Strell watched in cautious speculation as, with the smallest scrape of nail on stone, the raku lighted on the roof of the great hall. Carefully, Strell lowered his pipe and glanced at Talon. She was wary but unafraid. “Back again?” he whispered to the raku, and the beast shifted his wings as if threatening to leave.
“That’s all right. I’d rather pipe than talk, anyway,” Strell said as he began again, trying to entice the untamed fragment of mountain closer with one of Alissa’s favorites. With ungainly, hesitant hops, the raku succumbed to his curiosity and flew through the oppressive air to land upon the roof of Alissa’s room. Talon hunched, and Strell bobbled the easy, restful tune. The raku was right over them! He had never ventured this close before. Strell wasn’t sure if he was pleased or frightened.
As sudden and unexpected as a soap bubble bursting, Alissa’s presence became so tangible it hurt. Gasping, Strell stared slack-jawed into nothing. “Alissa,” he whispered. Instinctively he reached out with his thoughts, hunching at the sudden ache in his head. This time, he agonized, this time she would hear him.
But something was wrong. She was drowsing and somnolent, reminding him of the time she had burned her tracings nigh to death. He stiffened as he realized she was with Mistress Death again.
“Alissa! No!” he exclaimed, startling Talon and undoubtedly the raku perched above them. He sagged in relief as he felt the gray shroud surrounding her thin and break away. She was safe. She had heard him.
“Ashes!” he distantly heard Alissa in his thoughts, and he clutched at the word as if it were a blessing from the Navigator. “Thanks, Connen-Neute,” Then, almost as frantic as he had been, he heard her shout, “Connen-Neute! Wake up!”
Strell started at the sudden clatter in the hall. Talo-Toecan and Lodesh burst through the doorway in a tumult of billowing sleeves and sliding slippers. Strell’s fragile link with Alissa broke, and grief-stricken, he reached out to steady himself against the sill.
The two stumbled over each other to the curtained window. Flinging the heavy cloth aside, Talo-Toecan jumped onto the sill, his head nearly hitting the top of the frame. He leaned dangerously out, two long fingers and one foot the only thing keeping him there. His neck craned to the roof. Lodesh contented himself with leaning halfway out. “Look!” The Warden pointed, his eyes bright. “There he goes!”
With frantic downbeats, the raku took flight. Lodesh and Talo-Toecan silently watched as he flew a short distance to settle amid the trees, effectively hiding himself. “What under my Master’s Wolves is he doing so close?” said Talo-Toecan.
Strell cleared his throat. “And good morning to you both, as well,” he said dryly, rubbing his fingers into his forehead.
The two men spun. “Um, good afternoon, Piper.” Talo-Toecan adjusted his vest—which needed no adjusting—and with as much dignity as he could find, stepped smoothly from the sill.
Strell remained where he was, reluctant to move, seething with disappointment. He had heard her, and now she was gone. But at least—at least she was safe. Wolves, he felt so helpless. “To answer your earlier question,” he breathed slowly from the heat, “the raku came to listen to my music. He has for the last three days.”
Showing an unusual lack of grace, Lodesh collapsed into Alissa’s chair. “That would explain it,” he murmured. “He was always one to appreciate a good tune.”
“Connen-Neute liked even the bad ones,” Talo-Toecan quipped, not seeming to mind the heat as he regally sat in the window.
Strell jerked forward at the name. “Connen-Neute!” he cried.
Lodesh and Talo-Toecan looked up. “Not that I was implying your piping wasn’t up to its usual standards,” the Master quickly amended.
“No,” Strell said as he stood and looked out the window. “That was Connen-Neute?”
Talo-Toecan sighed. “Yes. He is.”
“Alissa,” Strell said, his words spilling over themselves. “I heard her. Just now.”
“Oh, really, Strell,” Lodesh scoffed.
“I know. I know,” he admitted. “But when he was here, Connen-Neute, I mean, sitting on the roof, I felt Alissa’s presence so much clearer.”
Lodesh’s face went blank. Then he made a small sound of disbelief.
“She was flirting with Mistress Death,” Strell said hotly. “And she heard me!” Exhausted by his protest, he slumped back into the sill. “She did,” he asserted, glaring at the mocking doubt in Lodesh’s green eyes. “She thought I was Connen-Neute.”
