Blood of the Watcher (The Dark Ability Book 4)

by D. K. Holmberg

  A narrow window opened into the shop, and Rsiran peered through it.

  Was there motion inside? He couldn’t tell. There was nothing that gave him any sign that someone was in the smithy. For all he knew, Valn had simply emerged along the street by chance.

  Rsiran wouldn’t know anything without Sliding inside.

  Before he did, he checked the door, but it was locked. It would have been too easy for it to be unlocked.

  He considered where to emerge in the smithy. After all the time he’d spent here growing up, he knew this smithy nearly as well as he knew the one he currently occupied. His attachment to it was different, though. This was to have been his some day, but he’d abandoned hope of that ever happening the moment he Slid away from Ilphaesn and did not return. The smithy he had now suited him. Even if it would never officially be his.

  Once he decided, he pulled the image into mind and Slid, emerging in his father’s old office.

  The last time that he’d been here, it had been empty except for a collection of papers that Rsiran still hadn’t deciphered. Much like the rest of the smithy had been empty. It was the best place for him to emerge, knowing that if the office were empty, there would be no place for someone to attack him from behind.

  He readied all the knives that he possessed, while at the same time fixing an image of the hidden mine within Ilphaesn in his mind. If he needed to Slide away, he would do so to somewhere they wouldn’t be able to follow. The bars of alloy prevented anyone but him from reaching there.

  Nothing moved.

  Rsiran started to allow himself to relax, but was that a sound he heard?

  He couldn’t be certain.

  He took a step forward, moving as quietly as he could. When he reached the door to the main part of the smithy, he hesitated. With the darkness—even with his enhanced Sight—he couldn’t see anything. He needed light.

  Or one of his knives.

  Rsiran pulled a small knife from his pocket, careful that it didn’t make noise jostling against any others. It glowed with a bright light that pushed away some of the nearer shadows, but not enough for him to completely see.

  He pushed against the knife, sending it across the smithy before he pulled it back.

  Rsiran wasn’t sure what he expected to see. The smithy was empty, no different from when he’d been here before.

  He sent the knife again, this time in a different direction, sweeping toward the forge. He didn’t let the knife sail fully across the smithy, and pulled back when it reached the door. Still nothing.

  Why had Valn been here?

  There was nothing in the smithy to explain why he might have come.

  And no sign of Alyse.

  That was the worst part for him. All of this, everything that he’d been doing, for a sister who didn’t care whether he lived. But Rsiran couldn’t simply do nothing, not if she was trapped, and not if she needed help that only he could offer.

  Rsiran stepped out of the office and into the smithy itself. As he did, the bracelets on his arms went cool, then cold.

  Someone was trying to Read him.

  Where?

  He pulled three knives from his pockets and sent them around the room, leaving them in each of the corners. Not for anchors, though they would work in that capacity if needed, but for the bright white light that radiated from them. He didn’t know if any others could see the white light—but since Jessa and Brusus could not, he didn’t think others could—but the light somehow gave him enough to see, to clear the shadows out of the smithy.

  Nothing moved.

  The bracelets remained cold.

  Someone tried to Read him, but they either weren’t in the smithy, or they somehow hid from him.

  He focused on lorcith, on the connection to the metal. When he’d detected Valn before, he’d carried one of Rsiran’s knives with him. Only the knives that he’d brought into the smithy resonated for him.

  But there was a distant sense of lorcith, one that he recognized, and different from all the others that existed throughout the city. With as much as he’d produced, there were many of his forgings scattered around the city, but that was around the city, this was under it.

  Beneath him.

  Like all buildings in Elaeavn, the smithy was built on the side of the rocky slope leading down to the bay. The palace stood above most—but not all; Krali Rock towered over everything, and there were a few buildings staggered around the base of Krali that rose higher than the palace—but like everything in the city, there was nothing but rock below the building.

  Or so Rsiran had thought.

  His father never revealed a lower level to the smithy, but what he sensed was unmistakable. It came from beneath him, and far enough that he could just barely get the sense of the lorcith.

  Rsiran could Slide to it, use the knife he detected as an anchor, but what would he find?

  Would he appear somewhere that Valn and anyone helping him would be? Or would it only be Valn?

  Rsiran made his way around the smithy, looking for sign of something—anything—that would help him find a way below the smithy, but there was nothing.

  Either he risked himself and Slid, or he didn’t go down.

  Chapter 30

  Rsiran returned to his smithy. Jessa and Haern stood talking silently near the hearth. She looked up as soon as he emerged, relief washing over her face.

  “What did you find?” she asked.

  Rsiran held the knives that he’d used for light around the smithy, and shook his head. “Nothing in the smithy.”

  Jessa glanced at Haern. “I’m glad you came back to us—”

  “I need to go back,” he said. “But I need your help.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t find anything in the smithy, but I sensed the knife—the same one I’ve sensed on Valn each time I’ve seen him—beneath the smithy.”

  Haern turned slowly. “Did you know there was a space beneath the smithy?”

