“Jessa doesn’t agree with what I think needs to happen,” Rsiran said.
Brusus tipped his head to the side and studied Rsiran for a moment. “You need to be careful, son. She’s the type that doesn’t react well to being excluded. And I’ve seen the two of you together. You have abilities. Damn, but the Great Watcher knows that you do. There are things that you can do that I can’t even begin to fully understand. But that doesn’t mean that you can close out those who care about you, especially when they share your bed.”
He smiled and patted Rsiran on the arm then led them down a narrow street. They wound into a part of Elaeavn that Rsiran wasn’t familiar with. That was one downside to his ability to Slide everywhere. He never learned the streets, not like Jessa or Brusus did. If he needed to travel somewhere, he could simply take himself there, missing all the parts of the city along the way. It shielded him in some ways.
The muted sounds of the waves crashing along the shore carried to him, and the smell of salt cut through the other stink of filth along the street. They encountered no one else. Rsiran wondered if that was because of the time of day, or whether that was due to something else. The two of them might not look terribly imposing, but Brusus walked with purpose. In this part of the city, anyone moving as quickly as he did likely had something unsavory in mind.
“Are you sure this is the right area?” Rsiran asked.
Brusus glanced over and watched him a moment before laughing. “Right area? You know this is no different from the area you call home? In many ways, this is cleaner.”
They hadn’t passed any of the stagnant pools of water like were found near the smithy, which kept the stench minimized. All parts of the city were designed to drain back out into Aylianne Bay, but over time, many parts of Lower Town had become obstructed, the drains failing. When they failed in Upper Town, the Elvraeth made certain to send the city engineers to repair the problem. Down here, there was not the same urgency when the drains failed.
The bright sunlight didn’t manage to pierce the space between buildings as it did higher in the city. That was by intentional design. When the city had first been built, the Lower Town buildings were the first placed, and they were set in ways that obscured the city from the water, attempting to blend into the rock. Rsiran had seen the city from above, and from a distance, and there were times when the illusion was better than others.
A door opened, and a young faced peeked out, before closing quickly.
Rsiran glanced at Brusus, and he shrugged. “You’re scary,” Brusus said.
Rsiran smiled. Were that only true. Then he might be left alone. Then all of them might be left alone. It raised a question for him: how could he be truly frightening to those chasing him? What could he do that would make them hesitate before coming after them?
Not his abilities. There didn’t seem to be anything about his abilities that scared them. Rather, his ability to Slide past heartstone and lorcith made him alluring. That was the reason they wanted him.
It would have to be something big enough—or he would have to become someone frightening enough—to keep the Forgotten and Venass from coming after him. Maybe the secret involved his training with Haern.
There was another option, one that he hadn’t put as much thought into, but as he watched Brusus, he recognized the threat the Elvraeth posed. If they could somehow convince the Elvraeth to recognize the risk from the Forgotten, or from Venass, they wouldn’t be in as much danger.
Brusus stopped in front of a worn brick building. Like the rest around here, it flowed from one to the next, no real separation. Walls were shared between buildings here, and in some places the brick cracked and fell. He tapped on a rough wooden door with gaps around the frame, stepping back after he did.
“Be ready,” Brusus warned.
Rsiran focused on the knives in his pockets. At least that ability still didn’t seem limited. If it ever were limited, he would truly feel isolated.
The knives tilted forward, ready for him to push them through the fabric of his cloak.
The door opened a crack, and an older woman peered out. Her eyes were a darker green than most in this part of Lower Town, and her mouth wrinkled as she pressed her lips together. A faded gray scarf covered her head.
In spite of that, Rsiran recognized his mother.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“Miss,” Brusus began, stepping forward. “We have a few questions for you is all.”
She glanced from Brusus to Rsiran, and he realized that she didn’t recognize him. In the time since he’d left home, his physical appearance had changed. Primarily due to the manual labor he’d done in the mines, and more recently, his work at the forge, giving him strength that he hadn’t had before, but he had also experienced much. No longer was he the same sheltered boy he’d once been, a boy who looked up at the Elvraeth palace and wondered why they were given the right and the ability to rule when he was given so little. Now he understood that they had taken that right, much like others wanted to take it from them.
“Questions?” she echoed. “What kind of questions do you have? Are you with the constables?” She eyed Brusus’s fine jacket with the embroidery that ran along the sleeves with a splash of color not common in Lower Town, and then she looked to Rsiran, her eyes seeming to take in his cloak, the fabric much finer than would be found here. “Not constables,” she said. Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “The palace?” she asked with a gasp.
Brusus frowned and glanced at Rsiran. “Not the palace. Please, we have a few questions is all.”
She recovered quickly. “Then if not the palace and if not the constables, I have nothing to say.” She slammed the door shut on them, and a heavy lock slipped closed.
“Well, that was interesting,” Brusus said.
