Rsiran realized Jessa had been taking small steps toward him, and he made an effort to move closer toward her as well. His mouth was dry, and he stank of sweat. The initial surge of fear he had felt at seeing the Elvraeth had faded, and now fatigue threatened to knock him down again. He didn’t know if he would be able to Slide them from the warehouse if needed. But for Jessa, he would try.
“How?” she asked. “We don’t even know what you hired Brusus for.”
The Elvraeth’s smile widened. “I only asked Brusus to perform a simple demonstration.”
Jessa’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes—a demonstration. The rest of this,” he said, nodding toward the warehouse, “was my demonstration to him. What he chose to do with that knowledge is up to him and had very little to do with what you see around you.”
“None of this matters to you?” Rsiran’s tongue was finally unstuck with surprise.
The Elvraeth turned and looked at him. “Matters? Of course it matters. Did Brusus not tell you why I requested the demonstration? Why I have grown tired of the waste I see every day within the palace? Can you not see it for yourself?”
“I know what Brusus told me,” Rsiran said cautiously, careful to not reveal too much to the Elvraeth.
Josun only laughed. It was a bitter sound. “What did Brusus tell you? Did he tell you that that for centuries, my family has received gifts? That for centuries, these gifts lay unclaimed? No one has ever bothered to even open most of these crates. For some reason, doing so violates the order of the council.”
Rsiran nodded, suddenly fearing the heat in the Elvraeth’s words. “He showed me one of the crates he opened.”
The Elvraeth took a step toward the crate. There was something odd about the way he moved that Rsiran could not quite place. He tipped the lantern toward the box Jessa had opened and picked up one of the strange metal cylinders.
“Ah… this.” He tilted the cylinder. “From a nation that no longer even exists.” His eyes scanned the faded harsh lettering. “A gift that none ever understood, let alone bothered to try and assemble, the letter that accompanied long since destroyed. There is much that can be learned from other cultures, but the council disagrees.” He spat the last few words. One of his hands ran along the strangely layered wood as he spoke. “And you think Brusus intends to assemble what lies within this crate.” His mouth turned in a tight smile. “Such was possible once. Now… now this is no more than a curiosity left to lie dormant and die like the people who made it.”
The Elvraeth stepped away from the crate and pointed toward the nearest stack. His long brown cloak hung limp, barely moving as he stepped. Somehow, Rsiran felt the movement by the pull from the sword.
“Now consider the same curiosities in each of these. Multiply that by thousands. Then you may begin to understand what is wasted here.”
Rsiran swallowed. The enormity of what surrounded him felt overwhelming. “But you didn’t want Brusus to open any of these crates?”
The Elvraeth shook his head. “I knew he would, else I would not have shown them to him. I needed him to see what was here, needed him to want.”
He turned toward Rsiran and met his eyes. Standing arrogantly as he did in the midst of the warehouse, Rsiran could look nowhere else. He had the vague feeling of danger, like he had felt in the darkness within the mines of Ilphaesn.
“What is it that you need done, Josun?” Jessa asked.
Rsiran finally noticed the casual way she had been ignoring his title.
“Nothing that I need done, only what I have asked of Brusus. And since you seem so interested in helping him, I will accept your offer. Perhaps with your help, I will not have to wait quite as long for results.”
He spoke the last with a knowing tilt to his lips. Did the Elvraeth know what had happened to Brusus earlier? Did he know of the attack or of the way Rsiran had Slid them to safety? Was he Reading him now, learning every secret he tried to hide? He didn’t feel any pressure on the barriers in his mind, but that didn’t mean that one of the Elvraeth couldn’t simply step around them.
Maybe, he realized, he had learned of the attack a different way. Didn’t Jessa say the Elvraeth hired the sellswords? Surely such an attack would have been reported, especially one with an unusual outcome.
“What’s the demonstration?” Jessa asked. “I was with Brusus when he met you here the first time. You never told him what you wanted done.”
