by Dawn Cook
“Probably.” He looked up, seemingly surprised at the direction of her thoughts.
Alissa reached for the teapot and poured out two scalding cups of tea. “Is that how you make your cups and teapot?” she asked as she held out one for him.
“Yes. It’s a large part of it.” This time he sounded wary. He took his cup and downed half of it, not seeming to be bothered by its temperature.
Alissa nodded, her vision blurring slightly as she checked to see if the ward was still holding. It was. “Bailic threatened to burn my book. Would he have formed a field about it and a bit of energy and not fixed it?”
“It’s not your book; it’s mine. And though that would probably work, no, he wouldn’t.”
She held her tea gingerly, trying to warm her fingers without burning them. “How then?” Alissa glanced from the fire to him. For an instant, she thought she saw horror or perhaps fear in his eyes, but it vanished before she could be sure.
“I’ll tell you, but I want your word you won’t try it.”
Silently, she nodded. Just to know would be enough.
“He would have formed a containment field about it and set the molecules within the field vibrating at the proper frequency.”
“Why would he need the field?” she asked, wondering where one could find a molecule and what a frequency was.
“So as to maintain a semblance of control,” was his uncomfortable answer.
“I see.” Alissa took a tentative sip of her tea. “It doesn’t sound difficult.”
“It isn’t.”
She took a slow breath. “So why didn’t you fry Bailic when you had the chance?”
“My, aren’t we blood-driven all of a sudden,” Useless scorned.
Shamed, Alissa dropped her eyes. “It would’ve made things easier,” she said defiantly.
Useless harrumphed. “You think so? Your vision is dangerously shortsighted. Bailic had forged a connection between himself, you, and the book. It was so subtle, I didn’t see it until our haggling was all but complete. Had I not heeded his warning and fried him, as you suggested, my source’s energy would have flowed between the three of you. You would have vanished as surely as Strell’s finger, turned to ash by my ignorance and lack of restraint.”
Alissa bit her lip, recalling having felt such a connection when Bailic forced them to go to Ese’ Nawoer. “I’m sorry,” she apologized in a small voice.
“No doubt.” Useless fixed a vehement stare upon her, and she shrank back. “You cannot go about shattering everything that irks you, Alissa,” he lectured. “What would become of us? Strength would dominate over wisdom. Chaos would bloom as Keepers and Masters struggled for control. There would be no time to progress in gaining knowledge, and so we would dip back to our beginnings, becoming as feral beasts, man and raku alike. That is why I practice restraint.”
“But there’re no Keepers left,” she protested.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Useless said. “Bailic has emptied my Hold in his search for dominance. What he lacks in strength, he more than makes up for in guile. You continue to underestimate him. Watch him, Alissa. Be careful. He has emptied the skies of rakus. It’s something no man has done in two thousand years.”
Her brow furrowed, and she looked away, not liking what he was saying, but knowing better than to disagree openly.
Useless cast his eyes to the sharp stars above the wall. “It wasn’t intended to happen like this,” he said apologetically.“You shouldn’t even have a source to draw upon yet. It puts too much temptation before you.”
Alissa looked up, startled at the sorrow in his voice.
“There’s much you should have gained first,” he said gently. “An entire philosophy of restraint and control to help you tame the beast of power you’re catalyzing.” Useless turned away, his features tight with concern. “You have to understand how dangerous that marvel tucked away in your thoughts really is. It’s capable of infinite possibilities and carries a correspondingly high price. The toll it exacts is paid by not giving in to your desires, which may sound easy, but it isn’t. Slow down. See the dark purpose your small miracle of existence can be set to. Your abilities can be used against you without you even realizing it.” He sighed, watching his breath steam over his cup.
A twig snapped, and Useless jerked. A chill took Alissa as Talon began to hiss, pinching her shoulder.
“Ashes, Talo-Toecan,” came a pleasant, masculine voice from the darkness. “Why do you always insist on seeing the gloom in every situation? You’re worse than my grand-mother!”
Her eyes wide, Alissa set her mug down and looked at Useless. He looked as surprised as she. “Who are you?” Useless said coldly, “and how did you come into my garden at my unawares?”
