The Heartstone Blade (The Dark Ability Book 2) (13 page)

He frowned. “Just one?”

“Yes. Rsiran… you need to come here.”

He made his way toward her voice, feeling her by the sense of the lorcith charm more than anything. When he reached her, he put his hand out and she took it. “What is it? What do you see?”

“You said you were here yesterday?” He nodded. “And there was a pan. Some metal objects.”

“And a panel of wood. I think it came from one of the crates. The objects were set atop it. Underneath the panel was where the earth had been scorched.” When she didn’t say anything, he turned to her. The sense of lorcith in her charm pulled at him, but he’d made something else that was nearby, only he didn’t know what it was. Or why it would be so close. “What is it, Jessa? What do you see?”

“There’s no pan here. No deformed object. No plank of wood. I don’t even see any evidence of the burned ground you said would be here. Nothing… other than this.” She leaned away from him for a moment, but didn’t let go of his hand.

When she stood back up, she pressed something into his other hand. It took him a moment to recognize what it was. Not a knife or something dangerous that he might have made. Instead, she handed him a small narrow cylinder. One that he’d made only a week ago. And one that he thought was still in his shop.

Why was it here? And where were the other things he’d seen when he’d come yesterday?

More than that, a worry simmered up within him. Whoever had been here was gone, taking everything that they’d worked on with them, leaving only the lorcith cylinder. Almost as if a message.

They might be gone, but they knew he had been here. And they knew who he was.

R
siran and Jessa
tried finding Brusus that night but could not. When they reached the Barth, their usual table sat empty. No one diced or drank. The tavern was fuller tonight. Most sat along the bar or perched atop the stools scattered around tables. A bandolist played tonight, the song a slow dirge. The fire crackled with less energy.

Jessa waved Lianna over to them.

“You don’t have to stand. Might be busier than usual, but still have plenty of room for regulars. Might even get a few to move if you want me to.” A wide smile crossed her face.

Jessa shook her head. “Has Brusus come in yet tonight?”

“Not tonight. Been coming by later and later.” Lianna started away but paused. “Something’s got you worried.”

“Just let him know we were here.”

“And where should I tell him that you’ll be?”

Rsiran thought about it. Not the smithy. They couldn’t stay there too long. And after what he’d told Jessa about what he heard on Firell’s ship, she wanted them to Slide there so she could see for herself. Finding Brusus had been the compromise.

“We’ll find him,” Jessa answered.

Lianna took Jessa’s arm. “You be careful. I know he’s got you messed up in something again. Don’t want you getting hurt. Or worse.”

Jessa smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s always got us messed up in something, Lianna. You should know that.”

Lianna grunted. “I’ve told him he needs to give it all up. Too much could be lost.”

Jessa gave Lianna a quick hug and pulled Rsiran from the tavern. Standing on the street outside, with only the single lantern lighting their way, she looked down toward the docks. A chill hung on the air and wind gusted down from the north. Waves crashed wildly along the shore, louder than usual.

“Not a good idea. Not at night,” Rsiran said.

“You think daytime will be better? Why not go when he won’t be expecting us to be there?” She lowered her voice and slipped an arm around his waste, steering him down the street. They passed a few people along the way, though none looked at them. “You’re the one who said you thought he got caught up in… whatever Josun was a part of.” She said the last as a whisper, as if refusing to acknowledge the rebellion that Rsiran was convinced existed.

Rsiran looked around the street before answering. “Either that of one of the Elvraeth. Who else can convince the constables to turn a blind eye?”

“Brusus. Shael. Haern. Me.”

“Wait… how?”

Jessa shrugged. “Enough coin, and anyone looks the other way. That’s how it works in Lower Town.” They turned down one of the side streets. “Enough coin and others talk. Why do you think Brusus wants to move your knives?”

“Who is he trying to get to talk?”

“Don’t know, but when I’ve seen him in Upper Town, that’s what he’s been doing.”

