Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1 - Chapter 43: Chapter 43

It had been a relief to get away from the other apprentices, but standing next to Grace and Nova just made him feel like he was intruding on something. Jordan stared deep into the Night Fire, catching familiar traces of his tutor's magic in the heat blazing off it, and tried to ignore the chaos of the celebrations behind him. Even with Yddris's restrictions in place, the sheer volume of life in such a small space, which included a good three dozen Unspoken, was making his head hurt.
He glanced at his sister. She had small frown lines between her brows and had edged closer to Nova; as for the Angel, her face betrayed nothing at all. Even after talking to her alone, he couldn't understand what Grace saw that he didn't. His sister was her polar opposite in almost every way, and previous girlfriends of Grace's that he'd met had been nothing like the Angel, either – and he wasn't sure that was a good thing.
He took a sip of wine. It was sweet and tinged with cloves, and left him with a gentle, natural warmth curling in his belly. He wasn't cold, because his magic never allowed him to be cold, and sometimes it disturbed him; the crackling heat kept the feeling in his limbs even as he saw dozens of people around him shivering and blowing into their hands.
He sensed Yddris come up behind him a split second before he spoke.
"Get yourself something to eat, won't you?" The Unspoken pressed three small bronze coins into his palm. "There's no food in the house and we don't need you collapsing."
"Again," Jordan muttered, and pocketed the coins. "Thanks."
"Get Koen to point something out that won't have you in the privy for the next few days," Yddris said as he turned away, and a moment later the crowd had swallowed him.
"Shouldn't he be watching you closer?" Grace said, frowning at the spot where his tutor had vanished. "After what happened?"
"Nobody will try anything when it's this busy," Jordan said, repeating Nika's assurances from that morning. The possibility had also crossed his mind. He didn't want to run into Arlen here. "I'm under strict instructions to stay with the crowds, and apprentices are watched really closely anyway. See?"
He nodded his head towards a nearby stall which was setting up. An Unspoken stood watch nearby.
"In case we set stuff on fire, I'm guessing," he muttered. Not that he had it in him; he was still exhausted from the events of the past few days, and a festival with a high risk of demon appearances was the last place he wanted to be as it was.
"That's alright, then," Grace said, not sounding like it was alright but resigned to it. "What are the other apprentices like?"
"You met Koen already," Jordan said. "Astra seems nice."
"A girl?"
"Yeah."
"I was starting to think there weren't any female Unspoken."
"There aren't that many," Jordan said. "I guess they're less likely to get themselves in shitty situations that trigger a manifestation." He shrugged. "I don't know about Oloe. He doesn't speak."
"By choice, or...?"
"Didn't ask," Jordan said. "Seemed inappropriate."
"Oh, yeah. I suppose." Grace frowned.
"If you don't want to be blessing people all evening, I suggest you wear your hood," Nova said suddenly. "People are starting to notice you."
Jordan grimaced as Grace cursed and threw up the hood of her cloak. He looked around and found that they were being watched from all corners of the plaza.
"Stay near Harkenn," he suggested. "I don't think people have the balls to get anywhere near him."
Grace scowled at him. "You're spending too much time with Yddris."
Jordan snorted. "Couldn't agree more."
The Angel was already heading in that direction, parting the crowd like a knife through butter. He noticed for the first time that her feet were bare despite the gown she was wearing, and winced.
"Are you coming?" Grace said.
"I'll catch up with you later," Jordan said, pulling her into a hug. "When Yddris says there's no food, he probably means there's absolutely nothing. Be careful, alright?"
"I'd better see you again before the festival ends," Grace said in a warning tone, "Or you'll be in trouble, Joe."
She hurried off after Nova, leaving Jordan beside the fire. He had no idea how he was going to find Koen in this crowd; his abilities had improved and he was much better at detecting when someone was nearby, but he hadn't been able to distinguish anyone except Yddris.
