“I thought all the miners were gone,” Seval said.
The boy tried backing away, but Rsiran squeezed on his arm, holding him in place. As thin as he was, he feared crushing his arm, or breaking it. He relaxed slightly. There wasn’t anyplace really for him to go here. If he ran, it would be into the city, and from the wide-eyed way that he stared at everything, Rsiran could tell that he didn’t want to do that.
“Not all gone,” the boy said. His voice went high as he said it. “Not all gone!”
“What’s wrong with him?” Seval asked.
“I think,” Rsiran began, “it has something to do with the fact that he was left alone in the mines. The rest of the miners were gone, but he remained.”
“Take me back!” the boy said.
His voice rose louder, now shouting. If he got much louder, he would draw the attention of the constables, which would draw the guilds. He wanted a chance to understand the boy before that happened.
“Why would he want to go back there?” Seval asked.
“Because he hears the lorcith.” The boy must have some smith blood for him to hear it. In some ways, he might even be more connected to lorcith than Rsiran. The boy had spent years in the mine; years spent listening to the song.
Seval nodded. “Can we help him?”
The question made Rsiran smile. “I intend to.”
The door opened and Della stood watching them. Her bright green eyes seemed to take everything in quickly, glancing from Seval to Rsiran and then to the boy. “About time you brought him to me.”
Rsiran tipped his head. “About time?”
The boy started shaking. “Take me back!” he shouted.
“Best get him inside,” she said. “Don’t want to draw any more attention here if we can avoid it.” She nodded to Seval. “You, too,” she said.
They pulled the boy into Della’s home. Once inside, she closed the door, slipping a complicated lock in place. The boy tried struggling again, straining to get away from Rsiran, but he held firm, refusing to release him. For as much as he had to be malnourished, he was quite strong. Seval moved toward the hearth in the small home, getting out of the way.
Della calmly held out a cup of mint tea toward the boy. “Drink.”
He shook his head.
“I’m not going to hurt you and you look thirsty. If you drink, we can talk about getting you what you want.”
Rsiran shot her a look, but she made a point of not meeting his eyes.
“I want to go back,” the boy said. He had a little less force to his voice this time, and at least stopped shouting.
“I think the entire street heard you,” Della said. “Now drink before I force it down your throat.”
The boy tried backing away from her, but when Rsiran continued to hold him in place, he eventually took the offered mug of tea and sipped. Rsiran could practically see the way he relaxed, the tension fading from his shoulders, and he stopped pulling so hard to get away.
“Now,” Della said. She touched his hand and her eyes flared green for a moment.
The boy trembled again, and tea splashed out from the mug, before it eased.
Della pulled her hand back. “You can release him now, Rsiran.”
“Are you sure?”
She looked at him with amusement. “Have you ever known me not to be sure?”
Rsiran shrugged and let go of the boy’s arm.
The boy rubbed his against his chest, as if trying to wipe away Rsiran’s touch, but didn’t run. Instead, he took another sip of the tea and then let out a soft breath.
“Come. Sit by the fire with me,” Della suggested. Her voice had a soothing quality, one that seemed to mix with the scent of the tea.
The boy nodded and followed her to the hearth. Seval moved away and stood next to Rsiran. “Who is she?” he whispered.
“Della. She’s a Healer.”
“I’ve never seen a healer like this before,” Seval said.
“Not healer. A Healer.”
“What’s the difference?”
“About the same as Rhan working the forge and—”
Seval chuckled. “And you?”
“I was going to say you, but sure.”
Della occasionally touched the boy’s hand, patting it as he sat facing the hearth. She whispered to him softly as he drank his tea. After a while, his breathing started to slow, and his head began to bob, dropping to his chest. Della slipped the mug from his hands and set in on the ground.
She nodded to Rsiran. “Lower him to the pallet over there.” She pointed near the fire.
Rsiran scooped the boy from the chair and laid him down on the pallet, pulling a thin sheet over him. Asleep as he was, the boy looked so young. Scars ran along his arms, most faded and old, but there were some that were newer as well. A few bruises ran along the exposed skin of his legs. Whatever he’d been through had left him injured.
“He needs a bath,” Rsiran said.
Della chuckled. “The same could be said about you the first time you came to me.”
Rsiran flushed, thinking that Jessa had been the one who’d brought him to Della. How badly had he smelled? He’d been in the mines for… several weeks, maybe longer, but he’d lost track. Of course he would have stunk.
“Do you need me to stay?” Rsiran asked.
“I think I can handle a boy his age.”
“What if he…”
“You think he’ll attack me when he comes around?” Della asked.
“I don’t know what he’ll do. Only what I saw. He’s not right, Della.”
She tottered back behind her counter, weaving with a little less stability than she had before. How much effort had she put into Healing the boy? Saving Rsiran, and Brusus, and most recently Jessa had taken quite a bit of strength from her—he’d seen how weakened she was when she helped them, especially with Brusus—but those had all been injuries of poisonings. This boy…
“Not so different, Rsiran,” she said softly, as she stirred another mug of tea. She handed one to him, and then offered a second to Seval. The master smith took it with a grateful nod. “The mind can be sick like the body. Sometimes that can be Healed. Other times… other times there is no bringing you back.”
