothing but eggs this morning and the apples Lodesh had stolen from his parents’ house this afternoon. But if she admitted to being hungry, they would leave, and this was the most at peace she had been with herself since— since she had misplaced herself.
Lodesh made a satisfied noise and went back to his undignified sprawl. The spring reflected the clear, early evening sky, distorted by the ripples of small fish. She looked out to the young geldings that had distantly ringed them. They hadn’t seen a mare or foal all day. Alissa clasped her arms about her knees and sighed at how nice a day it had been.
Hearing it, Lodesh propped himself up on an elbow. “What is it?” he asked.
She smiled sheepishly, but the sound of children’s laughter turned her he
ad. The horses scattered in a flash of wheeling shades of gray and brown as the tawny grass parted with a tumbled tangle of three dusty, grass-covered children.
“Safe!” the oldest shouted, nearly falling into the spring. “I’m safe!” Spying them, he stopped short, only to be knocked by the other two. In a chorus of cries and shouts, they all went down in a pile of elbows and knees.
“Here! Wait now!” Lodesh admonished as he slid from the rock. His hand flashed into the pile, and he pulled one upright. “Get your foot out of his eye. Watch it. There you are.”
Kneeling before the three youngsters, Lodesh brushed them off. They stood like stairsteps, red-faced and dismayed as if they had been caught where they ought not be. “Sorry,” the eldest stammered. “We didn’t know anyone was at the spring.”
“Now.” Lodesh finished brushing off the youngest. “What’s this all about?”
“Tag, Warden,” the smallest piped up, trying to smooth his hair.
Lodesh stood. “Warden! Where?” he shouted, casting about behind him comically.
The middle stairstep giggled and pointed at him.
“Me!” His eyes wide, Lodesh drew back and put a hand to his chest. “Oh, you are a flatterer,” he murmured. “Fancy a shabby street urchin such as myself the Warden.” He paused. “But I thank you nonetheless. What’s your name?”
“Tay.” The eldest danced nervously from foot to foot. “But you’re the Warden. My mother says only the Warden has such a raggedy beast at his beck and call.”
As one they turned to Frightful grazing nearby. Lodesh sighed. “Tay,” he said. “Don’t you think the Warden would be too busy to sit on a rock and sun himself?”
“I guess.” It was a doubtful admission.
“Just so,” Lodesh said firmly. “Now make yourselves scarce. And stay out of the grove. Tag is best played in the sun, not under the trees.”
The middle child punched his brother in the arm. “You’re it!” Giggling, he bolted, the youngest quick behind him. Tay’s eyes widened in protest. Then they narrowed, and he darted after them. The grass parted to take them in, whispering as it closed in behind.
“Stay out of the grove!” Lodesh shouted to their bobbing heads.
“Yes, Warden!” Tay called over his shoulder. Alissa watched the boys top a small rise where the grass was stunted. All three stopped to look back. They were dark shadows, outlined against the still-bright sky. The smallest awkwardly scratched his leg. Someone pushed someone else, it didn’t matter whom, and they tumbled down the far side. The sound of their laugher pattered over the field like rain. Then they were gone.
Alissa smiled happily as Lodesh sat down beside her. The memory of the children’s laughter lingered like a half-remembered song. She felt Beast stir. Her feral consciousness had been awake all day, holding herself silent as if to apologize for the coming ordeal of her reluctant takeover. It was an obvious attempt at giving Alissa a final day to be wholly herself. But with the coming of night, Beast felt the sky call to her. To them. “I like tag,” Beast said wistfully.
“Oh, Lodesh,” Alissa said, feeling a touch melancholy. “It’s lovely out here. Just feel that west wind pull at you. Smell that air? You can almost taste it.” Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. “And the sound of the children.” She smiled. “Their only care to be home for supper. That’s the best part.” A tear brimmed. “If only it could stay this way,” she whispered.
“It can.”
Lodesh’s voice was low and compelling. Alissa’s eyes flew open at the desire in it. Wolves! What had she said!
“It can, Alissa. It’s up to you.” Somehow he had her hand in his. His eyes were dark with longing, his face full of solemn expectancy, and hope, and vulnerability.
“I—I have to go,” Alissa said, tugging her hand from his. She rose in a flurry of movement, almost falling off the rock.
“Burn it to ash. Don’t run off.” Lodesh stood, catching her arm and preventing her slip. “Alissa. Please!”
“I can’t stay. I have to go,” she repeated, afraid if she stayed, she might say yes to what was coming. She spun away, but Lodesh caught her again.
“Wait! Just hear me out?”
She hesitated, though it might mean her downfall.
“Please?” His eyes were pleading.
She couldn’t refuse. Her fate sealed, Alissa nodded, feeling a slow shiver fill her.
Lodesh drooped slightly. His grip on her hands was tight. “It’s as if you found me, knowing me already,” he said softly. His eyes bright, he smiled in bemusement. “You somehow slipped past my carefully made wall in a twirl of stocking feet. It was as if you didn’t even see it.”
