“The circled names?” she asked, her eyes on the ground.
“They went feral. Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wishing she hadn’t asked.
Again silence fell. The water began to steam, and seeming ready to forget the matter, Useless reached for the pot and asked pleasantly, “How goes Strell’s tutelage?”
“Very well, as you probably guessed.” Relieved he hadn’t turned despondent as he usually did upon recalling his feral kin, Alissa drew her legs up under her and arranged her coat so more of her was under its concealing warmth. “Bailic has covered myriad minor wards in quick succession as you predicted.”
Useless gave her a curious, sidelong glance. “His instruction follows his own training, but he goes dangerously fast, seeking to find what triggers my book. He incorrectly imagines if Strell knows enough, the book will open to him, allowing access to its lessons.”
The mention of her book sent a thrill through her. It was rare she could pry any information from Useless about it. She forced her features to be casual, fearing he would say no more if he knew how interested she was. “So, what does open it?” she asked, poking at the fire in a vain attempt to appear nonchalant.
“Right now, it’s you,” he said softly. “You could have opened it the day you found it.” Reaching for the stone box of tea he kept secreted in the bench, he added a generous handful to the steaming water. “Knowledge,” he said regretfully, “means nothing to it, only potential.” He sat back and closed his eyes, unaware of or more likely disregarding the effect his words had.
Confused and hurt, she frowned. She had thought it closed to her. She could have snitched uncountable times. Bailic had it out almost every morning, tantalizingly near on that small table by his stiff-looking chair. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” she asked in a small voice.
“You hadn’t the willpower to resist, had you known.” Useless smiled. “You do now.”
Alissa went to protest, then closed her mouth. He was right. She would have snatched it. Bailic would have realized she was the latent Keeper. They would have ended up dead. Still, being second-guessed was infuriating.
Ignoring her sour expression, Useless poured out the tea. His eyes meeting hers over his cup were glinting in amusement. He settled back, his long fingers laced about the cup. A few flakes of snow began to sift down. “I’ll teach you a small oddity tonight,” he said suddenly. “You may find it of interest as you creep along at Bailic’s pace. Mayhap it will come in handy.” His eyebrows furrowed in warning. “Just don’t rely on it.”
“I thought you said Bailic goes too fast,” Alissa said as an obscure portion of her tracings began to resonate in response to his ward. Quickly, she memorized the pattern.
“He does,” was his short answer. “Now this,” he continued, “is a ward of obscurity, and it helps to keep you from notice. It isn’t a certainty. A keen eye will spot you every time.”
Alissa’s eyebrows rose, and she stared at him. He looked the same except for the few flakes of snow now resting upon his shoulders and knees. “I can still see you,” she finally said.
“I said it was of obscurity, not invisibility, child.”
Flushing, Alissa set her first loop glowing and filled the proper channels. “Like this?”
There was a faint touch on her thoughts as Useless dropped his ward. Now that his tracings were empty, they would resonate to show what lines she was using. His eyes grew distant as he examined the pattern for any mistakes. “Exactly,” he said, his gaze again sharp and clear. “You have it correct, as usual.”
Unreasonably pleased, she reached for her abandoned tea. Cold, she thought and warmed it with a second ward. The two patterns used some of the same lines, and so it was possible to set up the second without disengaging the first.
Useless raised an eyebrow at her steaming cup and hid a smile. “Has Bailic mentioned the ward of illumination I showed you?” She shook her head, and he frowned. “I’m surprised.” Running a free hand over his short-cropped hair, he glanced into the snow beginning to fall in earnest. “It’s just within his grasp. I’m certain he will soon. Feel free to perform as he asks. The wards he gives Strell are simple enough.”
“He ignores most of the wards you have taught me,” Alissa said. “I think he’s afraid to give Strell more than he himself can easily overcome.”
“Yes, well. A lot of them Bailic doesn’t know.”
She blinked in disbelief. “They aren’t that hard.”