The Elvraeth tilted his head as he studied her. “Is that what he said? Perhaps it is because with Brusus, I have learned I do not have to be explicit.”
“I am not Brusus.”
He snorted a small laugh. “Too true.” His eyes narrowed. “Then I will humor you. What I need done is a demonstration for my family.”
Rsiran stiffened. Meeting one of the Elvraeth was intimidating enough. How would he react to meeting more of them?
The Elvraeth looked at Jessa with an intense stare. “I would like the family to see what others see when they look up at the palace. I would like them to feel what others feel when standing before the council. That is the demonstration that I request.”
Jessa shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” the Elvraeth asked. “You see all of this waste around you?” She nodded. “You live in Lower Town where children sleep along the streets or work the docks to help their parents, and do not see the problem with what you see around you?”
“I see it,” Jessa said. She barely moved. Something the Elvraeth had said triggered an emotion within her. “I still do not know what you would like us to do.”
A dark smile spread across the Elvraeth’s face. “For once—and only for a moment—I would like my family to know what it is like to feel weak, to feel what much of Elaeavn feels every day, to understand limitations.”
“How?” Rsiran asked.
He hesitated saying anything, but a tingle of fear began growing in his belly. What Josun wanted would draw the attention of the rest of the Elvraeth family—would draw the attention of the council. They risked true punishment; more than simply getting sent to the mines, Rsiran recognized the real risk of banishment or worse.
But if they didn’t, what would Josun Elvraeth do to Brusus? Would he use the knowledge of him entering the warehouse to have him banished? After everything Brusus had done to help him, Rsiran couldn’t run that risk.
The Elvraeth tipped his head toward Rsiran. “Does your asking mean that you accept the challenge, young Lareth?”
There was a sense of finality to the question. Rsiran glanced at Jessa, uncertain what to say. She nodded to him. The Elvraeth watched only Rsiran.
Rsiran’s mind went to Brusus lying on the bed at Della’s house. He could have prevented the injury altogether had he dared act, had he only dared reveal his ability. Now, Brusus did not awaken, and Della did not know how long it would be until he did come out of the stupor. If not him now, then would it fall on Jessa? Could Rsiran let her risk herself for whatever the Elvraeth had in mind? “What if I don’t? If I can’t?”
The Elvraeth’s face twisted into a sad expression that did not quite reach his deep green eyes. He turned, his hand resting atop the lorcith sword. In that moment, Rsiran knew the blade as his, stolen from the smithy and now set with a jeweled hilt. The sword seemed to draw him, as if pulling his attention.
How would the Elvraeth have gotten his sword?
How would he have even known of it?
“It would be unfortunate if the rest of the Elvraeth learn of Brusus’s plans for you, young Lareth.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “They feel quite differently about the ancient ore than your friend. And to think he broke into this warehouse in order to smuggle away Elvraeth property?” He shook his head, a look of mock surprise coming to his face. His mouth hardened and he leaned toward Rsiran. “So if you cannot do this job, then I pray to the Great Watcher that Brusus is up to the task.”
Rsiran swallowed. Josun knew. He heard it in his tone
and saw it in the way the Elvraeth looked at Rsiran. More than anything, it was probably the reason he had found them tonight. Worse, he possessed one of Rsiran’s own forgings, shaped into a forbidden blade.
Now he had something on both Rsiran and Brusus.
And it was probably enough to get them exiled.
Rsiran could not take that risk. Already they had helped him much more than he helped them. It was time for him to repay that debt, whatever the risk.
“I will do what I must,” he finally answered.
The Elvraeth smiled at him again.
Rsiran could not shake the fear rolling through him.
Chapter 28
They sat at a corner table in the Wretched Barth. A steaming mug of ale set in front of Rsiran went ignored. A few others sat at tables around them, but otherwise the tavern was hushed. They took the opportunity to talk quietly, the sounds of the bandolist playing near the back of the tavern drowning out their voices. The serving woman, Lianna, somehow seemed to know they wanted to be left alone, and after serving the ale, had given them a wide buffer.
