“What is he going to do?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, though I suspect it involves him finding a way to draw out Josun. It is a dangerous game that he plays, one I fear he does not fully understand.”
“With Josun, I’m not certain there is anything Brusus can do.”
Della took a deep breath and turned back to the fire. “You see why I am concerned.”
Rsiran shared the same concern. The fact that Josun was one of the Elvraeth put Brusus at a disadvantage. That Josun could Slide… well that left Brusus in danger. “I thought I had killed him once.”
“And how do you feel now that you think you did not?”
The emotions were difficult for him to explain. Did he admit that he felt some relief? That the idea of having killed one of the Elvraeth frightened him? If the council learned, what would they do to him? Rsiran would never be safe in Elaeavn, he’d always need to remain vigilant, constantly worrying what would happen next, whether Jessa would suffer for him, whether his other friends would suffer for who he was…
“How would that be any different than it is now?” Della asked.
She had Read him. And if Della could Read him this easily, Josun would be able to as well. More than simply working to increase his strength for Sliding, he would have to practice keeping the barriers built within his mind, fortifying them with the image of lorcith.
Della looked over and smiled. “It is good you recognize that.”
He decided to ask the question that had brought him to her house in the first place. “How much can I push myself?”
“As much as you can tolerate.”
“You said doing so will make me stronger?”
“Not stronger,” she answered. “You are not a weak Slider. This is not like Sight where there are gradients of strength. With Sliding, you either are or you are not.”
Was that completely true? He could Slide, but there was no doubt that he had barely been strong enough to Slide everyone to the forest. Had he practiced more, would such Slides get easier? Was that not the same as strength?
“Are there dangers if I push myself?”
“The danger is in the traveling. You risk getting careless, coming out where you do not intend. Such things place you at risk.”
Rsiran thought about what happened when he Slid all of them to the Aisl, how he hadn’t quite reached where he intended. What would have happened had one of them emerged inside a tree? Or worse, if he would not have been able to pull them all the way to safety had they encountered danger of some kind? As tired as he had been after attempting the Slide, he might not have been able to do anything more.
“I have seen you push yourself. Is that how you got stronger?”
Della smiled sadly. “There are times when you have no choice but to push forward. When failure means death.”
Rsiran considered her words. If Brusus ran into trouble with Josun, his failure would very likely mean death. Maybe his. But worse, others he cared about. He could not allow that to happen. Given what he knew now, he was certain Josun would continue to harm those Rsiran cared about to push them all in the direction he intended. First Lianna, but what would happen if he reached for Jessa? What would Rsiran do then?
Yet… he knew the answer already. Josun had tried to harm Jessa, had threatened her in the palace. If the same—or worse—happened, Rsiran would do whatever he could to protect her.
“He will see your caring as a weakness,” Della warned. “That is why he chose Lianna. He knew how Brusus would react. That makes Brusus predictable. But also dangerous. I do not think Josun will expect that.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about Josun.”
“I have lived in Elaeavn a long time, Rsiran. There are many things I know.”
Not for the first time, he wondered about what Della didn’t share. Like Brusus, she had secrets. She had strength unlike any other person he’d met and unlike most in Lower Town Elaeavn, she was gifted in many areas. Healing. Reading. Probably Sighted as well. Normally, he would assume that made her Elvraeth, but he had no proof of that.
“I… I don’t know what I should do.” He had come to Della hoping for answers, but now he had only more questions.
“You think I should be able to tell you what to do.”
“I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
Della rested a hand on his arm. “That is why I know you will do only what you must.”
Chapter 22
Jessa didn’t come to Rsiran the next morning. He awoke slowly, and his body ached as if he had actually carried everyone the day before rather than simply Sliding them. His head throbbed and lines streaked across his vision. His mouth felt thick and dry.
After leaving Della, he continued to Slide. He went from the city to the clearing in the Aisl to the docks and back to the smithy, repeating until exhaustion made it so he could no longer focus. And then, he made small Slides, taking no more than a few steps at a time, determined to push himself until he could no longer stand. At one point, he staggered to the mattress and fell onto it, plunging quickly into sleep.
Normally, Jessa joined him, but the empty mattress next to him said that she had not. He needed her to return. That was his next step in practicing—taking her with him until he reached the point of exhaustion. Rsiran was determined to build up his stamina so that Josun would not catch him unaware.
A skylight set into the repaired roof of the shop let some light in. They had patched over all the windows on the front of the shop, not wanting anyone wandering by able to see what he might be doing inside. That kind of exposure risked drawing the attention of the guild, something Rsiran was determined to avoid. In many ways, the guilds were as powerful as the Elvraeth.
He turned to the small basin of water resting near the table and took a long drink, trying to determine how he would spend his day. Brusus needed more weapons, and he now had the lorcith Shael had brought. The crate drew his eyes, but he didn’t even need to see it to know it was there. The sense of lorcith packed into the crate pulled on him, and there was enough to create whatever weapons Brusus wanted, enough to not worry about where he’d find the next supply of lorcith for quite some time.
