The Dark Ability (24 page)

R
siran stayed
awake into much of the night, slowly running the grinding stones along the knives, honing them to a sharp edge. Only the knives that he had folded again and again until the lorcith seemed to move even when cooled were honed. The others didn’t seem to need it; didn’t demand they be sharpened like these did. By the time he was done, he had finished nearly a half dozen knives, pocketing a few. He slipped two into the waist of his pants.

Then Rsiran slept most of the day.

When he awoke, fading light filtered through the hole in the ceiling. A soft breeze gusted in, carrying the stench of sewage and rot in the air. Noise from the streets drifted in as well, distant yelling heard as a steady murmur, almost like a burbling stream. Occasionally, he heard a louder yell, likely from somewhere along this street, that was urgent or pained. He ignored it all as much as he could.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. The lanterns had burned low, and the oil was nearly gone. Much longer, and he would have awoken in darkness. After his time in the mines, he still did not enjoy the dark.

If they were to proceed as planned, Jessa would find him tonight. With Haern’s warning, he did not dare risk her Sliding with him to the palace. He would have to do this himself.

Rsiran knew that should frighten him. If Josun didn’t know Rsiran could Slide, then there was no way he could be successful. Even if he did succeed, there was no guarantee they would be left alone. Always, Josun would know about the lorcith-forged weapons, and always, Brusus would be left looking over his shoulder, fearing the constables might be after him. Always, Jessa would be at risk.

He sighed. Doing this thing for the Elvraeth did not guarantee safety for anyone, especially if this started—or continued—a rebellion.

But he had a different idea, one that might at least see his friends safe. All it required was for him to reach the council and turn himself—and Josun—in.

What other choice did he have if he wanted to keep Brusus safe? What other choice did he have to avoid Jessa’s banishment? Rsiran might end up exiled—Forgotten—but couldn’t he simply Slide back to Elaeavn?

He took the small leather pouch off the faded low table and pulled it open. Before he did anything, he wanted to see what was inside. A fine white powder filled the bottom, and he held it carefully, not knowing what would happen if he spilled it on his hand. It had a sickly sweet aroma. Something about it was familiar, but he could not place why. Smaller grained than sand, it looked more like flour. What was this powder that would poison the council? If it would make the Elvraeth sick, there was no telling what it would do to him. Possibly kill him.

He should have shown Della. Likely she would know what it was, but if she knew what he
had in mind, she would
definitely
try to stop him.

On impulse, he slipped out one of the knives and dipped it into the powder. It clung to the lorcith, staining the blade a chalky white. The sickly aroma faded when mixed with the bitter scent of the lorcith, disappearing completely.

Rsiran wiped the blade on the ground. It only seemed to smear the powder along the metal. Hoping the substance wouldn’t harm his skin, he tucked the blade back into his waistband.

After carefully drawing the strings tight, he tucked the pouch into his pocket, making sure to keep it from the knives. Of course, it would serve him right if he managed to make it into the palace only to have the powder spill out into his pocket.

A sudden knocking on the door startled him.

Rsiran turned toward the door and waited. If it was Jessa, he suspected she would simply pick the lock. Anyone else would knock again.

There was not another knock.

He listened for the sound of her working the pick into the lock but didn’t hear anything. If he stood around too long, she would get into the smithy. And he didn’t know if he could leave her then.

Rsiran heard a soft scraping behind him. Rather than looking, he Slid.

He emerged on the top of Krali Rock overlooking the city. The first time he had Slid here had been an accident. At that time, he had not even known that he could Slide. He had simply awoken atop the rock. He remembered well the fear that had gripped him that first time, not knowing what had happened, not sure how to get back down, only that he should not have been able to get to the top of the rock. The climb down had terrified him, but not as much as the look on his father’s face after Rsiran told him what had happened.

From below, Krali looked like a tall finger of rock rising above the city. Standing atop Krali was different. The surface was flat and scuffed, and held scrapings from someone else having been here. Wind buffeted him, blowing his shirt and pants against his body and threatening to throw him off the rock. Almost as if he was not meant to be there.

