“Brusus found it. One of the crates.”
“How do you work it?” he asked.
She shook her head, leaning over the lantern. “No working. It’s either on or it’s not. The cloth keeps the light covered.”
Rsiran took the lamp. Made of a strange metal, it took him a few moments to realize that part of it was made of lorcith, though not entirely. An alloy, and one he had only experienced one time before—when he had Slid into the palace. Until that time, he had not known that lorcith could be forged as an alloy. He still didn’t know how it had been done.
Rsiran ran his hand over the lantern, admiring the craftsmanship. The metal was shaped in such a way that it seemed to draw the light out but left the lantern itself cool. There was something to the forging that he could almost understand. Could he recreate it if given enough time? If he concentrated, he thought that he might be able to feel how the lantern had been made.
“You should bring it with you,” Jessa said with a laugh. “Neither Brusus nor I need it.”
He looked up and smiled. “How did you know?”
She shrugged. “You get this intense concentration across your face and your eyes sort of squint.”
If he could make another lantern like this… he wouldn’t have to worry about the dark. Eventually, he would need to return to Ilphaesn to mine more lorcith; he’d used almost all of the supply he’d taken from the boy. Better to have some lighting than to risk injury in the dark, or worse, to worry about a mining pick or hammer suddenly slamming into his back, leaving him too injured to Slide back to Elaeavn.
“They had a lantern like this in the mines,” he whispered.
“Like this?”
“Well… not quite like this. More of an orange light. The only time I have seen this blue light was when we were in the palace.”
“I remember.” Jessa said it with a hint of bitterness.
Rsiran swung the lantern so that he could see the rest of the warehouse. It appeared little different from the last time he had been here, though bright sunlight had streamed through the dirty skylight overhead that time. A wide clearing of the crates created a sort of circle where they stood. They were stacked at least three high, reaching high over his head. A few stacks reached the ceiling, and not for the first time, Rsiran wondered how they had been lifted into place. The crates in this part of the warehouse were older than the others. Most no longer had anything written on them, and on those that did, the writing was in a language he didn’t understand.
“Can you tell if anything is disturbed?” he asked.
Jessa took a few steps around the clearing, peering at each crate for a moment. She returned to where he stood and shook her head. “Nothing that I can tell. Most of these have all been opened by either Brusus or myself. Can’t tell if anyone else has been here, but nothing I see would make that likely.”
“Maybe we should look outside. For a crate that size to be moved, you’d need some way of hauling it to the dock.”
Jessa shook her head. “Not at night. I can see well at night, but don’t want to get caught by one of the sellswords. Sight has limits.”
“Everything has limits,” Rsiran said.
Jessa laughed. “Some more than others.”
Rsiran looked at the stacks of crates around the center of the warehouse. The time he’d come with Brusus, he’d seen a strange crate, one that they’d opened by peeling away the sides to get at the contents inside. Now he didn’t see it anywhere. “Where is the crate Brusus opened?”
Jessa shook her head. “He took that away a few weeks ago. Wanted to be able to work through those cylinders on his own. And he liked the wood from the crate.”
The metal used to create the cylinders was valuable. Some were made of gold or silver, enough that Brusus could likely sell them for a significant profit. But he hadn’t. Considering how focused Brusus had been on money, there had to be a reason.
“How did Brusus move the crate?”
“Just a piece at a time. Not the whole thing. You’re right—that would be too hard to move without getting caught. I think one encounter with a sellsword was enough for Brusus.”
Had Rsiran been willing to expose his ability sooner, Brusus might not have come so close to death. But then again, had Brusus shared his secret, he might not have come so close, either.
“Are there any others that he has been particularly interested in?” Rsiran asked. Jessa had slipped over to stand next to him, close enough that Rsiran could smell the sharp perfume from the flower she wore. “You saw how he reacted when Lianna told him about the crate she saw on the dock, but we don’t even know for sure if the crate was from here.”
“Haern seemed to think it was.”
Rsiran nodded. “And Brusus seemed convinced. Something has him worried, more than he’s letting on.”
“I don’t think it’s the warehouse,” Jessa started. She bit her lower lip, hesitating.
Rsiran touched her hand and pulled her close, brushing her hair back behind her ear. For a moment, standing in the warehouse with her like this, he could pretend that they didn’t have a care in the world. And most times, they didn’t.
“You don’t know him like I do, Rsiran. Brusus has been different since the attack. I think he feels that he should have been the one to deal with Josun. Or maybe he worries that he put us too close to danger.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know, but I think it’s more than just what’s in this place.”
“But it’s a part of it,” Rsiran said.
Jessa nodded. “It’s who he is.”
She didn’t have to explain more. Neither of them spoke about Brusus’s bloodlines. Neither needed to. It was not their secret to share, but both knew that he was descended from the first Elvraeth, the founders of the city. His mother had been banished from the city—Forgotten—taking the infant Brusus from the palace. Rsiran didn’t know much more about Brusus’s past than that, but that secret would be enough to drive anyone to obsession. He could not imagine what it must be like for Brusus to live knowing what might have been, how he could have been different, if only the Elvraeth had not banished his mother. Since Brusus did not speak openly about that time, Rsiran did not even know what she’d done to warrant banishment.
