“But his mark,” Jessa said.
Firell looked to Brusus before answering. “That mark is what makes it even less likely Rsiran will be tagged. None of the master smiths have marked their work in over a century. And none has worked lorcith like Rsiran in much longer than that.”
Rsiran nodded, knowing that they were right. The mark identified forgings made by him—placing the mark on them just felt right—but he hadn’t seen anything made by the master smiths working in Elaeavn with a mark. Some of the oldest and most revered works carried the marks of the smiths that had forged them, but the guild felt doing so took away from the work. Still, if someone ever did learn that it was his mark, there would be no way he could deny how much he’d made. Since leaving his father and his apprenticeship, he’d marked everything he forged.
“Even moving his work out of the city, are you certain the Elvraeth can’t learn of everything Rsiran has made?” Jessa looked from Brusus to Rsiran as she spoke.
Rsiran hadn’t told her of seeing the other man in Josun’s room before they Slid. He hadn’t wanted to worry her, not yet at least.
Brusus shook his head, running a hand through dark hair streaked with silver. “Not the way we’re moving it. Firell ships it out, moves most of it through Asador—”
“And Thyr. But Asador prefers the knives. Everything else moves more easily through Thyr,” Firell said. He took a long drink of his ale.
“And you don’t think word gets back to Elaeavn?” Jessa pressed.
Rsiran had not realized she worried so much about the Elvraeth. Back at the smithy, she had not seemed as concerned as she seemed now. Did she ask because she feared he wasn’t concerned enough or because she worried more than she let on? Did she know what he feared—that the Elvraeth would learn what he did, making it necessary for him to choose between staying and hiding, or running, leaving the only friends he’d ever had?
“Easy, Jessa,” Haern said. His eyes flared green for a moment. “I’ve not Seen anything to indicate that Rsiran risks himself.”
“But you can’t really See him that well, can you?”
Firell looked from Jessa to Haern. He was the only one who didn’t fully know of Rsiran’s ability to Slide.
Haern stared at Jessa for a long moment, his jaw tensing, before nodding. “Not as I can others,” he agreed. “But what I can See tells me that we are safe. I have warned Brusus of the dangers.”
Brusus shot him a look, and he cut off.
“What dangers?” Jessa asked.
Brusus waved his hands and tipped the dice cup toward Jessa. “Set out your coins and play.”
She didn’t reach for the cup. “What dangers, Brusus?” she pressed.
Rsiran squeezed her hand, trying to soothe her, but when she got like this, there was not much that he could do but sit back and let her work it out. Besides, she knew them better than he did, had much more history with them.
“No, Rsiran,” she said, looking over at him. “If there are dangers that Haern has Seen, I think we all should know about them. We are in this together, you most importantly, especially after what happened—” She caught herself and lowered her voice. “—what happened the last time. If the Elvraeth come looking for any of us, it will be you, Rsiran. I won’t have them risking you again,” she said, giving Brusus and Haern a look of warning.
“Do not confuse me with that Elvraeth. I did not risk Rsiran.” Brusus stared at her, heat in his gaze.
Letting go of her hand, Rsiran pulled Jessa over to him and put his arm around her shoulders. “Let it go. If Haern says that we aren’t in any danger, then we aren’t.”
“Like last time?” she asked. “When you almost died?” Looking at the others, she seemed to punctuate her point. “When Rsiran tried to do the job by himself to protect the rest of us?”
Rsiran noticed she didn’t comment on how she almost died. And thankfully, she didn’t mention what he had done to keep them safe.
“That was different. Josun was different,” Brusus argued.
Jessa sniffed but set a stack of dronr on the table anyway. Finally, she took the dice cup from Brusus and shook it, upending it over the table. As the dice spilled across the rough wood surface, the door to the tavern opened. Brusus looked over and something about him changed. Tension seemed to leave him as Lianna entered.
