“What happened to your hand?” Alissa gasped, just now seeing it.
“I’m sorry, Alissa,” he said softly, eyeing his hand as it poked out from behind the prickly wool. “I broke your staff.”
Dreadfully concerned, Alissa sank down beside him. She didn’t care how he had managed to break it, but she wanted to keep him talking. “How,” she exclaimed, “under the eight puppies did you manage that?” Taking the scrap of fabric holding her hair, she wrapped it about his hand.
Strell began to laugh, admittedly it was a bit ragged, but it was a laugh, and with a huge sense of relief, she knew he’d be all right. “Rescuing Useless,” he said.
“Did you know he was—” she began.
“A raku?” Strell finished, almost painful in his confusion. “Not a clue. He looked like that when I first saw him,” he said, gesturing to the pair. Bailic was pointing a thin finger accusingly at Useless, who was, in turn, eyeing him with disgust. “No, that’s not right,” he amended, shuddering as he rubbed his face.
Alissa shifted closer to him. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?” Of course she was referring to Useless’s transformation.
“Never,” he said, sounding betrayed. “Never in all my travels, or all of my stories, is there a hint rakus are more than the bloodthirsty carnivores they seem to be. I still don’t believe it.”
“How did you get past the door?” she asked, thinking of all those afternoons with her hands pressed against the cold stone trying to open it.
“Bailic helped,” he said, leaving her more confused.
“That’s way out of line, Bailic, even for you!” Useless shouted, distracting her. When she turned back, her eyes met Strell’s and she smiled. She had been so worried. Aside from Talon, he was all she had in the world. The look he met her with was so fierce with emotion, she drew back in surprise.
“What?” she said.
Trembling, he took a deep breath. His eyes locked on hers, and he slowly exhaled. “Not now,” he whispered.
“Tell me?” she pressed, but he turned as a sharp clap of sound filled the air and Useless came striding toward them. Bailic slowly followed, somehow managing to look shaken and confident at the same time. As Useless drew closer, Alissa blinked in astonishment. His eyes were an unreal golden-brown.
“Done!” Useless cried, rubbing his hands. “But I don’t like it.”
“And you imagine I do?” said Bailic, drawing even with him. Silently they looked down at them, and wonderingly, Strell and Alissa stared back.
“The book?” Bailic prompted.
“But . . .” Alissa stood, snatching the book up from the bench. She knew she had promised, but still. . . . Then a gentle touch on her thoughts silenced her protests. “Wait,” she felt. “You are mine as much as I am yours. It’s been nearly four centuries, but I will claim you in due time. Be easy until then. I don’t forget.”
Alissa looked quizzically at Useless. It hadn’t been his thoughts sliding warmly through hers, and the Navigator knew it hadn’t been Bailic’s. Seeming to sense her reluctance, Useless frowned. But it was Strell who wearily rose and took the book from her hands, giving it to Bailic. Alissa stood in a horrified shock, feeling herself go gray; its loss felt like an assault.
“Mine!” Bailic chortled, fortunately missing her turmoil.
“Don’t gloat, Bailic,” Useless muttered uncomfortably. “It’s very unbecoming.”
Alissa found herself taking a step after it, and Strell grabbed her elbow, drawing her back to his side, feigning the needed support.
“I want to hear you say it again,” Bailic demanded, clutching the book to himself.
Useless rolled his eyes and majestically drew himself up. “I swear,” he intoned, “I will not contact, or otherwise interfere, with the piper’s instruction.”
Strell’s instruction? Alissa mused, struggling to keep from staring at the book. He still thought Strell was the Keeper?
“And?” Bailic prodded.
“And I will not contrive to thieve the book from your loathsome, grasping clutches.”
Bailic paused. “Which book?” he asked, ignoring the gibe.
Useless shrugged like an adolescent caught in deception. “That would be my book of First Truth,” he admitted, not at all apologetic for his attempted trickery.
“And what else?” Bailic insisted.
“I will see your befouled soul rent and destroyed as soon as inhumanely possible, Bailic.”
“That—that’s not part of our arrangement,” Bailic stammered.
