Whatever else he was, there would always be a part of him that was a smith, and he would no longer deny that any more than he would deny his ability to Slide or listen to the call of the lorcith.
“It is the only thing I know,” he said softly.
Brusus watched him for a moment, his face unreadable. “We can talk after you rest.”
“But, Brusus, I…” He hesitated before pushing forward. Brusus deserved some measure of truth from him. “I heard you that night we met. I know you’re in debt. If I can help—if the knives I can make can help…” Rsiran shook his head and met Brusus’s eyes. “I want to do what I can.”
Brusus watched him, considering. “I know what this means. Unsanctioned smiths are punished by the guild. Doing something like that risks more than your future.”
“I’ve already risked my future. I just want to stand before a forge again.” He couldn’t hide the longing in his voice.
Brusus nodded. “We’ll talk in the morning.” Then he disappeared into the room.
As Rsiran lay on the rug, blanket covering him, he knew that Brusus was right. The guild was possessive of the smiths. Anyone not operating within the guild was subject to fines. Sometimes worse.
He sighed. If not the forge, then what? He truly didn’t know anything else.
Chapter 18
Brusus was gone when Rsiran awoke. Instead, Jessa sat in the small wooden chair next to the hearth, watching him sleep, a pale purple flower tucked into the loose brown shirt she wore. Her hair was brushed away from her face, leaving her thin lips in a line that almost resembled a smile. Dark green eyes that stared at him intently twitched slightly, as if she wasn’t certain how he would react.
“You’re awake,” she said. With one hand, she gripped her hair, twirling it in a way that was at once more feminine and youthful than Rsiran had ever seen of her. Of course, he suddenly realized, he had never seen her during the daytime.
He pushed himself up, shifting the blanket that had covered him. His neck hurt, aching and itching where the healer had placed the stitching. His back felt tight where he had first been injured, making his skin feel like it was too small for him, like leather soaked in water that had shrunk. Stretching helped. Would he always feel this way or would it eventually get better? If he ever saw the healer again, he would have to ask her.
“I am.”
The reality of what he had committed himself to struck him. By now, the mine would be up and active, names read, and they would know he was missing. How much longer until word reached his father that he had disappeared?
“How do you feel?”
The question seemed laced with accusation. Rsiran wondered how much of his injuries Jessa knew about, how much the healer had passed on to Brusus and his friends, or was much of what they had talked about kept confidential?
Rsiran shrugged. “I feel…” He trailed off, struggling to decide how he felt. Pain worked through him, but he had become familiar enough with the sensation over the last few weeks that he was no longer aware of it unless it flared or changed. His stomach rumbled, demanding that he be fed. Healing and weeks without much food took their toll. His mouth was dry, and his tongue felt thick, as if he had spent the night drinking ale in the tavern. Were he left alone, he thought he might be able to lie back and sleep for another day or more.
But in spite of that, he felt a sense of release, of freedom. “I think… I feel fine.”
Jessa watched the emotions play across his face, her lips twisting into more of a smile. She snuck a sniff of the flower, and again Rsiran wondered how many had noticed her do that.
“Then get up. You’re coming with me.” She stood and watched him, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited.
He stretched again, each time making his body feel a little better. “Where?”
She shook her head. “I’d say breakfast, but it’s almost noon, so lunch? I could use a cup of tea.”
She pulled open the door and stepped into the street, waiting for him to follow. Dropping the blanket, he realized he was still dressed in the dark greys of the mine and waited for Jessa to react, but she did not. Would any others in the city recognize the dress? Surely there were some who had been sentenced and managed to mine enough lorcith to earn their freedom. Most would live in Lower Town as well.
Jessa flashed him an annoyed expression, and he decided it didn’t matter. He would simply Slide and grab some clothes later; change into something else.
At the doorway, he saw that the sky was blue and bright, thin clouds drifting overhead. No gulls circled as they had last night, chasing him until he found Brusus. The sky was empty, nothing but the warm sun nearly at its peak. How had he slept until midday?
“Where are you taking me?”
“Food,” Jessa said. “Didn’t you hear me?”
His stomach rumbled again at the mere mention of food. “I don’t… I don’t have any money.”
She turned and glared at him. “Who said anything about money? You Upper Town folks sure think about money an awful lot.”
Biting back the first thing that came to mind, Rsiran caught up to her and glanced over. “When did I say I was from Upper Town?”
Her smile widened. “Didn’t have to.”
She led him down the street as it twisted before meeting up with the main street running from the harbor all the way up to the Floating Palace. Rsiran couldn’t remember the last time he had been this far down in Lower Town during the day. Most of the errands his father had him run under the guise of his apprenticeship were to shops between Upper and Lower Town. Occasionally, he would be sent to fetch more supplies of ore, but even that was rare since most ore merchants delivered directly to the shop. Most often, Rsiran was responsible for delivering completed projects. That was a task he always despised, especially the way the Upper Town customers left him standing on the doorstep, never inviting him in, careful to barely even touch him as they took the project his father had been commissioned to work on off his hands. Early on, Rsiran had wondered why his father never made the deliveries himself, but now he thought he understood. In that, he agreed with his father.
