Truth - Hidden Truth Part 14

Alissa's stomach gave a flip-flop. Her own source still lay hidden around her neck, unbound and apparently vulnerable. Content to let things sit as they were, Useless hadn't seen fit to show her how yet.

She hadn't known it was so desirable. Against her will, Alissa's hand found the small bag and clutched it possessively. Bailic couldn't take this, she thought.

Suddenly she realized she had a nasty choice to make. Asking two favors of Useless in one night wasn't an option. She had worked extensively with external fields during his last visit but had been expressly forbidden to practice on her own, especially in front of Bailic. She could ask to be allowed to manipulate fields alone to cover for Strell, or she could ask how to bind her source to ally her newest, desperate fear. Her decision was absurdly simple.

"Please," she whispered, her eyes nailed to the cup in her hands, "I would ask to be allowed to manipulate internal and external containment fields unchaperoned." She looked up into his unreadable eyes. "For Strell," she quavered. "If he doesn't produce a field soon, Bailic will do something terrible to him."

"Well done, Alissa. Very well done!" Useless shouted, clapping her across the shoulders.

Her tea went flying, and she blankly watched her cup sail into the dark to find the frozen ground with a dull crack. Confounded, she stared at him.

"Here, let me," and he made a new cup from seemingly nothing. It was identical in its brown ugliness to her original, and she held it loosely, not sure what to do. Looking annoyingly pleased with himself, Useless filled it, adjusted his coat, and turned to her, his eyes dancing.

"What?" she finally got out.

"You asked, young one. You asked."

"But I thought... All I needed to do was ask?" she sputtered.

"No." He grinned. "Asking wasn't enough. You were willing to forgo the safety of your own source for that of someone else. You're starting to think. That," he said firmly, "is why I will allow you to do as you want."

Feeling like she had been tricked, Alissa sullenly held her cup to try to warm her hands through her mittens. "Strell means more than a stinky bag of dust.""Really?" Somehow he managed to sound worried and incredulous at the same time.

"Well, anyone would," she added, so it wouldn't seem like she cared.

"M-m-m-m." Useless became very still. His eyes went to the ground, and he slumped his shoulders pa.s.sively. "So ..." he said softly. "You wouldn't mind if I took your source back?"

Alissa's cup of untasted tea spilled across the packed snow as she stood. "Don't you dare," she spat, shocked at the vehemence in her voice. She scowled down at him, clutching her small bag of source. It was hers. He wouldn't dare. Instructor or not, it was hers!

He chuckled, his docile posture vanishing. "Alissa, sit down. I was jesting."

"It wasn't funny," she said tightly.

"No, it wasn't. I'm sorry. Sit down." He seemed pleased by her temper, making Alissa angrier still.

But she sat, and with sharp, abrupt motions, refilled her cup. "I apologized, Alissa," he said. "I simply wanted to see if you understood the value of your source."

"Do I?" she asked bitterly.

"Offhand, I would say ... m-m-m... yes."

Alissa glared into the dark, ignoring him.

"We should get started if you're going to accomplish anything tonight," he said brightly.

Knowing her temper would do her no good, Alissa set her cup aside and settled herself.

"Watch," he rumbled, making a dramatic and absolutely needless gesture toward the fire. The flames flickered and died. There was no pull on her awareness or resonance upon her tracings. It had been done entirely with a field, without the aid of his source and tracings. She might not have noticed his field at all but for his warning he was going to do something.

"You used no ward for that," she said into the sudden dark.

"Correct. It was an impervious field. A permeable field has no effect on fire."

Alissa pulled her coat tighter, chilled. "Bailic never mentioned impervious fields."

"He wouldn't. Keepers are generally taught only permeable ones."

"But you're telling me."

He grinned, his teeth startling white in the darkness. "I like you." His smile quickly turned into a laugh, and the sound of it rolled out into the garden to fill the broken s.p.a.ce with the warmth of his good humor.

From somewhere, Talon answered him.

"That's nice." She smiled thinly. "But what's the point?"

"The point is, I snuffed the life from the fire, and because I didn't use my source and neural net, there was no resonance upon yours to give me away. My actions were harder to sense. It gave me a measure of stealth. Use an impervious field carefully, if you use it at all," he warned, his features grim with shadow.

"It will take the life from anything without the skill to break it."

"Oh ..." Alissa's eyes widened as she realized what a powerful weapon Useless had given her. It had felt like every other field she had made, only tighter in concentration, thicker. No wonder Bailic had never been told. They were potentially deadly.

"Good," Useless said, seeing her understanding. "Now, Bailic knows, as all Keepers do, or-ah-did, of permeable fields. It's all they're taught. An impervious field takes more concentration, but it's by no means beyond their capabilities. Don't make one when he is close enough to sense it. If Bailic sees one, he will realize they're possible. That knowledge is something I wouldn't wish him tohave. Permeable fields are adequate for anyone."

