Lost Truth

  The Keeper’s face went slack. “As in hard as?”

  “As in dense,” Strell corrected, and Lodesh seemed to relax. Taking his pipe up, Strell began a soothing tune. Lodesh closed his eyes and leaned back until his head hit the tree. The Keeper had been awake all night watching Alissa; tonight it would be Strell’s turn.

  Lodesh’s breath turned slow and even. Strell noticed his eyelids twitching as Lodesh found sleep. It pleased Strell. At least the cursed Keeper had to sleep.

  Strell continued playing, turning his attention to the gentle swells and the flat horizon. He liked the visual distance. It reminded him of his home in the desert. The mountains were captivating, but with a flat horizon before him, he felt he could do anything, go anywhere.

  Nearby, just beyond the swells’ reach, stood Yar-Taw. He was balancing on one foot, reaching out as he slowly shifted his position. Strell had seen Connen-Neute do the same thing on the boat, and he wondered what use that kind of a skill was.

  Yar-Taw abruptly dropped his outstretched limbs and stood straight. Deathly still, the Master stared out over the water. The wind fluttered his long vest. Following Yar-Taw’s gaze, Strell lowered his pipe and stared as well. A golden shape was approaching, flying just above the water. Keribdis? he thought, then took a quick breath. It was too big.

  “Wake up,” Strell said, nudging Lodesh’s foot. “He’s here.”

  Lodesh stirred with a grunt. “Already? It’s only been four days.”

  Strell rose and brushed himself free of sand. “It will be five come this afternoon.”

  “But it took us weeks.”

  “We weren’t in a hurry.” Strell went to stand beside Yar-Taw. The Master looked none too eager, his expression pinched as he looked out over the water.

  Yar-Taw’s eyes widened. “Silla,” he whispered. “Bone and Ash. He’s got Silla!”

  Strell squinted, unable to make her out.

  “There, in his arms!” The Master had gone white. “She hasn’t been hiding. She ran away!” He looked at them, then returned his attention to the incoming raku. “She’s unconscious. Back up. Back up! Give him room to land.”

  Talo-Toecan grew close quickly. Tensing, Strell backpedaled with Lodesh and Yar-Taw. The large raku landed. Sand and spray went everywhere. Dropping his arm from his face, Strell took a gulp of air. Talo-Toecan looked angry. Even worse than the time Alissa had accidentally pulled the pendulum from the great hall’s ceiling.

  His wings made the air snap as he folded them. His golden eyes were almost black, as his pupils were wide. His tail was quick and sharp as it whipped about for balance. In his arms was Silla in her human shift. She tried to sit up, reeling as her sunburn scraped. Blinking as she struggled to focus, she struck out at Talo-Toecan’s grip, pointing to the ground.

  Yar-Taw held a hand to his head. “Not so loud!” he shouted. “My tracings are bruised.”

  Talo-Toecan lifted his head and roared. Hunching, Strell covered his ears and peered up. He had forgotten how large Talo-Toecan was compared to most rakus. Just his hind foot was as long as Strell was tall. The sound of approaching voices came from the new trail to the village.

  “Please?” Silla whispered.

  Talo-Toecan’s head whipped around. Dropping it submissively, he puffed a breath of air on her before he slowly, gently, set her on the ground. A lumpy brown cushion materialized on the sand, and Silla gratefully sat on it. Huddled to little more than a ball, she held one hand to her head, the other to her middle. Her black hair lay in lank strands to cover her face. Yar-Taw stepped forward, jerking to a stop as Talo-Toecan slapped his tail into the sand between them.

  “We thought she was with Keribdis,” Yar-Taw said defensively, his hands on his hips as he scowled up at him. “We would have looked for her if we had known.”

  Talo-Toecan vanished into a swirl of pearlescent gray. Strell’s shoulders eased as the raku reappeared as a man. “Where is she!” he shouted the instant he took form.

  Strell glanced at Yar-Taw, glad Talo-Toecan wasn’t angry with him. Yar-Taw licked his lips. “Uh . . . Talo-Toecan. It’s good to see you. Keribdis is—”

  “Not her. Where is Alissa? Where’s my ash-ridden student!”

  “Oh.” Yar-Taw looked behind him at the rustling sound of Masters approaching. Strell thought they looked more afraid than pleased as they gathered into grim-faced clusters. Strell jiggled Yar-Taw’s arm. “Uh, at the tent,” the Master said, seemingly not aware Strell had touched him.