Long black hair pulled back and twisted into a bun. A pair of slender rods seemed to hold it in place. She strained under the weight of a heavy basket. Green eyes, not as deep as Brusus when he didn’t hide his ability, but darker than even Haern’s, flickered around her tavern. The other servers stepped a little more quickly when their mistress arrived.
Lianna smiled when she saw them and stopped at their table. “You’ve been busy, Brusus.”
“Busy?”
Lianna nodded. “I know you wanted to move some of those crates along with Rsiran’s work, but I don’t know why you would leave one stacked out on the docks like that. Never seen other crates like that before, so it must be one of yours.”
Brusus frowned, not saying anything. Rsiran noticed that Haern’s eyes flared deep green for a moment, and then the scar on his cheek started to twitch. He looked at Firell. “Those crates should not have been left on the dock.”
Firell frowned. “They weren’t, at least not when I left. Just my transport. Besides, you’ve not been removing full crates from the warehouse. Don’t know how you could, really. Too heavy.”
“Someone has,” Lianna said. She frowned as she sensed the mood. “And if not you, then perhaps you should go check on that crate. Told you not to get involved in something like that.” The last comment was directed at Brusus.
“And I told you I had it handled.”
Lianna laughed lightly, shifting the basket she carried. “Not sure you do. And you put these others—”
Brusus stood, grabbing his coins off the table with a sweep of his hands. “What I’m doing is for the others,” he said softly. “Come on. We need to move that crate before someone finds it.”
“Sounds like someone has found it,” Firell said, smiling.
“Someone else.” Brusus started toward the door.
Haern looked from Lianna to Brusus as his friend left the tavern. The dronr he held flipped across his knuckles, sliding quickly. The long scar on his cheek tensed. His eyes took on the faraway expression Rsiran had come to recognize as him trying to See some future vision.
The worried expression on his face made Rsiran nervous, but it was the sudden fear that they might have been discovered the sent fear tingling along his spine.
Chapter 3
Rsiran followed the others to the docks. He could Slide there, but did not have the strength to take them with him all at once. He’d never taken more than one with him—Jessa, and even doing that for short distances strained him. And besides, since Firell didn’t yet know about his ability, he preferred to keep it that way for as long as possible. That part of him had been influenced by his father over the years.
Brusus walked quickly through darkened streets. Once, Rsiran would have wondered how he managed so easily, but that was before he had learned of Brusus’s heritage. The dark bothered Brusus no more than it bothered Jessa; both were strongly Sighted. Rsiran wondered how many of the Elvraeth could Slide, but had never gotten a satisfactory answer. As far as Della knew, the ability was incredibly rare even among the Elvraeth.
Haern trailed alongside Brusus, silent. One hand went to his pocket, and he left it there. He had a distant expression, one Rsiran recognized as him using his ability to See. Since leaving the Barth, he continued to frown, the corners of his mouth working as if struggling through a puzzle.
Firell hurried ahead, his thin black cloak flailing behind him as he jogged through the street. Rsiran had yet to learn what ability the Great Watcher had given Firell. Whatever it was likely helped him captain his ship, either Sight or Listening. Even Reading could be useful, Rsiran decided, if the Reader were powerful enough to step past the barri
ers others built within their minds. Maybe Pushing, like he’d learned Brusus could do, influencing another’s thoughts, but that seemed tied to Reading.
Jessa pulled him off to the side of the road, drifting into shadows. The others continued ahead. Only Haern noticed that they had stopped and nodded once to Rsiran before continuing forward.
“I worry about Brusus,” she whispered to him.
“Why?”
She looked down the street. The others had turned a corner and disappeared. Neither Rsiran nor Jessa worried about losing sight of the others. Rsiran could simply Slide them the rest of the way. “I haven’t seen Brusus like this in a while. He’s… he’s obsessed with this.”
“With what?” Rsiran had not known Brusus long, but the man always seemed somewhat obsessed. First, it had been the knives Rsiran made; then it had been the strange cylinders they found in the warehouse. Recently, Brusus’s newest obsession seemed about raising money, using whatever Rsiran could create.
