Hidden Truth

by Dawn Cook

  “Catch them,” he whispered intently.

  Grinning, Alissa stood and plucked them from the air with her fingers.

  “Very amusing, Alissa,” he said sourly. “Next time, use the ward.”

  “I don’t need a ward to catch them. A field alone would do it.”

  Useless inclined his head in agreement. “True. A ward of stillness is only effective upon creatures who can move, but as there isn’t even an insect to practice upon, you will pretend and use the ward as well as the field.”

  “How will I know if I get it right?” she pressed.

  “I will tell you,” he all but growled.

  A sigh slipped from her as she released the two bits of down, watching them drift closer to the flames. Still standing, she focused her awareness around first one, and then the other, encasing them each in a tidy field. Holding them thus, she set her tracings glowing and directed the flow of energy into the proper channels to set up the ward. As soon as the pattern was full, there was a pulling sensation. Yielding to it, Alissa felt an eerie disorientation as the pattern she set seemed to exist in three places: her thoughts and the two fields. With a snap that thrummed through her existence, her pathways went dark, leaving only the first loop glowing brightly.

  “I did it!” Alissa cried in delight. It had been almost absurdly simple. The tufts of fluff hung motionless, an arm’s length from the fire.

  “If this wasn’t practice,” came Useless’s voice, “you could loose the field, and the ward will remain upon the person, or in this case, the seeds.”

  Eager to try, she eased her concentration until the field vanished. The fluff fell with her ward. After all, it was only the field that had stopped them. The wards were just for exercise.

  “I said ‘if,’ student,” and the seeds froze, stopped by his field. “Catch them again before they get too close to the flames.

  “Fields are temporary,” he continued as she did just that. “They fade as does your attention. Implemented properly, the wards are permanent until removed by someone skilled in such things. Now again, please.” His eyes closed, but Alissa knew from painful experience he was aware of everything around him.

  She set the seeds drifting with a puff of breath. Before they had moved a hand’s width, they were frozen, caught by field and ward.

  “Excellent,” was his response. “Try going for the one nearest you first, then the other in separate attempts.”

  This was harder as she had to set the pattern up anew after the first was away, but soon she had it. It was fun, and she continued practicing, enjoying the novelty. Alissa felt his eyes upon her for a long, quiet moment; then he reached out a thought and snatched the tuffs with his own field and ward. “Hey!” she shouted, more than a little miffed.

  “It’s a contest,” he said smugly. “He who catches both, wins.”

  “Oh.” Alissa smiled. A game, she thought. Two breaths later, and five losses down, she changed her mind. Useless was fast. Wickedly so.

  Almost as if he were reading her mind, he arched his eyebrows. “Yes, it’s easy, but it takes practice to become proficient. Don’t make the mistake of imagining you’re anywhere near Bailic’s skills. He would retaliate before your ward was even finished. You can be sure,” he warned, “the result would be unpleasant. Move against him, and all previous agreements would be dissolved. He would be free to act in self-defense.” Useless scowled. “Such as it is. You would not be granted a second opportunity.”

  Gulping, Alissa looked at her shoes. The fluffs reached the flames, and in a flash of brilliance they were gone.

  Useless nodded. “Just so,” he said quietly. “Shall we move on to your source?”

  “My source?” Alissa’s head came up. She had thought she would have to wait for another two weeks.

  “Course,” he said gruffly. “I’m not going to let you run about my Hold any longer with a city’s ransom around your neck. You seem to have the barest whisper of control. We will bend the rules a bit.” His hand went out expectantly, and Alissa’s elated look froze. She stared at him, afraid of what he wanted. “Please,” he demanded gently, “I would see it for a moment?”

  She reluctantly lifted the small bag over her head, snagging her wretchedly long hair in passing. The cord had become gray and thin from use. The sack itself wasn’t much better. His earlier jest hadn’t been appreciated, but the worst part was she didn’t understand why she was so adamant about it remaining in her possession. The bag clenched in a tight fist, she stiffened, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, distressed and confused at her unusual mistrust.