“What do you think he intends for all of this?” Rsiran asked.
“I don’t know.” He could tell not knowing troubled her.
Carrying the lantern out in front of him, Rsiran made his way to one of the crates. From what he could tell, most looked like they had been opened once and then closed, but he saw one that looked to have taken more of a beating. A line of nails held one of the side panels in place, the edges dimpled where they had been pounded back into place. The pale wood of the crate had splintered in a few places. No writing marked the outside.
Using one of his lorcith knives, Rsiran pried the panel back. He was not certain what he expected to see on the inside, but someone had taken the time to open this crate more than once. Likely Brusus. Rsiran felt a little uncomfortable opening this crate without him here, especially if he had something in mind for the crates. As one descended from the Elvraeth, Brusus had more right to what was stored within these crates than Rsiran.
“We should inspect other parts of the warehouse,” Jessa suggested.
Rsiran nodded as he laid the panel on the floor. “Just want to look inside this one,” he started.
As he did, he suddenly had a sense of lorcith flare around him.
Different from before, this was not something distant and difficult to place. This came from behind them. Close. And moving.
He grabbed Jessa and pulled her down.
She didn’t argue or fight. That probably saved her life.
A knife came whistling past to sink into the wood of the crate just above where they had been standing. Lorcith made, and one of his.
Rsiran Slid back three steps, pulling Jessa with him. He didn’t want to linger but needed to know who would try to hurt them. The lantern didn’t cast eno
ugh light for him to see anything other than shadows near the fringes. Sliding shifted the halo of light, but he still saw nothing other than darkness.
“Can you see anything?” he whispered.
Jessa jerked her head around before shaking it. “Nothing.”
She grabbed his hand and then threw the cover back over the lantern, plunging him into darkness that she didn’t share. Her Sight created an advantage. Unless the other with them in the darkness was also Sighted. Which, given the fact that they were here at night, Rsiran thought likely.
He let his senses feel for lorcith. Somewhere in the darkness, he felt the sense of another knife and recognized it as his. Whoever was here had acquired his forgings. As far as he knew, Brusus had moved everything out of the city. Either he hadn’t… or they had made their way back.
He sensed the knife move a few steps. Something about the way it moved felt odd. Rsiran didn’t have time to contemplate for very long. He felt the knife come flying toward him.
Definitely Sighted then.
With a push, he slowed the knife as it neared and grabbed it out of the air.
Not daring to linger any longer, he pulled the other knife out of the crate and caught it as well. Then he Slid them away from the warehouse.
Chapter 5
Rsiran emerged in his smithy, his body shaking. He clutched the strange lantern in one hand, Jessa in the other. A sheet of thick grey fabric covered the lantern, looking very much like the clothes he had been forced to wear while in the mines.
He pushed the lantern away from him so that it rested on the ground near the table. He would examine how it was made later, when he had more time. With enough study, he hoped that he might be able to recreate the lantern. Now that would be useful, and something he would not fear having his mark attached to.
He knelt down and let the knives drop to the wooden floor. They spun for a moment, his mark on them clear. Neither looked like recent forgings, lately the knives had taken on a smoother hilt than these, but they were both definitely his work.
“Did you see who was there?” he asked as he studied the knives.
She lay back and sprawled across the floor. Rsiran lay next to her, propping his head up on his elbow as he looked down at her.
“I didn’t see anything. Didn’t hear anything. Had you not been there, I don’t think I would have made it out.”
Jessa took great pride in her ability as a sneak. That she hadn’t noticed someone else in the warehouse with them bothered Rsiran. “It was the lorcith. I sensed it moving.”
“Not a sellsword.”
He shook his head. The sellswords were skilled with the blade, but none had gifts like those given to their people by the Great Watcher. None were Sighted.
“These are my knives, Jessa.” Knowing that, and knowing that Josun had been interested in his sword, frightened him.
“Are you sure?”
He handed her one of them. Only his forgings responded to him pushing and pulling. He hadn’t fully tested whether he could push lorcith forgings from other smiths the same way, but so on those he’d tried, he’d not managed to make it work for him.
Jessa looked at the knife, her finger running over his mark. “I thought Brusus shipped all your work out of the city so the Elvraeth didn’t discover us.”
“That’s my understanding.”
She looked around, studying the smithy, before her eyes finally settled on the table covered with his recent forgings. “Could someone have broken in like the last time? I mean, if Josun could do it and steal that sword blade you’d made…”
“But he could Slide.” Rsiran stood, deciding to check if the sword was still where he’d hidden it. But the small space beneath the floorboard still held the sword, the jeweled hilt added by Josun making it more formal than anything that Rsiran forged had a right to be. He returned to Jessa and sat alongside her. “I think I would have noticed if something went missing.”
She nodded toward the table. “With as busy as you’ve been, how do you know what you’ve made or what’s been given to Brusus to move?”
