“Still can’t see in the dark.”
“You still have to walk,” he said as he took her hand.
“Not all the time,” she said, pulling him down the alley.
They passed a few puddles of stagnant water. The air in the alley felt still and dank, stinking of rot in a way the rest of the city never managed. Buildings pressed closely together, most with crumbling stone faces and doors boarded over. Having the forge in such a location provided the benefit that he would be less likely to be discovered. Part of him worried about what would happen were someone from this alley to learn of the smithy and decide to see what sort of reward the constables would offer.
Near the end of the street, there came the whine of a distant cat. Rsiran hesitated, knowing that he was being superstitious, until he heard another. Only then did he relax.
Jessa glanced over at him. “You worry too much.”
She pulled him onto a wider street. A few carters made their way along here, some coming down from Upper Town by their dress, but not as many people filled the street as they would find earlier in the day, after ships returned with the day’s catch.
“You don’t worry?” he asked.
Rsiran looked over and saw her holding one hand over the lorcith charm. Somewhere along the line, she had grabbed a flower and tucked it inside the twisting shape. She sniffed at it softly, a distant look to her eyes.
“Worrying hasn’t ever changed anything for me.”
They made their way toward the docks. Rsiran let Jessa lead him, mindful of the twists she took as they went. He still didn’t know the city—especially this part of Lower Town—as well as she did. And since he Slid most places, he hadn’t really needed to know the streets that well.
As the road sloped downward, he caught sight of someone and paused almost imperceptibly. The face looked familiar, the set of the jaw so much like his sister Alyse, but she would not be down in Lower Town, and certainly not carrying a loaded basket of fish.
The woman disappeared as they turned a corner. Jessa caught him looking backward and punched him on the shoulder. “Don’t think I didn’t see that,” she said, swatting at his arm.
When they nearly reached the shore road that ran along the bay, Rsiran saw Shael ambling toward the docks. His wide back was hard to miss, but his brightly colored shirt and pants would have stood out, regardless.
Rsiran pulled Jessa toward the line of buildings along the street. “Just saw Shael.”
“You sure?”
“Who else wears such bright clothing?” It was the deep red shirt that drew Rsiran’s attention. “Where do you think he’s going?”
“Probably same as us.”
“And where are we going?”
She tilted her head toward the water. “I wanted to check with Firell. Something about that crate last night still bothers me.”
“He’ll be on his ship. You won’t be able to get there.”
A smile played across her lips. “You sure about that?”
“You want me to Slide us onto the ship?”
He wasn’t certain whether he could even do it. Usually Sliding required him to know where he was going, either by seeing it or having been there before. Trying to do it another way risked him missing his target. And if he missed the ship… they would end up in the water. Rsiran didn’t know whether he could Slide them back.
“You don’t think you can?” Jessa seemed surprised.
“I’ve never tried it,” he admitted. “If I had better Sight, I might feel more comfortable trying it. At least then I could see my target. But what if I miss or overshoot?” At least there wasn’t the same risk of ending up stuck in walls of rock like he’d had when Sliding in Ilphaesn or of ending up stuck in a crate as he would have had attempting to Slide in the warehouse.
As they neared the docks, Jessa pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to him. An amused smile crossed her face, pulling at the corners of her mouth.
“What is this?” What she handed him was made of a silvery metal, but not steel. Long and cylindrical, it felt cool and lighter than he would have expected. It reminded him of the cylinders he had seen when Brusus first took him to the warehouse, but didn’t seem as long as those. One end tapered more than the other. “Is this…”
She shrugged. “Just a part. Look through it.”
“Does Brusus know?”
They stood on the rocky shoreline, away from the docks but near enough that they could see them. Water splashed up around them, sending soft splatters of cool water onto their arms. Rsiran remembered the first time he’d come to the shore with Jessa, thinking how different things were now.
A half dozen ships were moored out on the water. A few smaller boats ferried people to and from the larger ships. At the dock, a single-masted ship slowly made its way toward the shore. Flat bottomed, from what Firell had said, and clearly from Elaeavn.
“Does he have to know everything?” Jessa said.
Rsiran laughed. “I know how he’d answer that.”
“Just look,” Jessa urged.
He held the cylinder up and turned it, realizing that a piece of glass capped each end. A spyglass, though he’d never seen one like this before. Rsiran smiled and place the narrow end up to his face and looked through.
Waves cresting on the bay suddenly jumped into view. Rsiran’s smile deepened. The clarity surprised him. The only other spyglasses he’d used were blurry, with impurities tainting the glass. This was as if everything were simply magnified. He turned so that he could look through the spyglass at the other ships. Most of the ships in the bay sailed from Elaeavn, though a few came from other port cities like Asador and Thyr.
Without the advantage of Sight, he had never been able to really see the exotic ships up close. Elaeavn sailors stayed mostly in the bay where fish were plentiful, but the interesting ships were the ones that couldn’t reach the docks. On one, a triple-masted boat with a sharp prow shaped like a massive bird, several men walked on the deck. Most had thick beards, and they worked the lines with experienced hands. Another ship had wide square sails, but Rsiran didn’t see anyone on the deck. He turned with the spyglass and finally found Firell’s ship.