"What if a Keeper figured impervious fields out for herself?" she interrupted.

"She was asked to forget." Useless frowned until she looked away. "Permeable fields are sufficient to contain even the more wild reactions such as this." With a tweak upon her tracings, the fire blossomed into existence. She shifted closer to the flames in grat.i.tude.

"And, as you have also guessed," he continued dryly, "a permeable containment field is used to carry matter or energy from your thoughts to reality."

"Like the cups you make?"

"M-m-m, or that wonderful explosion of yours last fall," he finished slyly.

Chagrined, Alissa shut her mouth and found great interest in the fire, but not for long. "The energy used to create something-once it's fixed into an object, can it ever be returned to your source?" she asked.

Useless bobbed his head, swallowing a gulp of tea. "Yes. The task uses an impervious field so Keepers generally don't know it. But by far," he said, pointedly changing the subject, "a field's most popular use is serving as a stepping-stone from one's thoughts to one's reality."

"To create a ward," Alissa a.s.serted.

"Yes." Useless rubbed his smooth chin in thought. "A field gives a ward a place in which to act."

Seeing her dubious look, he added, "It's much easier than it sounds."

She caught her breath. "Show me?" she asked eagerly.

His eyes narrowed, considering it. "You've seen the pattern of tracings in your thoughts required for a ward of stillness from Bailic, no doubt?"

Alissa felt her pulse quicken as she nodded, remembering the horrible morning Bailic had removed Strell's finger. It was a pattern she would never forget.

Useless grimaced. "Set up the ward by allowing a thin trace of your source to enter the proper paths.

If you have it correctly, the pattern will resonate upon my own tracings."

Immediately Alissa sent a small thought to pierce her source to set up the first loop, or circuit as Useless called it. From there, she directed the flow to the proper tracings. Her network glowed with a scintillating pattern, and she held it as her instructor's eyes went distant and unseeing as he looked for any mistakes. His eyes cleared and he grimaced, slumping as if in defeat. "All right," he agreed. "You have it properly."

Alissa grinned. She knew she had.

"Let me see." Useless gazed about the garden. With a pleased sound, he rose and went to a stand of milkweed plants gone to seed. Breaking off one of the half-open pods, he returned and sat down. "Your father and Bailic loved to play this," he murmured, opening the brittle case farther. A few tufted seeds were still within its embrace, and Useless teased them forth. With a breath of air, he sent them aloft. They slowly began to fall, drifting on the draft from the fire.

"Catch them," he whispered intently.

Grinning, Alissa stood and plucked them from the air with her fingers.

"Very amusing, Alissa," he said sourly. "Next time, use the ward."

"I don't need a ward to catch them. A field alone would do it."

Useless inclined his head in agreement. "True. A ward of stillness is only effective upon creatures whocan move, but as there isn't even an insect to practice upon, you will pretend and use the ward as well as the field."

"How will I know if I get it right?" she pressed.

"I will tell you," he all but growled.

A sigh slipped from her as she released the two bits of down, watching them drift closer to the flames.

Still standing, she focused her awareness around first one, and then the other, encasing them each in a tidy field. Holding them thus, she set her tracings glowing and directed the flow of energy into the proper channels to set up the ward. As soon as the pattern was full, there was a pulling sensation. Yielding to it, Alissa felt an eerie disorientation as the pattern she set seemed to exist in three places: her thoughts and the two fields. With a snap that thrummed through her existence, her pathways went dark, leaving only the first loop glowing brightly.

"I did it!" Alissa cried in delight. It had been almost absurdly simple. The tufts of fluff hung motionless, an arm's length from the fire.

"If this wasn't practice," came Useless's voice, "you could loose the field, and the ward will remain upon the person, or in this case, the seeds."

Eager to try, she eased her concentration until the field vanished. The fluff fell with her ward. After all, it was only the field that had stopped them. The wards were just for exercise.

"I said 'if,' student, and the seeds froze, stopped by his field."Catch them again before they get too close to the flames.

"Fields are temporary," he continued as she did just that. "They fade as does your attention.

Implemented properly, the wards are permanent until removed by someone skilled in such things. Now again, please." His eyes closed, but Alissa knew from painful experience he was aware of everything around him.

She set the seeds drifting with a puff of breath. Before they had moved a hand's width, they were frozen, caught by field and ward.

"Excellent," was his response. "Try going for the one nearest you first, then the other in separate attempts."

This was harder as she had to set the pattern up anew after the first was away, but soon she had it. It was fun, and she continued practicing, enjoying the novelty. Alissa felt his eyes upon her for a long, quiet moment; then he reached out a thought and s.n.a.t.c.hed the tuffs with his own field and ward. "Hey!" she shouted, more than a little miffed.

"It's a contest," he said smugly. "He who catches both, wins."

"Oh." Alissa smiled. A game, she thought. Two breaths later, and five losses down, she changed her mind. Useless was fast. Wickedly so.

