Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1 - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

At first, she ignored the hand on her leg. As long as it did not move, she could breathe and find her centre before she did something stupid.
Nova took a long breath and stared resolutely into the wine glass in front of her, telling herself there was no weight on her leg and the warmth was her imagination. Her eyes flicked to her fork, its points gleaming in the light of the candles on the table, and then back to the wine.
Ethred pretended he didn't notice, though she knew he was waiting for a reaction from her. She wasn't going to give him one.
Unless the hand moved.
The wine rippled as Faellian laughed at something Ethred had said, slapping the table. The glass wobbled but didn't fall, and Nova briefly contemplated knocking it again so it splashed on her lap. It wouldn't mean she could leave, of course, but it might get the baron to keep his hands to himself. It had been sitting in front of her all evening, in a laughable attempt at making it look like Harkenn held her in any esteem whatsoever, but she knew well enough that if she did touch anything she would be lashed and spend the night in her cage.
"Ah, but on a serious note, Faellian," Ethred said, sobering. He stared at the lord across the table over his goblet, and the glare he received in return was only half in jest.
"Go on, Ethred," Faellian said, eyes unwaveringly cold even as he smiled. "What could be so very serious?"
"Eril is...slipping," Ethred said carefully. "Making mistakes. Priests aren't being directed efficiently. Twice this week death urns have been smuggled from the temple itself without anyone noticing."
"And the temple authority has taken no measure to make up for the...slipping?" Faellian asked. His words were also careful. "Can the temple authority say for certain that the cause is Eril's inefficiency, not the incompetence of those on duty at the time?"
"I have a copy of the rotation of duty," Ethred said. His hand finally left Nova's leg as he turned and beckoned to an acolyte standing in the corner of the room guarding a bag, half-shrouded in darkness. The boy, small and pale, seemed to struggle with the weight of it.
"Take yourself to the library, Silas," the baron muttered, rifling through the documents in the bag without looking at the boy. "This isn't your business."
If the boy's aura hadn't given off such a strong flash of fear, Nova wouldn't have looked twice at him as he darted from the room. She followed him out with her eyes, trying to find a reason for him to fear having to leave and seeing nothing. She looked to the baron. Ethred was an imposing man, with a sharp face and square jaw and eyes that didn't make it hard to intimidate people with a glance alone. Yet he was not looking at Silas, intent on finding his paperwork, and Nova saw nothing suspicious in a quick scan of the baron's aura; only the faint whiff of something that indicated he wasn't done bothering her.
"Well," Faellian said, jolting her from her thoughts. "This does seem a little...haphazard."
He scanned the parchment again and then put it down. Without looking at Ethred, he said, "Does no one check it before it is put into use?"
"His clerk," Ethred said, "But his clerk's comments result in punishment, so he sends it out as Eril dictates."
Faellian gave him a bland smile. "Then I will talk to Eril about the matter. Is there anything else you wish to bring to my attention?"
Ethred paused.
"I haven't noticed any difference in Eril's character, personally," the lord said lightly, "But when he ceases to be the best authority in Shadow's Reach in matters of state finances, we can talk again on this subject."
The only indication of Ethred's irritation was a small twitch at the side of his mouth. It was well-known that Ethred had been coveting Eril's seat at the high table for a long time, but even Nova was surprised that he had the brass neck to try and convince Faellian to let him have it, however roundabout his methods.
The baron held his hands up in surrender with a small chuckle. "I merely wished to inform you of the issue. It wouldn't do to have the dead go missing because of lax security."
"It certainly wouldn't," Faellian agreed. The sharp click of his empty goblet on the table sent a message meant for Ethred alone. "I would hope the noble House of Orthan will therefore hasten to address the matter, instead of blindly following the instructions of an authority they believe to be making...unwise choices."
A short silence stretched throughout the room. The next word was from Faellian, directed at Nova.
"Leave."
She got up, only too glad to get out. It was cold in Faellian's study; neither man had asked for the fire to be lit, and Ethred would be too proud to do so after the previous exchange. Faellian, she knew, did not feel cold or warmth like regular people and was perfectly comfortable; he was clearly uninclined to see to the comfort of this particular guest.