“I thought I had a standing invitation,” came the unfamiliar voice with a familiar accent. It sounded amused, as if privy to a joke they weren’t aware of. “But that was some time ago, even as rakus record it.” A shadow at the edge of the firepit shifted, and an elegantly cloaked man stepped to the edge of the light.
10
“Lodesh?” Useless took a hesitant step forward.
He looks like Strell, Alissa thought as Talon’s hissing cut off with a sharp peep. But the more Alissa looked, the less resemblance there was. Finally she decided it was more the cut of his coat than anything else. His hat, too, was like Strell’s, or the one she had given him, rather, being large and floppy. There was a flower embroidered upon the brim. In his hands was a staff taller than he, planted solidly on the frozen earth. His feet were encased in a pair of worn, snow-rimed leather boots rising to mid-calf into which his trousers were neatly tucked. The flower pattern was stitched with a silver thread upon the collar of his ankle-length coat as well. She would wager it was also on the heavy-looking ring he wore.
Only now did her eyes reach his face, and she stared, startled by the warm look of amusement and what she thought might be hopeful recognition. His eyes were green, and they glinted roguishly under a carefully arranged tangle of soft, blond waves. Clean shaven, his jawline was square and firm. It was a young face, and she dropped her gaze as he winked at her. With his fair hair and skin, Alissa would say he was from the foothills, but he was too tall for a farmer. Perhaps, like her, he had a parent from both hills and plains. It might explain why his accent was identical to hers, something she had never heard outside her home before.
The man stepped close and clasped Useless’s proffered arm. There was a pleasant scent of apple and pine about him. “You look old, Talo-Toecan,” he said. “Has it been that long?” He grinned, looking her teacher up and down.
Useless frowned. “You look as you did as a boy, Lodesh, but your city is barren.” His face went abruptly still and sad. “It’s true, then,” he said, letting go of Lodesh’s arm and stepping back. “The piper—”
“Sees ghosts when he ought not to, yes,” the man interrupted. “But your fallen Keeper had nothing to do with it. Rest easy. I’m here on other business.” He gave Useless a long, silent look, and her instructor seemed to slump with relief.
“Strange days,” the Master said.
“Strange indeed, when a Keeper must try to fill the slippers of a Master,” the man replied.
Useless drew back in surprise. “Beg your pardon?”
“Don’t get that stubby tail of yours in a twist,” Lodesh said, smiling. “I’ve come to offer my assistance,” and he glanced knowingly at her.
Alissa’s eyes widened at the insult. She knew she couldn’t get away with half the abuse Lodesh was heaping upon her instructor, but Useless appeared almost pleased. “You will help me rid my Hold of Bailic?” he asked eagerly.
Lodesh shifted his eyes from her. “Ah . . . not exactly. I meant the other matter that stands before us.”
Useless started. “You know?” he blurted. “How?”
Somber and still, Lodesh nodded a single, slow nod. “I’m a gardener, old friend. I recognize a good graft before the twig is budded, even when
it’s unexpected.
Alissa frowned. She didn’t like being ignored, whether it was by accident or not. Delicately, and with much restraint, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me,” she said, rising. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Immediately, Useless turned and extended a long hand to help her. “Oh, Ashes. Forgive me.” He grimaced, but it was clear he was peeved with himself, not her. “Alissa,” he said formally. “This is Keeper Lodesh Stryska, ancient Warden of Ese’ Nawoer—and a dear friend.”
She lowered her eyes, wondering at the title of Keeper, then at the term ancient. He seemed young to her. And what did Ese’ Nawoer have to do with him? A faint unease drifted through her, compounded by Talon’s odd croon from her shoulder, a mix of warning and contentment. Alissa looked up to find Lodesh waiting, his eyes gazing intently into hers. They were eerily familiar. Somewhere she had seen those eyes. . . . But how? There were no Keepers left. Perhaps Bailic missed one?
“Lodesh,” Useless turned, “this is student Alissa Meson—my most eager of all pupils.” He said the last rather dryly, and Alissa couldn’t help her sigh.