Rsiran had never really seen it. The wood of the ship was painted a dark green. The prow had been carved into the shape of a woman, long hair flowing down her shoulders, before her waist melded into the rest of the ship. Thick lines ran from the two massive masts. White sails were rolled and stored. A long anchor chain hung off the side, disappearing into the water.
“I don’t see him on the ship.”
Rsiran lowered the spyglass and looked at Jessa. She stared out over the water, eyes flaring a deeper green. “Agreed. I don’t see him, either.”
“Is that what it’s like for you all the time?”
She smiled. “Like I said… you’re just a babe.”
He laughed and searched the road for Shael, but the wide man had disappeared. There were dozens of shops along the shore he could have slipped into. Part of Rsiran wished he would have followed him just to see what Shael was up to, but there was no reason to worry about who Shael was talking to.
“Can you get us to the ship?”
“But Firell isn’t there.”
She shrugged.
“What is it you’re not telling me?”
“Can you get us there or not?” Jessa asked.
Rsiran raised the spyglass and looked out to the ship and picked an open section on the deck. Fixing it in his mind, he grabbed her, and before he thought about it too much, Slid across the open water and onto the ship.
Chapter 8
They emerged standing on the deck of the ship. Rsiran staggered, but didn’t know if it was the effort of the Slide or the slowly rolling ship that sent him stumbling. Jessa clung to his hand. Her other hand gripped the lorcith charm he’d given her.
Jessa’s face had turned pale white. “Okay. So maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’ve had.”
“You’ve never been
on a ship?”
“And you have?”
Rsiran shook his head. “My first time.”
Jessa swallowed again. She looked out over the water and started frowning. “Come on. Let’s make sure Firell isn’t here before we go snooping around too much.”
The ship rocked slowly underfoot, rolling in a way that made Rsiran uncomfortable. With the deck empty, it felt like they were the only ones aboard. He had met others who sailed with Firell, but he hadn’t seen Tagus or Jesin in over a month.
Lines were coiled neatly along the deck rails. Hooks and oars stored in open lockers, as well as other tools that he had no name for. Near the far end of the deck, stairs led below deck. Jessa started toward them.
“Will he be upset if he learns we’re here?” Rsiran asked as they neared the stairs. He didn’t know Firell nearly as well as Brusus did, though Rsiran had the sense that they had known each other a long time. But he knew how he would feel if someone suddenly appeared in his smithy without asking for permission first. It felt like a violation of privacy, of trust.
“Don’t know.”
She didn’t give more of an answer as she started into the dark stairwell. The wide stairs creaked as they stepped down them. The air smelled different here than it did along the shore, cleaner, less of the stink of fish. Of course, he wouldn’t smell fish on Firell’s ship; he claimed to be a trader but specialized in contraband, forbidden items that he had to sneak past the Elvraeth inspectors.
At the bottom of the stairs, a narrow hall opened before them. Two doors were closed on one side of the hall. Midway down on the other side was a single door. Also closed. Jessa studied all three doors for a moment before trying the single door. When she found it locked, she unrolled her pick set and quickly opened it.
“And this is where Firell gets mad if he learns what we’ve done,” Rsiran said.
Jessa smiled and pushed the door open. “Good thing he doesn’t know that you can Slide.”
The door opened into the hold. It was mostly dark, but the light from the hall streamed in letting Rsiran see rows of boxes, similar enough to the crates from the warehouse. Unlike those in the warehouse, these were small enough that they could be easily loaded onto the ship. Rsiran wished for the lantern so he could see.
“Close it,” Jessa whispered.
Rsiran closed the door and was plunged into darkness.
For once, he’d like to sneak someplace with Jessa where he had the advantage, but here in the dark, unable to see anything, he felt as helpless as the babe she always teased him of being. He heard her moving in the darkness, heard a soft rustling and the quiet squeal of nails pried free from a box, and then nothing.
Just like the night before when they had been in the warehouse, the darkness raised his awareness of the lorcith. He sensed the knives in his pockets and those that Jessa carried. He felt the soft sense of the charm he’d given her. And something else.
“Jessa,” he whispered.
He felt her coming toward him as an awareness of the lorcith.
“I know.”
“There are some of my forgings here.”
“I know.”
Rsiran tried to remember when Brusus had last shipped a collection of his lorcith from the city. Had it been a few weeks? He sensed more than just bowls and decorative pieces. Knives were here as well. Each pulled on his senses in such a way that he could tell where they were in the hold.
But something else felt strange. Not just forged lorcith was here.
Rsiran listened, heard the soft call of the metal, different from the sense he had once he had shaped it. This reminded him of the mines, of the way the lorcith demanded he pull it from the rock surrounding it. There was not an insignificant quantity here.
Jessa moved away from him. In spite of the darkness, he felt the lorcith she carried with her and knew where she was. He heard her open another crate and then sucked in a soft breath. “Firell isn’t supposed to have this,” she muttered.
Rsiran wasn’t certain she spoke to him.