Useless gave her a long, unnerving look until she dropped her gaze. “Not everyone has a complete pattern, Alissa,” he admonished gently. “There’s much diversity among Keepers, many gaps and severed connections. A pattern won’t resonate in one’s thoughts if it’s not complete, so it remains unseen and unknown. The one I just gave you is like that, so you may use it freely, even when Bailic is within a raku length. A single misconnection keeps that pattern from completion in him.” Useless shook his head. “So close.”
“But I can do it,” Alissa pressed.
“Obviously. That’s why I like you.” Grinning, he topped off her cup. “Patterns that aren’t beyond Keepers that we wish to keep to ourselves must be implemented with care, lest a Keeper pick them up by accident,” Useless said. “It’s a necessary bit of deception for everyone’s safety, but most of all, their own. You can’t learn what you don’t know is possible.”
She did, Alissa thought as she took a warming gulp of tea. “It must be frustrating,” she said aloud, thinking of her own stymied desires for knowledge.
“They never know they lack,” Useless said. “But their children stand a fair chance to be as they, or much more rarely, a touch more complete in their tracings.”
“Really?” That was interesting. Each generation was better than its precursor.
“Yes, but just a touch,” Useless explained. “It’s a process that spans hundreds of years before even a minor change is apparent.”
Alissa mulled that over. It explained a great deal as to why she was here. Her papa had been a Keeper. She had stood a good chance of being the same. “Useless?”
“Yes-s-s-s,” he drawled, examining a snowflake that had landed upon his fingertip.
She paused, not sure how to phrase her question, wondering if she would like his answer or if he would give one. It had been bothering her for a long while, and she felt that now was as good a time as any to broach the potentially touchy subject. He was unusually free with his information tonight. Worried, Alissa drew her knees up to her chin, hiding under her coat. “Useless? Where exactly do I fit in?”
Still lost in the crystalline perfection on his finger, he replied, “Why do you ask?”
“You say Bailic goes too fast, but I’m creeping at the same pace. You teach me things you say no Keeper should learn, and . . .” She gestured helplessly, not sure how to continue.
“And you want to know why.” His snowflake vanished with a puff of breath. Sighing, he turned to face her. “My book has called you to the Hold. It’s that simple. I wish to leave it at that.” His attention returned to the fire, effectively ending the discussion.
Ignoring his improper reference to her book, Alissa sat and stared at him. She would stare all night if need be. He would tell her more.
Useless drained his cup. With nary a glance in her direction, he filled it. This, too, he finished silently, but his feet were beginning to tap an irregular beat, and his brow held the shadow of a frown. It wouldn’t be long before he broke. Alissa had used this technique upon her papa and remembered the signs.
“Oh, very well,” he finally relented, seeming irritated at himself. “Latent Keepers are naturally drawn to any conglomeration of Masters upon maturity. In the past, a lucky set or two were born at Ese’ Nawoer and learned their craft as children. You,” he pointed a long finger accusingly at her, “were not called by the Hold. You were called solely by my book.”
“My book,” she muttered.
He glowered, saying not
hing until she dropped her gaze. “As I said,” he continued, “you were called by my book. Uncountable Keepers have read it, any number have held it when I was busy elsewhere, and a precious few understood a fraction of its contents, your father among them.” Useless paused. “Perhaps he understood more than I realized.”
Then he shook his head and fixed her with a severe look. “I’ll admit only that you have the potential to use the wisdom it contains. That,” he said, shutting his eyes, “is all I will say—so don’t ask anymore.” But he wasn’t done quite yet, and as he leaned back, he added, “It’s this potential that prompts me to divulge more of my secrets than normal. That, and I like you. You make me laugh.” The last was almost inaudible, and Alissa wasn’t sure how to take it.
Clearing his throat, Useless shook the dusting of snow from his overcoat. “Now, I understand Bailic has shown Strell how to start a fire?”
Alissa nodded absently, deep in thought.
“Good. You may, with caution, extinguish them with an impervious containment field.”
“Really?” she blurted, all thoughts of her unique situation vanishing.
“Yes, really.” He smiled. “Just don’t show Bailic such a field by error; he would have no compulsion against using it improperly.”
