The Dark Ability Read Free Page B

able to report the theft.
    The man turned back, hand outstretched, five silver dronr cupped in his palm. Rsiran pulled one of the knives out of his pocket and handed it to him, hilt out, taking the dronr and slipping them into a different pocket.
    “I probably would have given you more, kid,” the man said.
    Rsiran let out a nervous laugh. “I probably would have taken three.”
    The man narrowed his eyes and frowned as he shook his head. Then a deep and hearty laugh erupted from his mouth. “I’m Brusus,” he said, extending his hand.
    Rsiran hesitated before shaking Brusus’s hand, debating whether to share his name. “Rsiran.”
    “Well, Rsiran, can we get out of the rain? I know a place where we can still get a warm mug of ale.”
    Thinking of his father, Rsiran shook his head. He needed to get home and to sleep so that he could get up in time to replace the lorcith he’d used. “No ale.”
    Brusus shrugged, twisting the knife in his hand and glancing to Rsiran’s pocket where the other knife remained. “Fine. Come and watch me drink it as I show off your craftsmanship to a few friends. I have a way that you could sell a few more of these.”
    “I need to get back,” he said, starting to pull away. “I have to be in the shop early.”
    Brusus grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him down the street, away from home and away from the shop. “What do you mean? It is early!”
    “I… I can’t.”
    Brusus smiled, and his expression changed as he did, softening and becoming friendlier. “Listen, kid, come along and I won’t have to mention anything about your knives. To anyone.”
    There seemed a hint of a threat, and Rsiran took a step back. Brusus’s smile deepened, as if he knew his thoughts. Rsiran fortified his mental barriers, careful to shield his thoughts. What would happen if he didn’t go with Brusus? Would he find Rsiran’s father, and explain how he’d bought the knife? That might be worse than simply going along with the man.
    Unable to think of anything different, he let himself be dragged along with Brusus, wishing he’d never made the knives in the first place.

Chapter 3
    B rusus led Rsiran to a small tavern near the docks. The stench of the fisheries almost overwhelmed him as they neared Lower Town. Waves crashed steadily along the rocks, giving the streets a sense of rhythm that was missing from Upper Town. Light struggled to filter through the buildings towering overhead, making the shadows appear longer and more twisted than he was accustomed to.
    He should not be here. Not down in the dangerous and dirty lower section of the city, awake when he should be sleeping. Dawn would come quickly, and with it, he would have to be up. Each time he had considered pulling away, turning back toward home and his waiting bed, Brusus had grabbed onto his sleeve and pulled him along. Eventually he had come so far that turning back seemed too much work, unless he were to Slide back, but that involved revealing his ability, or at least risking it. That was worse than Brusus knowing that he forged lorcith into knives.
    Brusus didn’t stop pulling him until they reached a simple stone building. A small etching on one of the stones outside the door provided the only marking that this was a tavern. The door was made of stout oak, heavy and oiled to protect from the spray of sea salt in the air. Brusus swung the door open and pushed Rsiran in first.
    Inside was small. A length of counter ran along one wall. A plain hearth angled in the corner where a warm fire flickered. A pair of lanterns hanging on hooks glowed softly with orange light, pushing back whatever shadows the fire missed. Tables made of the same rough oiled oak littered the remaining space. Brusus led him to one where another man sat next to a boy that had to be younger than Rsiran. Both nursed steaming mugs of ale.
    “Brusus,” the other man said. He was wider than Brusus, and his lined eyes flared green as they approached. A long