Strell froze in sudden thought. “Alissa is with Connen-Neute,” he said. “That means you can narrow the area of time she’s in!” He turned eagerly to Talo-Toecan.
Lodesh cleared his throat with a tone of concern. “Perhaps you should come down to the cooler, lower levels for a while, Strell,” he offered. “It’s insufferably hot up here.”
Angry, Strell rounded upon him. “I’m not sun-struck. I heard her. In my head. And though she thought I was Connen-Neute, she heard me!”
Lodesh’s eyes narrowed, and his face took on an unusual anger.
“Excuse me, Lodesh?” Talo-Toecan stepped cleanly between them, breaking into their line of sight. “Go down and make a pot of tea.”
“Tea!” Lodesh drew back. “It’s too hot for tea.”
“Nonetheless, I long for tea.” Talo-Toecan went back to the window, his shadow lying between them. Strell and Lodesh eyed each other over it.
Lodesh’s face fell into a knowing acceptance. “Of course. Tea,” he said as he walked out. From the hall came his soft mutter, “If you want me to leave, why not just say so?”
“And let the pot boil by itself,” Talo-Toecan called after him. Grimacing, he slowly lowered himself back onto the sill. “I want to enjoy my tea if I must drink it on such a day as this,” he finished quietly.
Strell felt trapped by a truth no one held true. “You believe me, don’t you?” he asked.
“What would you think . . .” The Master hesitated as if gathering himself. “What would you think if I told you I also could hear someone who is beyond my reach—occasionally.”
Strell looked up, curious at the sound of shared vulnerability in Talo-Toecan’s voice. “I would say to heed that call and follow it until you can go no farther.”
“Aye.” He sighed. “That’s what I think as well.”
“Then you don’t believe I’ve had too much sun.”
Talo-Toecan ran a hand over his shortly cropped hair as he glanced at Strell and away. “You have piped in a feral beast for, what did you say, three days running? I believe you.”
Strell slumped, his relief was so great. With a short-lived vigor, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of Alissa’s chair. He hadn’t liked Lodesh being in it. Elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands. “She heard me, and now she’s gone. How?” he asked.
The Master made a puff of defeat. “I have no idea. But that doesn’t make it less real.”
“Lodesh doesn’t believe.”
“Doesn’t?” the Master asked, “or won’t? Perhaps he’s resentful that you can hear her and he can’t.” Shifting the curtains aside, he gazed toward Ese’Nawoer. “I’d like to know how you manage that, myself.”
Strell closed his eyes, not sure if the pain of talking about it outweighed the pain of keeping it within him. “I think it was Connen-Neute’s presence that made her clearer. But it never made a difference before.” He rubbed the last of his headache away.
There was a scuff in the hall, and Lodesh entered, a steaming teapot and cups in hand.
“Thank you, Lodesh.” Talo-Toecan held out an eager hand. Golden eyes expectant, he poured out the brew and offered it first to Strell, then Lodesh, who both predictably refused. “Strell has developed an interesting theory,” Talo-Toecan said, “concerning why Alissa’s presence is much more obvious at some times than at others.”
Lodesh seemed to freeze, then reached for the pot, having apparently changed his mind. “Do tell?” he prompted. The two words sou
nded wary to Strell’s trained ear, and he looked up.
“He believes Connen-Neute’s presence heightens the clarity of Alissa’s.”
Lodesh hid behind his cup, and Strell’s brow furrowed. The Keeper’s actions were off. It was very subtle, but Strell’s upbringing as a plains merchant picked it up. “Sometimes,” Strell offered, watching Lodesh. He glanced at Talo-Toecan, seeing the Master had noticed the discrepancy as well. “There’s something missing though. I haven’t figured it out yet.”
Talo-Toecan rubbed his temples and sipped at his tea. Wincing, he set the cup down. “Making contact, real communication, such as you did today, is vital. If we can reproduce that, we may have a chance to get her back.”
“How?” Strell asked as the old raku shook his head, his eyes unfocused.
Lodesh’s grip on his cup seemed to relax, and Strell wondered if perhaps his own mistrust was from his worry. “Can you sense her now?” Lodesh asked.
Strell felt his gaze go distant. “Oh, yes,” he whispered, hearing the haunted tone in his voice. “She’s run out of the room and is in one of the practice rooms below us.”