He stepped forward, drawn by the lump lorcith. He felt the crate that stored it, ran his hands overtop the surface, wondering what it meant that Firell would have so much. Was this what Brusus planned? Was this some way of increasing his production?
But where would Firell have gotten so much?
Jessa moved along the wall, opening crate after crate. Rsiran wondered if she sealed them after she inspected their contents but didn’t ask. Moving undetected in the darkness was her area of expertise, and he knew better than to challenge her. That he could sense her in the darkness comforted him. At least he didn’t feel completely blind.
As she worked to open a crate near the door, a clump sounded above him.
Footsteps. Someone had returned.
Jessa rustled through another crate and then hurried over to him, taking his hand.
“We should go,” he whispered.
“Not yet. Need to see if anyone is with Firell.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
He wondered why but didn’t argue. He doubted it would do any good anyway.
Jessa pulled the door open silently and crept out the door and into the hall. He clung tightly to her hand. If he let go, their chance to easily Slide to safety disappeared.
She moved carefully up the stairs. Rsiran heard voices on the deck, but the wind carried the sound away so that he couldn’t tell who spoke. He squeezed Jessa’s hand, reassured by her calm movement. His heart fluttered nervously about being caught on the ship. Firell might be their friend, but what they were doing now—creeping around his ship without his permission—did not feel quite right.
Near the top of the stairs, Jessa froze, partly peering out of the darkness. Rsiran stood behind her, hand around her waist, ready to Slide if needed.
“You do be sure he don’t know?”
Rsiran recognized Shael’s voice and frowned.
“I do be sure,” Firell answered.
“When can you be gettin’ to there?”
“A week. Maybe longer, depending on the seas. No worries.”
Shael laughed. “You know it be my nature to worry. How you be thinking I last so long in your city?”
“Are the right people in place to make this worth the risk?”
“The people be in place. They do be ready.”
“Good.”
Footsteps sounded closer. Strangely, Rsiran thought he sensed lorcith on the deck of the ship, not just in the hold below. But that would mean another crate of lorcith, one he hadn’t seen or felt before. That would mean they were bringing lorcith onto the ship.
“And the other?”
“I do be workin’ on that, too, as he asked.”
Firell laughed. He sounded closer.
A few more steps and he would reach the stairs.
“You’re careful, I’ll give you that. Help me carry this to the hold.”
They stepped closer, each step seeming to thunder across the deck of the ship.
Without waiting for them to near, Rsiran held onto Jessa and Slid.
Chapter 9
Night had come in full as Rsiran walked the streets of Lower Town. He hated that Jessa was not with him, but understood when she told him that she had to check on a few things that were easier for her to do herself. Rsiran understood the message. While he could Slide, she could sneak. Sometimes that was a more useful skill.
He walked along the road that fronted the bay. Waves splashed onto the rocky shore, the sound soothing him. No streetlamps lit the road here, but the nearly full moon provided enough light for him to see, bouncing off the water. The air tasted strange, almost bitter like lorcith, but he suspected that was more from the nausea rolling through him than anything real.
Lorcith pulled on him as a distant sort of sense, and he took the opportunity to listen for it. There was the charm he’d given Jessa. He felt the sword he’d made, hiding in his smithy. There was the soft sense of knives he’d forged, some on
him, others with Jessa or Brusus, a few now scattered about Lower Town, hidden to serve as anchors, if he needed them during a Slide. A few reached out to him from over the water on Firell’s ship. Now that he knew of them, he recognized what he sensed. Over it all, came the gentle pull of the unshaped lorcith sitting in Firell’s hold.
Everything suddenly felt twisted to him. Firell had a cargo hold full of his forgings, but what was odder to him were the crates of unshaped lorcith. At first, he had thought Brusus had found a different supply of the metal so that he didn’t have to risk himself in Ilphaesn, but if Firell had crates coming in from Elaeavn, that didn’t seem likely. Especially if Firell planned on sailing for a week. But where would his supply come from?
Rsiran knew of two sources. Either mined directly from Ilphaesn—and if that were the case, he would not expect it to come through the city—or taken from the guild. And that was a riskier possibility.
He knew from his time in the mines that supplies of lorcith had dwindled. He’d also learned that someone controlled the supply, probably tied to the thin man from the mines. He didn’t know why, and had not cared. Once he had left his father and his smithy, his ties to the guild were cut, along with his information source.
But something his father had said the last time he had found him in his shop replayed in his mind now. He had thought Rsiran had stolen some lorcith. Rsiran had stolen from his father; he had turned into the thief his father had suspected he would become when he learned of his dark ability. But Rsiran had taken tools rather than ore.
So—who stole the lorcith?
So many questions, but he was no closer to any answers.
Without really thinking about what he was doing, he Slid, emerging on the street outside his father’s shop.
The street was empty. Lanterns staggered more regularly here, throwing a soft glow over the street and making it feel safer and warmer than any street in Lower Town. The air changed here, as well, smelling less like the sea and the daily catch and more of smoke and bread and all the work done here. In days past, those smells reassured him. Now, they just put him on edge.
The Dark Ability: Books 1-4 Page 34