Rsiran wondered why Brusus wouldn’t have said anything to them.

“So you didn’t see this person when you went to Firell’s ship?”

“I didn’t. And maybe we should just ask him.”

“If he’s working with the Elvraeth?” Rsiran nodded. “That’s not going to get you anywhere. If he’s not, he’ll just be upset with you. And if he is, what makes you think he’ll admit it to you? Better to search for a few more answers.”

“You think Brusus might have had some answers.”

She shrugged. “Something like that. Brusus is better connected than nearly anyone else. Moves just as easily through Upper Town as he does in Lower Town. You’ve seen that before.”

Rsiran thought about it before realizing that he had. When he first met Brusus, it had been outside his father’s shop on the outskirts of Upper Town. That night had been memorable for several reasons, not the least of them being that it was the first time he met Jessa.

“What do you think he might know?”

Jessa shrugged again. She turned again and this time, Rsiran realized where they were going.

“And you think just asking Firell is too dangerous?”

Outlined against the night was the long, low shape of the warehouse. Jessa kept them close to the walls of the neighboring building, moving slowly. Had he known where she wanted to go, he could have Slid them there just as easily. Though had he known, he likely would have refused. Jessa probably knew that, which was why she steered him here.

“We’re not going in. Just looking for other signs.”

“Like the sellswords?”

She shot him a look. “We’re not going to see the sellswords. And even if we do, they have no reason to attack. We can walk the streets.”

Rsiran wasn’t as certain as Jessa. The time when Brusus had been attacked, the sellsword hadn’t seemed terribly concerned about checking whether they were allowed to be on the street. But part of that might have been related to Josun’s orders. Rsiran suspected he had been there that first time Brusus brought him to the warehouse, had Read him then, and decided to use him. Probably learned of the sword he’d made and decided to steal it.

“What do you want to see?”

Jessa pushed him against one of the nearest buildings. The stone pressed against his back, sharp and crumbling. Something moved behind him, slipping past his ankles. He shivered; too big to be a rat, it had likely been a cat. He’d hope a second followed.

She leaned toward him and whispered. “The crate Lianna saw on the dock has been bothering me. We all assumed it meant one of the crates had been taken from here.”

Rsiran nodded. “But we haven’t found any signs of a missing crate.” The last few times he’d come to the warehouse, he hadn’t really looked. But with as many crates as the warehouse stored, would they even notice? Just one missing crate would be nearly impossible to find.

“What if one wasn’t missing?”

“Then what did Lianna see?”

Jessa leaned in closer, pressing up against him. As she did, he realized that a shadow moved past on the street behind them. Leaning as she did, they would look like nothing more than lovers out for a stroll. Which, most of the time, they were.

When the figure disappeared into the night, she let out a pent-up breath. “What if a crate wasn’t missing? What if the crate Lianna saw was coming in?”

“But Brusus didn’t think the Elvraeth had taken any new crates into the warehouse in a long time.” He’d actually said it had been over a hundred years, but Rsiran found that difficult to believe.

“Just as it would be too hard to see one missing, how would we know if one was added? And what if it didn’t go to the warehouse we thought it would?”

“Where else would it be stored?”

Jessa shook her head. “I don’t know.”

They stepped away from the wall. Jessa moved slowly. Rsiran imagined her scanning the street with her Sight, looking for anything that might explain how the crate had been moved. Something that size would not be easily transported. A wagon or massive cart would be needed, and both would have to be led by horse. And there weren’t any stables in Lower Town.

“What do you think you’re going to see out here at night? Wouldn’t it be better to look during the daytime?”

“I already have. Didn’t see anything.”

They neared the stairs leading down to the warehouse door. This was the section of street where Brusus had nearly died.

Rsiran suddenly had a strange sense of awareness. Almost like something pulled on him, drawing him toward the warehouse. It reminded him of how he’d felt in the mines, before he fully understood how the lorcith pulled at him. In some ways, this felt similar.