He began wandering through the crowd. The press of people proved no obstacle when one was wearing the cloak of an Unspoken, and he reached the other side without incident, and also without finding Koen. He couldn't see Grace anymore, though Lord Harkenn was visible atop his mount. He hoped she took his advice. He didn't trust Harkenn any further than he could throw him, but nobody would try anything funny with a member of his entourage.
He hoped.
He tried not to look too paranoid as he kept moving, but despite his assurances to Grace he was scared that one of them would run into a Devil. If Yddris had thought that was a genuine threat, the Unspoken probably would have stayed closer, and he had to take that as encouragement. It didn't change the fact that he was in a world he barely knew, seeing their traditions for the first time, wearing the uniform of a guild that was respected and reviled in equal measure. If he thought about it too hard he was going to make himself puke.
Someone grabbed his hand from behind, making him jump and whirl, other hand flying to the knife at his hip. He breathed a long sigh of relief when he recognised Laurel.
"Don't do that," he said, still trying to catch his breath as she stepped back, grinning.
"I knew it was you," she said. "Would've been embarrassing if it hadn't been."
The swelling had gone down around her eyes, but there was still heavy bruising all over her face. His own injuries had been paining him all day, but at the sight of her it didn't seem as bad anymore.
"I'm fine," she said, as if sensing the reason for his hesitation. "Nothing's broken."
"What about you?" Killian appeared behind his sister, huge hand on her shoulder. His face was no less friendly than it had ever been, even though Jordan felt he didn't deserve it. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he lied. Before they cottoned on, he said, "Yddris has no food. Any recommendations for something that won't turn me inside out?"
"Laurel will see you right," Killian said, clapping his sister gently on the back, "Won't you? I gotta help Pa with the drinks."
"We have a stall," Laurel said, as Killian left. "Mead sells really well at the festivals."
"I bet it does." The air around them reeked of booze already. "Where are you taking me, then?"
"There's a really nice little place down here," Laurel said, brightening and taking him by the hand. Jordan's throat closed; people watched them as Laurel tugged him down the next street. He hadn't thought to ask anyone about how Unspoken conducted relationships – or if they ever did – but by the way everyone was staring, he guessed it was in private or not at all.
It wasn't even a relationship.
He didn't think, anyway.
His heart fell into his stomach when he saw the shopfront Laurel was gunning for; a small café-like place, set in the centre of the main street into the plaza. Its windows were hung with velvet drapes, and through the windows he saw lots of tables, all of which were occupied by couples.
"I...uh..." he began, but they were already inside. Somehow having his face hidden made him feel even more exposed under the glittering chandelier. He didn't imagine many Unspoken had dinner dates. As Laurel dragged him over to a free table, he said in a low voice, "I don't think I have the money for this."
"Pa knows the owner," Laurel said. "Don't worry about it. All the food's good, what do you want?" Jordan glanced over at the counter, and scowled.
"I can't read the menu."
"Oh yeah," Laurel said. Then she brightened. "Can I surprise you?"
"Go on, then." He sat back, resigned to the fact that this was happening and half-wishing he'd bumped into Koen. The café was cosy and not oppressively busy, a bubble of calm against the press of bodies outside the window. He tried to ignore the staring of other customers and the niggling worry that someone he knew would pass outside and see the situation he'd ended up in. He didn't want to imagine how much Grace would tease him for it.
Laurel returned a few moments later with two frothing mugs of ale. She slid into the seat opposite.
"So," she said, a tiny smile playing about her lips.
Jordan waited, more than a little bit alarmed by the turn of events. He took a sip of ale, which was honey-sweet and warming. His head was already buzzing from the apple wine, and slowly he felt his muscles relaxing.
"When I said food, I was sort of expecting a stall," he murmured, glancing across the table at his companion and then quickly down at his drink again.
"That's no fun," Laurel countered. Her eyes sparkled at him over her drink, and Jordan fidgeted. She noticed. "We can go to a stall if you want. I just thought it'd be nice to talk."