Two guards, one in Faellian's livery and one in Ethred's, stood outside the door. Neither gave any indication that they had seen her. She walked to the end of the corridor and scanned the foyer at the bottom of the stairs. Another guard with a purple tabard guarded the entrance to the courtyard. She felt his eyes on her as she descended.
The kitchen was quiet when she entered. Most of the staff had the afternoon off for market day, and those who didn't were directly involved in serving the baron and Faellian. Grace was the only servant in view. The girl was sat by the empty fireplace with a bucket between her knees, scrubbing a shirt against a washboard. Even though the kitchen was chilly, she was sweating.
Nova hesitated, but the rattle of her chains gave her away when she came to a stop. Grace turned and gave her a blinding smile that was hard to look away from.
"Nova," she said. "I thought you would be gone longer."
Nova shook her head, relieved to be released from the girl's gaze as she turned back around. For a long moment she observed Grace from behind, trying to read her, but her aura was calmer than it had been in days. It certainly didn't mirror the twisting anxiety Nova was feeling. Briefly she wished she was back in the study, just so she didn't feel like a shadeling was trying to gnaw through her insides.
"Are you okay?" Grace asked, frowning over her shoulder when Nova didn't sit down.
"Been sitting all morning, I want to stretch my legs," Nova lied. There was nothing more she wanted to do than throw herself down by the embers on the hearth and stoke it to a blaze.
She continued to stare at the back of Grace's head. It had been a quick thing to develop, this awkwardness. She was so unused to servants continuing to talk to her even after they saw what kind of trouble she could get them into that Grace's friendliness was unnerving. Suddenly it seemed to matter what she said in conversations, where it never had before. The otherworlder had latched onto her for some unfathomable reason and she wasn't sure how, why, or what she was meant to do about it.
She frowned. Maybe she was just overthinking the whole situation.
Yet she felt oddly wooden as she stepped over and sat beside Grace on the bench, and it didn't help that Grace was feeling uncharacteristically talkative.
"Jan says that I can have the afternoon off tomorrow," she said, the moment Nova sat down. "Since I stayed today. Not as long, mind, since I haven't worked here for very long, but I was thinking of going to see Jordan." She paused. "Do you think that man in the hood will take me if I ask?"
"I don't know," Nova said. "He might, if you catch him in a good mood."
"Is that likely?"
Nova gave her a frank look. "Not particularly." She looked down, picking at a loose thread in her shift. "He'll have been taken to an inn called the Demon's Brew. Even if Yddris can't take you, you'll be able to get directions. Everybody knows it."
"Oh, good," Grace said. "How did you know? Did you ask him?"
Nova paused, and then said, "Yes."
Grace looked reassured, and Nova felt a pang of guilt. She knew why Jordan had been taken to the Demon's Brew because there was only ever one reason Yddris took anyone there. She didn't have the heart to start that conversation with Grace, though, and so she didn't elaborate.
Grace held up the shirt she had been scrubbing at, clicking her teeth and frowning at a stubborn stain on the collar before dumping it back in the bucket. Nova watched her work out of the corner of her eye. Her aura hadn't been quite as calm as Nova had thought it was at first glance; when she watched it, flashes of suppressed emotion scattered across it before dissipating. It soon became clear that her scrutiny didn't go unnoticed, either; Grace's aura warmed slightly, just before she looked up and met Nova's eye.
Nova was the first to look away, and she hated herself for it. It showed weakness to look away first, and that weakness was often the difference between someone walking all over her or leaving her alone. As she glanced away she saw movement, and found Ethred's acolyte hovering in the kitchen doorway, staring at them.
"What do you want?" she snapped, still annoyed at herself. Silas jumped even though he had been looking straight at her when she spoke.
"Nothing," he said, unconvincingly. "I came for water."
"Barrel's there," Nova muttered, turning away. She didn't believe him for a minute, but if he was spying on something for Ethred she was happy to let him. Faellian and Ethred could start a fight to the death and she'd vote for both sides to lose.
Indeed, Silas seemed to be looking for something as he came inside, though what he expected to find in the kitchen she didn't know or care to guess. Grace was frowning at her, and she was too busy trying to avoid the look than pay any further attention to the acolyte.
"Have I done something to upset you, Nova?" she asked. "You seem angry with me."