“What is it?” Jessa whispered. She looked up and down the street. “Do you feel lorcith?”

He understood now that was what she wanted from him. Not that she would see anything more easily at night. She wanted to learn if he would feel lorcith and knew he felt the connection more strongly in the dark.

“That’s why you brought me here?”

Jessa looked over at him. “Partly. After what you told me about Firell’s ship, it got me wondering. What connection did we have to what we knew? Why would a crate from the docks be brought to the Elvraeth warehouse or someplace else?”

“You think it’s lorcith.”

“I think it’s possible.”

“But I didn’t feel anything when we were here that night. Not until we were attacked. And then I almost missed it. The next day, I didn’t feel any lorcith, either.” And he hadn’t each time he’d returned. Nothing other than the knives that were thrown at him.

“That’s not entirely true.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t feel…” But he had felt a distant sense of lorcith, one he couldn’t fully explain. Was that what he felt now? “I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t seem to be coming from the warehouse. Not clearly at least.” And so far, nothing ever really masked the sense of lorcith to him.

Were he to focus, he could feel the forgings he’d made scattered all about the city. The knives in his pocket pulled most strongly on him, but the charm Jessa wore had a distinct sense, almost like a signature. Close up, feeling those things was easy.

Even farther, he was aware of lorcith. That still buried in the mines tugged at his awareness like a distant ache, always there. Rsiran just had to close his eyes and Slide toward it, and it could guide him to the mountain. Then there was what Firell had on his ship. It was there, different and not as distant, but an awareness nonetheless.

What pulled on him now felt nothing like those others. It felt both close by and far removed. He could not explain any better, but the sense was indistinct enough that he wouldn’t be able to anchor to it. Not like he could track the sword back in the smithy or the charm on Jessa’s necklace.

Jessa squeezed his hand. “I had to know. With you, sometimes when you know what you’re looking for, you tune out everything else. I thought it might help.”

After how he’d kept her in the dark the day before, he deserved this. “Now what?”

Jessa led him back down the street until they reached the wide road running in front of the harbor. Three wide fishing vessels tied to the docks. The waves jostled against them, splashing softly and making the lines holding them creak. Farther out in the harbor, the bay was dark enough that he couldn’t tell how many ships moored. Heavy clouds obscured the moonlight, making the night darker than any they’d had in several nights. A single streetlamp glowed distantly, back near the main road leading up from the docks.

Jessa turned to him and sighed. “Now? We don’t know where Brusus has gone. Oh, I know he’s been wandering Upper Town, but not why, unless he’s giving more thought to this rebellion than he lets on. And Firell might be sailing for Asador with a ship full of lorcith and forgings you don’t remember giving him. Whoever is involved has already tried to kill us once, and now they know we’ve discovered them. Does that about cover it?”

Rsiran nodded. Listing what they were trying to discover out loud made it seem nearly impossible. But he’d faced odds that seemed impossible before. When his father had sent him to the mines and he had been attacked, he’d not only felt helpless, but isolated. At least now, he was not alone. With Jessa, he didn’t need to figure it out by himself.

She watched him and smiled tightly, as if Reading him. “I feel the same way.”

R
siran stood alone
at the edge of Telvrath Square. The sun set behind him, pushing toward the expanse of water, almost as if sinking into the sea. The faded sculpture in the square looked out at him, one arm outstretched. Dirt and bird dung covered it, leaving the white stone speckled. A few corbal trees grew nearby, pale yellow flowers blooming on the upper branches.

From here, the palace floated over him. The large central area they’d used to break into the palace wasn’t visible from where he stood. Little other than the face of the palace could be seen from below. But up on the palace wall, he would be able to see where Jessa had snuck them in. Where they’d almost been caught. Had it not been for his ability to sense lorcith, they would have.

He’d come for reflection while waiting for Jessa. All he had were questions.