“The crates in the warehouse. The lorcith knives. You.” She shook her head. “Something is going on that I can’t explain. And it’s making me uncomfortable.”
Rsiran had learned to trust Jessa’s instincts but didn’t share the same anxiety. For the first time in his life, he was doing what he wanted to do. Running a forge. Spending time with friends, feeling cared about—loved even. If he had to risk himself to help Brusus, then he would.
“When I first met him—all of you, really—I thought you were part of the rebellion.”
“There is no rebellion, Rsiran,” Jessa said. “Josun wanted power. Without him… well, there’s nothing without him.”
He glanced down the street and thought about the anxiety he’d seen from Brusus and the way Haern looked. “What if there is?” He sighed, realizing that he had to tell Jessa. “When I Slid, before we left the palace, there… there was another. A man I knew from the mines. I don’t know if he saw me, or if he recognized me, but…”
Jessa bit the inside of her lip and leaned to sniff her flower. “Brusus would have heard if there was something more. I don’t think he would keep that from us.”
“Like he did with Josun?”
Jessa sighed. “I know what you intend to do. Just—”
“I’ll be careful,” Rsiran promised.
She took his hand and squeezed. “I’ve… lost a lot of people I’ve been close to. I can’t lose you too. Not now that I’ve found you.” She whispered the last and looked down at the ground as she said it.
His heart fluttered, realizing just how close her fears were to his. Rsiran didn’t want to have to leave them, but if doing so kept the others—kept Jessa—safe, then he would do so. After everything they had been through, after the way Jessa had made certain to pull him into her world, prevent him from getting isolated, he owed that much to her.
“I’ll be careful,” he said again.
She looked up and let out a long breath. For a moment, he thought she might say something more. Rsiran would wait, would delay anything if Jessa needed him to, but she said nothing more, only nodded.
Jessa so rarely spoke of her past. He knew it haunted her, but more than that was a mystery to him. He never pushed her to share, suspecting that she would open up in time. Now that she feared losing him, he wanted her to know he felt much the same. He had lost his entire family only to gain a new one. And he would do anything to keep it together.
Strange as it seemed, he owed his father for the fact that he had met Jessa in the first place. Had he not been sent away by his father, sent to the mines in Ilphaesn where he had to run away or die, he would never have grown as close to Jessa. Really, Rsiran would never have met any of them.
“We shouldn’t keep them waiting. They already tell stories.”
“What kind of stories?” he asked.
Some of the anxiety left her face, and she offered him a playful smile. “The best kind.”
Holding tightly to her hand, Rsiran Slid, emerging in the darkness near the docks. It seemed harder than when they had Slid from the smithy to the tavern, as if he pushed against something, but he’d had little rest over the last few days.
He stuttered forward before catching himself. Jessa gripped his hand tightly and looked at him with a worried expression. Rsiran patted her hand, hoping to make it seem reassuring, and looked around.
At this time of night, the docks looked like long shadows of darkness, little more than a series of wooden fingers sticking out and away from the rocky shore, jutting into Aylianne Bay. Rough wooden boxes lined most of the docks, meant to collect the day’s catch before moving to the market. Waves crashed along the rocks, sending spray and the scent of salt into the air. Even now, gulls circled overhead, cawing occasionally. The bustle that normally filled the docks had died to nothing.
A single lantern lit the entirety of the docks. On the nearest, a small portage boat was pulled up to the dock, and Firell stood alongside, motioning toward it. Brusus stood staring where Firell motioned, but Haern looked past them both and out over the water.
Rsiran followed his gaze and saw the outline of a large twin-masted ship moored out in the harbor. Firell’s ship, he suspected, though he would need to wait until it was lighter to know for certain. But why would Haern look at it with a troubled expression?
“What is it?” Jessa asked as they approached.
Brusus looked up and frowned at them. A wide grin spread across Firell’s face.
“I thought Lianna said she saw one of the crates down here. Where is it?” Rsiran asked. From what he remembered, the crates were massive, too large to easily move without the help of several people. If Lianna had just come from the dock, the crate should still be here. He glanced at the other docks but saw no sign of the crate there, either.