His hand went out to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. She swallowed hard, feeling her pulse pound. “There’s no wall about you,” she asserted shakily.
Lodesh nodded ruefully. “Yes, there is. I spent the last five years building it.” He took her shoulders, and Alissa paled as he took a breath, knowing what was coming.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he said firmly. “It’s that simple. Stay here with me.”
A lump formed in her throat, and the breeze tugged at her. She should run—run somewhere—but she couldn’t move.
His grip tightened, and his gaze became fierce. “I want you to stay with me,” he said. “I want you to be my love.”
Alissa felt herself go whiter, and her breath came fast.
“Wolves,” Lodesh cursed seeing her frantic eyes. “I’ve scared you again. Listen. I know you’re still sorrowing over— over another, but you could be happy with me,” he pleaded. “I see the bright shadows of possibilities every time you’re with me. But you won’t let me show you.” Lodesh’s brow furrowed with frustration. “Why won’t you even let me show you! Please, Alissa,” he beseeched, taking her hands again. “Just say you’ll let me try, and someday the children you hear playing in the city’s fields might be our own.”
She stared wide-eyed at him. “I can’t forget Strell,” she whispered.
His gaze fell. “It’s no betrayal to love another when the first is forever out of reach.”
“Is he?”
This time Lodesh dropped her hands. He looked over the field to the mirth trees, standing black in the dusk. “All I know is you’re here now. And it’s the most complete I have felt since Reeve took me in as his own.” He turned back, his green eyes pleading. “Why risk your future, your very existence on a thin possibility? Stay with me.”
She trembled.
“Be my love.”
Lodesh’s eyes were hungry. Cupping one hand firmly about hers, he reached into his pocket with the other. The scent of apples and pine blossomed into the twilight-damp air. It was a mirth flower. “You dropped this the other night,” he whispered as he placed it in her hand. “I give it to you again, something I promised myself I wouldn’t ever do.” He chuckled lightly. “That makes two promises I’ve broken.”
Together they gazed at it, his strong hands enfolded about hers. “It’s as fresh as if it had just fallen,” she said in wonder.
Emotion crossed Lodesh’s face, almost seeming to be pain. “When given in love, a mirth flower remains untouched by time until it’s returned in kind or refused.”
Feeling a flush of panic, Alissa tried to step back, but her feet wouldn’t move. “That’s magic,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t believe in magic.”
“I do.” Lodesh drew her closer until his warmth tingled through her. “Otherwise I couldn’t believe in you.” Her pulse quickened as his eyes gathered her in. “I’ve given this flower to you twice now, Alissa. I need an answer this time.”
She was silent, unable to think.
“Alissa?”
She gazed past him over the field, gray in the twilight. From the distance came the sounds of children. They were answered by the squeals of horses. A group of mares with their young nearly as large as they sped by, a disconcerting mix of angry hooves and gently moving grass. Frightful was dra
wn into their wake, and he ran with them, the herd’s stallion in pursuit. Alissa’s thoughts went gently to the city, feeling the life, the contentment it sheltered. She knew if she said yes, she would have found a new lodestone and wouldn’t go feral.
Home? she thought.
“Alissa.” Lodesh took her in his arms, but her eyes were locked upon the field. She could smell mirth wood on him, clean and strong, filling her senses, clouding them, leaving no room for thought or reason. “Stay with me,” he breathed against her cheek. “Be my love.”
She drew back to see him. Her mind was empty. The herd had scattered, taking the last of her logic with it. “Um . . .” she mumbled, lost in his gaze, and he caught his breath, his eyes hopeful as he ran a gentle finger under her eye. “Uh . . .”
A gust of air assaulted them, sending her hair to blind her. Lodesh looked up. “Burn him to ash,” he whispered, releasing her and taking a step back. It was Redal-Stan.
The old raku shifted immediately and strode to them. “The Wolves take you all!” he shouted. “Where is Connen-Neute?”
“Um . . .” Alissa stammered, putting a hand to her head. She could hear a pipe coming over the darkening field. Before her, Redal-Stan glowered. Lodesh stood hunched and angry as his teacher frustrated his plans once again.
An irate finger stabbed toward Alissa. “I charged that winglet with watching you,” Redal-Stan shouted. “And when I come with news, I find him gone and Lodesh in his place!”
She shook the numbness from her. “He’s with Breve,” she said. “Searching for Lodesh.”
Redal-Stan’s face darkened, and his eyes grew distant. There was a buzz of private conversation. “Not anymore, he isn’t.”
Lodesh slipped from the rock, clearly distancing himself in the hopes of remaining unnoticed. Alissa spotted a raku winging its way towards them as Redal-Stan held out an impatient hand to help her from her perch. “Talo-Toecan is returning,” he growled. “Can’t that boy take even a small sabbatical?”
Gasping, Alissa looked at the incoming raku, gold in the sun at the higher altitude.