Truth - Hidden Truth Part 17

Chapter 19.

"Bye, Papa," Alissa whispered. She turned away, the tears br.i.m.m.i.n.g, but too much a part of her to fall. With feet slow and heavy, she made her way from the ice-and thorn-covered pile of rock at the base of the Hold's tower that marked his grave. Bailic had never cleared the rubble of his fallen balcony. Her papa was under it. The snow was thick and would soon obscure that she had been here. Bailic wouldnever know; she would just as soon keep it that way.

She tugged her coat tight about her neck and peered up at the tower, gray in the diffuse light. Icy pinp.r.i.c.ks melted into cold drops as the snow fell upon her upturned face. It was hard to tell in late winter, but she thought the tangle of canes was a wild rose. Papa would have liked that, she thought as she turned to find her way back inside.

It was seldom she could slip completely away from Strell, but he had stormed down to his potter's stead shortly after his morning lesson. Bailic had been especially brutal in his sarcasms, and Strell was undoubtedly working his frustrations out on the clay. He had become markedly more careful with Bailic, and holding his tongue clearly grated on Strell's independent plainsman upbringing.

Slumped with more than her feeling of sad remembrance, she halfheartedly tugged the Hold's black, inner set of doors open and slipped inside. Talon landed upon Alissa's shoulder in a flurry of wings and noise, scolding her. Although it had been more difficult, Alissa managed to avoid her bird as well. "Hush,"

she murmured, ignoring the nonstop harangue. Talon gave a final chitter and flew to the rafters as Alissa entered the kitchen, apparently convinced her scolding had done some good. Alissa stomped the snow from her boots and filled her copper teapot. She put it over the fire, too dejected to bother taking off her coat. Slouching on a stool, she traced a slow arc on the floor with her foot, waiting for the water to heat.

It seemed something more than Bailic had been bothering Strell lately. She thought the beginnings of his mood could be traced to the afternoon she had found Lodesh in the stables. Though she had immediately taken Strell to meet him, they found the stables empty. Strell hadn't been the same since.

And Lodesh was avoiding her. True to his promise, he let her know when he came by leaving an acorn for her to find. She uncovered a new one every third day or so in the oddest of places: tucked in her shoe, behind the rolling pin, jammed in her thimble. The stables were empty whenever she looked, and she hoped she hadn't said anything to offend the Warden. She loved secrets, and at first, finding a nut was like sharing in a mystery. Now she was tired of the game and wanted to talk to someone.

As she sat in the warm, comforting quiet of the kitchen, Alissa wished she didn't have to sneak out beyond the garden's walls to her papa's grave. Having only a pile of rubble to remember him by was depressing. There was his pack, but that was in the closet under the steps in the great hall. The door was warded shut, and had been since they arrived.

Alissa's foot went still. Slowly, she straightened. Strell had gotten past the ward by jamming the door behind Bailic, preventing it from locking. Perhaps the door was still open?

A sly, casual glance to the ceiling told her Talon was preening, apparently satisfied Alissa would be doing nothing of interest as there was a pot of water over the fire. Very quietly, Alissa stood and left.

Talon, she was sure, wouldn't approve.

Her pulse quickened as she made her stealthy way to the great hall to stand before the door to the closet under the stairs. She eyed the thin cracks in the wall, a small grin easing over her as she spied a bit of green fabric peeping from between the stones. Apparently Bailic hadn't bothered to investigate the door after Useless had escaped, either. With a last, furtive glance toward the kitchen, Alissa pried the door open and cautiously peered inside. There, lying in the dust by a stack of torches, was her papa's pack.

Pleased but rather depressed, Alissa slipped into the half-light under the stairs and knelt before it. She tugged at the knots holding the pack shut, finally running to the dining room for a knife. There was a slight cramping of her fingers as she cut the knots free, and she jerked her hands away. Her papa had warded it. That was why Bailic hadn't touched it. Then she shrugged-her papa would never make anything that could hurt her-and she confidently opened the pack to pull out a familiar pair of cream-colored boots.