"No, no, it's not that. I just.... Sorry," he finished lamely. "Talking is nice."
Jordan had experienced countless moments of doubt in his life, but it had been a while since he'd hated himself quite this much. He stopped talking, taking another drink instead, and was grateful when he saw a barmaid approaching their table.
The food was fragrant and warm; meat that tasted like chicken, in a thick broth with vegetables and spices. A thick wedge of bread, still warm from the oven, was placed on the table between them, twisted through with herbs and salt. His stomach growled.
"Nika's had me on medical slops for the last few days," he groaned. "This smells amazing."
Laurel laughed. "What's in medical slops?"
"I don't think even Nika knows," Jordan muttered. He dug in, and almost forgot the awkwardness and the staring as the food hit his tongue. "Christ, that's good."
They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments and Jordan came close to something that could have been called content, until he realised how close their hands were to touching and felt the crushing weight of the whole café's attention on his back.
"I'm guessing this isn't a common sight," he said under his breath to Laurel, who couldn't have looked less bothered by the attention. She glanced up, and then around the room in faint surprise.
"Oh, they're just nosy," she said, settling back to her meal. "No, it's not common, but only because so many people get jumpy and superstitious about magic. Some of the most interesting conversations I've ever had are with Unspoken. The job is so fascinating and varied. It's certainly not Unspoken who make it awkward."
Feeling a bit brighter, Jordan said, "I didn't think there were so many of us."
Laurel smiled. "Yddris will probably take you to the Guildtown sometime. I bet you'll be even more surprised then."
Jordan released an odd noise that stopped just short of a laugh.
"From what I've heard," Laurel continued, doing him the courtesy of pretending she hadn't heard it, "it's like home. The Guild, I mean. Even Yddris sings its praises, and he doesn't praise much."
"Or sing, I hope," Jordan said, trying to imagine his tutor's gravelly smoker's voice grinding out a tune. Laurel spit some soup back into her bowl and covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'd like to present my new song, cow run over repeatedly by a wagon."
"Jordan!" Laurel slapped his arm even as she laughed. "That's harsh."
Encouraged by the ale and Laurel's amusement, Jordan launched into an impression that had them both in fits before he'd reached the second line.
He didn't know whether it was the feverish atmosphere of the festival, or the simple pleasure of company that didn't judge him for who he was, but the rest of the evening passed in a blur. Laurel led him through the festival market by the hand; it stretched all through the quarter. He wanted to explore all of it, but was tempered by the idea of straying too far from Yddris.
There was still plenty to look at; having not had to pay for dinner, Jordan used his money to buy them both bowls of hot spiced fruit with cream, and Laurel bought a bag of roasted nuts coated with burnt sugar and salt. Jordan had been reluctant to leave Ren at Yddris's house for the festival, but now was sure he would have lost her in the melee if she'd strayed away from him. He pocketed a few of the nuts to take back to her as an apology.
They watched from a distance a puppet show put on for the children, and then a troupe of Orthanian acolytes who had formed their own impromptu performance group, delighting the crowds with impressive acrobatics. Jordan even forgot to be self-conscious about his cloak after his third tumbler of ale.
Laurel was now leading him towards a tavern. He didn't know how far they'd strayed from the plaza, and the happy fog in his brain didn't allow him to care. The taproom was warm and busy, and Kedrick clearly knew the owner, since he saw no money change hands when Laurel asked for a room.
"Your dad knows everyone," he said, faintly accusing, as Laurel accepted a key and headed for the stairs, all without letting go of his hand.
"He knows everyone who owns a bar," Laurel corrected him. Her own words were slurring. She'd had more to drink than he had. "Gotta make friends and know your rivals like friends, too."
They entered a dark corridor. Someone was burning incense in one of the rooms, and a few doors just barely shielded against muffled noise from inside.