Before leaving, he checked his belt to ensure he had a pair of lorcith knives with him. After the attack in the warehouse, he didn’t want to be caught without a weapon, and knowing he could throw his knives without touching them lent him a particular kind of safety. The lorcith in the knives pressed against his awareness. Before doing anything else, he made sure to grab the spyglass Jessa had given him and slipped it into his pocket.
Then he Slid to the docks.
Rest had done him some good. Sliding after a full night’s rest was almost easy. Emerging on the rocks along the shore, careful to remain concealed, Rsiran looked out over the water toward the ships. Rsiran hoped to catch him before he set sail. Otherwise, it could be weeks before he returned.
The bay looked nearly empty. Waves crashed steadily along the rocks of the shore, but other than that, the gulls were silent today. Where he stood smelled of spoiled fish and rot, but he didn’t dare emerge too close to the docks and risk one of the workers seeing him simply appear. A few of the flat-bottomed boats that he knew primarily fished within the bay dotted the far horizon. Smaller boats, mostly transport vessels, sailed close to shore. At first, he saw none of the massive ships that he had seen the other day.
Pulling the spyglass from his pocket, he scanned the bay, looking for signs of Firell’s ship. Not for the first time, he wished he had Jessa’s ability. Sight would be incredibly useful for this kind of thing. Besides, it would make Sliding distances easier, taking away some of the need for familiarity to ensure a safe Slide.
Instead, he had to work with what he had available. The glass brought everything into sharper focus. Oranges and reds from the setting sun gleamed off small waves cresting in the bay. A triangular sail on the nearest boat—barely larger than a dinghy—puffed out with the wind. A long rod hung over t
he side, but Rsiran didn’t see anyone on the boat. Shifting the spyglass, he looked farther out over the water and caught sight of one of the massive flat-bottomed fishing boats that could sail into the docks.
At that distance, he couldn’t make out much in the way of detail. What must it be like working the lines, reeling in fish day after day? How could anyone enjoy standing being surrounded by that much water? Much better to spend his time hammering at the forge, feeling the heat of the coals press against your cheeks, sweat running down your back as you hammered until the metal began to take its shape.
As he turned the spyglass further, he realized he had been mistaken about what he thought was another fishing boat. It had a pair of enormous masts, its square sails filled with wind, pushing the ship forward, drifting it slowly back toward the city. It turned and Rsiran recognized the shape of the figurehead on the bow. Firell’s ship, and now returning toward shore.
Rsiran was too late. Firell might only have been gone for a few days, but the fact that he’d left at all made it likely he’d unloaded the lorcith he had stored in the hold. Safer that way, he knew, better to keep what he smuggled away from the guilds, but he still couldn’t come up with a good reason why Firell would have that much lorcith in the first place. As far as he knew, taking it served no purpose, other than to deprive the Elvraeth. And if he had that much lorcith, why wouldn’t he have it brought it to Rsiran, or Brusus at least, to have it shaped into something saleable? If it was Josun that he’d overheard on Firell’s ship, then what did Josun want with the lorcith?
Rather than Sliding, he made his way along the shore road, walking slowly past a series of shops. Most were run down, paint faded or peeling. None had signs hanging outside, not like the nicer shops found in Upper Town, or even those on the border like his father’s. At least, like it had been. Before.
Rsiran sighed. Wind pressed against his face, cool and crisp. Aches from yesterday slowly worked out of him as he walked, leaving him feeling better than he had in a few days. Yet… he couldn’t escape the threat hanging over him. Josun Elvraeth lived and had come for Lianna. That he went after Brusus didn’t make much sense, but what if Brusus was not his intended target? What if Josun simply wanted Rsiran to be aware that he lived? A message.
He reached the wide road heading up through the city when he collided with someone.
Rsiran bounced back a step, quickly stuffing a hand into his pocket as he reached for one of his knives. The woman in front of him looked offended that he would even touch her. The basket she carried fell from her hands, dropping to the cobbled street. Rsiran hurried to help her lift it but she waved him off.
“Don’t bother.” She pulled the basket away from him and turned back up the street.
He recognized the voice, but not the dress or the posture. “Alyse?”
Only days before, he had thought he’d seen her. But she should not be here, not in Lower Town and not dressed like this in a white dress stained with several day’s worth of grime. Once sleek black hair now hung at her ears, cut short. Only the lorcith chain hanging from her neck told him it was she. It pulled on him, and he recognized the craftsmanship that had gone into making it. If nothing else, his father had been skilled.
She froze. Then she turned slowly, bright green eyes widening slightly. “Rsiran?” She looked around the street, and Rsiran wondered if she looked for someone to call to for help. When she turned her attention back to him, she studied him a moment. “You look… different.”
He didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.
“Father said you were banished.”
“By him. Not the council. Why are you here?”
Her face darkened. “You suddenly care what happens to your family?”
He took a step back, startled by the heat of her words. “I always cared. It wasn’t always returned.”