They slept most of the day. When he’d awoken, she had already slipped away with a promise to meet him here later. She wanted to search for Brusus. After leaving the harbor the night before, Brusus still hadn’t appeared in the Barth. Neither had Haern. That bothered him most of all. As a Seer, didn’t he know what was happening?

Jessa figured she could find Brusus in Upper Town. Rsiran hadn’t argued but agreed not to go along. The son of a smith, he ran the risk of being recognized. So he waited for her.

How much longer should he wait? Already he’d been here nearly an hour. The sense of the charm he’d made her felt… not distant, but not nearby. He could anchor to it, Slide to Jessa, but didn’t want to interfere with whatever she had to do to find Brusus.

But he could return to the smithy to wait. When she arrived in the square, he would sense her and come to her. Besides, he wanted to try combining the lump of metal he’d taken from the warehouse with lorcith to see if he could create an alloy.

And he no longer felt comfortable leaving the shop unprotected. Not after Shael had done as he promised and delivered a crate of lorcith right to his door.

Rsiran checked to make certain no one was nearby. It wouldn’t do for his ability to be seen so openly. Questions would be asked, but worse than that, there was the possibility that he would be connected to the attack on the palace.

Satisfied there wasn’t anyone there, he Slid.

Bitter air whistling through his ears sounded different, though the smell reminded him of lorcith, as usual. Colors flashed past, twisting in the moment the Slide took. And then he emerged.

But rather than emerging in his smithy, he stood outside Della’s house. Had he lost his focus during the Slide? The Great Watcher knew what could happen if he lost focus Sliding. He hadn’t used one of his forgings to anchor; Sliding to the smithy had been so familiar to him that he didn’t need to. How, then, had he appeared here?

Della lived in a cozy home buried in Lower Town, though the area she lived in looked like so many homes in Upper Town. No one walked along the street. The fading light from the sun cast long shadows here, giving her even more privacy.

When he first met Brusus, he had ended up at the healer’s home often. Mostly for himself. Injured and bleeding from attacks in the mine, Della had healed him. And then for Brusus and Jessa. In all that time, the healer had never complained about the visits.

Had it really been since the palace break-in that he’d been to Della’s home?

The door opened, as if she waited for him.

Wrinkles around her green eyes softened when she saw him standing outside, and she stood with a straighter back than the last time he’d seen her. Then she’d had to use every bit of her ability to keep Brusus alive. A scarf made of indigo and violet wrapped around her shoulders. Grey hair twisted neatly into a bun atop her head. “You don’t have to just stand there, waiting. Usually, you just come right in.”

She disappeared into the house, leaving the door ajar. Rsiran took a deep breath and stepped into her home, closing the door behind him.

As usual, a small fire crackled in the hearth. Two chairs angled toward the fireplace. A table rested between them. A steaming mug—likely mint tea—sat atop the table. Everything looked familiar and felt more like home than the one he’d grown up in.

Della rustled behind a stack of shelves for a moment before reappearing. She nodded at the chair. “Sit.”

Rsiran had learned not to argue with Della. A healer of considerable skill, there was more to her than that. She had saved his life at least twice. And she had healed Jessa when Josun had tried taking her life. For all that, Rsiran owed her everything.

“Where is your girl?” Della dropped into one of the chairs, waiting for him to sit. When he did, she motioned to the mug.

“She’s…” He debated telling Della where Jessa had gone, but likely the healer knew. She had considerable skill at Reading. “She’s looking for Brusus.”

Della grunted and pointed to the mug again.

Rsiran lifted it and took a sip. It tasted of warm mint and left his mouth tingling. The flavor reminded him of the warm drinks she’d given him in the days after he’d managed to Slide from the palace, days spent watching over Jessa, waiting for her to be well enough to leave. Della had been weakened by healing Brusus, too weak to do much more than stabilize any injuries. That was a weakness he understood, one that came from pushing too hard with your abilities. As weak as he’d been just Sliding into the palace, he almost hadn’t been able get them back out.