Jessa sniffed the pale flower tucked into her shirt and looked up at him, eyes wrinkled with fear. Rsiran had never seen her scared. “I don’t know how we are to do this. Breaking into the palace? Poisoning members of the council?” She shook her head, her eyes darting around as she spoke as if fearful who might be listening. “If Brusus was to do this, I don’t know what he planned. Maybe you were right about a rebellion.”
Rsiran didn’t know. Worse, what the Elvraeth asked of them was nearly impossible. How had Brusus—even with his Elvraeth blood—expected to break into the palace?
“If we don’t, then Brusus is in danger.” He eyed the leather pouch sitting on the table. Neither wanted to touch it. Inside was a mystery powder. What the Elvraeth meant as a demonstration was little more than a poisoning. Had Brusus known—or suspected? Was that why he delayed what Josun asked of him? “What else could he want?”
“What all the Elvraeth want,” Jessa said. “Power. Probably the council.”
Rsiran stared at the pouch, unable to take his eyes off it. “What if this is about more than power? And why should we care if Josun sits on the council?”
“We’re all in danger,” she said. “All of us who helped him. Including you.”
Rsiran nodded. Possibly him most of all. “I know.”
The threat was clear. Perform the ‘demonstration’ or Brusus would be accused of selling lorcith-forged weapons. Selling weapons generally ran the risk of sentencing to the mines. Selling lorcith-forged weapons ran the risk of banishment.
“What he asks…”
“Requires me.” Only someone able to Slide would be able to perform the demonstration. If he had any doubts that the Elvraeth knew what had happened in the alley next to the warehouse earlier, that alone erased it.
And doing this task would take him fully down the path his father promised his ability meant for him. For Brusus’s sake, could he do anything else?
Jessa narrowed her eyes at him. “You will not do this yourself. You are barely more Sighted than a child! All of the Elvraeth are Sighted. You think they won’t notice you carrying around a lantern as you stumble through the palace?”
What he intended was not ideal, but after living within the mines for as long as he had, no longer was he afraid of the dark. “I don’t intend to stumble.”
She snorted. “You’re no sneak.”
“And you cannot Slide.”
Jessa shook her head. “What is the use of such an ability if you’re seen, Rsiran? Even if you escape, they’ll know your face. You will still face sentencing.”
Rsiran suppressed a shiver. Not for the first time this evening, he wished Brusus were with them. He had such a sense of confidence, a sense of assurance, that he would know what to do. And maybe there was nothing that they should do. Perhaps if Brusus were with them he would warn them off?
“I won’t be caught.” He tried to sound more confident than he felt. If what the Elvraeth told them was true, he would have to Slide more times in one night than he had ever managed before. He ran the risk of over extending himself. He could imagine getting trapped in the palace, too weakened to Slide to safety…
Not only would he have failed, but Brusus—all of them—would be in danger.
Jessa scooted closer and set a hand on his arm. “Rsiran—I don’t think we should do this. This… this is bigger than simply selling Elvraeth property. This is… damn, I don’t even know what this is.”
Rebellion, he didn’t say. And if they did it, they had chosen a side—or had one chosen for them. “I don’t think we should. I will do it.”
She punched his shoulder. “Do you really think Josun will punish Brusus if we don’t go through with it?”
“He knows about us,” Rsiran said. “About everything.”
Jessa frowned. “What do you mean?”
Rsiran closed his eyes. He hadn’t figured out how, but Josun knew. “He knows about Brusus. He knows how I saved him. And he knows of my sword. I can’t simply do nothing.”
“And doing what he wants will fix what he knows?”
Rsiran sighed and opened his eyes. “No. But it buys me time.”
Jessa peered around the tavern, head tilted slightly forward so she could breathe in the fragrance of her flower. “I’ll talk to Haern.”