“She didn’t recognize me.”
Brusus clapped him on the shoulder. “Rsiran, if I hadn’t been with you for the last few months, I’m not sure that I would recognize you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Only that you’ve changed. Not just your appearance, though that has changed too. But the way that you carry yourself. You were plenty timid when we first met, afraid to upset your father and risk your ’ship. I think that’s changed the most.” A playful smile worked across his face. “Well, that and the fact that you’ve got yourself a woman. That changes a man plenty too.”
Brusus pulled out his lock-pick set and unrolled it. He poked at the lock until it clicked and pushed on the door. It didn’t budge.
“Didn’t expect that down here,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Feels like they placed bars into the ground. Not many with the know how or the skills to fashion something like that.”
“My father would have,” Rsiran said.
Brusus nodded. “Should’ve thought of that.” He stepped back, rolling the lock-pick set back and slipping it back into his pocket. He crossed his arms over his chest as he surveyed the street. “Need to find another way in, but one that doesn’t make too much noise. Constables don’t patrol in this part too often, but they do send men from time to time.”
“Let me Slide us through,” Rsiran said.
“Thought you didn’t want to do that. What if it draws those from the other night in the forest?”
Rsiran considered the door. He needed to learn what happened to Alyse. To do that, he might have to take a few risks. He could minimize them, and maybe a short Slide like this wouldn’t be enough to trigger any sort of attention.
“It might,” he said.
“Then we’ll have to be ready.” Brusus tapped his pocket.
Rsiran could sense the four knives Brusus kept in his pocket, plus the one that he kept tucked into his waistband. He grabbed Brusus’s sleeve and focused on the other side of the door. He didn’t know what was on the other side. There could be nothing, or she could have placed some kind of heavy barricade to block the door. Sliding into that could create some risk.
>
But if he pulled himself into the Slide… that might allow him the time to determine whether the Slide would pose a danger. Sliding in that way gave a different type of control, and he thought that he might be able to Slide away if something went wrong.
They moved slowly at first, a steady drawing sensation that brought them past the door. For the first time, Rsiran had a sense of control of the speed, as if he could move more quickly or more slowly were he to need to, and the colors that flashed past during the Slide were plain browns, those of the door itself.
When they emerged, he checked to ensure they were safe, before letting out a shaky breath.
“Damn,” Brusus whispered.
A woman screamed. A long length of iron came swinging toward them. If Rsiran did nothing, Brusus would get hit in the head with it.
He sent the knives streaking from his pocket to block the iron. With the force of his push, he sent the bar arcing up and away, flipping from his mother’s hands. The knives hung in the air a moment until he pulled them back to him.
She stared at him, her eyes wide.
“You…”
Rsiran nodded. “Me.”
“How is it… How are you… He said you were dead!”
Rsiran glanced over at Brusus, but he’d crossed his arms over his chest and kept his face neutral.
“Who said I was dead?” Rsiran asked. “Father?”
That would be the final piece, wouldn’t it? The last brutal part of his punishment for his father to claim to the rest of his family that he had died. That explained why Alyse had been so surprised to see him, but why hadn’t she shared the truth with their mother?
“Not your father. He regretted what happened. Never said it, but when he drank…”
Rsiran didn’t need her to finish. His barriers would have been down, and she would have been able to Read him. That was an advantage that Rsiran would not share.
“Who told you that I died?”
Who else would have cared what happened to him? Who else would have wanted to tell his mother that he had died? Other than his father and the fact that he was completely disinterested in what happened to him, Rsiran couldn’t think of anyone who would have reason to tell her that he’d died.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. She took a step toward him before catching herself and stepping back. “You… You look different.”
“Being sent to the mines will do that,” Rsiran said.
She stared at him for a moment. “I wish he had never done that, but Neran always thought that he could keep you from…” She caught herself and shook her head. “Perhaps that is in the past. What has happened, has happened. And now that Neran is gone, it doesn’t matter, does it?” she said, mostly to herself.
Brusus looked over and caught Rsiran’s wrist. “It seems that you are more welcomed than you expected. Do you need me to be here?” he asked.
Rsiran looked at his mother, at the deep wrinkles that had formed along her eyes, and the way that her face wore a mask of concern that she’d never had when he lived at home. What had happened to his family? So much had changed, not only for him, but for them as well. Seeing her, and seeing that she seemed almost relieved, left him with questions that he suddenly found he needed answers to.
His mother watched him, and there was a hint of… worry or hope or… something written on her face. As much as he needed answers, it seemed that she did as well.
“I think that I’ll be fine.”
Brusus turned to the door.
“Brusus?” Brusus paused and turned. “Can you find Jessa and tell her where I am?”
Brusus smiled. “Probably wise that I do. Better be ready to answer a few questions.”
“I am,” Rsiran’s mother said.
Brusus tipped his head to her. “That’s good, but you’re not the person I meant.”