“How did you know I was coming?”

“Because I pulled you here.”

She said it so nonchalantly that Rsiran almost missed the significance of what she said.

“What do you mean you pulled me here?”

Della turned away from the fire and met Rsiran’s eyes with an iron gaze. “That is one of my gifts,” she said.

“One of your gifts? You’re a healer—”

Della took a sip from her mug. A playful smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “Just a healer?”

She was more than a healer but he didn’t quite know what. “How is it possible that you brought me here?”

Della set her mug down. “It’s unfortunate that you haven’t had anyone around to teach you. Your ability has its uses, but like all abilities, it has a weakness.”

“What weaknesses?”

She turned back to the fire. “Think of other abilities. Take Reading. You can build barriers in your mind to prevent Readers, yours more fortified than most. Sliding is like that. You have become particularly strong, Rsiran. Impressive how you managed that without training.”

As she spoke of her abilities—not only healing, but Reading and now the ability to pull on his Slide, he wondered about Della. “Are you one of the Elvraeth?”

She laughed softly. “Many put much stock in how many abilities the Elvraeth possess, yet they forget that it matters more how each ability is used. I’ve known those with Sight who could do more with their ability than any who live in the palace.”

Rsiran noticed that it was not a denial. “How did you pull me here?”

Della looked at the fire for a moment. Then she reached to the side of her chair to lift a pot of water that she poured into a cup. Steam drifted from it. Rsiran recognized the minty aroma as the same as his tea. Della cupped her hands around the mug and inhaled deeply. Her eyes suddenly flared a deeper green before fading back.

“When you Slide, you create a ripple.” She shook her mug, swirling the tea. “Don’t ask me to explain it any more than that, because I cannot. This ripple is what lets you move from one place to the next, what protects you from Seers like Haern. But it can be influenced.”

“How many can do that?” Rsiran started thinking of all the ways that he could be in danger, how Sliding was no longer safe.

“Not many. Doing so requires a certain… strength… that most lack.”

“How many know? How many can sense these ripples?” He had sudden visions of being pulled along when he Slid, taken to places he had not intended to go.

She shrugged, smiling at him. “No more than a few. But those who do will feel your Sliding, will feel the ripples. And yours have grown more powerful since I met you.”

“Jessa often Slides with me.”

Della nodded. “That would explain it, I suppose. I imagine that makes you stronger so that when you Slide alone it weakens you less.”

He nodded his acknowledgment, having noticed it himself in recent days.

She smiled at him. “I see that it has.”

“I still don’t know if I could Slide like I saw Josun Elvraeth.”

“I think he practiced constantly to reach that level. There is no question you could reach the same level of skill.”

“When I first met him in the warehouse, I think he Slid with every step.”

“And you wonder about doing the same?”

He’d considered it. The way Josun had moved, each step a Slide so that he practically flickered forward, made him seem… something more. Rsiran couldn’t do that. Not with every step, and certainly not with Jessa along with him. He wouldn’t make it through the day if he did that.

“Did you feel those ripples?”

“Every Slide makes ripples. The size of the Slide is what determines how far out they spread. Think of dropping a stone in the bay. A small stone sends tiny waves.” She tapped the side of her mug with a bent finger, softly at first. The tea rolled to the edges and stopped. “But a larger stone creates a bigger disturbance. Your Sliding is much the same.” She tapped more strongly this time, and the tea sloshed around, swirling for a moment before settling.

“So when I came from Ilphaesn?”

“I had not known it was you, but I felt it.”

Rsiran thought of all the Slides he had done over the last few days. Traveling to Firell’s ship. To Ilphaesn with Jessa. Throughout the city. Had Della felt them all?

“How many ripples can you feel?” And he had thought Sliding left his traveling invisible, but if Della knew when he Slid, he was not as unseen as he thought.

