Hidden (Book 1) (17 page)

Bastian puzzled over how to respond to the picture. He
knew exactly what the drawing represented.
The woman in the
tree.
What he didn’t know until that moment was that she wasn’t alone.
If the drawing could be believed, there were three of them placed at the edge
of the fog.
Their protectors or their captors?
Bastian
wasn’t sure.

Even more disturbing was Sophia’s
involvement. How much did she know? What hadn’t she told them?

“What else do you know?”

Udor shook his head. “The story ends
there.”

Bastian ran a finger along the inner
spine of the book. “It doesn’t end there. The pages are missing. Someone tore
them out.”

Udor grunted. “I’m sure it was
Sophia. She was one of the few who could read.
Carrac
, myself, and only a couple
of others.
She was hiding something from us.”

The door opened. Both Bastian and
Udor tensed until they saw it was
Carrac
. The oldest
person in the village since Sophia’s death, he was also on the council of
elders.

“He knows,” Udor said with a wave of
his hand. He filled
Carrac
in on what they’d been
discussing.

“Sending people into the fog was her
idea,”
Carrac
reminded Udor. “She was trying to get
people out.”

Udor’s fist slammed into the table.
“Then why didn’t she prepare anyone properly?”

“Excuse me,” Bastian said, his eyes
locked on Udor, “weren’t you just trying to send people out there yourself?”

“As if I could stop them.” Udor
snorted and wiped his arm under his wet nostrils. “You think people here do as
I say? Rubbish. They do as they please. They’ve lived in fear their whole
lives, prisoners to this village. Guess what? None of them wanted to leave
because it was idyllic. That damn Sophia used the fog to scare people into
staying.”

“It was rare someone volunteered,”
Carrac
agreed. “They knew it was a death sentence.”

Bastian had difficulty believing
Sophia could have been so vindictive. She’d never seemed anything but adoring
and honest. She loved the village and her people.

“I’ve seen one of them.” Bastian
rested his finger on the woman to the southeast. In the picture she had
flowing, long blond hair.
Big blue eyes.
Full lips.
She looked nothing like the woman he’d seen. Yet he knew it was
her
. Who else could it be? Age and time and some form of
magic had ravaged her body. Wrinkles as deep as an endless chasm. Her ample
breasts wasted away until they resembled empty wineskins, drained of every last
drop.

“You have?” Udor questioned him.

For the first time, they were allies.
Bastian didn’t like that one bit.

“Then you know how to defeat her?”

Bastian shook his head. “I don’t. She
uses magic to keep anything from making its way into the fog. She killed a bird
and then tried to kill me.”

“But you survived,”
Carrac
said.

“I was lucky. In fact, my survival
since I stepped through the fog has been nothing but sheer luck. I could have
died many times over. My innards should be spread across the forest floor.”

“You made it outside the fog, didn’t
you?” Udor asked. “Why haven’t you told us any of that yet?”

“When have I had time?” Bastian
retorted. “I just recovered over night. I came out this morning, begging for
everyone to wait until I could spread word of what’s awaiting
them
out there. No one wanted to listen. Don’t get on me for
not telling you everything.”

Udor sank down onto the bench across
the table from Bastian. Udor’s eyes were bloodshot. Weary, even. “Then tell us
your story. Don’t leave anything out.”

Carrac
remained standing while Bastian
relayed the events of the past few days. He told them as much as he could,
leaving out the private liaisons between himself and Tressa. That was none of
their
business,
even though he was quite sure Udor
would have enjoyed a detailed retelling.

“Getting past the fog is only the
start of our troubles,”
Carrac
said. He stroked his
long white beard.

“Which is why I vote we stay,” Udor
said. “If people want to go out there and get themselves killed, let them.
Hutton’s Bridge should stay as it is. Leave the guardians in their place.
Someone put them there for a reason.

“To hide us,” Bastian said.

“To protect us,” Udor countered.

“Truth lies in perception,”
Carrac
reminded them. “You,” he pointed to Bastian, “want
to conquer the world. To you this is a prison. You,” he pointed to Udor, “are a
content, fat, old man wanting to live out his days in peace. To you this is a
haven.”

Neither Bastian nor Udor replied.

“You both have salient points,”
Carrac
continued. “But you need to realize your perceptions
are only a product of your desires and experience. Had Udor been the one to
leave the fog, he might feel differently about staying.”

