Blood of the Watcher (The Dark Ability Book 4) (11 page)

“I already have,” he said, pointing to her charm. Between that and the heartstone alloy necklace, she wore his forgings. Then there was the long-bladed knife that he’d forged from the lorcith he’d heated when trying to decipher the map. She had that strapped to her thigh. Another layer of protection, and one that he approved of. “It didn’t keep her safe when we were in the Forgotten Palace.”

“There is a certain shape that’s needed for it to work,” Haern said. He ran his finger along the scar on his cheek. “Not sure that I fully understand, but it’s keyed to each person differently. You have a connection to lorcith, Rsiran. You should be able to figure out the shape, don’t you think?”

He thought that it was possible, but that meant he’d have to somehow get the lorcith to understand what he intended, and then create the shape. If it worked, Jessa
might
be protected from someone Compelling her. If it didn’t… well, then she’d be controlled, and possibly a danger to them.

As he looked over to her, he realized that she wouldn’t let him leave her behind. That left only one answer: Rsiran would have to get it right.

T
he forged glowed again
, this time heating the entire smithy, pushing back the growing chill that threatened to work through the cracks in the building. It reminded Rsiran of when he’d first taken over the smithy, and all the repairs that had been required before the smithy itself had been functional. They had repaired holes in the ceiling, and cracked and crumbling brick, but all from the inside of the smithy. They couldn’t have the outside looking too well kept. There was value and secrecy in the dilapidated structure.

He had not lit the hearth, so Jessa curled in a chair, wrapping her arms around her legs close to the forge itself. She had spent countless hours with him as he worked in the time since they first met, and had more than a passing familiarity with the rhythmic hammering of metal on metal. Rsiran suspected that she would be able to replicate some of his workflow simply from watching, though she had never once made an effort to pick up a hammer. She usually had other tasks elsewhere, for which her skills were more valued, leaving him for stretches of time to work alone.

He stood in front of the large bin of lorcith. Every time he looked into the bin, he thought of Shael, and the way that he’d sneaked the ore into the smithy. At the time, Rsiran feared that he was committing himself to whatever Shael had wanted of him. Now he was thankful for the ore, and the fact that he would not have to return to Ilphaesn any time soon.

Strangely, there was a part of him that missed the mine, that longed for the familiar scents and sounds found within the mine itself. He had nearly died several times over while working there, but no longer did he feel the same fear about its emptiness. Now he could use the lorcith to guide him, much like he did with the heartstone in the map that he now possessed. His strengthened Sight helped take away the sheer overwhelming blackness that often greeted him in the mine. Would it be so bad if he had to return? There was much he could learn there; he still hadn’t explored the mines Josun used, or determined why the supply coming from Ilphaesn had been constrained. Nor had he spent the time to figure out where Josun had gone.

He pushed those thoughts away from his mind and focused on the sense of lorcith, holding an image in his mind of what he wanted to accomplish. Haern suggested that lorcith could be used, something that could help protect Jessa from influence, from whatever Compelling that Thom might attempt. Had he only known
what
to make, Rsiran might be better equipped to forge it.

One lump called to him more than the others.

Rsiran had experienced that often enough that he had counted on the lorcith itself guiding him somewhat. When he first began working with lorcith, he had selected the ore at random, and it had called to him, demanding he create specific forgings. The longer that he worked with it, the more he recognized the connection, so that now when he wanted to create a specific shape, he knew to search for lorcith that was willing to work with him and take on that shape. Doing anything different would have required forcing it into shapes that it wouldn’t want to take. That was the way other smiths worked.

He pulled the lump of lorcith from the bin. It was of average size, but it sang to him, drawing him to the forge. Rsiran held onto the desire that he had, the need to create something that would protect Jessa, as he brought it to the coals and began to heat it.

When it glowed with red-hot heat, he moved it to the anvil. This was the part that he was least certain of. If this worked, the lorcith would guide him, and he would simply follow the forging. If it didn’t… there would be wasted lorcith.

Rsiran began hammering. At first, he worked with an irregular pattern. He tried keeping in mind what he wanted of the lorcith and the fact that he needed something that would protect Jessa. If he failed in this, he wouldn’t feel comfortable with her coming with him to find Thom.

The longer he worked, the more he fell into a pattern. The desire he held in mind began to fade as he was seduced by the song of the lorcith. It took over, much like it used to do when he was first learning to work with it.