  “Please, Alissa,” he said reassuringly. “I only wish to ascertain if there’s enough to warrant your potential. Upon his leaving the Hold, I gave your father additional source to protect my book if necessary. I assumed he would bind it, but apparently he didn’t, as it’s in your possession. But if you would rather not allow me . . .” Useless let his words trail off into nothing. His hand closed upon air and dropped. It was a well-taken, unspoken, threat.

  Alissa had to trust him implicitly; she felt her life might depend upon it. Just the hint of suspicion could poison her thoughts against him, beginning the long spiral down to the mistrust and paranoia that Bailic wallowed in. Her pulse pounding, Alissa forced open her mittened fingers, and the small bag fell into his waiting grasp. As his hand closed about it, a feeling of loss rose black and thick, shocking her with its crushing potency. She clenched her eyes shut against a wave of vertigo. Stifling an urge to strike him, she forced her eyes open, struggling to suppress any and all emotion. She would get it back.

  “Thank you,” he said softly, his eyes locked upon her wide eyes. He shifted his gaze and focused entirely upon her source.

  Aching for it to be over, Alissa clasped her arms about her knees and tried to keep her breath even as his brows furrowed and he sent the smallest tendril of thought around the bag. His golden brown eyes widened, and Alissa reached out to grip his arm tightly.

  “What is it?” she demanded, dizzy with the sudden motion. She couldn’t seem to take a deep enough breath, and she trembled with the effort to do nothing. The want to rise and tear her source from his grasp was so strong she could almost taste it, bitter on her tongue. Her trust in Useless was the only thing that stopped her.

  “Nothing. It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s just that . . .” Useless broke his concentration and turned to her. “It’s all there,” he whispered, “and nearly bound. You’ve taken the first steps unknowingly.” His amber eyes opened wide in what looked like absolute horror. “Here! Take it. Take it back!” he shouted, shoving the pouch into her hands.

  Alissa clutched for it, nearly dropping it in her frenzied haste. The teeth of mistrust that had been steadily worrying her, urging her to lash out, finally loosened. She sat curled up about her source, trembling, not daring to look at Useless, waiting for the pounding in her skull to slow. When she finally looked up, he had his head in his hands and was muttering to himself. Alissa caught the name “Keribdis,” and what she thought was “recklessly trusting,” and what might have been “ancient cretin.”

  “Excuse me?” she rasped, thrusting a hand out to catch herself against the bench as she nearly tipped over.

  Useless shook his head. His eyes were weary, and he looked old sitting on the stone bench in the fire’s light. “I beg your pardon, Alissa,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t have asked had I known. Your restraint is . . . quite considerable, considering your few years, and very appreciated.”

  She managed a deep breath, her vertigo easing into memory. “I don’t understand.”

  His brow pinched in embarrassment, Useless cast about as if for something to do. With a small sound of relief, he grabbed the teapot, draining it into his cup. “Your source is nearly bound,” he mumbled around his mug as if that would explain it all.

  “You already said that.” She sighed, wondering if a straight answer was impossible.

  “I shouldn’t have asked to see it, much less gauge its va
lue,” he said. “I’m truly sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” he said patiently, “your soul is intertwined about it. To lose it would be to become half, less even.” Useless turned away. More to himself then to her, he added, “How you could stand its loss for even that moment, I don’t understand. I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve been lost before,” Alissa said in a distant voice, and he turned to stare at her. “Mistress Death has put her mark on me. I’ve seen her, recognized her. You, Useless,” she smiled thinly, “look nothing like her. Forget it.”

  His head drooped. “Lost before,” he breathed into his cup. “That might explain it.

  Alissa looked to the sky. Dawn was only moments away. Breakfast would be late to the practice room. She didn’t care. “Do you suppose you might tell me how to finish the task?” she asked, sure now the answer would be yes.

  Useless blinked. “Er—make a field around it. That’s all that’s needful at this point. The rest is instinctive—I think. But, Alissa? Use an impervious field. You will want all of your source, not just what a permeable field will retain.”