  Rsiran shook his head. “There should be nothing.”

  A troubled expression crossed Haern’s face. “And you think to bring Jessa with you to find a way down?”

  “I could Slide,” Rsiran began, “but then I don’t know where I would end up, or what I would find. If they know I’ve discovered it, any advantage of surprise we might have is lost.”

  “What if the only way down is by Sliding?” Jessa asked.

  “There would be another way in,” Haern suggested. “If there is something”—from his tone, it sounded as if he wasn’t convinced—“then there would need to be a way in for those who couldn’t Slide as Rsiran does.”

  That had been Rsiran’s hope. Carrying someone else in a Slide was difficult enough. It got easier with practice, and he’d taken Jessa with him enough times that he did it without the same strain that he’d once experienced Sliding, but others who didn’t have someone like Jessa would have to exert themselves significantly. It made it more likely that there was some other way below.

  “I could use your help as well, Haern” Rsiran said.

  Haern stared at the misshapen lump of heartstone on the ground and shook his head. “Not this way. I need to find Brusus and look into something first.” He ran his finger along his scar, and his eyes went distant the way that they did when he attempted a Seeing. “I find him, then we’ll come looking for you.”

  “You won’t know how to find us,” Rsiran said.

  Haern frowned at him. “You think I can’t follow you?”

  “I don’t want to wait,” Rsiran started. “Not if they have—”

  Haern looked up and nodded once. “Don’t wait. What I can See tells me that you can’t wait.”

  Haern made his way past Rsiran, pausing at the table to grab a pair of his knives, and then left the smithy, pulling the door tightly behind him.

  Jessa locked the door, slipping the bars into place in the ground and over the frame. “What would he need to tell Brusus that was so urgent?”

  “I don’t k
now, but he told me not to wait.” What had Haern Seen that would make him rush out? And what was it about the piece of heartstone that troubled him so much? Haern had stared at it from the moment he’d emerged in the smithy.

  Rsiran lifted it from the ground and carried it to the table. As he did, he focused on the heartstone within it, connecting to the way the metal pulled on him. Was there something more to the heartstone than he realized? Was there something that Haern had detected that he had missed?

  Rsiran found nothing that made any sense. He could tell the contours and the layers to the metal, but nothing more than that.

  When he set it down, he turned to Jessa and she nodded.

  Using his memory of the smithy, he Slid, pulling them forward, drawing them into the office of the smithy.

  Something was different than it had been even moments before.

  Rsiran raised a finger to his lips, warning Jessa to silence.

  He pulled a pair of knives from his pocket and sent them skimming through the smithy. The light from them let him see, enough that he noted the way the stone near the back of the forge appeared different.

  Had it been that way the last time he’d been here?

  Nothing else appeared different. He pulled the knives back to him and kept them out, ready to push again if needed.

  “What was that?” Jessa whispered.

  “I needed to see if something was different,” he said.

  “With your knives? That glow I can’t see?”

  He held them out for her to take. The glow wasn’t as pronounced as when he held them, but enough that it lit her face. “They give me light,” he told her. “That’s the change in my Sight.” He had thought that when holding the crystal, he’d somehow been granted Sight, and he had, only it was different from the kind of Sight that Jessa possessed. His worked together with lorcith—and heartstone—to give him his ability.

  “That’s… weird,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It’s what it is. Look near the forge. Tell me what you see.”

  Rsiran pushed one of the knives toward the forge as Jessa focused on it. She frowned, her brow furrowed deeply, and then shook her head. “I don’t see anything,” she said.

  With the light coming off the knife, Rsiran could make out the way the stone pushed slightly away from the floor, but not directly under the forge, only behind it, in a place that would be otherwise difficult to reach.

  “There’s nothing here, Rsiran,” she said.

  That had been what he had noted. The sense of lorcith remained, but if anything, was even more distant than when he’d sensed it before.

  Rsiran stopped at the forge and went to his knees and traced a finger around the stone. The difference was subtle, barely anything at all, but he’d grown up in the smithy and recognized when it felt different.

  What he didn’t understand was what reason the stone would be different.

  “What do you see here?” he asked Jessa.

  She came next to him and peered at the floor. Her fingers traced the edge of the stone slowly, and she let out a soft breath. “You saw this from back there?”

  He nodded.

  “Maybe not a babe anymore after all.”

  He chuckled softly. “I think it has more to do with the fact that I grew up here. My father was pretty particular about everything, so I learned to notice if there was anything out of place. This is different.”

  Rsiran couldn’t explain it better than that, and wasn’t sure that it mattered.

  “You think this is an access to a level below?” Jessa asked.

  “That’s the problem. I don’t know if there’s anything to it.”

  “Well, there’s a tracing here, and something else…”

  She started crawling behind the forge. Rsiran had swept behind it, but had never placed his entire body behind it. He could imagine the reaction his father would have if he had. When he forgot to put out the coals, he got into enough trouble, nearly as much as when he thought to forge items on his own using lorcith. How would he have reacted to him searching for some hidden passage behind the forge?