“Not all are felt the same way. Most Sliders do not even know what they do. But those with strength, like you and the Elvraeth, make larger ripples.” She leaned toward the fire. Light from the flames reflected from her deep green eyes. “I cannot tell how many like you there are, Rsiran. There is no signature to Sliding. It just doesn’t work like that. But know that you are not alone with your gift.”

He took another sip of the mint tea. After meeting Josun, he hadn’t thought that he was alone with his gift, but it was reassuring that there were others like him. Reassuring… and frightening. How many other Elvraeth could Slide? They were the most likely to manifest the ability. Josun claimed the council had worked to eliminate it, but if Rsiran could do it—and Josun—it seemed likely others of the Elvraeth could as well. And what if there were others like Josun, those who sided with him in his rebellion?

“Why did you pull me here tonight?” he asked.

“There is much you have yet to learn about your gifts. It is different from some of the other gifts, different from Sight or Reading. Mistakes can happen. You can get hurt. Practice, simply using your ability can help but may not be enough. Ignorance can kill you as easily as a misstep.”

“I know.”

“But you do not yet know how to control your abilities. Not fully. That is what you must practice.”

Other gifts were well enough known. One with Sight could help another with Sight learn the intricacies of the gift. But with Sliding, Rsiran did not know who else to ask. Just as he’d learned of his ability by chance, he had to learn how to control it the same way. Doing so put him in a certain type of danger. “I do what I can.”

She watched him. Rsiran had the sense that she wanted to say something but did not. Instead, she shifted her scarf and settled into her chair.

“There is something else you must know about your gifts,” Della said.

“What?”

“You have learned that you cannot Slide everywhere.”

He nodded slowly.

“Long ago, barriers were constructed to prevent Sliding without warning. A safeguard, though it should not have been necessary, not if the gifts had been used as the Great Watcher intended. But these barriers impede one with your gifts. I do not know how you managed to escape from the palace. From what I know of your ability, that should not have been possible.”

“Why?”

“There is a reason the Elvraeth claimed Ilphaesn as their own. That the earliest Elvraeth built the city so near the mountain is no coincidence.”

“The lorcith? I can Slide to the mines, and can carry lorcith with me.” He thought of the knives he carried, of the lorcith he’d taken away from the mines. How many times had he Slid before he had even practiced much? And, many times, injured. Had he not been able to Slide with lorcith, he would have died in the mines.

“Not the lorcith alone. There is a process that turns it into something more, something the early Elvraeth smiths created.” She saw his face. “You think the Elvraeth always secluded themselves in the palace? That they never did any work?” She laughed softly. “Such seclusion is a new thing, and Elaeavn is the worse for it.” She took a long sip of her tea. “But as to the lorcith, I cannot tell you what it is, or how you could make it, but the change creates a barrier those who can Slide cannot pass through.” She looked over at him. “Or so I thought.”

“It’s an alloy of lorcith,” he explained.

Della looked at him, mug pausing as she raised it to her mouth. “You already know of it.”

He nodded, realizing this was the real reason that Della had pulled him here.

“How did you Slide through the palace barrier, Rsiran?”

They had never spoken about it before. When he’d emerged in her home, he said nothing of how he had escaped the palace. But why ask now?

“I have a connection to lorcith,” he explained. “It helps me with my forgings. The lorcith seems to speak to me.”

Della studied him for a moment. “You have told me that.”

“Once I’ve made something, I seem to have a different connection.” He took a deep breath and pulled one of the knives from his pocket. His work at the forge had strengthened the connection. The knife hung in the air until Rsiran grabbed it and pushed it back.

“Yes. Haern spoke of this. If I hadn’t known you were descended from the earliest smiths, this ability would tell me all I needed to know.” She shifted the scarf set around her shoulders and sighed. “A gift long thought lost, but like in so many things, the Great Watcher surprises me.” She sipped her tea and closed her eyes. “So that is how you escaped the palace?”