Udor snorted in response.

“Bastian, did you always want to
leave the fog?”
Carrac
asked.

“Yes.” It wasn’t entirely true. Until
Tressa had been forcibly pulled away from him, he’d had no interest in leaving
the village. Once he realized his life wasn’t his, he wanted nothing more than
to start a new life somewhere else. But it overshadowed the bulk of his adult
life and those opinions were the ones that mattered most.

“Both of you need to realize Hutton’s
Bridge is at a crossroads. Neither of you can stop change, but you both have
the ability to influence it. This is your mantle of power. Wield it wisely.”

Bastian felt the responsibility heavy
on his shoulders as if he’d put on a heavy fur in the dead of winter. “I’m not
the right person to represent any course of action. I simply wanted to speak my
truth and let others decide for themselves. I can’t speak with authority. That
was Connor’s job.”

“Sometimes leadership is thrust on
those who are not ready for it. Few choose the responsibility.”
Carrac
glanced at Udor. “Some steal it for no reason than
to advance their own desires.”

“I love this town,” Udor insisted.

Carrac
held up a hand. “I know you do.
However, that hasn’t stopped you from manipulating everyone into agreeing with
your thoughts.”

“Everyone but Sophia.” Bastian
interrupted them. “She was the only vocal detractor of yours.”

“And look at what she’d been hiding
from us.” Udor shoved the book at Bastian.

He rested a hand on the old leather,
stopping it from ramming into his chest. “We don’t know why she had the book
and it’s too late to ask her.”

“She died too soon.” Udor grumbled,
wringing his bear-like hands together.

“Too soon? Was there a choice?”
Bastian stared the man down. “Do you have a story to tell us too?”

Udor stood up and stalked over to the
window. “Of course not.”

Bastian leapt from the bench,
grabbing Udor’s furry collar in his hand. “Do you have a story to tell us too?”
He twisted his wrist, bringing Udor closer. Their noses were only inches apart,
but this time Bastian had the upper hand.

“Now, now,”
Carrac
said, “Udor had nothing to do with Sophia’s death.
‘
Twas
a plague that killed her.
It’s killing people in town. That is out of Udor’s hands.”

Bastian yanked Udor
even closer.
Their breath mingled. Udor’s moist and rank, Bastian’s hot and angry. “If I
ever find out you did something to hurt Sophia, I will kill you.”

“You’re just a boy. You couldn’t kill
a fly.” Udor’s words were brave, but the wavering in his tone told Bastian they
were uncertain.

Bastian let him go. Udor shrugged and
stood up straight.

“The blood on my blade is not my
own.” Bastian unsheathed his sword. “Did you see it when I displayed it
outside?
Perhaps not.
Maybe you’d like to examine it
now?” He held it out for Udor to see, the tip only a hair’s breadth away from
the delicate skin of Udor’s neck.

“Stop threatening me, boy. I have
allies here who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”

Bastian’s upper lip curled and he
bared his teeth. “After what I’ve seen, I fear no man. Let them try.”

“Ready for your first lesson?”

Leo bowed with a flourish. He was
back to the way he’d been when Tressa first met him a few days ago.
Bald, goatee, totally recognizable.
Yet somehow he’d
completely disguised himself the other night.

If he
wouldn’t have
called her
chouchou
, she wouldn’t have thought him
the same man.
So tall and proud now.
Unlike when his
back hunched over and his eyes glinted with terrible malice from within his
hood.

Tressa reached up and touched his
goatee. “How did you make it disappear? I’m quite sure you can’t grow hair that
fast.”

He strode around the area in back Ira
kept for garbage. They’d cleared it out the day before when he promised to
teach her. The only stipulation was that her schooling would be done in
private. No one knew his identity. He was known far and wide as The
Entertainer. Some places he was The Swordsman.
Others, The
Man of Stealth and Romance.
Tressa had giggled at that one.

She hadn’t felt so safe around a man
since Adam. It was the way she wanted to feel around her father.

For only a moment her heart
twinged
. She hadn’t just left Bastian behind. She’d also
abandoned the man who’d abandoned her. She just hadn’t counted on missing her
father so much.

“Perhaps you noticed my face was
darker inside the hood?”

Tressa nodded.