Talo-Toecan’s cup hit the sill in surprise, and Strell stiffed. “When a piece of oneself is torn away,” Strell said bitterly, “one becomes very adept at detecting the barest whisper of it.”
“Unless one learns to ignore it,” Talo-Toecan said somberly.
Lodesh made a rude noise. “You two can talk of maybes and somedays,” he muttered, “but I need something tangible.”
Talon squeaked, and Strell went to the window to look for Connen-Neute.
“This coming from a man who died over three hundred years ago?” said Talo-Toecan.
Strell turned to see Lodesh’s eyes harden. “Excuse me,” the Warden said, pulling a shield of formality about him. He set his cup on the mantel and strode to the door.
Talo-Toecan grimaced. “Lodesh, wait,” he called.
“No,” he said, and he left, his steps slow from the heat.
The Master seemed to gather himself in a long sigh. “This,” he said in a soft disgust, “is the worst pot of tea Lodesh has ever made. I’m not going to drink it.”
“So how can I establish a reliable contact with Alissa?” Strell said, not caring about the taste of Lodesh’s tea.
Talo-Toecan’s gaze roved across Alissa’s room, his eyes brightening as he spied Strell’s pipe. With a pleased sound, he reached for it, proffering it grandly to Strell. “I suggest you lure Connen-Neute back and see what happens.”
Strell held the pipe loosely. “I told you. It’s more than Connen-Neute.”
“We must start somewhere,” was his patient reply.
Taking a labored breath, Strell began a somber melody, sluggish from the heat. A sudden thought broke his playing midphrase. “Connen-Neute was in this room, or above it, in both now and then,” he said.
“Yes. I think so, too.” Talo-Toecan’s agreement was lethargic. Strell knew it wasn’t from the heat but his music. Alissa was the same.
“So perhaps if we mirror what exists in Alissa’s time, we might make contact again,” Strell said, hope making his breath quicken.
“Mayhap.” Talo-Toecan shut his eyes. “As I have said, we must begin a dialog. How can we know what to mimic, if she won’t tell us?” A slow, long finger gestured for Strell to continue, but Strell was too excited.
“She is in the past,” he asserted, and Talo-Toecan nodded impatiently. “So why don’t you remember her?”
He sighed as his eyes opened. “I was absent from the Hold occasionally,” he admitted. “I may have just missed her, if she was ever really there at the time. Who knows?”
Having to accept this, Strell began to play with a renewed hope as the cicadas sang a harsh, irregular accompaniment.
20
“Good morning, Mavoureen,” Alissa called as she entered the kitchen. Beside the main hearth, Kally turned from her instruction to another of the kitchen’s help and smiled.
“Ah, Alissa!” Mav said. “You’re a spot of sunshine in a dreary day.” Her strong, pale arms up to her elbows in flour, she continued to knead dough with a vigor one usually applies to an errant child’s backside. “You’ll eat your breakfast where you ought?” she said sharply.
Alissa gave her a sick smile. Her head was throbbing from the short walk through the Keepers’ dining hall. It was crowded, and everyone had been talking at once, planning out their first day of the three-day festival. Everyone who could shirk their responsibilities was headed for Ese’Nawoer. The Warden’s death hadn’t been forgotten. His people had only grasped the opportunity to find solace. “Actually,” she said, “I was hoping to eat in the garden.”
Mav ceased her pounding and frowned disapprovingly. “You aren’t avoiding Earan . . .”
Kally came to her rescue, a covered plate in hand. “Earan is already on the front steps. Alissa probably doesn’t want to spend what time she has before her lesson in a crowded hall.”
“That’s it exactly,” Alissa said in relief as she accepted the plate. “I haven’t been under the sun in—so long,” she finished lamely, not wanting to draw attention to Mav’s two-day nap.
Mav lost her severe look. “Aye. But I don’t think you’ll see much sun this morning. It’s a cloud we exist in.”
“Even so,” Alissa said with a wistful sigh, “it’s too noisy in there.”
Mav began to divide the dough into identical lumps. “Talk, talk, talk,” she said. “That’s all those Keepers seem to do—if you’re lucky. No one tells them, Keepers I mean, to be still. They’re worse than the students.” She paused. “Present company excepted, of course.”
