Rsiran lay motionless for a moment, feeling to see if anything hurt. His ribcage felt like it might be broken, his arm having pushed into it on landing. It hurt to take a deep breath. His hand ached from gripping his father’s shirt. But nothing else.
He stood and resisted the temptation to kick his father. “What were you thinking?” he shouted. “I thought you wanted to see Alyse again!”
His father rolled over. Dirt stained his face and his nose was bloodied, running toward his ear. A dark smile twisted his mouth. “And I said I was already dead. You just haven’t seen it yet.” He crawled to his knees and looked up the waterfall, shaking his head as he did. “Thought you said I had a choice.”
Rsiran grunted. “You did.”
His father got to his feet. He stood unsteadily and wiped his hand across his face, smearing the blood that had dripped down his face and brought his hand out to look at it. Then he shook his head again, looking back up to where he’d stood moments ago.
“Then why didn’t you let me fall?”
Rsiran grunted again. “You don’t get it, do you?”
His father looked back and met his eyes. “Get what?”
“I had a choice too.”
Chapter 12
Rsiran left his father standing at the edge of the Thyrass River as he Slid back to the rocks to reach Jessa. As soon as he emerged, she punched him hard on the chest.
“Just what was that?” she demanded.
“I couldn’t let him fall.”
“You risked yourself for him? After everything he did to you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
She punched him again, this time with a little less force. “You think I don’t understand? What I wouldn’t give up to see… to see…” She didn’t finish. Tears welled in her eyes and she fell into him.
Rsiran pulled her close. He was the reason she cried this time, the reason she hurt. And he’d be the reason she hurt if anything happened to him. Had he really been willing to risk himself for his father?
“I’m sorry.”
She pounded on him with closed fists. “You said that already.” Her voice sounded muffled as she spoke against him. “Doesn’t make it better.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” He pushed her back far enough that he could see her face, holding her eyes with his. Hers flared a bright green and she swallowed. “I didn’t have time to explain. I don’t think I was in any danger… at least no real danger.”
“But you didn’t know.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know,” he agreed. “I’ve never tried Sliding while falling.” Now that he had, knowing he could might be helpful, if he could only manage to control the fall at the end. He couldn’t end up splayed across the ground each time he Slid, hoping to be unhurt. He’d have to figure out a way to do it more safely. And that meant practicing. Jessa wouldn’t care for that, either.
“He’s right, you know.”
Rsiran frowned. The idea that his father might be right about anything anymore troubled him. “About what?”
“You are a fool.”
Rsiran laughed softly. “Probably.”
He looked over the rocks. His father still stood along the bank of the Thyrass River, staring into the swirling water where it spilled down from the rocks. A thought came to him—if his father really wanted to end things, he could simply throw himself into that water. Rsiran doubted he’d be able to Slide into the water and out quickly enough to save them both. He’d never tried water, but it seemed a level of magnitude more difficult than even falling.
“We shouldn’t leave him down there by himself too long. I don’t know what he might try next,” Rsiran said.
Jessa peered over the edge of the rocks, leaning forward more dangerously than Rsiran expected of her, especially after the fall. “I wish we didn’t need him for this.”
“Me too.”
She turned and looked Rsiran in the eyes. “No. I mean it. I don’t know what this will do to you. It took you months to get past what he’s done to you.”
Rsiran smiled sadly. “That’s the problem. He’s my father. I’ll never get past it. Or him.”
Jessa bit her lip, and Rsiran wondered if she thought about her father. He knew only a little about him, just that he had been a thief and had been taken away where they had cut off his hand for thieving. Jessa had been saved by Haern, brought back to Elaeavn, but more than that, he didn’t know. Eventually she would tell him.
“Don’t let him be the reason you get hurt,” Jessa said. “Promise me that.”
“I promise.”