She started to pull a few different tins off her shelf and measured out powders in a lorcith bowl, one that Rsiran had made at her request. Several of the powders were aromatic, almost overwhelmingly so. Then Della took a few rolled leaves and dipped them into a cup of water, before adding these to her bowl. She mashed the leaves into the powder, mixing them together into something like a paste.
“Where did you find him?” she asked as she worked.
“Ilphaesn.”
She cocked an eye at him. “More specifically, please.”
“We had gone to Ilphaesn. Master Seval wanted help listening to lorcith”—Della glanced at him and nodded slowly—“and I thought that Ilphaesn would be a good place to start. The mines were empty. I’m not sure when the guild will replace the miners, but the entrance was gated and locked and there was no one there.”
She stopped stirring her paste. “What else did you find?”
“When we were there, I could tell that someone mined, but it was deep in the mountain.”
“How could you tell if it was deep in Ilphaesn?”
“That is my gift,” Rsiran answered.
“Where did you find him?”
“That’s just it,” Rsiran started. “There wasn’t anything else around. I hadn’t even known the mines went that deep. He was alone.”
Della looked over the top of her counter toward where the boy rested. “Not alone, not going by those scars. There is something we’re missing.”
“When I first met him, he mined at night. Something—or someone—had forced him to mine.”
“In spite of the Compelling to prevent that.”
Rsiran nodded.
“Interesting that you were not affected, even then,” Della said.
Rsiran started to
object, but then, it was true, wasn’t it? When he’d gone to Ilphaesn, he had always heard the sound of the lorcith, and the way that it called to him. He tried to ignore it, but couldn’t. Only when he actually took away lumps that were too large was he attacked. And injured.
“You Healed me,” Rsiran said.
Della frowned. “I don’t know that I did. It’s possible that what happened was a subtle touch.”
“Like Evaelyn?”
Della frowned. “I don’t know.” She glanced to Seval and then turned back to working at her paste, mashing it together.
Did she imply that Venass had somehow been responsible? Had they been involved for longer than he had realized?
Della finished mixing and made her way around the counter again, and then took a spoonful of the paste and smeared it across the boy’s cheeks and forehead. She whispered something softly, and the paste took on a sharp odor. The boy’s breathing slowed again, and he settled into sleep.
“Will he get better?” Rsiran asked, leaving unsaid his concern about whether he would have to return the boy to the mine.
“Time will tell. He has been tormented for a long time,” she answered.
“And Compelled.”
She nodded. “Hearing the lorcith would not change him like this. That tells me he has smith blood, but that has never driven anyone insane.”
“Except for my father,” Rsiran said.
Della crossed her arms over her chest. “Then you misunderstood what he intended. Fearing a thing and having it change you are different, Rsiran Lareth. What happened to this boy was caused by another.”
Her comment was intended to have another effect. “You think I need to find out who.”
“If we wish to understand. If we wish to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I can’t go there alone again or Jessa will kill me.”
“You shouldn’t have gone alone the first time,” Della said.
“Someone else might have been injured.”
“And what of you? What happens if you are injured? You have great control over your abilities, but even they have weaknesses. I think Haern has demonstrated that to you.”
“Too often.”
“Good.”
She turned her attention back to the boy, and Rsiran knew that their conversation was over. Della had made the point that she wanted to make, and now she would return her focus to Healing.
He nudged Seval toward the door and stepped out into the street. Darkness had fallen in full, leaving only the sliver of moon overhead mixing with the distant street lamp for light. “We should get you back to your smithy,” he told Seval. “I’m sure your journeyman will have questions.”
“Rhan has not been with me long enough to ask questions,” Seval said. They started up the street, away from Lower Town and toward Seval’s smithy. “You will do as she suggested, and you will return?”
“She thinks someone Compelled the boy.”
“I’m not familiar with this term.”
“You’re lucky,” he said, but was surprised that the Forgotten hadn’t attempted to Compel the smiths they abducted. Maybe they figured the threats would be enough. “Similar to Reading. Compelling is forcing someone to do what they might not want to do.”
“And this boy, he has been Compelled?”
Rsiran shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s possible that smith blood protects us. Maybe that’s why he’s been affected the way that he has.”
“What of others? How do they prevent themselves from being affected?”
“Most cannot.”
“Most?” Seval asked.
They reached the wide street where they would find his shop. Noise from a few taverns they passed spilled out into the street, the music mixing with the night. Rsiran had never visited the taverns in this part of the city. He’d never really been to any, other than the Barth. But these taverns had been where his father had gone to get drunk.
“I found a way to protect people from it,” he said.
“With lorcith,” Seval said.
Rsiran nodded. “Lorcith mixed with heartstone. The combination makes it most effective. But you have to find the right nugget of lorcith, and you have to explain to the lorcith what you intend, otherwise…” Otherwise it wouldn’t work. For something like that, depending on it and having it fail was the worst thing that could happen.
Seval shook his head as he stopped at the door to his smithy. “I think… I think that there are others things that I could learn from you, Lareth. But I’d still like to rediscover how to hear the lorcith.” Seval pushed open the door, and Rhan looked over at them from where he worked at the forge. “When you return to Ilphaesn, may I come with you?”