Jordan couldn't get his drink-addled mind to connect the dots before Laurel had the door locked behind them.
"Laurel, I..." he began, shaken out of his daze by a flash of panic. "I don't know..."
"You haven't taken any oaths yet," she said, and he was grateful she stayed at a respectful distance. "No one can take any issue with it."
He blinked, trying to order his thoughts. "There's something in the oaths about...?"
"Only about...." She gestured at the room. "So that nobody who doesn't know you and who you don't trust implicitly sees...you. Without your cloak." Her eyes flicked to a random point on the wall. "I did check."
"With Yddris?"
"Yes."
"Ew."
Something else pushed through the haze as she stepped closer and his eyes fell on the bruising around her face. Fear, and a memory of her screaming in the warehouse that was so strong it almost felt like he was back there again. Before he even registered it he had extracted himself, angled towards the door, and he hated himself for the hurt on her face.
"I don't think this is a good idea," he said.
"Why not?"
"It's not that I don't want to," he said quickly, "I just... those men who took us. I don't...I don't think they're done with me. And...."
"What do you mean, not done with you?" Laurel said, and the concern was almost worse than the hurt. "Have you told Yddris?"
"Yddris knows." Not because Jordan had told him, but Laurel didn't need to know that. "Listen, I just don't want to give them more reason to think they should target you to get to me." He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "They're already threatening my sister."
"Jordan..."
"I'm sorry."
She stared at him for a moment, and then said, "Okay."
He almost wanted her to get angry with him, and for a moment he resented her for the understanding on her face. He certainly resented himself for ruining things, though he wasn't sure where along the line he could have turned things around. Arlen had found him, not the other way around, and from there he'd had no control over it.
"Yddris will help you sort it out," Laurel said, taking his hand and ignoring his feeble attempts at pulling away. "I trust him. You should trust him more."
Jordan blinked. "I do."
"He's just a little rough around the edges," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "But he cares. He saved my life once." She hitched her skirts up to show a thick silver scar which ran diagonally from her navel to her knee along one thigh. "And his tutor Thirris delivered me."
"His tutor?" Jordan repeated stupidly. It was hard to imagine Yddris having a teacher.
"Mhm. He lives in the Guildtown now. He retired two years ago." Her fingers squeezed his. "I haven't seen the Night Fire properly yet. Wanna come?"
The moment was gone, but he still mourned it even as he nodded. He tempered it with the thought that he didn't want to put down too many roots in Nictaven; he wanted to go home, and nothing here could come with him if he did, and with that in his mind the regret was soothed.
As if she guessed his thoughts, Laurel repeated, "Yddris will help. And when it's sorted..."
She trailed off pointedly, and though they said nothing more on the matter, Jordan was still glowing inside when they reached the plaza again.
The festival hadn't diminished any; in fact, it seemed as though even more people had joined the crowd around the fire, making it into a heaving crush of life. Including – and Jordan cursed his timing – Koen.
"Where've you been?" the other apprentice asked. He was with another of the apprentices. When they said nothing, it became apparent it was Oloe. "Looked for you all over. Have you eaten?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing," Jordan replied, unable to keep the testiness completely out of his voice. "Yes, we've eaten."
"Well met," Koen said to Laurel, who ducked a playful curtsey. Koen returned a melodramatic bow, and then turned back to Jordan. "Nika's looking for you."
"He is? Why?"
"Kiel knows." Koen shrugged. "Didn't sound bad, though. Probably just doesn't trust Yddris to keep an eye on you."
"Where is he?"
Koen scanned the crowd, and then pointed to the far side of the plaza. Jordan envied him the convenience.
"You go," Laurel said, smiling, when he turned to her. "Killian's going to start feeling neglected soon."
"Yeah," he said vaguely.
"Tonight was really nice," she said, when he hesitated. "We should do it again sometime."
He smiled, almost without thinking. "I'd like that."