not? In the smithy, with the pressure of lorcith all around him, he doubted that she would see much more than he could sense. But elsewhere? It was why he was thankful for his enhanced Sight since holding the crystal.
Every so often, Jessa would sniff at the flower. He had yet to learn why she chose to place a flower in the charm. Maybe only because she wanted something other than the stink of Lower Town, or maybe there was more to it.
Before, he had thought to barricade himself in the smithy. That was the reason for the bars of heartstone alloy running along the smithy. It had taken Jessa and his friends to convince him to give up on that notion, that he couldn’t remain hidden, because others would come for him, regardless. And now that he knew more about everything was that took place around them—how much greater it was than he imagined—he knew he couldn’t keep them safe within the smithy, even if he wanted to.
But remaining ignorant of what awaited them wasn’t helping them, either. Waiting did nothing but put them in more danger, and let others prepare.
What he needed was to understand what was at stake. It might be about the crystals at the heart of the palace, but there might be more as well. And what would happen when the attack came to Elaeavn? Would they be ready?
Rsiran found Jessa watching him. “I see what you’re thinking.”
He shook his head. “I’m only thinking that we need to know what they’re after.”
“We tried that once.”
He nodded. The image of Shael lying dead because of his knife remained burned in his mind. Haern claimed that he had only done what was needed, but what if the Great Watcher intended for him to embrace the darkness and to use his ability in this way?
Rsiran couldn’t do that to Jessa. He would not do that to her.
Then he needed a different plan. Only… he didn’t know what that would be.
Chapter 6
“ Y ou have to find a way to move and attack at the same time.”
Rsiran wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead and glanced up at Haern. Somehow, the older man seemed barely bothered by the sparring, his breathing easy, and no sign of sweat. He scarcely seemed to have exerted himself.
How could Rsiran be so exhausted? He spent hours hammering away at the forge without any need to slow, but practicing with the sword… that had been a different sort of exertion.
The heartstone blade touched the floor, the tip resting against the wood. Rsiran was surprised to note that where it touched, it left small charred traces behind.
He sighed. “Why do I need to learn to fight like this?” he asked Haern, motioning with the sword. The question was not a new one, and he expected the answer.
“What happens if there are no lorcith knives for you to push or pull ? What happens if you can’t Slide somewhere? Do you want to feel helpless like that?”
Rsiran shook his head. That was the last thing that he wanted. “But you’re letting me use this,” he said, holding up the heartstone-forged sword. “If I have this—”
“Haven’t I shown you how that can be stopped?”
Rsiran nodded. The first time he’d tried pushing the sword at Haern, he had simply ducked and grabbed the sword out of the air. Rsiran pulled on it, but Haern had managed to resist, holding tightly to the sword. Rsiran still didn’t know how Haern had managed that.
“You’re using that sword because you need to learn how to attack creatively. With your abilities, you should be able to attack in ways that I can’t, but you still haven’t managed to even disarm me, let alone defeat me.”
And Rsiran felt a growing frustration about that as well. Each time he tried—and failed—Haern smacked him with the flat of his sword. His arms and legs stung from each one, a painful reminder of all the times he had failed.
“I can Slide away if I am attacked, Haern.”
“Yes. That worked so well for you with Shael. And the Forgotten.”
“Shael had the Elvraeth chains.”
Haern nodded.