They Slid to the bottom of the waterfall, with water swirling around them, Jessa stalked over to Rsiran’s father. She stood nearly a head shorter than him, and her shoulder-length hair fluttered in the breeze. Hands went to her hips, one fingering the hilt of the long knife she tucked into her waist, and she leaned toward him. Rsiran sensed the anger radiating from her.
“If you ever do anything to place Rsiran in harm’s way again, you won’t have to worry about what he’ll do to you.”
His father glanced from Jessa to Rsiran. A small smile twisted his mouth. Blood had dried around his nose, and he’d wiped most of it away.
“Because I’ll be there first.” She lowered her voice. Rsiran still heard what she said next. He suspected she wanted him to. “And I won’t have the same hesitation to do what’s needed to your precious Alyse.”
Then she turned and stalked back over to Rsiran. She looked away, staring out toward Thyr. The message was clear to him, and he knew not to press her about what she’d said. Rsiran didn’t actually think she’d do anything to Alyse, but the threat unnerved his father.
He glanced from Jessa to Rsiran, his face tense. “Keep the others out of this. I’ll get you to Venass.”
“I know you will,” Rsiran said. Threatening Alyse was all he needed to get his father to comply with them. “Where is Venass from here?”
His father looked north toward Thyr and pointed. “There.”
Rsiran frowned. “The Tower of the Scholars?”
He nodded. “The Tower is outside Thyr itself. Separate, the way the scholars imagine themselves. Venass is simply another name for it.”
Rsiran looked at the Tower. Thom had intended all along for them to come to the Tower of Scholars? Why not simply tell him?
A chilling thought came to him, and he glanced over at Jessa. Thinking back on how Thom had told them of Venass and how they might find an antidote there, he’d never really been all that forthcoming as to how they’d get it. Had Thom intended for Rsiran to break into the Tower? Had he presumed Rsiran could Slide them in? But if he and Jessa weren’t invited in, how would they find the antidote? How would they even know what to look for?
Had Thom not been attacked, they could ask him what his plan was. For all Rsiran knew, Thom had a way into the Tower, or a contact that would allow them to find the antidote. But for him to go alone… how would he find a way to save Brusus?
“All I want is an antidote. Thom made no mention of having to break in,” Rsiran said to her. The idea of doing so reminded him too much of breaking into the Elvraeth warehouse in Elaeavn. That had not turned out well for him. What would happen were he to break into this? Would he end up with the scholars after him as well? Would Brusus want that?
Jessa looked over. “We have to try or he’ll die.”
His father sneered at him. “I’m surprised you hesitate. I thought you didn’t care what you broke into?”
“Why don’t you tell him why you were in Asador?” Jessa said. She made her way over to his father. Her hand had gone back to the hilt of the knife.
His father’s brow furrowed. “Asador? I thought this was about Thyr?”
Jessa pulled the knife from her waist. “This is about the same. Why don’t you tell him?” He started to turn away, but Jessa grabbed his shoulder and spun him back to face her. “Turn your back to me, and I’ll see to it you can’t walk again.
” He tensed and didn’t move. “Tell him.”
Rsiran looked at Jessa. “What’s this about, Jessa? What happened in Asador?”
“He’s kept something else from you, Rsiran. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I think it’s time he starts telling you the truth. You’ve been so focused on the alloy ever since returning from Asador that you haven’t taken the time to find out why your father was there in the first place.” She glared at his father. “And I want him to explain.”
“What alloy?” his father asked.
Rsiran ignored him and focused on Jessa. “Why he was in Asador doesn’t matter to me, does it? It didn’t matter until Brusus was injured.”
“It matters if they are involved,” Jessa said, emphasizing “they,” like she was talking in code in front of Rsiran’s father. “I’d planned to ask Brusus if he’d learned anything before he was poisoned. He’s been asking questions, but not too many of the Elvraeth up there want to talk, at least, not about them. It’s probably the reason he was poisoned.”
“What alloy?” his father asked again.