“Yes, it is,” Useless said, “if I catch you a stone’s throw from the Hold and its environs.” Slowly, he took a deep breath. “In return,” he continued, “I have your assurance that the both of them—both, Bailic—suffer nothing in mind, body, or spirit from enduring your sorry presence until they choose to leave.”
“Or the First Truth is opened,” Bailic added, and Useless nodded. Bailic seemed to consider this, undoubtedly comparing it to their earlier conversation. “If,” he said warily, “he kills himself during his schooling, I won’t be held accountable.”
“If he does, we will meet to discuss his demise,” Useless agreed lightly, not seeing the look of apprehension that Strell and Alissa exchanged. “Accidents happen, but I will be the judge if it was preventable. I still think it dangerous, Bailic. Instruction is the responsibility of a Master, not one such as yourself. Keepers keep. They’ve never taught.”
“I’ll risk it,” Bailic said, glowering. “I’ll not have you about, interfering with my plans. I can teach him enough so that the book will open to him. That’s all I need.”
“Very well. The piper’s instruction is yours. I warn you, though, don’t expect much.” Blinking in consternation, he turned with an apologetic smile. “No offense, Strell, but Bailic doesn’t strike me as a very capable teacher.” Bailic stiffened at the thinly veiled insult. “He doesn’t have the knack, I fear,” Useless finished indifferently, eyeing the angry man up and down.
Bailic tugged his vest straight. “I want a tulpa.”
“A what!” Useless boomed, and everyone but Strell took a startled step back. “You insult me again! I gave my word.”
“I want it!” Bailic warned, backing away. “Or the agreement is null!”
“Oh, very well,” Useless grumbled.
“What’s a tulpa?” Strell interrupted, surreptitiously kicking Alissa’s shin. She unclenched her hands and tried to stop fidgeting. Hounds! How could she have just let Strell give it to him? How could she stand here now and keep from snatching it back!
Useless flicked what she thought was a warning glance at her. “A tulpa, Strell, is an object that retains its substance only as long as its corresponding agreement remains intact. It reverts back to nothing when the pact is broken. Its purpose is to ease the thoughts of the untrusting that there has been no premature dissolution of the contract in question.” Useless frowned. “It’s something that has never been requested of me in recorded history.”
Strell smiled. “I see. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Useless grinned, showing startlingly white teeth. “It’s what I’m here for.”
Bailic looked positively poisonous. “Are we finished?”
Useless glanced deeply into the sky. “Yes, I believe we are. May I take a moment to counsel my former student?”
“No.”
“No?” Useless turned, poising in mock surprise. “You won’t even grant me that?”
“Leave, Talo-Toecan, or you have broken your word.”
“Oh, very well,” he mumbled. Alissa understood how he felt. He was free after a veritable lifetime of confinement.
Even if Bailic got the better half of the deal, which she doubted, Useless was in far too grand a mood to care.
Alissa had listened carefully to the stipulations of their agreement, and one thing was abundantly clear. Even though he was incapable of it, Strell was being schooled to unlock the book, not her. That wouldn’t stop her fr
om listening in, though.
“Then I take my leave of you,” Useless said, stepping forward and clasping Strell’s shoulder. “Thank you for my freedom, Strell. It will bring you luck. Useless is no more.”
Strell gave him a sick look. “I hope so, Talo-Toecan. I fear I will need it sorely.”
“You must protect her as I cannot,” he continued.
“Yes, of course.”
Useless needlessly tugged his long vest straight. “I think you will.” Strell glanced down before meeting his pleased gaze, and Alissa wondered at their camaraderie. Useless then turned to her. “Don’t antagonize him too badly, eh?” he said.
“Me?” Alissa blinked innocently. “Antagonize Bailic?”
“I meant the piper,” he muttered.
“Oh.”
“We will indubitably speak again sometime,” Useless said loudly, engulfing her hand in his. A long finger traced the word “soon” in her palm. Alissa started then, staring wide-eyed into his merrily dancing eyes. This was unexpected.
“Go away,” grated Bailic.
“A moment,” Useless called in exasperation over his shoulder, then to Alissa, “You will always be my—inspiration.” Upon her hand, he sketched the word “student.”