Rsiran lost track of how long he worked. He hammered, the steady, rhythmic pull on the metal, periodically bringing it back to the coals to heat it again. His mind was blank, nothing but the call of the lorcith.

Time passed, and he had no way of knowing whether it was minutes or hours.

Then he stopped.

The forging was complete.

He set the hammer down and wiped sweat from his brow, hot from the work he’d been doing. The smithy itself was cool. Rsiran looked at the table where he’d set the completed project and was somewhat surprised by what he found.

Two small circular bands that looped around themselves and then back, the ends not touching, rested on the table. The metal was twisted, spiraling around in a symmetric pattern. One free end curved inward.

“Is it done?” Jessa asked.

She stirred from the chair where she sat, watching him. He held the forgings out to her, uncertain whether these bracelets would work. Never before had he gone to the lorcith with nothing but a desire in mind. He’d always wanted something in particular; he could envision its shape. Usually it was knives, or the sword, but this time, it had been a request to the metal to shape something to achieve a specific goal.

“I think so,” he said.

Jessa took the bracelets with a frown. “They look like the chains you put on Josun,” she said. “Only as usual, yours are fancier.”

“Those were heartstone and lorcith,” Rsiran said.

“You don’t think these will prevent my Sight?”

“I don’t know how these will work. I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Trusted the metal to show me what I needed to do.”

Her frown faded and the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “The way you talk about it… it’s always so interesting to me. Almost as if it’s alive, that it talks to you.”

Rsiran listened for a moment. The lorcith in the bracelets
did
talk to him, and he could hear from it the entire history of the metal, from the point where it came out of Ilphaesn, all the way back to when it had been nothing more than a part of the mountain. “It is alive,” he said. “Not the same as us, but lorcith is alive more than any other metal. I can hear it, and I think I can talk to it.” He shrugged, letting go of the connection and the song of the lorcith from the bracelets. “I know it sounds strange, but…” He shrugged again.

Jessa slipped one of the bracelets onto her wrist. The metal pulled on her palm before getting past her hand. She twisted it in place, tracing her fingers along the metal. “I don’t think they’d fit anyone else,” she said as she slid the second one over her other hand. “My hands aren’t the biggest. Had you made them any other size—”

Rsiran chuckled. “They were made for you. I told the lorcith what I needed, and
why
. That’s the important part. There has to be a reason.”

She tugged on each bracelet until she seemed satisfied with how they settled on her arms. “How do the other smiths use it? They don’t listen like you do.”

“They ignore the call,” he said. “They force it in ways that they want. It’s why my father was so particular about lorcith when I was in my apprenticeship. In his mind, you have to ignore the call of lorcith, and you have to focus on what you want it to become. I think that weakens the forgings in some way.”

He’d never really made the connection before, but now that he had, that seemed truer than he realized. The forgings that he’d made, the ones where he listened to what the lorcith wanted him to forge, seemed the strongest. His connection to the lorcith made it stronger. Forcing it as his father did seemed to make the metal more brittle. His forgings were never as brittle as what he’d known lorcith to be when he was growing up.

“Will these work?” she asked.

“There’s only one way to know.”

“Brusus will be busy,” Jessa said. “And I get the sense that you don’t really want to wait to find out if these are going to work.”

He smiled. She knew him too well. “I’ve got another idea.”

Rsiran took her hand and squeezed.

“Are you really sure it’s safe to Slide?”

“We haven’t seen them for a while. And we’re starting from the smithy. I think that helps.”

Just to be safe, he grabbed the heartstone sword and slipped it into a loop on his belt. Heartstone had to protect him, didn’t it? That was why he hadn’t been influenced before, other than by Della. And at some point, he’d have to make a more formal sheath, mostly to protect him. He was as likely to kick the blade and slice himself as he was to need it.

Focusing on where he wanted to go, he Slid them to Della’s home.

A small flame crackled in the hearth. Rsiran didn’t know what time of night it was, but wasn’t entirely surprised to see that she was up. Della often seemed to know when they would need her.

“About time you came. I was getting worried that I was wrong.”

She stood behind a long counter and tapped one of her jars, spooning powder out before tipping it into a mug. She took a kettle and poured steaming water into it and then stirred it.

“You knew we were coming?” Rsiran asked.