  “But Keepers don’t know them,” Alissa said, beginning to form the complex containment field. “How would they properly bind their source if they . . . they . . .” Her thought melted to nothing as her field became complete. The exterior world grayed to an absolute as she plunged deep into her thoughts, feeling out of control, but knowing she was more aware than she had ever been before. All that remained was her glittering source. As irreversible as two drops of water coming together, it merged with her unconscious self, humming into every corner, backwashing at every turn, defining the edges of her existence with the tang of glittering tingles. She had thought it hers before. It hadn’t been, but it was now.

  With a frightening wrench, her source collapsed back into its more familiar vision of a shimmering sphere set somewhere between her thoughts and reality. It was positively the most glorious sight, and it could never be taken away. Ever.

  Alissa opened her eyes, struggling to focus. Useless was sitting before the fire, his long fingers laced about his cup, hiding it. As she straightened from her slump, he turned to her. “How—how long was I out?” she mumbled, seeing the day was noticeably closer.

  “Not long,” he reassured her. “Feel better?” His gaze went distant to the horizon, tactfully giving her time to find her bearings with a modicum of privacy.

  “Rather,” she answered wisely, shaking off her daze. Slowly, she loosened her cramped and stiff fingers from around the empty bag, looping it over her head from long habit.

  “Alissa?” There was deep concern in his voice. “Be careful. What you have accomplished this morning was needful, but it also put you into greater peril. You have my permission to explore permeable fields freely on your own. Bailic moves too quickly, but you may try what he requests of Strell concerning fields and wards.” His eyebrows rose. “I expect you will be most careful. I’m sure the wards won’t be anything to give Strell much strength and so will be innocuous enough.”

  Alissa’s eyes widened, and the last of her contented daze vanished in surprise. This was the most leeway he had ever given her. And she hadn’t even had to ask!

  “Be sure to keep at least a raku’s length between you and Bailic when practicing alone,” he continued. “He will feel you create a ward if he is closer than that, and unless Strell is nearby to take the blame, Bailic will realize it’s you. Think up and down as well as horizontal,” he admonished. “You can set a field and ward in place anywhere within a raku length of your person. When performing in the piper’s stead, be sure you remain at least that close to them both. That way Bailic will sense the creation of your wards and assume it’s Strell.”

  She nodded, hearing in his words his desire to be gone.

  “Very well,” he said firmly, “where is that bird? I want to play.” Useless scanned the skies. He gave a little jump and turned to the thick shrubbery and the unseen door of the kitchen beyond. His eyebrows rose, and he took a breath to say something but then shook his head and smiled. “Behave yourself,” he said as he stepped out of the firepit. In a swirl of gray, he shifted to the form he had been sired as.

  “Wait!” Alissa cried, and ran up to him, stopping short at his feet, shocked again at how big he was as a winged monstrosity. She couldn’t help her gasp as he dropped his head to see her better. His fathomless, golden eyes were as large as her head, stunning in their depth. Alissa could almost forget his sharp teeth and creased hide. “Thanks,” she mumbled, feeling her face redden as she gave his neck a quick, embarrassed hug.

  He arched his neck back, blinking in an obvious surprise, and she added, “For—for coming back that first night. For teaching me,” she fumbled. “For not . . .” Alissa paused, thoroughly miserable in her lack of finesse. How do you thank someone who not only opens the door to your potential but then rips it from its hinges so it can never be shut again?

  Useless dropped his head, filling her senses with the warm scent of wood smoke. He couldn’t speak aloud in his present form, which was probably just as well. His teeth showing in what was undoubtably a smile, he pointed a wicked-looking talon to the firepit, and she obediently backed up. There was a last, long, unfathomable look, then Useless departed, raising twin maelstroms of snow and ice and last year’s leaves.

  She was left behind, nailed to the earth among the weeds, watching as Talon screeched defiantly and dove at him. Beating his wings furiously, Useless struggled for height, lashing his hind foot out when Alissa’s tiny defender got near. He rose above the Hold, turning a luminescent gold from the sun that had yet to reach the tower.