“Makeup. Mostly soot. I ground it
into my goatee, making it blend in with the rest of my face. Look closely.” He gestured
toward his chin.

Tressa squinted, not sure what she
was supposed to be seeing.

“I keep it short. So short that it’s
easy to hide. If I were to grow a long one like my brother, I wouldn’t be able
to transform so easily. Not only does it provide me the protection of anonymity
when I’m not in costume, it also makes it quite easy for me to shave if I need
to escape a town quickly.

“Why would you need to escape? You’re
an entertainer.”

“And you’re a barmaid. I think there
are secrets neither of us are willing to divulge.”

“Fair enough.” Tressa stroked her own
chin.

“Are you prepared to learn to be a
man?” He bowed, holding out one arm in front of him, palm up.

She fought the urge to place her hand
on his, like she would have done otherwise. She’d been grilled in proper
behavior her whole life. Granna was a lady and she swore Tressa would be one
too. She always said that just because they were trapped in the fog it didn’t
mean they had to devolve into heathens. Hutton’s Bridge was once a shining
bastion of beauty. Granna hoped to the end that someday it would be that again.
She never gave up the dream.

That was all about to change.

In The Rooster’s Wattle she’d
overheard a conversation about an upcoming tournament. The twelve winners would
become the new elite guard for Stacia. Tressa was determined to learn to fight
in time and Leo could teach her.

“I’m not sure I could pass for a
man.” Tressa glanced down at her chest. She wasn’t too large, but not too small
either. A perfect handful, Bastian always told her.

Leo waved a hand in the air. “If I
can pass for a woman, you can pass for a man. You think I have a few extra
pounds on me because I’m unhealthy? Wrong. All a man needs is a little belly
fat. Push it up with the right girdles, and viola, boobs!” He grabbed his chest
in his hands, squeezed tight, and pushed them up.

Tressa had to laugh. His boobs were
now bigger than hers. “Fair enough! And all I need to become a man is to stick
a codpiece in my breeches. I understand.”

Leo came closer, dropping his hands
from his chest and his face becoming far more serious. He snaked an arm around
her waist, pulling Tressa close. “Do you really think that’s all it takes to be
a man?” His lips were only inches from hers. Her heart fluttered. Even though
she wasn’t attracted to him, Leo took her breath away.

The back door from the inn opened.
Ira peeked out and sighed. “I don’t even want to know.” He slammed the door
shut.

Leo stuck his tongue out and winked
at Tressa. “Not for you, my dear. You’re young enough to be my daughter. I
prefer my lovers a bit more mature.” He let go and took a few steps away. “And
poor Ira. I always got the girls when we were young. It’s just as well he
thinks that again. It’ll give us a good reason to meet up and he’ll stay away
from you.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s harmless.” Tressa
practiced walking like a man, following Leo around
their
little, self-styled arena.

“Ira’s not even aware that I’m the
man who entertained his inn the other night. I spend more time here than the
other inns, in an effort to help business. I don’t think he knows, though. He doesn’t
pay as much attention to business as he should.” Leo motioned to Tressa to
continue practicing her swagger. “That’s why I was glad to see you here. At
first glance I could tell you cared. During our chat, I realized there was far
more going on. You may have fooled Ira, but you won’t fool anyone who is
looking for ulterior motives.”

Tressa dropped her posture. Would she
ever be able to trick anyone? If she couldn’t do it as herself, how could she
disguised
as a man?

“No one trusts anyone here, my dear,
least of all the women, thanks to our dear queen Stacia.” A shadow passed over
his expression, flitting away as quickly as it had appeared.

If Tressa hadn’t been studying him so
carefully, it would have gone unnoticed. If the master of illusion couldn’t
control his negative emotions about the queen, then perhaps Tressa really had
found an ally.

“This queen,” Tressa imitated Leo as
he bent at the waist, bowing low, “tell me about her.”

Leo waved a finger in the air and
shook his head. “Let’s move on to another technique, shall we?”

“But, I –” Before Tressa could
finish her
sentence,
Leo took her in his arms.

He bent her
backward,
his lips once again close to hers. “There are ears everywhere. Mention her name
and they begin to listen.”

Tressa nodded ever so slightly,
trembling in his arms. Anyone passing by the back alley or looking out a window
would see a couple in a tender embrace. They wouldn’t see, or feel, the fear
passing through her.