Recalling Bailic’s rapture when he removed Strell’s finger, she vowed to be very careful.
“We will call it done for a time,” Useless said, scanning the snow-filled skies. “You will be pleased to know there will be no more instruction until the snow is gone.”
“What!” Her head came up and she stared at him aghast. “No more lessons? You can’t!”
“I can. I will. I just did. It’s cold out here. It has gotten ridiculous.”
“I don’t care!” Alissa wailed. “Come inside. Bailic will never know.” It was an old argument. One she had yet to win.
“He would know,” Useless all but growled, but he was irritated at Bailic, not her.
Her lips pursed. “How?”
“He would smell me.” He touched his nose, and Alissa slumped. “So,” he smiled, “you have a brief reprieve from new lessons. Be content practicing what you know. Just keep a trace of thought upon Bailic when you do.”
Alissa hadn’t much to show for her interrupted sleep, and she couldn’t stop her heavy sigh. Halfway to a stand, Useless changed his mind and sat down again. “Before I go,” he asked slowly, “was Lodesh exaggerating about the direction your desires have taken?”
Silently, her face turned red. She had been hoping he might have forgotten the night Lodesh first met her in the firepit, teasing her with bemoaning his fate in that he was not meant for her, and that her heart had already been lost to another.
“Ah. I can see he wasn’t.” Useless shifted the coals about, leaving his stick to burn. “Go gently, Alissa,” he warned. “Make no ties with Strell that can’t be sundered easily.”
“Useless!” It was all she could manage. It was so embarrassing!
“It’s for the good of both of you. You’re irrevocably tied to the Hold in ways you can’t imagine yet. I can’t change this. You wouldn’t have me change this, even if I could.” Seeing her defiant look, he shook his head sadly. “Once Bailic is gone, Strell can’t stay. It isn’t safe.”
“I’ll go with him then,” she said, her chin upraised.
Useless shook his head, looking grim and determined. “If you leave before I decide you have control over yourself and your mouth, I will be forced to hunt you down.” He paused. “I am obligated to burn your tracings to permanent ash rather than let a rogue Keeper access to the hills and plains again.” His eyes closed, and he shuddered. “Not again.”
Alissa stiffened, knowing enough of his cursed sense of honor to realize he would, apologizing all the while. Only now did she see the trap she had built and fallen into, and her jaw clenched. Frustrated and betrayed, she could say nothing.
“I won’t apologize,” he said softly. “It’s hard to be forced to stay until someone else decides, freeing you to follow your heart. That’s how Ese’ Nawoer came to be.”
There was true regret in his voice, and her anger slowed at the empathy in his eyes.
“Only Keepers may safely choose to reside behind the Hold’s walls,” he said, “Masters as tradition dictates, and students, always, until they attain what status they can. It’s a lengthy process, spanning decades. Ese’ Nawoer began as a small group of wives and husbands caught as you now seem to be. Slowly it grew into the stature you see today, imposing even as a ruin. It was lovingly ruled over by a hereditary line who, not surprisingly, were strongly influenced by their Keeper standing. Lodesh was the last of them. He was the best—is the best.”
Useless’s eyes began to glow with a distant passion, and she listened, eager to learn more of the past he usually hid from her. “Once the Hold was full and alive, with many comings and goings,” he said. “Ese’ Nawoer served as a willing support staff, providing all we could wish in goods and services. We couldn’t stop them. It was the reason for their existence in their eyes, and when Ese’ Nawoer fell, the Hold began to follow.”
Staring into the past, Useless slumped. He looked tired and worn out. His dream, having seen its zenith, appeared to be over. “Perhaps my idea of such a stronghold wasn’t really a good one,” he whispered.
“Perhaps you only need to modify it,” Alissa suggested gently. It made her uneasy, seeing him this despondent.
His eyes grew large in astonishment at her softly spoken words, and his somber mood fell from him like water. “Harrumph,” he snorted. “I’m going. Mind what I have said,” he warned sternly, but she could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. “If not for yourself, then for Strell. You don’t know everything yet.” He stood and moved out of the pit, his head tilted in worry.