With that, Brusus pulled open the door and stepped back into the streets of Lower Town, leaving Rsiran standing with his mother, alone for the first time in ages.
Chapter 10
When Brusus left, Rsiran debated what to ask first. His mother saved him by motioning him into the small home. Rsiran followed, noting the utilitarian furniture, a far cry from the plush chairs and the warm decorations found around their home when he’d been growing up. Here, nothing adorned the walls other than a few lanterns to provide light, thick oil burning within them.
The smells were familiar, though. He caught the scent of bread rising and the fragrant aroma of roasting meat as she stopped at a small table and touched the back of a chair, motioning for him to sit.
Rsiran settled onto the chair and rested his hands on the table. “What happened, Mother?” Rsiran asked.
She took a seat, balancing on the edge of the chair and clasping her hands in her lap. Her fingers played with the fabric of her dress, and she shook her head softly. “What happened, he asks,” she whispered. “So much. So much. How can you begin to understand everything that we’ve been through?” she asked him, barely meeting his eyes.
“Everything you’ve been through?” he said. “You think nothing of what I’ve been through, only the hardships that you’ve endured?”
Her gaze drifted to the door, where Brusus had disappeared. “You travel in the company of the Elvraeth now. I think you have endured much less than we have, Rsiran.”
Rsiran smiled inwardly. Brusus would have been either amused or annoyed that his mother identified him as one of the Elvraeth. Born to one of the Elvraeth, Brusus had been exiled as surely as his mother. “He is not one of the Elvraeth.”
“No? I thought…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. Much as it doesn’t matter what happened to us in the time you’ve been away. We have suffered, that is all that you must know.”
Rsiran thought of how he’d been tortured, the friend he’d lost, the way he’d been abducted. “That’s not all that I must know,” he said. “What happened?”
“When you left—”
“Left? I was sent away, Mother. Don’t make it seem like it was my choice.”
“You could have listened to him,” she said.
Rsiran sat back in the chair and shook his head as he studied his mother. “Listened to what? He wanted to change who I was. He wanted me to refuse the abilities that I have been given. How could I listen to him?”
“Neran only wanted what was best for you, Rsiran. He knew what would happen if you were to use them, and how others might use you. You don’t understand… You can’t understand. And now he’s gone.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Rsiran said.
“You couldn’t know,” she answered, clenching her hands more tightly in her lap. “After… after you left, he fell into the ale even more. Neran always had a problem, always thought that drinking could help him ignore…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“He lost the smithy,” Rsiran said.
She nodded.
“I saw it,” Rsiran admitted.
“You know your father. Maybe not as well as you should have, but you should know that losing the smithy—especially after losing you—was the worst thing that could have happened to him. More than anything else, it changed him.”
“Why did he leave you?”
“He… He was ashamed, I think. And afraid that if he stayed, they would hurt the rest of us.”
Rsiran frowned. “Who would?”
His mother reached toward him, before pulling her hands back. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. To me, it matters.”
“Why? Because you’re still so angry with him for what happened? What does that change, Rsiran?”
Would it change anything for him to know?
It was possible, he realized. He still didn’t know why his father had been taken to Asador, or why Venass had claimed him. Rsiran still didn’t really know why his father had been to Thyr before, or even how. He had thought he’d spent his entire life in the city, but if that wasn’t true what other
secrets could his father be hiding?
“Do you know where he is?” he asked.
“Gone,” she whispered.
“Do you know who took him?”
“Rsiran,” she said, a pleading note entering her voice. “You only put yourself in danger by asking. Why do you think I’ve come here, to a place where they won’t even search for me? Why do you think I had Alyse find work, and put her out from my home, separating her as much as I could? She needed to be safe.”
“They? You mean the Elvraeth?”
“Please don’t ask.”
Rsiran wondered what secrets she was keeping. There was more to his father than he had realized. And here Rsiran had thought that he was the one that the Forgotten had come for, but maybe there was more to it.
“Why was he in Asador?”
She looked up, her eyes reddened. “What?”
Rsiran nodded. “When I found him, he was in Asador, locked away like nothing more than a prisoner.”
“Neran lives?”
Rsiran sniffed. “You haven’t answered. Why would he have been in Asador?”
“They wanted smiths with skill, master smiths they claimed could hear the call of the ore. Your father, he…”
Rsiran nodded. “He can hear lorcith,” Rsiran finished. He pulled on the lorcith knives in his pocket and sent them hovering above the table. They pulled on his awareness, calling to him. Rsiran noted that there was no other lorcith in her home, not as there once had been. Lorcith had always been a part of the home, always a decorative metal. In that way, they were blessed nearly as much as the Elvraeth, at least he had always thought that to be the case.
“Great Watcher,” she whispered. “When you did that before, I thought it some trick.”
Blood of the Watcher (The Dark Ability Book 4) Page 7