CHAPTER 28 ALEK #2
“It’ll slow us, too,” Tycho says, and a lot of the rancor has slipped out of his voice. “But it won’t slow the scravers.”
From down the lane, Igaa’s magical voice speaks to us. — The rain will. Our magic brings the ice, which makes it difficult to fly.
I raise my eyebrows. “That’s something.”
Tycho considers this for a while. “In Emberfall, the magesmith who trapped Prince Rhen for years was able to use magic to reverse an entire season.” He raises his voice. “Igaa, if you share your magic, could we somehow gain more time to assemble a larger force here?”
— You need more powerful magic than mine, she says. — And you were not raised as a magesmith. You lack the skill for such a thing, do you not?
Tycho swears under his breath.
“Neither was Karyl,” I say. “So any magic she can use will be similarly limited.”
He lets out a breath. “There’s that, at least.”
“It’s too wet for fire,” says Jax. “You won’t be able to use that against them again.”
“Well, they can’t use it against us.”
“So we’re back to more practical defenses,” I say. “No magic.”
We all fall silent again, thinking. Jax tosses another arrowhead onto the table, then looks dubiously at the rest of the bolt. “I’m going to melt a small stretch of this,” he says. “We should test whether coating the edge of your blades will have the same effect.”
— It will, Igaa says. — Iishellasan steel is quite potent.
I glance at the arrowheads on the table. I’m genuinely shocked at how quickly he made this many. Maybe I shouldn’t have called him lazy.
Even still, there don’t seem to be anywhere near enough. “We’re limited to twenty arrows?” I say.
“I don’t have a lot of steel to work with,” says Jax. “We have a lot of blades to coat.”
“And regular arrows will still work,” Tycho says. “But it’ll be a lot harder to kill a scraver.”
“Fine,” I say. “Regular arrows or not— how many do we have at all ?”
He looks right back at me, and the expression in his eyes tells me it’s not going to be enough. “Fewer than forty. We lost a lot in the fight last night, and I wasn’t sending Leo off without a full quiver.”
This time I swear.
Jax ignores me and thrusts the bolt back into the fire. While it’s heating, he looks toward the lane, then does a double take. “Cal,” he says.
I turn in surprise. She’s trudging up the lane, her hair pinned in twin braids like when I first met her.
I stand automatically. “Callyn,” I say softly.
“You left,” she says, and I can’t read anything from her voice, whether it’s dismay or anger or uncertainty.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, and I realize I sound regretful.
“I didn’t want to disturb you.” I’m very aware of Tycho and Jax at my back, and I hate that they’re hearing this conversation and very likely judging it.
But I also don’t want to ruin this course of honesty that’s opened between us.
I hesitate, uncertain, then say, “You told me it would be a phenomenal idea to help make weapons, so . . .”
Her eyes flick past me, to the table. “So you were,” she says softly.
“And he was only an ass for the first five minutes,” Tycho offers.
I whip around. “You are in the presence of a lady—”
“A lady who’s used the word before,” Callyn says dryly. “Tell me what you’re doing. I can help.”
“Sharpening arrowheads,” says Tycho. He nods toward the table. “We have a few shafts. Alek can show you how to string the ones that are done.”
She steps close to me, and I’m gratified when her hand brushes mine, and she automatically threads her fingers between my own without saying a word. She surveys the table. “Is this all we can make?”
Jax nods. “I need the rest of the steel for the blades.” He pulls the shortened bar out of the fire, then hammers another piece off the end, then drops it in a stone bowl that he sets back in the fire.
As Callyn watches him, she puts her hand over her heart.
No, not her heart. Her pendant.
Her mother’s pendant. The one made of Iishellasan steel.
I don’t know if the others notice, but I do. Callyn’s eyes meet mine, and she swallows.
She expects me to tell her to give it up— I can tell. A day ago, maybe I would have. I don’t know.
Just now, I put a hand over hers, pressing the pendant into her skin. Then I lean down and brush a kiss against her lips before letting go. “Come on,” I say, scooping up a handful of the sharpened arrowheads. “I’ll show you how to string the arrows.”
Her breath trembles a bit, and her hand doesn’t move from the pendant, but then she shakes herself and follows me.
“It’s been a while since the war,” Tycho says, “but Grey once said something about how it doesn’t take an army to defeat an army.