Truth be told, Rsiran realized that he didn’t. Most of what he kept on the table had value, but not the same type of value as the lorcith he forged. He couldn’t deny that the quality of his work had improved dramatically the more he worked with lorcith. Ever since he stopped trying to ignore the way it pulled at him, instead choosing to listen.
“I guess I don’t,” he admitted.
“I’ll keep my eyes open and see if anyone is watching the streets around the smithy,” Jessa suggested.
“And if there is someone watching?”
She punched him again. “You think I don’t know how to keep myself safe? What do you think I did before I met you?”
Rsiran smiled. “I don’t know. How many times did you nearly die before you met me?”
“None.” She laughed. “Maybe I should stop spending so much time with you!”
“As if you could,” he said, pulling her toward him.
Jessa laughed again and let herself be drawn into him. “Brusus has been going there for months. Other than Josun, we haven’t seen anyone else ever enter the warehouse. Why attack tonight?”
The same night the crate had been seen on the dock. All these months thinking that they were safe. Could it be the Elvraeth or the others in Josun’s rebellion finally noticed? Could it be they finally determined who killed Josun?
Jessa squeezed his hand reassuringly, but Rsiran couldn’t shake the worry or the steady gnawing in the pit of his stomach.
* * *
They awoke early the next morning to the sound of pounding on the door. Rsiran looked over at Jessa sleeping comfortably on the thin mattress he had tucked in the back corner of the smithy and smiled at her. He pushed the lantern behind the table, making certain it was mostly hidden, before arranging his shirt and pants. Only then did he unlock the door to peek outside.
Shael’s massive form filled the doorway. The smuggler had a deeply tanned face with a wide beard. Piercing blue eyes stared at Rsiran. “Good you be here, Rsiran.” He peered past Rsiran, looking over his shoulder, eyes quickly scanning everything. “You be liking the forge I find for you?”
Rsiran nodded, smiling at the massive smuggler. He had only seen Shael one time since the first time they’d met, but the wide man made quite the impression. Shael had been the one to find the forge, had helped get him set up with his shop. Had anyone other than Brusus introduced him to Shael, Rsiran might have been more nervous around him. But if Brusus trusted him, then Rsiran felt he should as well. Still, having Shael suddenly show up at his door—and he considered the smithy his—put him on edge, especially after what happened the night before.
“You want to see it?”
Shael glanced up the street for a moment and then nodded. “I do be curious what you did with the space,” he admitted.
Rsiran moved away from the door and Shael stepped inside. Appraising eyes scanned the smithy quickly, looking to the patched roof and the swept floor. Even the brick of the chimney had been patched so that it smoked properly. Rsiran had worked a damper into it so that it diffused the smoke out several different chimneys, making it look like several small fires burned here rather than one massive one. Less likely to be noticed that way.
“Cleaned up right nice, didn’t it?” Shael said. “Never made you proper. No be havin’ the time. But Brusus do be keepin’ the constables away?”
Rsiran nodded. “Constables have left us alone.” From what Rsiran could tell, the constables had no interest in coming into this part of the city. But Rsiran made a point of not walking through the streets to reach his smithy. He didn’t have to. And none of the other people living along the street ever complained about the noise from his hammering. He wondered if the constables would take it seriously if they did.
Their voices had woken Jessa, and she rubbed her eyes as she came over. She frowned when she saw Shael and shot Rsiran a questioning look.
The wide
man gave her a crooked smile. “So you two do be together now? Good for you, girl. Need a solid man in your life, don’ ya?”
“Do I?” she asked dangerously.
Shael raised his hands. “Jus’ want you to be happy, is all I be sayin’.” He laughed and glanced over at Rsiran. “Can’ say I didn’t see it. Now you be takin’ good care of her?” he asked Rsiran.
“Why are you here, Shael?” Jessa asked. She shifted the flower tucked into her shirt that had wilted overnight. Rsiran knew that she would be finding a new one as soon as she could. Jessa didn’t like going too long with a faded flower.
“Touchy girl?” He laughed and ran a beefy hand through his wild brown hair. “You do be happy?”
She glanced at Rsiran with sleepy eyes and laughed. “I do be happy, Shael.”
Rsiran suddenly remembered what he had heard last night. “Haern thought you weren’t in Elaeavn.”
Shael snorted. “Haern don’t be knowing me travels, now do he?”
He looked around and his eyes settled briefly on the long table covered with Rsiran’s forgings. Jessa stood partially in front of it, blocking his view. Rsiran realized that she did it so Shael wouldn’t see the lantern tucked behind the table. Considering everything he had openly on the table, it seemed strange that the lantern was the one thing they most wanted to hide. While the forgings of copper or iron wouldn’t cause him any issue, the lorcith knives resting on one end of the table would get him into as much trouble as anything else were they discovered.
“I be coming to see if you got something I can use, Rsiran. Brusus do be telling me of your forgings, and I have need of something I just can’t be finding elsewhere. He say to come by here, see if you do be able to help.”
“What sort of something?”
A wide smile split Shael’s mouth, his yellowed teeth peeking through. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled a tightly rolled sheet of parchment. “Do be needing space,” he muttered.
The Heartstone Blade (The Dark Ability Book 2) Page 4