  “Tent?” Talo-Toecan said, seeing it. “What the Wolves is she doing in a tent?” He bent to Silla, whispering, “Can you stand yet?”

  Strell felt a pang of sympathy at her slow shake of her head, remembering Talo-Toecan asking him the same thing one winter’s afternoon. Taking a steadying breath, Strell strode across the sand. “Talo-Toecan,” he said shortly, giving the Master a nod as he took Silla’s other arm. “I’m glad you’re here. We need your help.”

  Talo-Toecan’s face became empty. “What did they do to her?”

  Strell tried to answer, but his voice unexpectedly caught. The last four days of hope and fear welled up. He couldn’t say it. Shaking his head, he led Silla away. The young woman was crying. Strell wished he could carry her, but her sunburn wouldn’t let him.

  Neugwin came close.

  “Get me that nut oil Beso-Ran puts in his ale,” Strell said tightly. “It might soothe her skin.”

  Neugwin nodded, her gaze going distant before matching his pace again. Wyden turned and left, and Strell was satisfied she would soon show up with what he wanted.

  “Why is Alissa in a tent?” Talo-Toecan asked, ignoring the following behind him.

  “Didn’t Silla tell you?” Yar-Taw walked a touch behind Talo-Toecan. Strell thought it looked submissive, and he felt a jolt of satisfaction.

  “Silla has been unconscious all night,” the angry Master said. “Half-dead from exposure. How could you not know she was missing? Are you that careless with your children?”

  Talo-Toecan’s wrath vanished with a shocked suddenness as he came upon Connen-Neute and Alissa. Alissa’s hand lay bound under a splint, her fingertips purple and white. Even though the morning was cool, Connen-Neute’s face had beaded with sweat. Quiet and still, Talo-Toecan stepped into the tent. “What did that ash-ridden wife of mine do?”

  Yar-Taw flicked an uneasy glance behind him. “Alissa . . . Keribdis . . . When—”

  Strell interrupted lest they lose what little time they might have in conversation designed to slide blame rather than remedy the problem. “Excuse me, Yar-Taw,” he said as he helped Silla down onto a cushion. “Connen-Neute is pickabacking Alissa’s consciousness upon his, keeping her alive after Keribdis took her source in an attempt to dominate her.”

  “Her source!” Talo-Toecan said, lines of horror making him look older. “How?”

  Steeling his voice, Strell added, “Apparently Alissa then used it up to call you.”

  “The Wolves will hunt her.” Talo-Toecan’s eyes closed, and pain etched his face.

  Yar-Taw cleared his throat. “You left a few parts out, plainsman.”

  Talo-Toecan’s eyes opened, and Strell stifled a shudder at the bound anger in them. “I’ll hear the rest from Alissa,” the Master said as he knelt beside her. He reached to touch her cheek with the back of his hand. Strell saw his long fingers trembling, and he wondered if the Master was afraid. The surroundingpeople had halted at the edge of the tent, but the large space seemed small with Lodesh, himself, Yar-Taw, Silla, and Talo-Toecan in it.

  Moving his head back and forth in denial, Yar-Taw sighed. “She won’t come back from that. I’ve tried to reach both of them. They’ve retreated too deeply.”

  Strell took a step back as Talo-Toecan whipped about and rose to his feet. “She will. They both will,” Talo-Toecan said.

  Yar-Taw’s eyes carried a deep sympathy. “I’m sorry, Talo-Toecan. Connen-Neute might, but your student is lost. To return from such a hurt knowing there’s not
hing to come back to? No. I might be able to find her, but I couldn’t make my way back. Neither could you.”

  Talo-Toecan’s jaw clenched. Long fingers curled into fists. He stepped toward Yar-Taw. “She already knows the way back,” he said. “And she’s taught Connen-Neute the same path. Didn’t she tell you she has come back from Mistress Death’s garden before?”

  “No.” Yar-Taw was red with anger, refusing to back up. “Did she tell you she retained her feral consciousness after her first transition?”

  Talo-Toecan’s mouth opened. Blinking, he shut it. He looked behind him to Alissa, then back. “No!” he whispered urgently. “She . . . but she destroyed it.” Slack with confusion, he stared at Lodesh. “You were there. You saw.”

  Lodesh shrugged. “That’s why Keribdis took her source.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Strell interrupted hotly. He would not let the truth be buried in the sand like an unwanted newborn. “Keribdis took it because she knew Alissa would agree to anything to get it back. That’s why Alissa used it up. She wouldn’t belong to that woman.”