A fresh scent of apples and pine came to her as Lodesh found her hand and took it in his own. It was callused, a hand that knew work. “We’ve met before, Talo-Toecan,” he said, his eyes fixed upon hers. “She just doesn’t remember,” and then to Alissa, “It’s good to see you again, milady.”
Her heart gave a thump. “You,” she whispered. “You gave me the flower.” Now she recognized him. He was from her imagined thoughts of Ese’ Nawoer. It was him she had seen before she caught the blossom that fell from winter-emptied branches. Her knees went weak and she pulled away. Strell saw the day she had described: the children, the dancers, the music. Bailic hadn’t woken the dead, she had! And this wasn’t a man. This was a . . . a . . .
“You’ve met?” was Useless’s startled response. Then he stopped short, blinked twice, and turned to Lodesh. “You gave her a mirth flower!”
Talon made a surprised squawk at Useless’s loud voice. “There’s no such thing as ghosts,” she stammered, retreating until the back of her legs hit the bench. She looked frantically from one to the other. “There isn’t.”
Lodesh smiled. “I don’t believe in them, either.”
“If Bailic didn’t wake them, then you must have!” Useless shouted, clearly angry. “Burn it to ash, girl. How did you manage that?”
“I—I don’t know, Useless . . .” she stammered, more confused by the moment.
“Useless?” Lodesh murmured, his smile deepening.
“By my Master’s Hounds! How did you do it?” Useless said.
Lodesh snickered. “She calls you—Useless?” he repeated.
Useless shot a dark look at the Warden. “Even I couldn’t fathom the way to wake them!”
Alissa’s chest tightened. The Navigator’s Wolves should hunt her. What had she done? It wasn’t her fault. “All I did was imagine what the city was like in the spring,” she pleaded, “when the trees were in bloom.”
“How could you know what the grove would look like?” Useless accused, his voice finally lowering. “It’s been barren for ages.”
“I guessed?” she said, glancing nervously from Lodesh to Useless and back. He couldn’t be a ghost. She had felt the warmth of his hands.
Useless stared at her for a long moment, his golden eyes unreadable. “Was it really that simple?” he finally said, his temper seeming to subside.
“There was nothing simple about it.” Lodesh took her hands again, exerting a firm pressure. The tangy bite of tart apples and pine filled her senses. “It was a lovely day you returned to us. Thank you, milady.”
Alissa’s breath caught, and her eyes grew round. Embarrassed, she pulled her hands from him. Whatever Lodesh was, he wasn’t a ghost.
“Ah,” he breathed so that only she might hear. “I’m already too late.” His words were somber and forlorn, and she was surprised to find what had to be heartache, true and grievous, in his expressive eyes. “I will have to be patient and wait even longer.”
Apparently having missed all of this, Useless grumbled, “At least Bailic didn’t wake you. And now that you are awake, what will you do?”
Lodesh straightened, seeming to hide his melancholy so deeply that Alissa wondered if she might have imagined it. “Nothing,” he said.
“Nothing?” Useless pressed.
“There’s not much I can do, so I choose to wait.”
Useless’s brow furrowed. “I was under the impression that once woken—”
“I can act against Bailic and possibly remove my curse,” Lodesh said, cutting him off, “but my people would still be bound. They come before me. You know that.”
The Master shifted his shoulders, clearly not liking what he was hearing. “Aye. I remember,” he finally said, and the two eyed her as if she were a fish they were considering purchasing.
Not liking their scrutiny, Alissa glanced about the firepit for a distraction. “Would you like some tea?” she asked, trying to find some normalcy in her outside, nocturnal gathering in the snow with a raku who wasn’t a beast and a man who wasn’t really alive. She gestured to the bench, her forced smile faltering as she recalled they had only two cups.
“Ah!” exclaimed Lodesh, promptly brushing the snow from next to Alissa’s vacant seat. “You have hit upon my one weakness.”
“Only one, Lodesh?” was her instructor’s sly comment, but he was smiling as he said it, and they arranged themselves companionably before the fire.
