The Dark Ability (22 page)

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.

T
hey 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.

R
siran 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 cooled, 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.

Rsiran shook his head and turned back to the knives. Had he a grinding stone, he would have sharpened them. As it was, they lay forged and formed, but not quite ready for use. Perhaps that was best.

The brown burlap sack containing the rest of the lorcith lay next to the bellows, the top bunched and pressed down so that the ore inside was easily accessible. He was tempted to grab another lump and get back to crafting, but the effort of his work throughout the night had already begun draining his energy. There was more he needed to do before the night was over.

Looking over to the table, he had dragged from the far side of the smith, its once stained surface now faded and chipped, he considered the small leather pouch sitting among the dust. Handprints marred either side of the table where he had gripped it, creating a ring around the pouch. Made of a supple leather and died a deep brown, the pouch was otherwise unremarkable. A single braided black drawstring pulled it closed.

Rsiran had almost refused when he realized the target of the demonstration. Not the entirety of the Elvraeth as he had indicated at first, but the council itself. Josun wanted the council to feel weakened. He wanted them poisoned.

There was only one reason Rsiran could think of—the rebellion he’d overheard. And Jessa thought Josun wanted to sit on the council himself. Why should Rsiran care about Elvraeth politics? What did he care who ruled on the council? Why did he care
which
of the Elvraeth ruled? What difference did it mean for him?

He had never expected to be pulled into the lives of the Elvraeth. Now that he was, he wanted nothing more than to be free of them. Even if he succeeded in what Josun asked, would he really be free?

No. And that was the problem.

But what could he do? How could he keep his new friends safe?

Nothing but do what Josun asked.

He sighed. The leather pouch held a small quantity of poison. Nothing too toxic, he was promised, nothing fatal. Josun did not want any of his family injured, only weakened enough that they would realize what had happened. All Rsiran and Jessa needed to do was mix a small amount of powder into a pitcher and make sure it reached the Elvraeth council. Rsiran hadn’t worked out how Josun would take a place on the council, but suspected that was another layer he had yet to discovered. Were Brusus well enough, he could ask him.

Rsiran suspected the task would be easy enough. He could Slide into the palace, deliver the powder, and Slide out. If he was fast enough, he would not even be seen. And that was what the Elvraeth planned. If he didn’t act, Jessa would try to sneak her way into the palace. He needed to move before she ended up doing something foolish and got caught.

They would go together, Sliding into the palace, doing what Josun wanted done, and then Sliding back out. Only Rsiran wasn’t certain he wanted Jessa involved at all.

Her Sight would help. In the palace, all of the Elvraeth would have some ability of Sight so he did not expect there to be much light. But the thought of her risking capture and banishment nauseated him.

As he stared at the pouch, he realized he was simply wasting time. If he was going to do something before Jessa tried on her own—and likely without him—he would have to do it soon.

Not tonight, though. Jessa had not yet returned, and he had spent too much time at the forge to have the energy needed to Slide into the palace.

But not to Della’s place.

After changing back into the cleaner clothes, he pocketed a pair of the forged knives. Then he Slid to the healer’s home.

Emerging from the Slide did not seem to take as much energy out of him as it usually did. The usual fire in her hearth had burned down. Incense and medicine hung heavy in the air, covering a faint sickly odor. Della lay asleep in the chair next to the fire, a thickly knitted blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He looked around and saw Brusus lying on the cot. His chest rose and fell slowly, and his eyes were closed.

“He has not woken again.”

Rsiran turned and saw Della still staring at the fire. She had noticed his arrival, as if sensing him. “When will he?”

She shook her head. “Not sure yet. The blade was tipped in clohth powder. Rare here but common enough in Neelan. It took me a little while to determine what they used on the blade. Only when I knew what it was could I work to counteract it. Unfortunately, I might not have been fast enough.”

“But you stopped the bleeding.”

She turned her head to look up at him. Her face was drawn and tired. “But maybe not in time. Only the Great Watcher knows what will happen now. He has a strong body, and thankfully, you got him here quickly.”

Rsiran closed his eyes, feeling the same sense of angst he had felt all day. “I could have Slid us both away from the warehouse before he attacked.”

Della nodded. “Aye.” She turned her tired eyes toward Brusus. “But you did what you could at the time. You are not a Seer, Rsiran. You could not have known the sellsword would attack.” She shook her head. “We all have secrets. Brusus has his own that he keeps for his own reasons. His reasons are much the same as yours, you know.” Her deep green eyes seemed to flare, and her brow furrowed. “Each of us must decide in time what we can and cannot do. Each of us must learn what it is that motivates us. Only then can we be free to do what we must. Only then can we be free from fear.” She smiled sadly as if Reading his thoughts. “Yes, fear. Fear of who we are. Fear of what we might become. Fear of what others might think. Fear of acting.”

Not for the first time, Rsiran wondered how much she knew. “I’m more afraid of
not
acting.”