"No," Nova muttered. "I just spent my morning with Lord Harkenn and an Orthanian baron, that's all."
"Ethred seemed alright to me," Grace said.
"He's alright until he has his hand up your skirts."
Grace paused. "Oh, right. I see."
An awkward silence followed. The fear that Grace had been suppressing was now visible on her face as well as her aura. Nova glanced over at the water barrel while the girl was thinking and found that Silas wasn't there anymore, if he ever had been.
"Who else stayed behind today?" she asked Grace.
"Oh." Grace seemed grateful for the distraction. "Just a few of the girls. Marie, Jaenie, Helta. Brillan's still here. Reuben from the stables is coming back early today. Oh, and Sebastien is here too. He's in the pantry."
Nova nodded. There was no one particularly noteworthy in that line-up aside from Brillan, and Brillan showed up in the kitchens as infrequently as he could manage it. Silas was probably looking to steal food, then, or something of the sort. It was a little disappointing that he wasn't doing anything that would cause Faellian a great deal of difficulty, but disappointment in that respect was an old friend of hers.
She was suddenly restless, uncomfortable in the quiet that had fallen between her and Grace. The only sound was the slopping of washing water and the light rustle of Grace's skirts as she went to peg clean clothes to the laundry lines.
"Nova?"
Grace's voice was so soft that Nova nearly missed it, but at that moment the trained calm that had taken over Grace's aura seemed to crack. Nova withdrew from it instinctively, and was alarmed to see fresh tears on Grace's face when she turned around. She cast around, but the kitchen was empty and she was alone with Grace and her emotions. It was not quite the break she had pictured when longing to get away from Faellian's dining table.
"Why are you crying?" she asked bluntly.
Grace took a moment to compose herself, wiping her eyes with hands raw from chapping. "If I go and see Jordan tomorrow.... What if he...what if something happened?"
Nova was so relieved that it wasn't her fault she only stopped herself laughing at the last second. "Do you mean magic?"
Grace nodded. "I keep overhearing the other girls talking about it. How Yddris only takes people with him if they're...if they have magic. And I know they're talking about Jordan because they go quiet when they see me."
Nova blinked. "And...that's made you cry?"
"Well...no," Grace admitted, sniffing hard, "I hear other things, too. Not about Jordan, but about...people with magic. Horrible stuff, really horrible stuff. And if it's true, then I can't bear the thought of Jordan ending up with them. And if it's not true, then I know he's going to have a really hard time."
"Most of it isn't true," Nova said, in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. "People make up rumours about Unspoken all the time."
"What about...."
Nova didn't hear the rest of the question. A strangled scream reached them through the pantry door, which Nova only realised then was ajar. Grace dropped the shirt she was straightening out with a squeak of fright. Before either of them could react, another shrill cry came through the door.
"What was that?" Grace breathed, edging around the fireplace to peer at the door. Nova got to her feet.
"What was Sebastien meant to be doing in there?"
"Raking out a nest of shadelings, whatever they are. That's what he said he was going to do and I haven't seen him come out..."
The girl stepped towards the door, and Nova reluctantly followed as her curiosity got the better of her. Shadelings didn't scream like that, and she hadn't seen where Silas had gone. She stood at Grace's shoulder, squinting into the gloom as she pushed the door open.
"Hello?" Grace called, with no response. "Sebastien, is that you?"
The pantry for the castle was expansive, consisting of multiple rooms with a common hallway between them. There was a candle burning in an alcove on one of the shelves, illuminating the room and giving it a faint smell of singed herbs from the bunches hanging on the rafters. Jars and pots and huge brass pans glinted at them from the shelves, the reflections warping as they stepped inside. There was no one there.
"We should go and get Brillan," Nova said.
"Don't be silly, we don't know what happened yet. Sebastien plays stupid jokes all the time."
"Does he scream like he's dying during those jokes?" Nova countered.
Grace frowned at her but kept walking, taking the candle out of its alcove and holding it ahead of her. Nova's back ached in anticipation of her punishment for not keeping her nose out of it, but she didn't mention Brillan again. Grace's stubbornness was fast becoming a subject of fascination for her.