Almost as if he were reading her mind, he arched his eyebrows. "Yes, it's easy, but it takes practice to become proficient. Don't make the mistake of imagining you're anywhere near Bailic's skills. He would retaliate before your ward was even finished. You can be sure," he warned, "the result would be unpleasant. Move against him, and all previous agreements would be dissolved. He would be free to act in self-defense." Useless scowled. "Such as it is. You would not be granted a second opportunity."

Gulping, Alissa looked at her shoes. The fluffs reached the flames, and in a flash of brilliance they were gone.

Useless nodded. "Just so," he said quietly. "Shall we move on to your source?"

"My source?" Alissa's head came up. She had thought she would have to wait for another twoweeks.

"Course," he said gruffly. "I'm not going to let you run about my Hold any longer with a city's ransom around your neck. You seem to have the barest whisper of control. We will bend the rules a bit." His hand went out expectantly, and Alissa's elated look froze. She stared at him, afraid of what he wanted.

"Please," he demanded gently, "I would see it for a moment?"

She reluctantly lifted the small bag over her head, snagging her wretchedly long hair in pa.s.sing. The cord had become gray and thin from use. The sack itself wasn't much better. His earlier jest hadn't been appreciated, but the worst part was she didn't understand why she was so adamant about it remaining in her possession. The bag clenched in a tight fist, she stiffened, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, distressed and confused at her unusual mistrust.

"Please, Alissa," he said rea.s.suringly. "I only wish to ascertain if there's enough to warrant your potential. Upon his leaving the Hold, I gave your father additional source to protect my book if necessary. I a.s.sumed he would bind it, but apparently he didn't, as it's in your possession. But if you would rather not allow me . .." Useless let his words trail off into nothing. His hand closed upon air and dropped. It was a well-taken, unspoken, threat.

Alissa had to trust him implicitly; she felt her life might depend upon it. Just the hint of suspicion could poison her thoughts against him, beginning the long spiral down to the mistrust and paranoia that Bailic wallowed in. Her pulse pounding, Alissa forced open her mittened fingers, and the small bag fell into his waiting grasp. As his hand closed about it, a feeling of loss rose black and thick, shocking her with its crushing potency. She clenched her eyes shut against a wave of vertigo. Stifling an urge to strike him, she forced her eyes open, struggling to suppress any and all emotion. She would get it back.

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes locked upon her wide eyes. He shifted his gaze and focused entirely upon her source.

Aching for it to be over, Alissa clasped her arms about her knees and tried to keep her breath even as his brows furrowed and he sent the smallest tendril of thought around the bag. His golden brown eyes widened, and Alissa reached out to grip his arm tightly.

"What is it?" she demanded, dizzy with the sudden motion. She couldn't seem to take a deep enough breath, and she trembled with the effort to do nothing. The want to rise and tear her source from his grasp was so strong she could almost taste it, bitter on her tongue. Her trust in Useless was the only thing that stopped her.

"Nothing. It's fine. You're fine. It's just that..." Useless broke his concentration and turned to her.

"It's all there," he whispered, "and nearly bound. You've taken the first steps unknowingly." His amber eyes opened wide in what looked like absolute horror. "Here! Take it. Take it back!" he shouted, shoving the pouch into her hands.

Alissa clutched for it, nearly dropping it in her frenzied haste. The teeth of mistrust that had been steadily worrying her, urging her to lash out, finally loosened. She sat curled up about her source, trembling, not daring to look at Useless, waiting for the pounding in her skull to slow. When she finally looked up, he had his head in his hands and was muttering to himself. Alissa caught the name "Keribdis,"

and what she thought was "recklessly trusting," and what might have been "ancient cretin."

"Excuse me?" she rasped, thrusting a hand out to catch herself against the bench as she nearly tipped over.

Useless shook his head. His eyes were weary, and he looked old sitting on the stone bench in the fire's light. "I beg your pardon, Alissa," he whispered. "I wouldn't have asked had I known. Your restraint is... quite considerable, considering your few years, and very appreciated."

She managed a deep breath, her vertigo easing into memory. "I don't understand."His brow pinched in embarra.s.sment, Useless cast about as if for something to do. With a small sound of relief, he grabbed the teapot, draining it into his cup. "Your source is nearly bound," he mumbled around his mug as if that would explain it all.

"You already said that." She sighed, wondering if a straight answer was impossible.

"I shouldn't have asked to see it, much less gauge its value," he said. "I'm truly sorry."

"Why?"

"Because," he said patiently, "your soul is intertwined about it. To lose it would be to become half, less even." Useless turned away. More to himself then to her, he added, "How you could stand its loss for even that moment, I don't understand. I couldn't. I'm sorry."

"I've been lost before," Alissa said in a distant voice, and he turned to stare at her. "Mistress Death has put her mark on me. I've seen her, recognized her. You, Useless," she smiled thinly, "look nothing like her. Forget it."

His head drooped. "Lost before," he breathed into his cup. "That might explain it."