Della smiled. “That is a choice as well. When you know what you value, you will know what you must do. Do not do what you think others want from you. That is a path I know all too well. That is a path to sadness and disappointment.”

Rsiran didn’t say anything. Up until recently, he had always done what was expected of him. He had been the supportive brother to a sister more skilled than he, had worked diligently in the smithy learning how to care for the forge and the rest of the smithy, had fought against the only ability he possessed, had willingly gone to work in the mines of Ilphaesn, and nearly died. All because it was what others wanted from him. He no longer knew what it was that he wanted.

But, he decided, that wasn’t entirely true.

He wanted to be accepted and cared about. Why was that too much to ask of his family? He hadn’t gotten in so deep that he couldn’t return to his home. If he returned, showed his father that he could be contrite, and promised to abandon and ignore the ability to Slide, he might have the chance at redemption.

And then he would always know what he had sacrificed.

Rsiran sighed. Not for the first time, he wished his family would simply have accepted him as he was, accepted that he was gifted with a different ability. Without his ability, he would have died within the mines. Brusus would have died on the street outside the warehouse.

“I need to help Brusus,” he whispered.

Della looked up at him and frowned. “You have already helped him, Rsiran. Anything more puts you and your friends at risk.”

“Doing nothing might put him in as much risk.”

Della stood and hobbled over to him. Over the last few weeks, she had grown increasingly weak. How much of that was his fault? The effort of Sliding weakened him; the longer the Slide the more fatigued he felt. How could her strange healing be so different?

“I am sorry,” he told her.

She laid a gnarled hand on his shoulder. There was still much strength in her grip. She smiled at him, and some of the age melted from her face. “Only apologize for your own mistakes.”

“See that he gets these.” He pulled the unsharpened knives from his pocket and set them onto one of the side tables.

Della picked up one of the knives and held it out, twisting it so it caught the remnants of firelight. Even from where Rsiran stood, the metal seemed to slide.

“They are beautifully made. I have not seen work like this in many years. Back before…” She trailed off and turned to him. “You must be careful in making these. There are those among the Elvraeth who fear such weapons. Especially like this.”

“Why?”

“The Elvraeth are powerful but even their power has limits.” She waggled the knife in the air. “There are blades that can limit even their power.”

“I don’t understand.”

She shook her head. “Pray to the Great Watcher that you never have to.” She nodded at the knives. “These are beautiful. And dangerous.” Her eyes turned to Brusus. “Do you know who he planned to sell them to?”

Rsiran knew very little about Brusus’s plans for the knives, only that he had a buyer willing to pay. “I don’t know.” Possibly Shael, but he didn’t really know. “Will you get them to him when he awakens?”

She nodded. “I will. But Rsiran, you are free to visit him anytime. I have not closed my home to such things.”

Rsiran didn’t see how she could close her home to his Sliding. “There is something I must do, and I wanted him to see that I haven’t been idle while he was sick.”

Della laughed. “I doubt he would ever think that.” She moved past him to Brusus. She hummed softly as she looked under a dressing on his chest. A sense of energy built in the air as she hummed, and the sound was soft but haunting and beautiful.

Rsiran sighed and then Slid away from her home.

He emerged in the alley next to the Wretched Barth. A pair of black cats peered at him in the darkness of the alley, and one yowled softly as he passed. Why had he Slid here?

At this time of night, the tavern would be mostly quiet. Any activity from earlier in the evening would have died out as the tavern goers went off to their homes or to rented beds. Rsiran stood on the street, the flickering lantern giving him enough light to see through the shadows of the overcast sky. He stared at the building where he was first introduced to Brusus and his friends. The sounds of the harbor were quiet with only the steady washing of waves against the shore. Something pulled on him, like the call of lorcith, but he did not know why.

“You seem distracted, Rsiran.”

He turned. Haern watched him from the shadows of a nearby building. He wore a deep green shirt with simple embroidery—something much fancier than Rsiran usually saw him in—and simple brown leather pants. Grey hair hung loose around his head, and his eyes had a deep green hue.

“Haern? What are you doing here?”

Haern’s mouth tightened. It was about as much of a smile as he had ever seen from him. “If I weren’t a Seer, I might ask the same of you.”

“You came to find me?”

Haern nodded and stepped away from the shadows. Light from the lantern reflected off well-polished boots. “I know what you are, Rsiran.”

Rsiran blinked slowly. He would have to get used to others knowing about his ability. Already Della, Brusus, and Jessa knew. And now Haern. “Did Jessa tell you?” He couldn’t fault her for sharing with Haern but wished she had spoken to him about it first. Of those he had diced with, he knew the least about Haern.

But Haern shook his head. “Didn’t need to.”

“Then how do you know?”

Haern’s mouth twitched. “I’ve worn the grey myself. I can’t say how many would recognize the dress, but as someone who has lived in those mines, worked the caverns of Ilphaesn, I can tell you I’ll never forget.” He stepped forward again. “Did you escape?”