Smiling faintly, she set them aside. It was no wonder she had prized hers so greatly. She hadn't consciously known it, but before Strell turned her boots that horrid brown with his waterproofing greaseon their way to the Hold, they had been identical in color to her papa's. Next came a thick blanket. She brought it to her nose and breathed deeply. The tears p.r.i.c.ked as it smelled of home even now. Taking a slow breath to keep from crying, she set it down and continued.

All told there were a spare set of clothes-eerily identical to the first outfit she had st.i.tched for Strell-a cup and bowl crafted out of stone as was her mortar, a length of rope with several immovable knots, and myriad minor objects. It was all fairly typical, mirroring her own abandoned pack. Near the bottom she found a fold of paper, and after reading the salutation, she tucked it in her pocket with a rush of grief. It was for her mother. As she sat in the dust becoming depressed, Talon found her.

Hissing and flapping like a fear-maddened beast, Talon dove at her from the great hall. Alissa's eyes widened in shock. "Talon! No!" she shouted, hunching into herself. The bird's claws reached skin when Alissa snapped out of her astonishment and shoved her out of the closet. Talon sprawled awkwardly on the smooth, polished floor, squawking indignantly as she struggled to regain her wings. Alissa lunged to the door and pulled upon the handle. The sounds of her kestrel's fury cut off abruptly as the door grated shut.

"Hounds!" Alissa whispered, staring through the new darkness at the unseen door. Her heart was pounding, and she felt queasy. Talon had never done that before! What demon had whispered into her ear?

Fumbling in the black for her papa's fire kit, she lit one of the torches. The light jumped, responding to a draft she hadn't noticed before. With a faint stirring of excitement, she peered down a square hole in the floor. This had to be the pa.s.sage Strell told her about that led to Useless's cell. Useless had been his typical, closed-mouthed self when she asked him how Strell had freed him. Strell, though, had been free in his account, so much so she sometimes questioned the truth of it. One thing he had mentioned was this stairway. "And pillars engraved with the script I can read," she whispered, curiosity pulling at her.

The breeze s.h.i.+fting her hair smelled of snow, and she wondered how long it would take to find the stair's end. It might be useful knowing a third way out of the fortress. The cramped stairway seemed awfully dark and wet, but the thought of something to read was irresistible. Taking a resolute breath, Alissa prudently tucked the knife in her pocket and started down.

The air in the stairwell was cold and damp above her boots, and she s.h.i.+vered, glad she still had on her coat. She began to s.h.i.+ver, and just as she decided to forget the entire thing and return to the upper rooms, the steps ended and a narrow, cramped tunnel began. Holding her torch before her, she followed it until it opened up into a small room, one end blocked by an enormous gate. The bars were set so far apart, it would be easy to slip between them. There was the sound of dripping water, and the smell of outside was thick in the chill air. Alissa went to put her torch into the wall holder, but the last one had been jammed and she couldn't free it. Resigning herself to holding it, she stepped closer to the gate.

Beyond was an echoing blackness relieved by the hint of huge pillars. Her light stretching over the smooth stone floor didn't reach far, smothered by the dark. She hesitated, biting her lip as she looked at the metal rods. Slowly she reached out to touch one. There was a flash of unseen power, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. They were warded, she thought dryly, her finger in her mouth.

Grimacing, Alissa eyed the distant glow of sunlight behind the pillars. She could tell they were engraved, but she was too far away to see what even the closest said. It irritated her, the not knowing, and she eyed the rods with a wary distrust. Strell said he had pa.s.sed between them, not just in, but out as well on the western gate. He said they were warded for Useless only.

"Maybe if I don't actually touch them," she whispered, and she carefully sent a finger dead center between two. There was a tingle of warning but no pain, and so she stuck more of her arm behind the gate. Wiggling her fingers, she withdrew her hand and sent her foot to try the same. Still only the warning.