  Talo-Toecan didn’t seem to hear. A distant memory seemed to flicker behind his eyes. “I thought it was wrong she could fly right away,” he said. “It was her feral consciousness.”

  “And why she wouldn’t let you pickaback to reach Silla by dream,” Lodesh added. “She was afraid you would see Beast as Connen-Neute did.”

  Talo-Toecan shifted his gaze to Connen-Neute as the Keeper had probably intended. “Beast? Her other consciousness has its own name? You all knew?”

  Strell paled under Talo-Toecan’s intent gaze. “No,” Strell said. “I didn’t know until a few days ago. But, Talo-Toecan. They’re wrong. Beast is still Alissa. I’m the only one who knew Alissa well before she learned how to shift, and Beast is still her.”

  “You think it’s—” The old Master seemed to steady himself. “It’s still there?”

  Strell shook his head. They still didn’t understand. “Beast is Alissa,” he said patiently. “You Masters have it wrong. The feral consciousness you think you destroy at first transition isn’t something that evolves on its own. It’s always been there. It just separates from the rest of you when you learn how to shift.” Strell ignored the angry voices his words pulled into existence.

  “Get him out of here,” Yar-Taw growled. “I don’t have a feral beast suppressed within me. No one does.”

  Beso-Ran stepped forward, and Strell tensed. “No!” he shouted. “You let Keribdis all but kill Alissa when she said the same thing. Is it because it might be true? Are you afraid?” Beso-Ran took his arm, and Strell struggled to not strike him. “Talo-Toecan!” he exclaimed as he was pulled away. “Let me tell you what Alissa said!”

  “Let him talk.” Talo-Toecan’s eyes never moved from Alissa.

  Beso-Ran hesitated. Strell’s heart beat fast, and he jerked away from the heavy Master. “She says that’s why your numbers have been dropping since you learned to shift to a human form. Young rakus who suppress their feral side too much die from flight accidents. Those who suppress it too little go feral from the strain. It makes sense. It fits. Alissa hasn’t figured out how to blend her feral consciousness back into the rest of herself, but she’s closer than anyone else is. It might explain why she was able to shift through time, reach you across half a world, craft objects of stone from her thoughts, talk to both Keepers and Masters, return Connen-Neute to sentience, and all the other things she manages that none of you can.” His gaze flicked from Talo-Toecan to Yar-Taw, pleading for a whisper of understanding to show itself.

  The gathered Masters seemed to hold their breath as Talo-Toecan’s eyes widened. Then he shook himself. “We can discuss it at length with Alissa herself,” he said roughly.

  Strell took a heaving gulp of air as the tension broke. At last. Someone was going to do something. “Can I help?” he said, surprised when Talo-Toecan nodded.

  “Stand here,” he said, pointing beside Alissa. “Lodesh, you have Connen-Neute. The rest of you—” He hesitated, looking up at them irately. “Go away. The last thing Alissa wants to see is you staring at her as if she were a cripple.” Expressions ranging from anger to understanding passed over the crowd. Talo-Toecan’s face creased. “Get out of here!” he shouted. “She came to find you, and this is what you do to her?”

  Silla looked up. Her face was streaked with tears, and a white film of salt colored her black hair. “I want to stay,” she quavered. “Alissa is my friend.”

  Immediately Talo-Toecan’s anger vanished. Kneeling beside her, he carefully took a burn-swollen hand in his. “Then stay until Alissa regains consciousness,” he said.

  She smiled weakly, and he stood. No one had moved, and he frowned at them. Slowly, in twos and threes, they left with the exception of Yar-Taw and Neugwin. “He is my kin,” the woman said—her soft face looking wrong under so severe a mien—and Talo-Toecan nodded.

  “What are you going to do?” Strell asked, his relief swinging back to worry.

  “Go in her thoughts and shake her up,” he said, his brow furrowed. “Connen-Neute would have likely pulled her out himself, but he’s too involved in keeping her alive. Once I take over that, he can bring us all out. On the count of three I want Lodesh to give Connen-Neute a slap. Make it hurt. Piper?” He turned to look at them. “The same with Alissa.”

  Strell swallowed hard, trying to imagine hitting Alissa. Talo-Toecan hesitated. “Can you do that?” he asked, the wrinkles in his face becoming deeper.

  “Will she remember it?” Strell asked in worry, and a vague smile passed over the Master.

  “If we’re lucky? No. But I think she will.”

  Strell nodded, recalling Bailic had done the same to bring Alissa awake the first time she had retreated this far into her unconsciousness to escape an unbearable pain.