“Seval—”
“I understand the risks, Lareth, but I almost heard it this time. I think I only need a little more time. Please. I’ve lived long enough ignoring that part of myself.”
Rsiran considered telling him no, but if he worked with Seval, then he had the hope that the master smith might work more with him. Wasn’t that what he wanted?
“You’ll need a weapon, just in case.”
“Like your knives?”
Rsiran grunted. “A sword might be better.” A troubled expression passed over Seval’s face, and Rsiran realized that he had said the wrong thing. “The knives are fine. We will try to go tomorrow.”
“Not tonight?”
Rsiran shook his head. “Tonight I have to try to explain to Jessa where I’ve been in a way that keeps her from tearing my head off.”
Seval smiled. “I’ve got a wife who would do the same. Tomorrow then.”
The master smith closed the door behind him, leaving Rsiran standing in the street a moment before sighing to himself and Sliding to the Barth.
Chapter 16
The tavern was busier than it had been in months. Dozens of people sat around the tables and a bandolist and flutist played an up tempo song, leading a few people to even dance near the back of the tavern. Rsiran stood in the doorway, shocked.
“Close the door!” Brusus yelled and then saw Rsiran. “Damn, Rsiran, you’ve been gone a while. Jessa’s been looking for you. Can’t say whether she’s going to be happy to see you or whether you’ll be too happy to see her.”
“Where is she?” An older couple, both dressed in slightly tattered robes, occupied the table he and his friends usually sat at.
“She’s in the kitchen.”
“Jessa?”
Brusus shrugged. “Not cooking if that’s what you’re asking. I wouldn’t risk all these people coming here for that.”
“They’re here for the food?”
Brusus grinned. “Good food will do that. Can make or break a tavern, you know? Word is finally getting out that the cooking is better than when Gillian was here.”
“This is all because of Alyse?” Rsiran asked as his sister pushed open the door to the kitchen and made her way out, carrying trays laden with food. She moved with a purpose that he hadn’t seen from her since before he’d been sent to Ilphaesn. When Alyse saw Brusus, she nodded sharply to him.
“Ah, damn. She wants me to get moving. Sorry, Rsiran, but we’re pretty busy, so I’ve got to go help.”
As Brusus disappeared, Rsiran couldn’t help but laugh. In the time that Rsiran had known him, Brusus had gone from a thief with many secrets to an honest, respectable tavern owner, now somewhat cowed by his bossy new cook. Rsiran watched as Brusus stopped at each table, chatting for a few moments before moving on to the next.
Rsiran made his way to the kitchen. Heat from the ovens nearly overwhelmed him, but the scents of bread and roasted meat and vegetables sent his mouth watering. He searched the kitchen for Jessa and found her sitting near the back. At first, he thought she was eating, but then, he realized that she was busy scooping food onto plates and arranging it neatly.
She glanced up as he approached, and her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t say anything. From that, Rsiran knew how angry she was.
“Jessa,” he said.
“Don’t.”
She slopped a few more scoops of food onto a plate and set it to the side. Alyse came into the kitchen. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. She was probably going to warn Jessa not to let the anger of her fiery stare burn the plated food, but thought better of it.
Alyse quietly lifted the plates that Jessa had filled and placed them on her tray. She offered Rsiran an expression much like the one she had worn when their father had wanted to speak to him, one that was a mixture of pity and relief that it wasn’t her.
When Alyse left, Jessa set down the spoon and turned toward him. “Do you even know why I’m upset?”
“Because I didn’t have you come with me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Because you snuck off without me. You don’t think I know you went back to the smithy? What happens when the guild decides that you’re more of an inconvenience than anything else? Do you think that Brusus will be able to help you when you’re brought before the Elvraeth council?”
“Jessa, the guild knows about me. I was with one of the guild members. What does it matter if I—”
“Just because they know about you doesn’t mean that you go throwing your presence in their faces. They’ve left you alone. For now. But how much longer will that last? And when you don’t help the alchemists this time, do you think they’ll simply leave you alone? They have power, Rsiran, real power. Regardless of what Della tells you that you might become, the alchemists and the other guilds hold a different kind of power. The kind that can see you exiled. Or worse.”
He had known that Jessa worried about him, but hadn’t really understood the reason that she didn’t want him going to the guilds. Now he thought he might. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said. “Whatever they do, I can Slide us to safety—”
“What about when you can’t? You’ve said so yourself that they keep trying to find newer and better traps for you. What happens when you can’t escape their trap? Some punishments there’s no coming back from.”
She turned away from him and looked back at the pot and lifted the spoon to begin scooping stew onto plates. She said nothing.
Rsiran moved closer, smelling the sharp scent of the flower she wore today, a spicier deep red flower that she wove into the charm. “Seval wants to learn how to listen to the lorcith again,” he said. “That has to be a start of something important, don’t you think? He was like my father, trained to ignore the smith blood side of himself, but if he wants to hear it again, maybe the other smiths will also.”
The Shadowsteel Forge (The Dark Ability Book 5) Page 12