Her breath hissed out in exasperation as she looked at her torch. It was burning well. There should beplenty of time to see what some of the pillars said and make it back upstairs before it went out-if she could get past the bars.

Lips pursed, she took a wary step back. Her finger was singed, but not badly. It didn't even hurt anymore. She flexed it, eyeing it in the dim light. Strell had pa.s.sed through the gate, so she should be able to as well. Nodding sharply, Alissa boldly stepped between the bars. A strong wash of caution coursed through her, shocking in its intensity. She s.h.i.+vered, but once through, she looked about the gigantic cavern with a growing feeling of awe.

Her eyes rose to the distant ceiling, decorated with myriad muted colors and soft shapes. The pillars, though, were far more interesting. Holding her torch high, she squinted to read the first. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she realized they were books, stretching to the heavens. Before her satisfied eyes were the comforting whispers of stories and adventures she had heard all her life. She almost turned around to get Strell. But the light beckoned, and Alissa headed for it, reading snippets of well-known and new stories as she went. The pillars, rising like some strangely symmetrical forest, were both eerie and comfortable. She halted in wonder as the last slipped behind her. It was as if she could see the entire world.

It wasn't snowing on this side of the mountain, and the clear skies revealed the distant horizon. It was nearly flat. She had never seen such a thing before, and it looked wrong. In great undulating waves, the land flowed away, the hills between her and the unseen sea dwarfed by the one she now stared in wonder from. The ocean was lost in the gray, but she could sense it was there, just out of sight. Then Alissa looked down, and gulping, took three steps back. It took all her courage to cautiously peek over the edge again. There were clouds between her and the ground. Her knees went weak, and her hand went to her stomach. The floor at the opening was ragged, showing where the hinges holding the gate against the mountain had once been. The thought that Strell had actually climbed out onto the surrounding rock made her ill. Unnerved, she turned to the sound of moving water, her eyes slowly adjusting back to the torch-lit darkness.

The icy plinking led her to a tremendous cistern behind a retaining wall thicker than she was wide.

Steady drops plunked into it, s.h.i.+fting the surface to look like rhythmic echoes of sound. Her gaze rose to the source of the water, and her mouth opened in astonishment. Hanging high above the pool was a fantastic array of worked stone in the shape of a cone. There was the faint whistle of wind through its honeycombed channels, and with a feeling of wonder, she realized the structure had been designed to capture water from the very air itself!

Amazed at the skill necessary to craft such a thing, she dipped her hand and took a taste of its result.

The water was warm, and she s.h.i.+vered. The surface disturbed by her fingers rippled gently against the circular walls, looking more like mist than liquid in the soft dusk. Drying her hand nervously upon her coat, she gazed at the ceiling, squinting to make out the swirls of color.

She set her torch down to lever herself up onto the retaining wall to get a closer look at the ceiling, but hesitated as her torchlight fell upon the cistern's wall and the thin tracings of words chiseled there.

Immediately she crouched to read them, having to pull her torch so close, the smoke stung her eyes. Her brow rose as she realized it wasn't a story or tale, but names! Her unease forgotten, Alissa circled the pool, holding her torch before her.

"Dom-Crawen," she whispered. "Redal-Stan." She continued with a growing excitement, recognizing the names Useless had scratched in the snow and made her memorize her last lesson. "Sloegar," she mused, wondering why they were abruptly singular, not hyphenated. The names spiraled around the cistern in overlapping rows. Alissa followed, her finger tracing lightly down through the ages. Almost to the end, she paused. "Keribdis," she breathed, taking a chill as she recognized another. The male names were hyphenated, the female names were not.

Immediately she went to the masculine rows to find Useless's name. "Talo-Toecan," she said, smiling.There was a good handful after his, but it was the last that caught her attention. "Connen-Neute," she said, frowning. Useless had told her he had gone feral, and there was a shallow circle etched around his name that most lacked. Alissa frowned, thinking it must be a designation of some sort.

His was the last on the masculine list, and she pondered it for a time before sitting down to put it at eye level. It didn't seem right that the last Master named upon the wall would be recorded as feral. Being contrary, she used the knife to scratch the name, "Useless," after it.