  Alissa dismally turned away and slowly knocked the fire apart using the stick she kept for the purpose. True, an impervious field would have put it out faster, but, as Useless would have said, not needful. Grabbing the empty pot, three cups, and her extinguished candle, she made her somber way to the kitchen. Behind her was the whoosh of Useless’s passage and the screams of her bird. They were being noisy today, almost as if they didn’t care if they were noticed. Alissa just hoped Bailic didn’t see Useless. The fallen Keeper wasn’t blind after all, just ill of sight.

  Rounding a turn in the path, Alissa almost ran into the suspicious man himself. “What?” she stammered, gazing in shock at his tall figure, thin and black against the snow. “What are you doing out here?”

  17

  “That was what I was going to ask you, my dear.” Bailic squinted into the sky, bright with the newly risen sun, tracking Useless and Talon’s motion through the air behind her.

  Chilled, Alissa clasped her coat closer, desperately glad she had heeded Useless’s warning to behave and extinguished her fire mundanely. It would have been over right then had she gone back on her promise and Bailic noticed. Restraint and self-control, she thought fervently. Such a small thing between success and failure, life and death.

  She winced at Talon’s screams and wondered if Bailic had seen anything. Then her resolve firmed. She had done nothing wrong. She could be in the garden if she wanted. It might look questionable, but he couldn’t prove a thing— could he?

  “We were worried,” Bailic said tightly. “Let me help you into the kitchen with your—tea.”

  She extended the empty pot, and his watering eyes flicked to the three cups in her hand, one cracked from its impromptu flight. “Those are Talo-Toecan’s cups,” he said, drawing back in a mix of anger and alarm. “He was with you?”

  Tossing her head, she brushed past him, her eyes on the kitchen door. “He likes my tea,” she said over her shoulder. “He sports with Talon. We talk.”

  Bailic hastened after her. “You give him messages?”

  Alissa nervously kicked open the door. “Talo-Toecan wouldn’t break his word.” The proper name for her instructorfelt odd upon her lips, but she couldn’t call him Useless before Bailic. It was so undignified.

  Seeming to regain his confidence, Bailic followed her in. “H
e generally finds a way to circumvent it, regardless.” With a final glance outside, he pulled the door shut, sealing out the morning light and setting them in the twilight of the cooking fire. Alissa’s last sight was of Useless, spinning madly in an attempt to outmaneuver Talon. Her bird was getting quite good, she mused, until a harsh sound from Bailic brought her back to earth. She, too, would have to do some quick maneuvering to get out of her latest spot.

  She knew she should be worried but couldn’t find it in herself to be. Useless had known Bailic was there on the path. That’s what his surprised look toward the kitchen had been, and why he told her to behave, and why he was so obvious in his cavortings this morning. Still, caution was warranted, and Alissa frowned as she hung her coat and hat by the hearth.

  Deciding to volunteer nothing, she swiftly prepared a tray for three. Bailic leaned upon the mantel and watched her, making her fingers slip and drop things. “Here, allow me,” he said, intercepting her reach for a fresh pot of tea. “You have had a busy morning already, my dear.”

  Unease settled over her as Bailic carried the tray up to the narrow practice room. She walked beside him, empty-handed, beginning to worry that Useless’s confidence had been misplaced. Bailic had all but ignored her for the better part of three months. Ever since gaining possession of her book, it was as if she didn’t exist. Whenever they did exchange words, it was, “You there,” or, “Girl.” Now she was back to, “My dear,” and she could almost smell the ’ware fires burning.

  Her fears were confirmed when, upon reaching the fourth-floor landing, he needlessly stopped to rest at the window there. She couldn’t very well leave him, and so she was forced to wait. “What an interesting pouch,” he said. “Odd. I never noticed it before.”

  Before she could stop herself, Alissa’s hand rose to clutch it possessively. She had forgotten to tuck it out of sight. Mentally kicking herself, she tried to make her actions more natural and changed the motion to that of removing the sack from around her neck. It was empty. What harm could it do to let him see it now? “It was a gift,” she said. “Want to see it?”