From where he stood, the orange sun faded as it dipped toward the horizon, leaving the clouds on either side of it looking pink tinged. The water looked like a flat sheet of glass, the ships floating within the harbor little more than pieces set atop it. Below him, the city stretched out, none of the illusion visible from Krali Rock.

If he squinted, he could almost make out familiar buildings. The Wretched Barth smashed between other buildings. The warehouse, a long low rectangle, its slightly sloped roof slipping toward the other warehouses on either side. Della’s home where Brusus lay unconscious, relying on whatever healing Della could muster to bring him back from near death. The street where Rsiran had first walked with Jessa, sniffing at the flower on her shirt as she talked. His old home, where Alyse would be getting ready for bed, already having forgotten about him. His father’s shop, fading as it was into disrepair.

And then there was the palace.

Standing atop Krali and looking down at the palace provided a unique viewpoint. The five slender towers, each made of the same ivory stone as the rest of the city, created a sort of ring, leaving a grassy clearing in the middle. Brusus claimed that each tower housed a different Elvraeth family and each struggled with the others for more power within the family.

From here, the palace did not look like it floated at all. Rather, it seemed to flow out of the cliff, as if grown rather than chipped away. For the first time, he noticed a small squat building, different than any others within Elaeavn, in the middle of the clearing. Made of a darker rock, it almost looked to be entirely of lorcith, only Rsiran had never seen so much lorcith in one place.

He took a deep breath. The wind gusted and swirled around him, making him unsteady. He shifted his weight to maintain balance.

Standing where he was, looking down on a view that so few had ever seen, he felt almost like he had a purpose, as if the Great Watcher did have a reason for him after all.

Except the Great Watcher would not approve of what he was about to do. Already, he had done things that shamed him before the Great Watcher. Stealing lorcith from Ilphaesn? Forging weapons out of the metal? And now, worst of all, asked to attack his chosen few? Where Rsiran went now, he did in violation of the Great Watcher.

Yet he had been left with no real choice. If he did nothing, Brusus and the others would suffer. Rsiran could prevent that from happening.

The wind gusted again, and he took a small step back. Behind him, he felt something brush against his back and he turned.

And nearly fell from Krali Rock.

Jessa stood behind him. One hand balled into his shirt, her fist twisted into the fabric, and her knuckles white. She stared at him with wide green eyes. The lavender flower tucked into her shirt stood fast against the wind, almost as if holding her in place.

“How did you…” he asked.

“Grabbed your shirt. Saw you starting your Slide. You sort of flicker right before you do it. Not sure I would see it if I weren’t Sighted. I realized that you were going to do the job without me so I grabbed on.” She spoke quickly as she glanced down, and her body stiffened slightly. “Wasn’t expecting this.”

Rsiran took her hand from his shirt and twined his fingers into hers. He felt a mixture of emotions seeing her. Partly he was glad she was here. Doing what he intended would not be easy alone. But what Haern had told him stuck with him. If she went into the palace, she ran the risk of capture and banishment.

“You can’t come with me.”

She squeezed his hand painfully. “I can’t stay here.”

“I’ll get you back to the smithy. But I must do the job myself.”

Jessa pulled him toward her. There was barely enough room for the two of them to stand atop Krali Rock without falling. “Is that what Haern told you? Is that what he Saw?”

Rsiran nodded. “You cannot come.”

“You aren’t going by yourself, Rsiran. You may have this ability, but are you actually thinking of Sliding into the palace and doing this? For Josun? If what you think is true… if he wants to start some sort of—”

“Not for Josun,” he said. “If you come, Haern saw that you would be captured.”

“And you?”

“What?”

Jessa pulled on his hand. Rsiran teetered atop the stone, wind gusting against his face as if threatening to push him down.

“What of you?” she demanded. “What did Haern see of you?”

“Nothing.”

She glared at him. “Nothing? Haern saw nothing of you? He saw me captured and exiled while you…”

“I think my Sliding makes his visions difficult.”

“I think you’re not telling me everything.”