Pleased at the result, she awkwardly went to stand upon the wall. Holding her torch high, she craned her neck to stare at the ceiling. The additional height seemed to make the difference, and she could see now that it was decorated with pictures of rakus. One had brown eyes instead of the usual gold, and she pondered the incongruity as she circled the pool from atop the thick wall. Her feet made a small scuffing hiss against the pillars and floor. On impulse, she looked up, breathing a soft, "h.e.l.lo-o-o-o." She smiled as her echo whispered back. Taking a deeper breath, she called again, louder. She set the torch down and clapped once to try and gauge the echo's interval. Her papa had once taken her to a cliff, showing her how, if she paced it right, it would sound as if the mountains were singing with her. Smiling at the memory, she started to sing, her voice bouncing wildly among the pillars and ceiling. She chose a tavern song, easy to sing and not required to adhere to any particular tone to sound good. It was known by farmers and plainsmen alike, thought they each had their own versions. Regardless if it was sung in the plains or foothills, it always revolved around an addle-brained man out to make his fortune and his continuous predicaments.

"Taykell was a good lad, He had a hat and horse.

He also had six brothers, The youngest one of course.

His father said, 'Alas, my boy.

I've nothing more to give ye.

His name forsook, the path he took, To go to find the blue sea."

Alissa's eyebrows rose and she turned to the darkness, hearing in the echo of her voice, the deep tone of another singer.

"Taykell sought a treasure, To give his name some worth.

The one that he'd been born with, Now stood with a huge dearth.

Told of one that he might find, He searched the total land.

Was found, but lost, to pay the cost,To forge a copper band."

Someone else is down here? she thought. And it sounded like Strell!

Chapter 20.

Lodesh pushed aside the thin, lacy curtain on the window with a single finger. "Good," he breathed upon seeing the morning snow swirling down in a m.u.f.fling, gray stillness. He had been hoping to get to the Hold today, and the snow would help cover his tracks. Deciding to eat later, he quickly packed a small sack of whatever was handy. He dropped an acorn to leave for Alissa into his pocket, and after a hurried check on the fire to a.s.sure himself his guardian's dwelling wouldn't go up in smoke in his absence, he left, warding the door from long habit.

Looking to the center of the field, he whistled. The sharp sound died quickly in the sifting snow.

Lodesh grimaced, turned, and stomped towards the western edge of the city. He didn't like it when he forgot he was alone. He'd have to make the journey on foot. His horse was long gone, and the wild herd had abandoned the field when the first stone for his cursed wall was laid. They hadn't been seen since.

He walked west through his empty city, stoically ignoring the black windows and barren shop fronts, unable to prevent the names and faces that once went with them from swimming up from his thoughts. He should have stopped the wall's construction right then, he thought dismally. But he had been young and inexperienced, relying heavily upon the whispered counsel of frightened men and women. Wis.h.i.+ng that his foresight could have been as clear then as it was now, Lodesh pa.s.sed through the broken west gate and continued through the hushed woods until the tower materialized, appearing as if by magic from the swirling snow.

The small prints of Alissa's boots decorated the steps, and he smiled, feeling the stiffness of his half-frozen cheeks. Apparently he wasn't the only one using the snow to their advantage today. A quick mental sweep of the great hall, kitchen, and the Keepers' dining room told him the first floor was empty.

Satisfied, he knocked the snow from his boots and slipped inside.

The stillness that gripped the Hold was absolute. A hot, metallic scent hung like a pall in the air, and he wondered what Bailic was up to. There was a sudden rush of wings. Alissa's bird landed on his wrist, having dropped from one of the balconies overlooking the great hall. "Hush," he soothed the agitated bird, hoping she wouldn't pierce his coat with her talons. He wasn't surprised to see her. The bird had an uncanny knack for finding him, serving as a silent witness as he made his hurried checks upon Alissa.