Alissa grinned. “Of course,” she said as Kally rolled her eyes.
The girl handed Alissa a teapot and cup, going before her to the garden door. “I want to thank you again,” the girl whispered as she opened the brightly painted door.
Alissa glanced furtively at Mav, who was now bawling out a hopeless kitchen hand who had allowed tonight’s pudding to scald. “Don’t thank me,” Alissa said. “I put her there.”
Kally’s eyes pleaded, and realizing that accepting Kally’s thanks would free the kitchen girl’s thoughts from blame, Alissa nodded. Content, Kally gave Alissa an awkward hug and turned away. “Mav,” Kally called as she closed the door. “Let me help you with that.”
Not sure what she should be feeling, Alissa balanced her unseen breakfast in one hand, gripped the teapot in the other, and made her way along the well-tended path. Damp gray brushed against her skin as the fog slipped about her, marking her passage in drops of dew upon her eyelashes. Its muffling gentleness soothed her as much as the sight of the familiar plants.
The mental noise the Hold put out was staggering. Only in the fleeting space before sunrise did it ever seem to slow. Alissa had found both the garden and the annexes to be unexpected oases, as the thick walls of the Hold blocked much of the mental backwash.
It had been yesterday while in the annexes under the excuse of looking for a new pillow that she found Breve searching for silver buttons for Earan. She thought she had been alone in the huge storeroom, and Breve’s grin for having caught her softly singing what was obviously a tavern song broke the last of the somber man’s mistrust. It had been “Taykell’s Adventure,” and she had been mortified. When she had left, Breve was enthusiastically making up new verses concerning the misfortune-laden traveler, his well-schooled voice echoing against the ceiling with no regard to decorum. What surprised her was that Breve hadn’t known the song already.
The buzz of a cicada broke the quiet, seeming to come from everywhere. Odd, she mused as she crunched down the pebbled path. Cicadas usually didn’t sing unless it was hot. Rounding the final turn, she stopped and blinked. Lodesh was at the firepit, fidgeting. Nervous? she thought. That is new. “Lodesh?” she called, and he jumped, turning to beam at her.
“Good morning, Alissa.” His voice was low and inviting. “Would you care to have breakfast with me?” r />
Alissa’s gaze flicked to the blueberries, muffins, and the tea already poured and steaming. Awkwardly balancing her plate, she peeked under the lid of her plate to find . . . nothing. “Ah—all right,” she said with a false sense of cheerfulness. Mentally cursing Kally and her misguided attempts at match-making, Alissa moved to join him. “How—how are you today?” she asked hesitantly, her thoughts returning to his father.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Giving her a quick, stilted smile, he helped her down the shallow stairs. His simple act triggered a memory of Strell and her, dining here under the stars last winter. It had been foggy then, too. Her face froze, and she squinted up at the bright haze, trying to disguise her misery in analyzing the probability of the sun breaking through.
Lodesh hesitated and cleared his throat. “Here. Let me take your plate,” he offered, and she looked to see a worried smile on him. The sound of flatware fell short in the muffling gray as he made good with the serving spoons. Thank the Navigator’s Hounds Lodesh was here, she thought as she tucked her feet under her. Or she would go completely insane.
“Alissa?” Lodesh broke into her reverie, and she took the bowl of blueberries.
“Thanks,” she said around a spoonful. “I haven’t had blueberries since—never mind.” Since she and Strell had found a patch behind the well, she finished silently, gazing at nothing.
Lodesh took a deep, determined breath. “It’s Strell, isn’t it?” he demanded.
Alissa nodded miserably. “I miss him, Lodesh. With you here, I can forget. But then I remember, and—” Blinking furiously, she looked away. She knew if she showed any tears, Lodesh would console her. And any show of sympathy would only make her cry all the more.
“You were planning on a future together?” he asked, but it really wasn’t a question.
“T-trying to,” she stammered, her eyes on her hands clenched about her bowl.
“Oh, Alissa,” he murmured. “It only takes time.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of!” she wailed, only now admitting to what all the heartfelt looks and gestures of the Lodesh she first knew were all about. Curse him. He had known. He had known she would misplace herself, and he had never warned her. But she couldn’t be angry at the Lodesh before her. He knew nothing of it.