With what little they knew about Venass and the Forgotten, maybe Jessa was right. He should have taken the time to ask more before dragging his father with him to Thyr. For all he knew, he actually did what the Forgotten wanted. “Why were you in Asador?” he asked his father.
He’d opened his mouth to say something—probably to ask about the alloy again—and promptly closed it.
Rsiran stepped toward him. “And don’t think you can divide Jessa and me with your words. She wasn’t the one to send me to the mines to work without any intention of bringing me back. She’s the one who helped me, who saw through the lies you’d been feeding me trying to make me think what I could do was a curse. There is no one in this world I care about more than her.” Rsiran practically trembled as he said those words. “So I ask you again. Why were you in Asador?”
His father looked at Jessa with a troubled expression. “They needed a smith. I’m a smith.”
The way he said it told Rsiran he left something out. “That’s not the only reason.”
“Do you need to know more? Do you really think it will help you save your friend?”
It wouldn’t. Precious time was wasted as they stood on the bank of the Thyrass River, but Rsiran suddenly wanted to know. After what happened with Shael, the demand that he’d made of Rsiran, and the exiled Elvraeth… he needed to know why they would want a smith.
“Why would they need a smith?”
His father looked up and met his eyes. “You don’t know?” His voice made it clear he didn’t believe what Rsiran said.
Rsiran shook his head.
“Then why were you in Asador? Why did you take me away?”
“I went for Jessa. Someone had taken her, and I wanted her back.”
His father looked from Jessa to Rsiran. “That’s the only reason?”
Rsiran had no intention of telling his father about the sword he’d made, the one Josun had stolen from his smithy. And if he didn’t bring it up, maybe it meant his father didn’t know about it.
“The only one that matters.”
His father staggered to a nearby rock. The fall still affected him, and he wobbled on his feet, unbalanced. He dropped onto a rock and held his head in his hands, rubbing the first two fingers of his hands along his temples. “You really didn’t know,” he whispered.
Rsiran looked over to Jessa. “Why did they want a smith?” When his father said nothing, he stepped toward him, not Sliding so as not to use energy he might need, and stood in front of him. “What was this about?”
His father looked up. “I don’t know whether to believe you’re too stupid to know or whether you’re just lying to me.”
“That makes two of us,” Rsiran said. “Doesn’t change that you’re going to tell me what you know.”
His father looked past Rsiran and up at Jessa. “I serve the Elvraeth, no different from you.”
Rsiran shook his head. “I don’t serve the Elvraeth.”
“Then you’re more a fool than I realized if you think you can oppose them.”
“Oppose them? Is that what you think?”
“Why else would you take me from them?”
Rsiran hesitated. His father thought he’d been working for the Elvraeth in Asador. Coming from Elaeavn, of course he would. He’d never had any reason to question their judgment. But Rsiran had seen what the Elvraeth were willing to do. Not just Josun Elvraeth, but the warehouse filled with crates sent from around the world, some of which contained riches Rsiran once would have been unable to imagine that were kept from the rest of Elaeavn, told him all he needed to know about the Elvraeth.
And then there were the Forgotten. Men and women exiled from the city for crimes against the Elvraeth. Families and lives destroyed. What would Brusus have been had his mother not been one of the Forgotten? If the others of the Forgotten were like Josun, Rsiran would have a hard time sympathizing with them.
“Whatever else you might think, the masters you served in Asador were not Elvraeth.”
“You’ve proven yourself ignorant about everything else, why should I believe you about this?” His father paused and met Rsiran’s eyes. “What alloy were you working with?”
Something about the way he asked the question told Rsiran that he already knew. Did it matter if his father knew he worked with heartstone? Rsiran had never seen him working it when he was still apprenticed in the smithy, but that didn’t mean his father didn’t know how. There was enough of the alloy present in the Floating Palace; someone still knew how to mix it.
“A lorcith alloy,” Rsiran answered. He watched his father carefully as he did, but his face didn’t give anything away. He wouldn’t mention heartstone by name.