With the small bird perched on his arm, Lodesh followed the stench of burning metal into the kitchen.

His eyebrows rose as he saw the copper teapot, black and tarnished from going dry over the flames.

Flinging Talon to the rafters, he pulled the pot from the fire. Alissa would be furious. It was made from enough copper to forge a score of wedding bands, and she was meticulous in its care. Smiling for having caught her in a forgetful moment, Lodesh dropped the acorn into the pot. She would be embarra.s.sed for him knowing she had scorched it, and he loved to make her blush, even if he wouldn't be there to see it.

His promise fulfilled, he sent his thoughts through the Hold to find her. Her room was empty, and so he moved his thoughts to the dry goods. Alissa liked the smell of leather and was forever poking about for the odd bit of adornment for her new clothes or her room. She wasn't there, either. Feeling cold, Lodesh sent his thoughts to Talo-Toecan's old rooms. With a sigh of relief, he found only Bailic.Concerned, Lodesh returned to the great hall and did an entire sweep of the fortress. Starting in the uppermost chambers in the tower, he worked his thoughts down through the rooms and halls to finish in the annexes. He found the piper in the students' kitchen at his potter's wheel, but no Alissa. She wasn't in the Hold.

Talon had followed him out, and frowning, he soothed the bird on his arm as he recalled Alissa's footprints had been leading into the great hall, not out. Nevertheless, he sent his thoughts to the garden and the surrounding environs. Perhaps she had decided to take a walk in the snow, unlikely as the prospect was-Alissa's aversion to the cold was like none he had ever seen-but the garden and overgrown fields and pastures were empty. She was nowhere. Nowhere at all.

Lodesh's unease grew as he recalled the forgotten teapot. "Where is she?" he whispered, and Talon took flight to land on the floor at the foot of the stairs. She hopped around behind it, cluttering as if urging him to accompany her. Not sure he quite believed what the bird must be doing, Lodesh followed. With an increasingly tight feeling, he watched the bird flutter reluctantly to the closet under the stairs and peck at the nearly invisible seam.

"No," he whispered, feeling his face pale. Immediately he unlocked the door and swung it open to find an empty pack, its contents set aside in several piles. Lodesh sent his thoughts to the holden and found, to his dismay, that she was already behind its imprisoning bars. "Oh, Alissa," he breathed, his eyes flicking to the hole in the floor. "Your curiosity will be the end of us all."

"Alissa?" came Strell's faint call from the students' kitchen.

Lodesh took a quick breath. Stepping into the closet, he shut the door behind him, sealing himself in the darkness. There was no need to involve the piper just yet. Slowing his thoughts back to calm, he set them to form a soft glow of light, cupping a hand about the luminescence so as to keep it with him. The stairs were slick, and as he peered uneasily down into the damp, he wondered what he would find at the bottom. He had been told of this pa.s.sage as part of his Wardens.h.i.+p but had never been invited into the holden, thick with tradition and stately ceremony.

He began his descent with a resolute grimace. The way was tight, damp, and very uncomfortable. His imagination put the walls closer and the ceiling lower with every step, but he continued, keeping his thoughts on Alissa instead of his mild claustrophobia. Soon the sound of water came to him, and still unsure as to how he would handle the situation, he slipped around the last turn and peeked into the small anteroom he had been told was there.

Blackness upon blackness soaked up the thin glow from his light. He listened, a smile coming over him as he heard Alissa's faint singing. Being careful not to touch the bars, he slipped between them. As a Keeper, the bars couldn't prevent him from pa.s.sing back through, but they would stop Alissa. No need for her to know that, though.

He didn't agree with Talo-Toecan's wishes for him to stay away from Alissa-Lodesh would do what he wanted when it concerned her-but lately he had been avoiding her for his own peace of mind.

There, in the stables, it had almost seemed as if she remembered, speaking of his mirth trees and moonlight. Her words had torn at him worse than the winter's cold. He hadn't expected that when he had lured her down to the stables. Like a fool, he had hoped her casual acceptance would s.h.i.+ft to true recognition if she only talked with him. But her gentle speech and innocent touch only left him despondent. She was her, but not.