Alissa bit her lip, wondering if she should go inside for a third cup. She took a breath to rise, letting it out in surprise as, with a tug on her thoughts, a third cup melted into existence. It was bigger than the first two, and her brow wrinkled as she realized Lodesh had created it. The tracings he had used were subtly different, and the variations gave her an idea of how the task of molding force to matter might be accomplished. “I think I begin to see . . .” she mused as she poured the last of the tea into Lodesh’s larger cup. His fingers encircled his mug as she extended it, touching hers for an instant, and she nearly spilled his tea as she jerked away.
“Watch yourself, Talo-Toecan,” Lodesh mysteriously warned, grinning at her confused blush. “The beast will be very cunning.”
Useless sighed. “I fear for it, Lodesh. Even with your help, I fear for it.”
Riddles again, Alissa thought in dismay. But they weren’t deliberately trying to keep her out of the conversation. Rather, it was like listening to two craftsmen at market discussing the benefits and drawbacks to a tool or technique. If one didn’t have the proper background, they might as well be speaking underwater.
Alissa sat and sipped her lukewarm tea in a wide-eyed silence, hoping they would say something she could follow. Obviously, Lodesh was a man of some importance, even if his city was, as Useless had said, barren. Useless treated him as if he were one of his peers. Almost. Feeling lost, Alissa reached up and touched Talon’s feet.
“That’s a lovely raptor you have, milady.” Lodesh leaned close, his elbows on his knees.
She looked up to find his green eyes waiting. “Thank you,” she said, cursing herself as she felt a blush. “Her name is Talon.”
“Fitting.” Lodesh nodded sharply. “Will she hunt for you?”
“She does, Warden.”
“Please, call me Lodesh,” he exclaimed, absolutely beaming.
On her left, Useless muttered something dark and exasperated under his breath.
“She does, Lodesh,” Alissa repeated, faintly returning his warm look. “She won’t eat until I refuse her catch,” Alissa added, and Talon chittered happily under their combined gaze.
Lodesh drew back in mock surprise. “Such devotion.”
“It seems,” Useless interrupted, “my student has a knack for acquiring staunch defenders.”
“I can see how that could happen.” Lodesh took a last pull on his cup, draining it. It hit the bench with a dull clink. “I really ought
not be here,” he said. “It wouldn’t do for Bailic to find me. I came to pay my respects, but before I go, I have something for you.” He reached beside him and took his staff. Inclining his head formally, he presented it to her.
Alissa looked to Useless before she accepted it, waiting until he nodded. The subtle action wasn’t lost on Lodesh, and he grunted in what sounded eerily like one of Strell’s comments. “Thank you,” she said as she took the smooth, reddish length of wood in hand. Its color was reminiscent of the pipe Strell broke a few months ago, the one that had belonged to his grandfather. “My staff was broken recently.”
“This one is made of stronger stuff,” Lodesh promised, releasing it to her care.
It was heavier than she expected, with an almost slippery feel. The same scent of apples and pine clung to it that Alissa was beginning to identify with Lodesh himself. “It’s a well-thought gift,” she said, marveling at its simple, understated beauty. “But why?”
He shrugged, and for the first time he seemed discomforted. “You learn Keeper ways; you should have a piece of the mirth trees to show your ties to the city—whether it’s abandoned or not. I would suggest keeping it from Bailic’s sight. It may bring you luck,” he said slyly, his eyes lingering upon the charm that Strell had given her about her neck. “One can never have enough of it.”
“Mirth trees?” she mused, her attention on the staff.
“They bloomed for you, milady,” he said ardently, “in the snow-swept fields of my city.”
Alissa looked up, startled. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.
Useless cleared his throat. “Rein yourself in, Lodesh,” he grumbled. “She’s not meant for the likes of you.”
“Yes, I know.” Lodesh leaned back, closed his eyes, and put an overdone dramatic hand to his forehead. “But one can dream, can one not?”
Her eyes widening, Alissa sat, wishing she could disappear into the frozen earth.
“No,” Lodesh lamented. “It’s far too late for me—this time. Even I can tell her heart has already been lost to someone else and won’t be turned by, as you say, the likes of me.” Pretending to be crushed, he held his head in his hands and sniffed mournfully.