” He pauses, reaching for one of the last arrowheads.
“And the Truthbringers don’t have a whole army.
Not really. The magic is going to call them here, but it doesn’t have to be like last time.
We don’t have to be waiting out in the open.
We shouldn’t be waiting out in the open— because it’ll be too easy for the scravers to take us out from above. ”
“So we should just hide in the bakery?” asks Callyn.
Tycho’s hands go still. “Yes.” He looks at Jax. “And the forge.”
“So we lie in wait,” I say. “And kill them as they come through.”
Beside me, Callyn’s breath catches, just a little, and I remember what we said about battle.
Then she says, “If we’re going to lure them into the houses, where are we going to hide Sinna?” she says.
“The queen is going to send her away,” says Tycho. When Callyn’s eyes flare wide, he adds, “With Nora.”
Callyn goes still.
Tycho says, “Do you think she’ll be willing?”
“Yes.” Her voice breaks. “I’m so glad she’s sending them away.” She swipes away a tear before it can fall.
I exchange a glance with Tycho. Again, this might be the first time I’ve ever shared a moment of understanding with him. But before I even say a word, he echoes my thoughts by gently saying, “Callyn. You can leave with them.”
Beside me, she startles. “What? No. I’m not leaving.” This time she really does swipe away a tear, but her expression turns fierce. “I just wanted to make sure I could keep my sister safe. Nora might not leave if I told her to, but she’ll want to protect Sinna, and she’ll obey the queen.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” says the queen. She steps through the doorway into the workshop.
She looks just as exhausted as she did an hour ago, but her expression is more settled. More determined.
Tycho stands. “Your Majesty. We’ve determined a plan.”
“I’m glad to hear that, too.”
Jax uses a pair of tongs to shift the stone bowl in the fire, and the molten steel glows red in the light. “Tycho. Give me a blade.”
Tycho draws the dagger at his right hip and holds it out.
Jax uses his tongs to press the glowing Iishellasan steel against the end of his dagger, then uses pincers to clip off the excess.
Moving quickly, he hammers the steel around the tip, flattening it along the edge until it’s a thin layer along the point.
As the metal cools, it turns gray against the gleaming silver of the weapon.
Jax thrusts it into the bucket of water like he did the arrowheads.
When he pulls it out, he shakes it off. “Here,” he says. “See if that’ll sharpen well.”
Tycho obeys, and for a minute, we all watch, listening to the sound of his blade scraping against the whetstone.
Only Jax continues to work, because he’s already snapping off another piece. “Give me one of yours,” he says, and it takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me.
“Oh,” I say, startled. “Here.”
My dagger is wider, but Jax quickly adapts, swiftly taking extra steel from the bowl to coat both edges, hammering it into place until it’s flattening along the edge and ready to be dunked in the water. Then he holds mine out as well.
Tycho pulls his off the whetstone and holds it up to the light. “Looks sharp,” he says. He presses a thumb to the blade, and blood wells almost instantly. “Feels sharp.”
“Good,” Jax says absently, as if he expected nothing less.
“Can you heal it?” asks the queen, her voice hushed.
Tycho’s gaze goes a bit distant, and then he shakes his head. “No. It works.”
More assured now, I put my own blade against the whetstone.
“It won’t hold forever,” Jax says. “But it would take too long to blend the steel in the blades— and I’m not sure if that would work.
” He gestures to me again. “Give me your sword.” Without waiting, he looks to Tycho, then swipes sweat off his forehead.
“Leave yours, too, then call Mal and Seph in so I can do theirs. I’m not sure how much I’ll have left, but I’ll do my best.”
Tycho gives him a nod, then strips his weapons, awkwardly laying them on the table. Callyn is following my lead with the shafts and arrowheads, but she watches Tycho disarm, her eyes flicking from person to person, eventually landing on Jax.
Her hand falls back over her mother’s pendant.
She doesn’t want to. I know it. She lost her mother in the war— just like I lost mine. Unlike me, she doesn’t have much left. It’s one pendant, and it’s not much steel at all. Hardly anything. At best, it’ll offer an extra edge to one sword. Maybe two.
But as I watch, she puts down the arrow, and she reaches behind her neck to untie the leather that holds the pendant in place. “Jax.” She holds out the pendant, and the steel gleams in the light. “You can use this, too.”