“Talk to Haern! Ask him what he saw! Ask him why he tried to kill me!” His voice rose to a yell. The sound carried off into the wind, disappearing toward the Aisl Forest where it faded.

Jessa looked at him. At first her head twitched slowly and then she shook it faster and faster. “Haern wouldn’t do that.”

“No? He brought me down to the harbor. Stood me among the rocks. Held me in place.” Rsiran still didn’t know how he had managed to do that. Always he had been able to Slide. “Tried to cut me with one of my own knives!”

Her face changed as he recounted what had happened. When he mentioned the harbor, her eyes had flickered wider for a moment.

“How did you escape?” The question was hard to hear over the sound of the wind.

“How did I…”

“Escape,” she repeated. “How did you get away from Haern?”

“The knife fell out of his hand.”

But that wasn’t quite right. The knife had flown from his hand as if twisted away. Almost as if Rsiran’s desire to push it away had made it happen.

Jessa frowned. “Fell from his hand? From Haern?”

He nodded. There was no way else to explain what had happened, was there?

“Rsiran, I know you haven’t known us for long. You know Haern as a Seer only. And he is. Partly that is why Brusus always valued his opinions, trusting the visions he Sees. But Haern wasn’t always who he is today.”

“What was he?”

She blinked slowly and shook her head. “Something he’s struggled to hide. To forget. But he can’t change who he was, only who he is.”

“Jessa?”

“Haern was an assassin. Raised out of Elaeavn, he worked in Asador and Cort and Thyr, taking jobs where he claimed his visions led him.”

“Jobs?”

“He was an assassin,” she repeated. “But he abandoned that years ago, returning to Elaeavn for the first time as an adult.”

Rsiran hadn’t heard of anyone
choosing
to live outside of Elaeavn. Doing so usually meant that they were one of the Forgotten. But if Haern returned, that meant he was not, unless he violated his exile. And the penalty of doing that meant certain death.

As he looked down on Elaeavn, the city seemed so much bigger than he had ever realized. Had he truly been so sheltered from everything living with his parents? Had his world ever really been so small? “Why?”

Jessa glanced away as she shook her head. “Brusus claims Haern Saw something once, a vision that prompted him to return. He hasn’t taken a job like that since. He’s changed now. Different from the man he once was.” There was something else she didn’t share, and she sounded so intent, as if trying to convince herself. “So, Rsiran, Haern would never do anything like that. There must have been a reason.”

“There was a reason. He was protecting you the only way he Saw how.”

“I can’t believe that about Haern.”

“Do you trust his visions?”

She nodded.

“Then trust what he saw about you. Know you can’t come with me.”

She pulled on his hand and motioned out toward the city, toward the palace. “A Seer’s vision is not fixed, Rsiran. It can be changed. Like your future isn’t fixed. Everything depends on the choices you make. The Great Watcher doesn’t set a destiny for us.” She turned him toward her. “Think of the choices you’ve made since we first met. How different would you be had you made only one different decision?”

One different decision? Had he not gone against his father the first time he might never have been sent to the mine. Had he chosen to stay in the mine rather than Slide away, he might have been dead, or healed by some unskilled healer from the village outside Ilphaesn. Had he not returned to Elaeavn and been found by Jessa…

He looked at her. “I can’t risk you getting captured.”

“That isn’t your choice to make. I make my own decisions as you make yours.”

Rsiran realized that by trying to decide for her, he was doing exactly what his father had done to him—treating her as if he
knew
what would happen.

He was not the Great Watcher.

Rsiran sighed. Up here, above the city with the wind gusting in his face, the air was cool and tasted of salt. The city looked clean and small. Everything seemed possible.

“I don’t intend to do what Josun intended,” he admitted to Jessa.

She tilted her head. Rsiran noticed how she paused to sniff at the flower in her shirt, and he bit back a smile as he wondered how she smelled anything with the wind blowing as it did.

“What do you intend to do?”

He had intended to do whatever it would take to keep his new friends safe, even if that meant turning himself in, turning Josun in, to the Elvraeth. But maybe he didn’t have to sacrifice himself. Maybe there was another way.