The street was crowded. People moved from storefront to storefront, some dressed in simple dark pants and light shirts, others more formally in long, collared overcoats. A few looked to be shoppers from the Upper Town, but most looked to come from the middle section of the city and Lower Town. Carters with wheeled pushcarts loaded with purchases moved up the street, heading toward Upper Town. A few empty carters moved down the street to begin shopping. At least with the variety of dress he didn’t feel completely out of place. His mining clothing did not truly fit in, but didn’t stand out as he feared they might. Only another from the mines—or one of the Elaeavn constables—would recognize his attire.
The shops even looked different in the daylight. At night, what seemed faded and rundown still had a certain washed out appearance, paint long since faded or chipped, disappearing in the harsh sunlight that beat upon the stone, but the cracked stone and unsettling feeling he had wandering the streets was gone. The activity around the stores helped, and the merchants hawking at the doors gave a sense of urgency. There was a vibrancy to the Lower Town, a sense of life that he never really felt on the higher streets.
Standing on the intersection of the smaller street as it ran into the wide main street that wound all through the city, he looked up toward the palace. From where he stood, only one of the towers seemed to float, as if detached from the rest of the palace, an arm separated from the rest of the body. Even that had a certain grace unlike any other place in the city.
Jessa saw him looking and nudged him, pulling him into the throng of people. “Keep your eyes out of the clouds.”
Rsiran glanced over. “What do you mean?”
She nodded toward the palace. “None of us is ever gonna float like the Elvraeth do. Doesn’t do any good to set your eyes up there in the Floating Palace. Doing that only makes you feel bad about what you don’t have.
”
Rsiran stared at the palace and wondered how difficult it would be to Slide inside. How long would it be before he was caught like the boy in the mine? Would he have time to explore, to see how the Elvraeth lived? Surely, the life they lived was nothing like his. Theirs would be one of freedom, of excess. Rsiran wanted simply to see it, to know how different they were from him.
“I don’t have anything,” he said softly.
Jessa shrugged and turned to her flower, sniffing the purple petals briefly. “Exactly. Why would you want to stare up there and feel bad about your place in this world? The Great Watcher might have a purpose for you, but it isn’t up there. Unlike those who have been simply handed their place, you have to find your own way, make your place. If you ask me, it’s better that way.”
Rsiran looked over to Jessa wondering if she was joking and saw nothing but an earnest expression on her face. He wondered if she had lived her whole life in Lower Town, if she had ever had a chance at an apprenticeship, if she knew what it was like to lose your future. Lose everything that you knew. The way she looked at him, the pain that hid behind her deep green eyes, told him that she had felt something like that in her past, even if it was not the same. Even though they had started at different places, they shared a similar future.
“Better than that?” He pointed toward the palace. Sunlight caught the stone in such a way that it nearly glowed.
Jessa looked up toward the palace, a mixture of emotions on her face. Eyes appeared distant, almost haunted, the corners twitching as she blinked against the sunlight. Her mouth was tight, and she sighed, almost a sound of longing.
“Better to be wanted.” Jessa blinked again, and her mouth tightened. “If Brusus has taught me anything, it is to stay out of the clouds. We might not have the same view, but we don’t have as far to fall. Besides, we can see the ground better here.”
She started down the street, winding through the crowd, not waiting to see if Rsiran would follow. He hurried after her, losing her at times as she slipped between people. Finally, he grabbed at her sleeve and held her arm so as not to lose her. Jessa looked back and offered a strange smile but didn’t pull away.
The crowd thinned as they neared the harbor. The storefronts looked more dingy, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore mixed with the cawing of gulls more than the voices of the crowd. Jessa pulled him toward a side street that ran parallel to the harbor. The scent of food drifted to him long before he saw the market. His mouth immediately started salivating, and his stomach lurched in a rumble.
They stopped at a stand selling smoked meats where Jessa paid a copper benar for an arm length of sausage. At another stand, she bought two apples. She eyed a stand down the street selling flowers but turned away without buying anything.
As they wandered the market, Rsiran froze when he spotted a constable in the distance. There was no mistaking the deep green cloak hanging over his shoulders or the slender sword sheathed at his side. In all of Elaeavn, only the constables were allowed to carry weapons openly. The man moved toward him, and Rsiran suddenly wondered if he’d recognized Rsiran’s clothing. Would he know that it was from the Ilphaesn mines? Or was he simply patrolling? The constable was too far away to know with certainty whether he moved toward them intentionally, but he approached quickly.
Rsiran grabbed Jessa’s arm and turned away from the market, steering her along a side street barely wide enough for them to move side by side and headed in the only direction he knew. They reached the harbor, and he hurried along the shore, glancing back over his shoulder as he went, not relaxing until he was sure the constable did not follow.
Finally, they sat on one of the massive rocks lining the water. Jessa said nothing, only pulling a slender steel blade out of her pocket. Rsiran noted that it was chipped and the tip had broken off somewhere, but it was otherwise sharp. She sliced the meat and pushed a handful over to him. She did the same with the apples, slicing them and tossing the cores toward the water.