  “Ready?” Talo-Toecan said, and Strell nodded. “All right. I want you to count to three slowly. That will give me time to find and explain to Connen-Neute what to do.”

  Yar-Taw shuffled closer. “I’ll count.”

  “If you feel you must,” Talo-Toecan said caustically, then closed his eyes. Strell shifted nervously, unnaturally conscious of his hand. He glanced at Lodesh. The Keeper was grim.

  “One—two—three,” Yar-Taw said slowly, and Strell started.

  His hand met Alissa’s cheek in a shocking sound. “Alissa!” he exclaimed, staring at the ugly handprint on her cheek. “Oh, Wolves, I’m sorry,” he said, bending close. “Alissa?” His breath came tight as her eyes opened. They were horror-filled and unseeing.

  “Gone!” she shrieked, the sound frightening him. “It’s gone!” she cried again. She flailed out with her good hand as Strell tried to take her in his arms. Curling into herself, she rocked, clutching her broken hand to so tightly it had to hurt. Strell fell back, shocked.

  “What are you doing—Keeper?” came a cold, dark voice, and Strell’s gaze darted to Connen-Neute gripping Lodesh’s outstretched arm in a white-knuckled grip. His strike had never landed.

  “Uh, nothing,” the Keeper said, three shades whiter. “Can I have my hand back?”

  Yar-Taw was staring at Alissa in repugnance and fear. “Silla,” he hissed, gesturing. “Come here. You shouldn’t see this.”

  Strell spun to Alissa as she sobbed violently. He reached out only to have Talo-Toecan intercept him. “Give us a moment alone, Piper,” Talo-Toecan rasped, an air of tired resignation about him. He glanced at Silla. “Take Silla with you,” he added. “This may take some time, and Alissa is likely to hate whoever sees her like this.”

  “I—I want to stay,” Strell said, alarmed at the ragged look of the old Master. Something had happened in those three heartbeats. Something he would never comprehend.

  “Go,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal. “All of you. Find her something to eat. And water. Lots of water. Ashes, I’m thirsty.”

  “Water, yes,” Strell said, reaching to help Silla to her feet. The young woman looked stunned, rising wil
lingly to take Yar-Taw’s offered arm as she darted frightened glances at Alissa rocking in a tight ball.

  Connen-Neute groaned in pain as he got to his feet. His long face was creased in hurt as he forced his arms and legs to move after four days. Leaning heavily on Lodesh and Neugwin, he gave Talo-Toecan a unreadable nod before limping out. Neugwin’s gaze became distant as she probably sent word ahead to prepare for them.

  Food, Strell thought, desperately wanting to do something for Alissa. He could get her some food. He knew Alissa better than all of them combined. If anyone could find her a reason to go on, he could. And it would start with food.

  37

  The fire was small. It was ready to go out, losing the battle to keep back the night. Alissa’s hand throbbed under Useless’s pain-dulling ward. Before her, Talon lay on a square of black cloth. The bird’s plumage showed dark drops of color where tears had fallen. “I’m sorry, Useless,” Alissa whispered, numb and rife with apathy. “I should have let Keribdis have her way. I can’t shift now. I can’t—” She forced the words out, telling herself she couldn’t feel anything. “I’m worthless. I—” Her throat closed, her body betraying her will.

  Useless sat where he had been since noon, beside her on one of his lumpy cushions on the sand next to Strell’s offered plate of untouched food. “I shouldn’t have let you come out here alone,” he said, more to himself than her. The darkness seemed to soak up his low voice. “And you aren’t worthless, Alissa. You will have another source.”

  “No,” she protested. “I don’t care anymore. I’m done.” Her eyes were on Talon, wondering when he would go away like the rest of them. Even Strell had left.

  “Alissa,” he said, softly pleading. “You will get a new source.”

  Her face twisted bitterly. “When? When someone dies? I don’t want another.”

  “Don’t be a martyr,” he said. It was obvious he had tried to make his tone sharp, but pity hadn’t let his voice make the jump.

  “I’m not.” Her breath slid in and out, soundless against the hiss of the fire and the night-hushed waves. “I tried to be something I’m not. It’s time . . .” She took a steadying breath. “It’s time for me—to go home,” she finished, the words squeaky toward the end. She was a crippled half-breed. A mix of everything that amounted to nothing. She would return to the foothills where she belonged. She would be shunned and reviled, but she wouldn’t stay in the Hold. Her view of Talon became blurry as the tears threatened, and she couldn’t imagine where she was finding the strength for them.