Something gleamed on the floor as Grace stepped through the doorway to the next pantry room, and Nova was just leaning down to get a better look when Grace gasped and dropped the candle into a cleaning pail on the floor, putting it out with a hiss and plunging them into darkness. Grace collided with her as she backed up, before the girl turned around and pushed Nova back out of the pantry. Nova snarled as the girl used one of the stumps of her wings as a handhold, but Grace paid no attention; her eyes had a feverish glitter to them when they got back out into the light.
"Sebastien and that boy are in there. There's so much blood," she whispered. "Oh my god, Nova, I think they're dead."
"What?"
"On the floor," Grace whimpered, "On the floor, they were on the floor and there was blood all over them."
Nova cocked her head. "Both of them?"
But Grace wasn't listening; after another moment in which she frantically scanned the room, she picked up her skirts and dashed out, calling for Brillan at the top of her lungs. Nova turned back to stare at the pantry door. She had taken one step towards it when the butler came running, and a moment later Faellian's voice boomed across the foyer.
"What in the name of Nict is all this racket about, you stupid wretch!" he bellowed, and judging by the shriek of fear that followed Nova gathered that he had collared Grace as he came down the stairs.
"Where are they?" Brillan demanded. Before Nova could answer, the high lord himself had stalked into the kitchen hauling Grace by her hair behind him. He wrenched her forward and let go. She stumbled, but admirably managed to keep her balance.
"My Lord," Brillan said, stepping between them as Faellian began to pull his belt off, "She was alerting me to an emergency."
"Emergency?" Faellian snapped, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height. "It had better be something good."
"I second that," Ethred said, arriving at that moment. He stepped into the kitchen, nostrils flaring. "What is going on?"
Brillan had already entered the pantry. Faellian was staring at Grace and Nova in turn, suspicion rife in his aura and intensifying as Brillan emerged again, carrying Silas in his arms. He set the boy down on the bench Nova had previously vacated. Silas was bloodied, crimson smears streaking his pale face and a patch of darkness spreading from a tear in his acolyte's robe. His eyes were closed and breathing laboured, but he was conscious; it appeared to Nova that he was trying hard not to be.
"What is the meaning of this?" Baron Ethred hissed, stepping forward and leaning over the boy, who whimpered. "Is this some kind of joke, Faellian?"
But Brillan was now dragging Sebastien into the light. It was very clear that Sebastien was near death; foam gathered at the corners of his mouth, and Brillan was struggling to keep hold of him during the periodic convulsions rocking the man's body. Nova recognised him as one of the senior housekeeping staff, though she had only known him by sight. Shreds of fabric and straw clung to his trousers from the shadeling nest he had been clearing out.
"I would also like to know," Faellian muttered, throwing the baron a dirty look and stepping forward to inspect Sebastian. The servant's dark hair was matted with sweat. Blood bloomed on his shirt in multiple places. The lord whirled on Nova. "What did you see?"
"Silas came in for a drink, my lord," Nova said. Her voice shook outside of her control, but she swallowed and persisted and kept her eyes from the injured. "I directed him to the water barrel. Grace and I talked. When I next looked round, he was gone, but I thought nothing of it until I heard screams."
"Call the guards." Faellian didn't take his eyes from her as he spoke to Brillan. "Have them search the grounds for Devils. And send for a physician."
"Devils?" Ethred scoffed. "I hardly think the Devils would bother with a kitchen hand and an acolyte, Faellian. It was one of these two, it had to be."
Nova shot the baron a chilly glance and Grace made a strange noise in her throat.
"You sent him to the library, baron," Nova said. "Do you not think it strange he didn't stay there? The clerks have water in the offices."
Ethred scoffed and matched her glare. "Are you suggesting that Silas did it?"
Nova shook her head. "I just think it's strange. Silas is clearly better off which, being the weaker of the two, one might expect him to be the one near death."
"And you think he attacked himself to make it look more convincing?" Ethred sneered, "Don't be a fool." He glanced at Faellian. "Perhaps it would be wise to apprehend them both."
Nova gave him a bored stare and held up her chained hands. He flushed lightly.
"I believe this may be the conclusion to our meeting, Ethred," Faellian said, sweeping the whole room with his gaze and then fixing it on Grace, who shrank under it. "I wish to speak with these two alone."