His father frowned. “Lorcith can’t be mixed into an alloy. I thought you learned the basics from me, but perhaps you really are too foolish to—”
Jessa cut him off by kicking him in the knee. “Watch how you speak to him.”
His father looked up, a flat expression on his face. He looked past Jessa and over to Rsiran. “Are you just wasting what you’ve stolen then?”
Rsiran shook his head. He wouldn’t argue with his father about this. Doing so would do nothing to convince him. “I didn’t steal your lorcith.”
“I saw you come into my shop. Enough of my ore had been taken that I felt the need to watch for it. Who else can pass through doors as if they aren’t there?”
“One of your precious Elvraeth,” Rsiran answered. “Someone who nearly killed me. Nearly killed Jessa. All for lorcith. He was the reason I was in Asador.” He leaned closer to his father. “You think I’m the only one with the ability to Slide? With the ability you claim curse by the Great Watcher? The Elvraeth can as well.” He paused, letting the words hit home. His father’s face remained unchanged. “But I still don’t know why they wanted a smith. What did they want you to do?”
He didn’t know if his father would answer. He sat, staring toward Thyr. Moments passed, time—Rsiran realized—that he should be spending searching for the antidote to save Brusus. Standing and arguing the merits of the Elvraeth would not save him. Each moment he wasted meant less time to search.
“They wanted me to make weapons.”
“What kind of weapons?”
Rsiran thought he already knew the answer. After what Josun had been after, he thought he knew, but he wanted to hear his father say it.
“Lorcith-forged weapons. Dark weapons.” He looked over, his eyes hot and angry. “I studied knives they brought me. It didn’t take long to recognize the mark.”
Rsiran stared at him. He’d marked everything he ever made with his distinct mark. He’d done it from the beginning. The lorcith had practically demanded that he do it, and the forgings never felt complete until they had his mark on them. That also made them easier to track.
“They wanted knives?”
“Some. But what they really wanted were swords.”
; Rsiran glanced at Jessa. “Why swords?”
There was a reason he hadn’t discovered. What was it about the lorcith-forged weapons the Forgotten wanted? Steel swords were plentiful, but that wasn’t what Josun had wanted. He’d wanted the sword Rsiran had made of lorcith… but more than that, he wanted a heartstone alloy sword. But why?
His father shook his head. “I don’t question the Elvraeth.”
Rsiran didn’t push on that point. Nothing he said would convince his father he hadn’t been taken by the Elvraeth. “Did you make them any swords?”
His father met his eyes. “You said you’ve listened to the lorcith. That you let it guide your forgings.”
Rsiran nodded.
“Then you know lorcith will not easily make swords. Doing so requires the smith to have a dark heart. That is what the lorcith calls to.” He hesitated. “My attempts wasted precious lorcith. I disappointed the Elvraeth because I couldn’t do what they wanted.
A dark heart. Rsiran considered how he’d been feeling when he forged the sword. He’d been angry, upset with how his father had banished him to Ilphaesn, but grateful for the smithy Brusus had given him. And the sword came into being, the lorcith guiding his hand.
That hadn’t even been the first time he’d forged a sword. Before his father had exiled him, he’d nearly forged a lorcith sword.
Was it him? Did he have the darkness inside him his father claimed he needed?
Jessa touched his arm. It was a subtle gesture, not enough for his father to notice, but Rsiran appreciated the reassurance.
“That’s all they wanted from you? To make swords?” Jessa asked.
He shrugged. “I wasn’t the only smith in Asador.”
“You didn’t wonder why?” Rsiran asked. “Weren’t you the one who always warned me against making weapons out of lorcith?”
His father sneered. “You would lecture me on this?” He shook his head. “No. I didn’t think to question. When the Elvraeth ask something of you, you do it.”
“Even when it’s wrong?”
His father looked away. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You have no sense of duty. Of responsibility. Why should you recognize the Elvraeth authority?”
The Tower of Venass (The Dark Ability Book 3) Page 8