The corners of her eyes softened. “Go back to wherever you live now, Rsiran. We’ll be fine.”
Alyse straightened her back and turned away from him.
As she started back up the street, he blurted out, “What happened to the shop?”
She did not turn back to him. “What do you know of it?”
Rsiran hurried toward her, stopping in front of her. “I know that it’s empty. After generations of Lareth smiths, now it stands shuttered.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “That was always going to be the case.”
He tried to ignore the barb, but it cut too close to what he felt. Had he stayed with his father, had he just been willing to serve out his sentence in the mines, would he have been able to return home? To apprentice with his father?
To suppress the gifts the Great Watcher had given him. Never know the call of the lorcith or the freedom he felt with each Slide? No… returning home had not been the answer. But that didn’t change how he wished there had been another way.
“What happened?”
Alyse’s eyes drifted to the basket she carried. Rsiran smelled the stink of fish coming from it and realized the basket carried more than just the three of them would need.
“You’re working?”
Her eyes flashed and a flush came to her cheeks.
“But why? Why would you need to work?”
Even as he asked, he understood. The shop had always provided enough for the family, but the last year had been difficult. Jobs were less plentiful, especially those that paid well, and their father had fallen into the arms of ale. When Rsiran had still lived at home, he’d known that money grew more and more scarce.
When she looked up, her eyes were red. “Why do you suddenly care?” she whispered. “You would not do what he asked. You became—”
“Nothing,” he snapped. “I became who the Great Watcher intended me to be. My ability is no darker than you trying to Read me.” He made certain to push his reinforced barriers firmly in place so that she couldn’t Read him. When he’d been younger, it had always been an expectation that she’d Read past his barriers. He no longer feared her as he once had.
Her face flushed more.
“Don’t bother. I have learned much since we last saw each other. I doubt you will crawl through my mind as easily as you once did.”
She glared at him.
“But, since I can’t Read you, what happened to our father?”
Alyse glanced up the street. “I can’t…”
Rsiran grabbed the basket from her. “I’ll carry this. You walk.”
She opened her mouth to argue, as if to scold him like she always had when they were younger, but closed it. Then she nodded. “You have changed,” she said softly.
“It seems we all have.”
Alyse studied his face for a moment as they walked. “He lost the shop,” she began. “But you know that.”
“I found it empty.”
Alyse continued up the street, veering off onto a side street Rsiran didn’t know, one running along the length of Lower Town. Rows of narrow buildings crammed together. The smell of bread and roasting meats mixed with the smells near the shore, reminding him of the market.
“Business trailed off after…”
When she didn’t seem like she would continue, he asked, “After what?”
“After the mining guild accused him of stealing lorcith.”
Rsiran almost tripped and without thinking what he was doing, Slid forward a step to steady himself. Alyse glared at him.
“Why would the guild accuse him of stealing lorcith?”
She cast a sideways glace at him. “You really think you need to ask that question?”
Rsiran nodded.
“Because he wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me? He never did anything to protect me. Only punish me.” The heat in his words surprised him. After all this time, he still felt anger at how his father had treated him. Even after getting away, he still felt that emotion. “You can’t imagine what it was like being in the darkness of the mines. The way the stone presses down around you. The threat of t
he other miners willing to hurt you at any time.” He said nothing about the lorcith calling him, demanding that he free it from the stone. Alyse didn’t understand him Sliding; she would understand that ability even less.
She drew her back straight. For a moment, with the way she looked at him, she reminded him of the Alyse of his youth. “Yes, protect you. When the guild came to him demanding to see proof that he used lorcith, he claimed failure rather than reveal that you had been stealing from him.”
“I did not steal lorcith from father’s shop.”
They had stopped on an intersecting street. The buildings lining the street reminded him of the alley outside the smithy, stone cracked and crumbling, and halfhearted attempts to repair it having failed. Pale painted walls faded, nothing like the more vivid colors found near Upper Town. Even the drains in the stone meant to divert rainwater out into the bay were plugged like they were near his smithy, fetid water pooling. It was a place he never would have expected to find Alyse.
A few others made their way along the street, most dressed in the same rough fabric that made Alyse’s dress. Rsiran’s finer clothes, finely woven cotton Brusus had procured for him, seemed just as out of place here as it did near his smithy. At least along the shore, the variety of people making their way kept him from standing out. Here, he felt as out of place as he would if he were to Slide to Upper Town in the daylight.
“We know what your ability makes you.”
“What it makes me? You really believe that my ability to Slide…” He lowered his voice and glanced down the street. For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of bright red fabric that reminded him of Shael, but it disappeared. “That it changes me? What of Father’s ability? Did it push him to drink? Did it push him to hit me?”
Alyse took a deep breath. “But he saw you in his shop. Do not deny that.”
Rsiran wouldn’t deny that he had. “I came for something else. Not lorcith.”
Alyse sniffed. “If not you, then someone else? Will that be your story when the guild finds you? When you are brought by the constables before the Elvraeth?”
The Heartstone Blade (The Dark Ability Book 2) Page 17