Page 131 of Quicksilver
Gods, this was going to be awful. “I can't try again to make a relic. I haven't refined the silver yet. I was taking a moment to do this.” Tosulk.“But...there’s a way to half-test the theory,” I said. “And yes, you can come and watch. But only if you promise to keep your mouth shut and not get in the way.”
It was physically impossible for Carrion to keep his mouth shut and not get in the way. I already knew this when I agreed to let him follow me to the map tent, so I wasn't too surprised when he talked the entire way down the mountainside and all the way across the camp, too. He was blathering on about some two-bit smuggler back in Zilvaren called Davey, who owed him seventeen chits when we reached the map room.
Thankfully the place was deserted. It'd struck me that I might run into Danya here, since this was the only place I'd encountered her in camp thus far, but apparently the fates were smiling down on me today because even Ren was nowhere to be seen. I didn't want an audience for this. Carrion didn't really count, and he already knew what I was going to do anyway, having been responsible for the suggestion in the first place. I would look pretty stupid if I attempted this and failed, and I preferred none of the Fae to witness that firsthand.
“Dark as fuck in here,” Carrion grumbled. There was a fire burning in the ventless grate, but none of the torches on the walls were lit. He grabbed the first one he came to and stuck the end of it in the fire, then went around the empty room, lighting the others. I paid no attention to his chatter as he carried out the task. I was fixed on the bristling shards of metal sticking out of the stone wall.
This isn't going to work. Why would it? Surely somebody’s already tried...
Doubt after doubt hit me, but I brushed them all aside. I had nothing to lose. And it didn't cost me anything to ask. If nothing happened, or the quicksilver just laughed at me, then no big deal. I'd go back to the forge and refine the silver, and tomorrow morning I'd start up my trials again. But if it worked...
She comes.
She comes.
She approaches.
The quicksilver hadn’t spoken the last time I was in here. Not like this. I'd stood next to the embedded shards for a long time, focusing very hard on them before I'd detected even the faint whisper coming from the metal. Now, the voices were a rushing conversation, quiet, yes, but loud enough for me to pick up as I neared the wall.
She comes.
She sees.
She hears.
Reaching up, I extended my hand, pressing the tip of my index finger against one of the sword splinters.Yes, I've come. I see you. I hear, I thought.
Voices exploded in my head. Scores of them, talking, screaming, pleading, begging, laughing, shouting. I gasped, ripping my hand away.
“That looked painful,” Carrion said conversationally. He stood right next to me, holding onto the torch, his auburn hair turned copper-gold by the flames.
“Can you back up a little?” I asked. “This might be a little easier without you breathing directly down my neck.”
“I seem to recall you liked me breathing down your ne—”
“If you dare finish that sentence, you can go and wait outside,” I snapped.
“That's fair.” Carrion moved back a step, bowing graciously. “Though, if it seems like your mind’s being sucked out of your body, or you're in excruciating pain and can't let go of the quicksilver sword murder spikes, do I have your permission to tackle you to the ground?”
That actually seemed like a prudent plan. “You do.”
“Excellent.”
I braced for the roar of voices, gingerly touching one of the shards again, but this time there was only silence. Had I imagined the screaming and the begging? Didn't seem plausible. I went back to the original shard I’d touched, prepared for the onslaught of noise again, just in case, but there was only the echoing silence.
Hello?I thought.Are you here?
The answer was instantaneous.
Where is here...
Here...
Here...
Here...
Here...