“What was that?” she finally asked.
Rsiran took a slow bite, deciding how to answer. He tasted the smoky flavor as he ate, and even though the meat was tough, he enjoyed it. The crashing waves seemed to wash over him as he thought about what to tell Jessa. For all that she had done for him she deserved an answer.
“I—”
“Did you see someone?” She leaned forward, meeting his eyes.
Rsiran swallowed and nodded slowly.
“Was it the same person that hurt you?”
When he hesitated, she pressed.
“Was it, Rsiran? You nearly died!”
He looked down at the grey pants he wore, pants that were the uniform of the Ilphaesn mine, and decided he couldn’t answer the question. Not and keep the other part of him secret, the part that his father had hated most, the reason he had been sent away in the first place.
But did he lie to Jessa? The concern on her face was real, almost twisting her mouth in pain as she waited for his answer. And yet… if he told her the truth, he didn’t know if she would still stand by him. And if not telling her kept her around, then he knew what he would do.
He hated himself as he nodded.
* * *
After they ate, Jessa led him back up into the city. The crowd at midday had not thinned, though he noticed there were fewer carters. Jessa barreled forward, her tiny body somehow crashing through the crowd.
“Where are we going?” he asked her.
She glanced over the shoulder of the arm he had again grabbed onto so that he didn’t lose her. “Got a place to show you.”
He nodded but she had already turned away. “What place? Why?”
She pulled him alongside her so that she could see him without looking back. “Can’t have you spending all day wandering the streets. We’ve got to find you some work.”
Rsiran felt his steps slow and forced himself to keep up with Jessa. She was right. He needed to find work of some sort—a way to be able to repay Brusus for his kindness, to repay Jessa for the food she had bought for him—but the only work available to him would be the kind he didn’t want. He had no formal training and had abandoned his apprenticeship. The only for job someone with his ability was something he refused to become.
Jessa watched his face and slipped her arm out of his grip, pressing her hand into his and squeezing. She said nothing else but did not let go of his hand, dragging him along.
Near the upper boundary of Lower Town, she pulled him onto a side street. The buildings spilled on top of one another, simply crowded together. The stone of some had crumbled, leaving piles of debris in the street. None were painted. Piles of garbage stacked in front of some of the buildings and a lingering scent of sewage hung in the air, as if it no longer drained toward the harbor as it should. A few people slunk along the street, drifting into shadows as they neared. The farther they walked, even the sound of the crowd along the street behind them became muffled and faded.
They passed a small child sitting on the ground outside. He looked sickly, his face thin and pale, and he looked up as they passed. Rsiran noticed eyes that were nearly as pale as his face. It was no part of the city that he had ever visited. For the first time in his life, he wished he had one of the blades he had forged.
“Why here?”
Jessa shook her head, and they slipped down another side street, this one so narrow that their shoulders brushed the walls of the buildings they passed. Along here, it seemed as if there was one long stone building. Cracks worked along the wall and piles of stone and dust lined the street, mixing with pools of water that still stood from the last rain. Rsiran had been out of the city too long to know when it had last rained, but the air smelled moldy and dirty and the street looked as if it never saw the sun. Narrow doorways interrupted the run of buildings, some gouged and others damaged, as if they had been broken into and set back in place.
Why was Jessa leading him here?
Finally, along the row of doorways, she stopped. The woo
d of this doorway looked newer than the rest, but still faded and worn. It was set solidly into its frame and a shiny handle with a massive lock blocked entry. Jessa glanced at the lock and smiled before pounding on the door with her small fist.
Rsiran waited next to her anxiously. If this was where she was taking him for work, he wasn’t certain he wanted anything to do with it. He might be better off returning to the mines, or simply heading down to the harbor and begging one of the ships to take him onboard. He had never been aboard one of the tall-masted ships moored in the harbor, but in spite of the low pay, the captains were said to be loyal, and with luck, you could work your way up the ranks. As he stood in the dark street, buildings pressing down on him, the stench of fetid water and other things even more disgusting holding in the air, he wondered if that might not be better.
Then the door opened.
A large man greeted them. He was round and flabby and wore a thick beard around a wide jaw with eyes blazed a pale blue, looking nothing like any man he’d ever seen in Elaeavn. Long brown hair hung curly and loose, shooting up in random sprouts. Black dust or grime seemed worked into his skin, and he wiped his hands across a long canvas apron on his massive belly. He eyed Rsiran suspiciously before he saw Jessa. When he saw her, his face brightened.
“What you doin’ here, girl?”
“Shael.” She shook her head, and her eyes tightened. “I should have known you were back, especially with the way Firell has been acting. Didn’t Brusus tell you I was coming?”
He shrugged. “Might have said sometin’ about a visit. I don’t always pay attention to those sorts of things.”
Jessa pushed on him in his stomach with her free hand. “Don’t play dumb, Shael. Suits you too well.”
“Aye there, girl!” he said, backing up. “Don’ be pushing me like that. You know I bruise.”
The Dark Ability Page 12