“Useless?” Alissa rose, reaching out after him, and he paused. His dark silhouette stood quietly as the snow drifted and fell, swirling about him as if he were already gone.
“It—it will be all right,” she fumbled, searching for words, finding all inadequate.
“Mayhap,” he replied, and he was gone in a flurry of snow, wind, and loosed power.
23
The faint, pleasant smell of apples and pines met Alissa as she slipped through the darkness heavy on the stairs. She would have thought it was Lodesh, had she found even one acorn since Useless had discovered her and the Warden together under the Hold. The scent was probably from the staff Lodesh had given her. She had gone to fetch it from under her bed where she had taken to keeping it lately, and she was on her way back to the dining hall. The walking stick was too long, standing well over her head. And as all of Strell’s woodworking tools were out, she was going to shorten it to a usable length.
She ghosted down the last of the stairs, spurred on by the welcoming glow of firelight spilling into the great hall. Pausing at the archway, she smiled at the domestic sight. A pot of tea sat brewing on the hearth. Two empty cups waited on the footstool before the fire. Talon was dozing on the back of her chair, her favorite perch since Alissa and Strell had brought it up from storage. Strell was slumped in his chair, staring at the fire. Alissa’s smile slowly faded. He looked unhappy, and she frowned as he sighed and ran a hand through his mop of dark hair. Strell is unhappy? she thought in confusion. Strell is never unhappy, even when he should be.
Twisting awkwardly, he reached deep into a pocket to withdraw a wad of cloth. He carefully unfolded it to reveal a small bit of gold lace about the size of a coin. She could see little else, but she could tell it was fragile from the tender way he held it. “What do you think, Talon?” he said. “Is there any way under the desert sun, or should I just burn it along with the rest of my hopes?” Rising to his feet, he crouched before the fire, considering the drop of gold in his palm. Talon chittered as if uneasy. “Oh, Alissa,” she heard him whisper. “What will I do without you?”
Alissa froze. Eyes widening, she stepped back into the shadow and fought with her twin emotions of del
ight and misery. She had known Strell liked her, but to admit his emotions might go as deep as hers had seemed so senseless, she had denied the possibility. Alissa took a breath to go to him, to tell him it was going to be all right, that she would go with him to the coast, or he would stay here with her. But Useless’s warning shocked her feet to stillness. She couldn’t abandon the Hold; it held half of what made her alive. And Strell couldn’t stay. Either of his two crafts needed people, and the nearest was a month’s journey away.
Still, she couldn’t stand in the great hall all night, so she straightened her shoulders and scuffed her feet loudly as she entered the dining hall. Strell jumped to his feet, one hand deep in his pocket, the other waving weakly at her. “Hey there,” he called.
“Tea ready?” she asked, unable to look at him.
“I would think it probably is.”
Alissa watched from the corner of her eye as he took the pot off the fire, but it was as if his distress had never existed. He isn’t that good of an actor, is he? she wondered. But upon recalling their success in duping Bailic, she realized he probably was.
“Look what I found in the pantry!” Strell said. His voice carried a hint of forced cheerfulness as he held up a familiar cup.
“It’s Lodesh’s,” she said dismally. She had hidden Lodesh’s cup ages ago, not wanting to risk Bailic seeing it.
Strell’s smile seemed to freeze. “Oh. I probably shouldn’t use it then.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think he’d mind.”
His eyes flicked from her to the cup as he poured out first her cup, then his. Still not saying anything, he took a quick sip from the larger cup. “I wish I could have met him,” he said, his tone giving no indication of his mood.
Alissa knelt to tend the fire, immensely relieved that “Lodesh the Bold” was staying away from “Strell the Impressionable.” All she needed was for Strell to pick up Lodesh’s disarming ways. Strell was charming enough. He didn’t need any help. Settling back on her heels, Alissa replaced the fire irons and gazed glumly into the bright flames. A sigh slipped from her as she settled back into her chair.