Lodesh s.h.i.+fted his pack higher as he strode to the square of light that was the western gate. Leaving acorns for her to find was his cowardly way to keep his sanity. Now, though, she had gone and gotten herself stuck behind a warded gate. He had to make sure she was all right, and if he kept their conversations to mundane topics, he could pretend she knew him.

Antic.i.p.ation quickened his steps as he followed the sound of her voice to the far end of the s.p.a.ciouscell. A smile crossed him as he recognized her song. Thinking to surprise her, he joined his voice to hers, sending it to echo among the thick pillars like a forgotten memory.

Chapter 21.

"Strell?" Alissa said in astonishment. She spun towards the eastern gate. Her foot rolled on the discarded torch. She slipped, and with a small shriek, she toppled into the water. Just before she hit, she heard, "Alissa!" Then there was only the rush of bubbles as she sank. Her skirt and coat weighed her down. After a brief struggle, she realized her only chance was to either get out of them or push off from the bottom. "Useless!" she shrieked with her thoughts, praying her teacher might hear her, not knowing if he had or not. Reaching him from a distance was not a certainty, despite their practice, but possible.

Lungs aching, she struggled with her coat tie. Her feet hit bottom. Relief flooded her-she half expected the pool to be bottomless-and she kicked off, angling to the edge.

She reached the surface and gasped in a lungful of air and water. Choking, she felt the water threaten to slip over her head. She grasped for the edge. A strong hand fumbled into hers. Another tight grip fastened on her arm, and she was pulled to the side. Hacking and coughing, she was dragged to hang over the cistern's wall. Alissa struggled to breathe, trying to clear her eyes. The hand upon her shoulder had all its fingers. It wasn't Strell.

Still choking, she pulled away.

"It's me, Alissa," a resonant, clear voice said, and she slumped in relief.

"Lodesh?" she wheezed. "What are you doing down here?"

"Watching out for you," he said, a curious softness to his voice.

Water dripped from her to puddle as she righted herself and slid her feet to the floor. Her relief turned to embarra.s.sment. "I don't need anyone to watch over me," she said, even as she tried to take her first, good breath.

Lodesh took a step back. He ran his gaze over her as she slumped against the cistern wall. A hint of a smile drifted over him. "Yes, milady. You do, or you wouldn't be soaking wet."

For a moment, she could say nothing. Frowning, she pulled her hand from his. She hadn't even known he had taken it. Her pulse was racing, but if it was from Lodesh or her efforts to keep from drowning, she didn't know. Tugging her coat and skirt free of the wall, she lurched to a stand, unbalanced from the weight of her soaking clothes.

Lodesh picked her torch from the floor. She had dripped over it, and it was out. "I don't think I can make this burn," he said. "Why don't we go to the western gate and consider your options. It will be warmer in the sun."

Alissa ran her eyes over herself disparagingly. "Yes. I'm rather wet, aren't I. But I think I should go upstairs and hope Bailic and Strell don't catch me on the way."

"You can't, Alissa. The gate won't let you back through."

Surprise shocked through her. "Strell made it past the bars on the western gate," she said. "Before Talo-Toecan ripped it from its hinges, Strell climbed out and opened the latch. He told me."

"Yes, well, he's a commoner."Her eyes narrowed. Warden or not, he need not be insulting. "Strell is the last of a great house of artisans. He comes from a chartered name," she said. "He's not a-a- commoner!"

"He is, milady," Lodesh said as if it gave him pleasure. "I meant it as no disrespect, simply a cla.s.sification. The wards on the gate respond to the complexity of one's tracings."

His calmly spoken words stood in sharp contrast to hers, and she dropped her eyes, fl.u.s.tered. She had no right to yell at Lodesh. "I'm sorry," she said. "I really ought to learn not to shout at my rescuers."

Smiling, Lodesh took a small step closer. "Let's go to the sun. You'll dry faster."