Brusus motioned to the dinghy. Rsiran looked into the boat as he neared but didn’t see anything. “This your transport?” he asked Firell.
“Nothing there, Brusus. You know I wouldn’t keep anything out like that.”
“Then where is the crate?” Jessa scanned the dock, using her Sight to see where the crate might have gone.
“How would it have even gotten down here? Those were—”
“Just a shipping crate,” Firell finished. “We get them all the time in places like Cort and Asador. Not so much here. The docks aren’t set up for that type of crate to come off easily. These are fishing docks, not shipping docks. Have to load them into transport boats to reach the shore.”
Rsiran hadn’t known that before. But those shipping crates filled the warehouse, stacked from floor to the ceiling, massive rows of them. Somehow, they had been brought off the ships. It seemed strange that they would have to load and unload in such an inefficient manner.
“You can’t just sail all the way into the docks?” he asked.
“Not my ship. Water is too shallow.”
“But the other ships dock here.” Farther down, two medium-sized ships were tied to the docks. Both had faded paint and rolled sails. They didn’t look the same as Firell’s ship—his seemed quite a bit larger—but bigger than any ship he’d been on in his life.
“Flat bottomed, all of them. Have to travel close to the shoreline. Deeper keeled boats like mine can handle rougher water.” Firell smiled. “Better for my line of work.”
“Are you finished giving sailing lessons?” Brusus asked.
Firell shrugged. “Not sailing lessons, but you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
Brusus’s frown deepened. “Just because I’ve never sailed with you doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”
Firell arched an eyebrow and then laughed. “But never willing to come with me? As many times as I’ve tried getting you out on the water, now I hear it’s just my ship you don’t like.”
Brusus’s face clouded. “Damn, Firell! There’s not time for this. Lianna said she saw one of the crates. Then what happened to it?”
Rsiran hadn’t seen Brusus this agitated before. Maybe Jessa was right. Something was cle
arly bothering him, but Rsiran didn’t know what. That he would get so upset over one of the crates surprised him.
Firell raised his hands and backed away from him a step. “Easy, Brusus. Just having a little fun. Nothing to worry about if it wasn’t your crate, anyway, is there?”
“That’s my concern,” Brusus said. “You know how we’ve been moving those crates, so you should know that I would not have brought it to the docks that way. What I need to know is what happened? Why would it have been here?”
“Could someone else have brought it in?” Rsiran offered.
Brusus waved toward the water. “No other ships use shipping crates like that around here.”
Haern finally turned away from looking out over the water and met Brusus’s eyes. “Lianna spoke truly, Brusus. That was one of the Elvraeth crates. I can See that much.” He shook his head. “But nothing more than that.”
“I still don’t understand what the problem is, Brusus.” Jessa had one hand planted on her hip as she glared at him.
“The problem is that the Elvraeth have left those crates alone for years. Some for hundreds of years. And, as far as I know, there haven’t been new crates added to the warehouse in at least a hundred years. So everything has been sitting untouched.” He looked out over the water, shaking his head. “And now, in just the last few months, we see activity? First with Josun. The Great Watcher alone knows what he intended. And now this.” He swept his arm around the dock.
Jessa glanced over to Rsiran. “Who then?”
Brusus shook his head. “I haven’t seen any other Elvraeth in the warehouse other than him. Haven’t seen anyone, really. Patrols around the warehouse haven’t changed. Nothing has changed that would make me think we needed to be more careful. And nothing from the palace, either.”
Rsiran didn’t say anything. Since they had infiltrated the palace, he’d feared some repercussions. Since none had come, he’d allowed himself to slowly relax. Now, learning this—that one of the crates had been moved to and then quickly off the dock—that tension suddenly returned. He was the one who had Slid them into the palace. He was the one who’d stolen lorcith from the mines, using it to forge weapons. He was the one who’d killed one of the Elvraeth. He was the one who had been seen.
The Dark Ability: Books 1-4 Page 30