“As you will always be mine,” she answered dryly as she turned his hand over and traced the word “Useless.” For she couldn’t call him Talo-Toecan. He was Useless to her, now and forever.
His eyebrows arched up in amusement as he recognized the simple figure. “If you like,” he murmured. She dropped his hand, and he stepped back into the clearing. With only the faintest whisper of a touch on her thoughts, he shifted. In a swirl of gray, his elegant shape blurred and grew into the savage form of a raku, glistening gold in the strong afternoon sun.
Useless eyed them for a moment. Then he turned skyward, and with a look of longing even Bailic couldn’t fail to recognize, he leapt into the air. Ice and pine needles flew, causing all three of them to shield their faces. When Alissa next looked, he was making circles about the Hold. Then he was gone; the winter sky was empty.
“What of my tulpa!” Bailic shouted, and as if his words had produced it, a tiny carving of a toad fell from the sky to nearly hit him. “Indeed,” he snarled, and scooped it up and turned to the Hold, but before he had gone three paces, he spun about.
“You,” he snapped at Strell, “will spend your mornings with me. And you . . .” He pointed a shaking finger at Alissa. “I don’t care what you do. Just—stay out of my way.” Whirling about, he stormed to the empty fortress.
Alissa stood there, unable to move, as the loud boom of the Hold’s door closing reached them. Behind her, Strell sighed and sank back down on Useless’s bench. “Well,” he said mournfully. “I guess my mornings are spoken for.”
Alissa’s pulse began to quicken, her feet to jitter. It was in the Hold. She could feel it. Ashes. She could feel that cursed book as Bailic took it up the stairs and to his room.
“Alissa?”
Her breath slid in and out, as soft and as easy as the day she was born, and she waited, letting the feeling grow, curious to see what she would do. One step, then another. Her lips were pressed tight. Her eyes were on the Hold’s doors.
“Alissa. Where are you going?”
She didn’t turn around. “I’m getting my book.”
“Alissa! Wait.” She felt Strell take her elbow. “Think a moment. You can’t even open it yet.”
Alissa shrugged him off and kept moving.
“Oh, Hounds. I—I’m really sorry about this,” and something heavy crashed into her. Screeching in outrage, she hit the snow. Twisting violently, she realized Strell was sitting on her, pinning her to the ground. “Get off!” she shrieked. “Wolves take you, Strell. Get off of me!”
“No. Not until you listen.”
“It’s mine!” she sobbed, beating the uncaring snow and the frozen ground with her fists. Tears of frustration squeezed out, and she hated herself for them. “He has no right! It’s mine! It’s mine!”
Strell laughed, he actually laughed, and Alissa felt herself go angrier and more desperate than before. “Alissa,” he said. “It’s not as if you promised him your firstborn.”
She quit squirming.
“Actually,” he drawled, making his accent thick, as he often did when he wanted to stress his opinion, “you didn’t promise him anything.”
Alissa lay for a moment, struggling to breathe from Strell’s weight. Her breath had melted through the snow, and a clover poked through, brilliant and green, making a startling contrast to the surrounding white.
“We—we will get it back?” she said.
“Yes. We will get it back.”
The magical series that’s
“sure to appeal to fans of Tamora Pierce or
Robin McKinley.” —Patricia Briggs
Dawn Cook
HIDDEN TRUTH
Alissa didn’t believe in magic—
not until she was sent on a journey to an
endangered fortress known as The Hold.
Now, an ancient book calls out to Alissa...
and threaten those she loves.
0-441-01003-2
Available wherever books are sold or at
www.penguin.com
B039
Powers unused are useless powers—
Out of Time by Lynn Abbey
From the fantasy world of Lynn Abbey,
co-creator of Thieves’ World™, comes a novel
of modern witchcraft and one woman’s
newfound powers.
0-441-00751-1
THE NOVELS OF LYNN ABBEY ARE:
“BRILLIANTLY CONCEIVED.”
—C.J. CHERRYH
“ALL THE THINGS THAT MAKE FANTASY WORTH READING.”
—BOOKLIST
Available wherever books are sold or at
www.penguin.com
A123
Dawn Cook, First Truth
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