“Knew? There are things that I See, but knowing is something different. You make Seeing anything difficult, Rsiran Lareth.” She made her way around the counter and took a seat in front of the hearth. “Much like you make staying awake to wait for you difficult. I’m not as young as I once was, you know. What was easy for me years ago is no longer quite the same. Now sit, let us test what you have made.”

Rsiran glanced over at Jessa and she shrugged. Della had often managed to know things that she shouldn’t. “Did Brusus tell you what we were going to do?” he asked as he took a seat.

“Not Brusus. Haven’t seen him nearly as much since he decided to take over the tavern. Can’t say that I blame him. It’s important to him.”

“There are other taverns,” Jessa said. “Ones where the Forgotten don’t know how to find us.”

“You think that’s true? That the Forgotten don’t know where you are, and that Venass won’t be able to find you if you don’t want them to?” She sniffed and took a sip of her tea. “You’re smarter than that, Jessa. You know that they can and will find you if that’s what they want to do.”

“I still don’t know why he risks himself like that. Having the tavern puts him—and us—in danger,” Jessa said.

Della smiled. “Memories. That’s the reason that Brusus risks it. There are memories in the Barth, and he’s afraid of losing them. Some might call that sentiment, but to Brusus, it’s just a part of him.” She scooted to the end of the chair and reached for Jessa’s wrist. “These are what you made?” she asked, reaching for Jessa’s other wrist and looking up at Rsiran.

He nodded. “We don’t know if they will work. That’s why we came here.”

“You think I can Compel with enough strength to test this?”

Rsiran didn’t know enough to say with any certainty. In addition to being a Healer, Della was a strong Reader, but that didn’t mean that she also could Compel with the same strength, not like they’d seen from Evaelyn or Thom. “I thought you might,” he said.

A sad smile came to her face as she took a long drink of her tea. “Perhaps once I would have claimed skill with that particular talent, but it’s one that I haven’t practiced over the years. After what happened with Evaelyn… I could not bring myself to attempt it. Now it’s something I only use to keep myself safe.”

Rsiran should have expected something like that. As a Healer, Della should have had countless others coming to her for help. And maybe she did, but only when they weren’t here. But from what he’d seen, she never Healed anyone else. She remained hidden, tucked away in this part of Lower Town, avoiding Healing others.

“Why don’t you help anyone else?” Rsiran asked.

Jessa squeezed his arm to silence him.

Della sighed. “It’s okay, dear,” she said the Jessa. “There was a time when I helped all who came to me. It is… difficult to take on that much risk.”

“The rest of us take on risk,” Rsiran said.

Della nodded. “I know that you do, and I can only think that the Great Watcher intends for you to assume such danger, but the last time I did, someone I cared about dearly was lost.”

“You couldn’t Heal them?”

She shook her head once. “There are some things you don’t Heal.”

Rsiran frowned. “What kinds of things? You’ve managed to Heal pretty much everything that’s come through here.”

She sat up. “Not everything is a physical injury, and not everything is poisoning,” she said. “There are times when even those you wish to remain can no long do so.”

“You mean exile,” he said.

Della nodded. “Exile. Forgotten. Either way, banished from the city or risk death.”

“Who was it?” Rsiran asked.

Della sipped at her tea and stared at the flames crackling in the hearth. “A friend. Someone with a good heart, but who risked himself when he did not have to.”

She took another sip of tea, and Rsiran wondered if Della had lost someone as Brusus had, a lover, or someone else. Knowing Della as he did, it was hard to imagine either. She had always valued her friends and had kept them close, fighting for Brusus when needed. What would it have taken for her not to fight when someone she cared about was exiled?

“Let me see these,” she said, setting her mug on the floor. She reached again for Jessa’s wrists and took the bracelets into her own as she seemed to study them. “Contact with the skin. Good. Venass would think you need it to pierce the skin to be effective, but this should be effective.” She trailed her thumbs along the metal twisted around Jessa’s wrists. “The symmetry to these is impressive,” she said with a soft breath. “I haven’t seen metalwork like this in… in a long time.” She looked up at Rsiran and shook her head. “You have learned much since we first met. Then it was all about knives and weapons.”

“That was what I needed to make,” he said.

She tapped a finger on her lips. “Perhaps. But this? These are exquisite. Even without knowing that you crafted them with intent, they would be considered valuable. You may have made them
too
valuable. If someone else sees them, they might find a reason to separate them from Jessa’s wrists.”