“Is that wise? Should we be including more people in this?”
“Brusus would include him.”
“Are you sure? Brusus didn’t seem to have included Haern in the warehouse.”
Jessa looked offended by the suggestion. “They have known each other for as long as I’ve been in Elaeavn. I think he would trust Haern.”
“Then talk to him. See what he thinks.”
She reached for the pouch on the table, and Rsiran caught her hand. As Jessa looked up at him, her eyes flashed with a hint of anger before softening.
“Why don’t I keep this safe? I’ll hide it at the smithy, keep it buried in the coals.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Safe? Like that sword you crafted?”
Rsiran felt his heart skip. The sword was part of the reason he was forced to do what Josun wanted. Had he only managed to do what his father asked—had he only managed to ignore the song of the lorcith—the Elvraeth might not have quite as much on him.
He still wanted to know how the blade had gone missing. How had the Elvraeth even learned of the sword in the first place?
“Where do you suggest?” he asked.
She sat for a moment, chewing her lip as she thought. Her head tilted down so that she could sniff the flower, and a few strands of her hair fell into her face. She ignored them, and Rsiran fought the urge to reach over and brush them away.
Finally, she sighed. “Perhaps they are safer at the smithy.” She pulled her hand away from the pouch and placed it on his arm. “Promise me you will wait for me to do anything.”
Rsiran considered his answer before nodding.
“Promise me, Rsiran!”
“I promise.”
He hated that he already knew he would not keep the vow.
Chapter 29
Rsiran stood over the forge. The coals glowed hot, sending faint tendrils of smoke out into the smithy and up through the wide stone chimney. Sweat dripped on his brow, staining the grey shirt from the mines that he wore. The clothes Brusus had given him lay folded near the back of the smith for now. The air stank with the bitter smell of a mixture of his sweat, and the heated lorcith he gripped with the tongs borrowed from his father.
When the lorcith was ready, when it glowed a faint orange bright enough to see, indicating it was workable, he hurried to the anvil, set the heated lump atop the surface, and began hammering. As usual, he felt the lorcith drawing on him, pulling on his mind and guiding each strike. The shape emerged quickly.
Another knife.
In less than an hour, he had managed to shape the knife to his and the lorcith’s satisfaction. As it co
oled, he set it alongside the others. Already there were half a dozen, and he had only been working this one night. Anything to take his mind off what the Elvraeth asked of him.
He could not shake the question of how Josun knew of the sword. Rsiran had only forged it the night before, and in that time, he had learned of the blade and taken it. Now he used it as leverage against them. Had he Read him? But that would mean Josun had been around him before, but when?
Sighing, he picked up one of the knives and twisted it in his hand. The deep silver of the lorcith gleamed with a dull light, the metal seeming to slide as he twisted it. The effect was the result of how he had folded it during the forging, the lorcith itself guiding his hands. This time, he recognized what was happening, recognized the technique from when he had forged the missing sword blade. The recognition made the work go more quickly, almost as if the lorcith strove to teach him.
Already he had learned more from simply working with the lorcith than he had ever learned from his father.
The realization angered him. From his father, he learned what he could not do. An apprentice smith must not attempt forging without his master’s permission. A smith cannot forge a weapon for killing unless directed by the Elvraeth. And worst of all, a smith must not listen to the guidance of the lorcith.
Only it was with this guidance that Rsiran truly came to understand what he was doing and what he was capable of creating.
Each of the knives was different. Some were folded like the sword, the metal having that strange quality where it appeared to slide across itself. Others looked more like traditionally forged lorcith, the deep silver a solid color without any signs of the bizarre shimmering. A few had an interesting embossing, as if the metal had wanted to leave the hammer imprint along the surface. Each was beautiful in its own way, and each carried his small mark near the base of the blade.
But he suspected that mark would be the real leverage Josun would use against him.
The Dark Ability Page 22