  Jessa started to back out. “It’s nothing. A few strange marks is all. Nothing that would give us any way to get below.”

  Rsiran sighed and turned back to the office.

  When he’d grown up, it was the one place that he’d been forbidden to visit. Within the office, his father kept orders and forgings that were special to him, but nothing else. It was where he would spend most of his time…

  And if there were a secret access within the smithy, wouldn’t it be within his office?

  He hurried back there and looked around. When his father had cleared out the smithy, he had noted that something had changed, but Rsiran hadn’t spent enough time in here, not as he had in the rest of the smithy, to know what it might have been.

  “What is it?” Jessa asked.

  “Can you tell if anything is moved?”

  There was a bookshelf against one wall. When he’d caught glimpses inside the office, the shelves had contained the journeymen forgings, items that had been made to demonstrate skill before they moved onto another smithy. All were gone now.

  The long table that was pushed up against the wall had once been stacked with papers, and was now empty. Once a chair had been in here, but that had been taken away as well, like so much else.

  “Look at the floor there,” Jessa said, motioning toward the bookshelf.

  Rsiran let one of the knives float toward the floor, giving him enough light to see what Jessa saw without difficulty. On the ground where she indicated, faint lines scratched along the stone matching each end of the bookshelf.

  He pulled the knife back to him and grabbed the sides of the bookshelf, expecting it to move slowly, but it eased away from the wall, scratching softly at the ground.

  “Uh, Rsiran?” Jessa said.

  She had moved out of the way and stood beside the table, but her eyes were directed toward the wall, behind the bookshelf.

  He stepped around followed the direction of her gaze.

  Set into the wall was a small curved metal panel coming up to his waist. Streaks of green ran through it.

  “It looks like the metal I found in the forest,” Rsiran said, crouching as he ran his hands along the panel. The darker metal was iron, and the green he suspected was grindl, just like what he’d found in the hut. He leaned back on his heels, studying the wall. On the other side of the wall was the fenced-in area outside the smithy.

  How thick was the wall?

  He could imagine this as nothing more than a repair made to the smithy, but the pattern of the iron and grindl made that less likely.

  With certainty, he knew that whatever was behind this panel was connected to the map that he’d found, the one Haern thought was tied to the alchemists.

  Jessa reached around him and traced her fingers around the edge of the panel. A curious expression pinched her mouth, and she pushed on a part of the panel that he couldn’t see. Part of the metal popped out, leaving something like a handle.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve found strange doors,” she answered.

  He waited for her to say something more, but she didn’t. Instead, she grabbed the handle and pulled. It swung away with a puff of air that reminded him of the wind that blew through the mines. Darkness met them on the other side.

  Rsiran sent a knife forward, using it something like a lantern, illuminating a cramped opening with darkness stretching down and away. Stairs were set into the stone that led beneath the smithy.

  “Do you see that?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but I still don’t know how you see it.” Jessa leaned back and took a deep breath. “What now?”

  Rsiran wondered if he really wanted to risk Jessa going with him beneath the smithy, but there might be something she could see that he did not. Had it not been for her, he might not have found a way to open the panel. He might be able to Slide, but she ha
d the experience sneaking into places like this, hidden places where trespassers weren’t meant to go.

  “Now I guess we have to see where it leads.”

  Jessa smiled and started into the space in the wall. He grabbed her arm and pulled, but she pulled back. “You think you should lead? I can see better than you. Besides, I’m quieter than you.”

  Rsiran let her go, and she moved down the stairs. He floated the knife alongside, watching as she descended, and then stopped.

  “It levels out here,” she said in a whisper.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  From inside the office, he closed the panel, sealing the wall shut again, and then pushed the shelf back into place. Then he focused on where he’d last seen Jessa, and started his Slide to her.

  Just as he started his Slide, the front door to the smithy rattled, the sound like a key going into a lock.

  Rsiran nearly lost his focus, but safely pulled himself down beneath the smithy.

  The air was cool and slightly damp, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the glow from the knife. As they did, he found Jessa waiting for him down a narrow hall. Rock walls lined both sides of the hall, with a low-hanging ceiling overhead. He had been lucky he hadn’t emerged with his head stuck in rock.

  “What happened?” Jessa asked.

  “We should hurry,” he said. “There was someone coming into the smithy when I Slid.”

  “Thought it was empty.”

  “And I thought there was no passage beneath it. Doesn’t change that we should hurry.”

  Jessa waved her hand. “Which way? This tunnel goes in both directions.”

  Rsiran listened for the sound of the lorcith that he recognized as coming from Valn. It was distant, but definitely coming from a specific direction. He pointed.

  “That leads to Upper Town,” Jessa said.

  Rsiran hadn’t made the connection, but now that she said something, he suspected that she was right. If he went the other way, the tunnel would lead down the slope, toward Lower Town. He couldn’t say with certainty, but the sense of the knife came from the direction toward Upper Town.