Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1 - Chapter 63: Chapter 63

"You still with me?"
Hap glanced over his shoulder, and Jordan scowled back. His face was plastered with sweat, and his shoulders ached under the weight of their shopping. Jordan was carrying almost all of a supply run for eight Unspoken, not including visitors, and the only thing he'd gained from the trip was an accurate knowledge of how much food Unspoken could get through. He carried two bulging bags of vegetables, herbs, bread and grain. A sizeable wheel of cheese nestled in one, the straw that broke the camel's back – or the cheese that pulled his arm out of its socket. Every time he readjusted his grip he felt his joints groan.
"He's barely still with the living." Someone grabbed one of the bags from behind, and the lifted weight almost tipped him over. "I'll carry this one, boy."
"Well met, Yddris," Hap said. "He finally let you go, then?"
"Not for long." Jordan's tutor drew alongside them, the bag in one hand, held as casually as if it weighed nothing. Jordan's scowl deepened. "Would've been out sooner, but I got held up by a Fleshmonger terrorising some old people."
"Don't see them very often," Hap said. "Old people, I mean."
Yddris snorted, but all Jordan's blood had drained into his feet. He did much better when he wasn't reminded that the entirety of Nictaven was a death trap.
"Respect the elders, boy," Yddris said, "The luckiest, fastest and smartest in society. Worthy of respect in all events. Everyone else follows the rules and cop it for the trouble."
"Are you encouraging your apprentice to break rules, Yddris?" Hap said. "I'm shocked at you."
They began to walk again, Jordan trying hard to look like the bag he was still carrying wasn't causing him any more trouble than it was Yddris. He thought the panting might have given him away.
"It's a sound strategy," Yddris said. "As long as you break the right ones. Speaking of rules," Jordan tensed at the change of tone, "what I've really been sent out for is you, boy. Harkenn wants a word."
"Fuck." The last thing Jordan needed after the last few days was a grilling from the Lord of the Reach. He suspected he knew what it was; it would either be about Grace, or it would be about his progress, and neither were things he wanted to discuss with Harkenn. He didn't need to be a genius to work out that he hadn't got very far with his training by the usual standards, and that constantly butting heads with Yddris wasn't going to help.
"Fuck indeed," Yddris muttered. "We'll drop this lot off on the way there."
Jordan looked sidelong at his tutor. He spent approximately half his time cursing the impenetrable nature of an Unspoken's hood and the other half being grateful for it. At that moment, he would have given a limb to see his tutor's face and what expression was on it.
He was at least glad of the excuse not to enter the house when they dropped off the supplies. He didn't want to run into Astra again; she'd spooked him in some inexplicable way and he'd have been quite happy to avoid her indefinitely. Not only that, but the death hung over the house like a stormcloud, the air heavy with grief. He didn't think it a coincidence that sleep had been hard to come by in recent days. He wondered if it was disrespectful to think these things, but Yddris seemed just as eager to get away, if not more so.
"Come on," he said, all but frogmarching him back the way they'd come. His grip on Jordan's arm hurt and it was all Jordan could do not to trip over his own feet; he didn't even have the wits to say something when he realised Yddris wasn't taking him to the castle gate, but along the castle wall in the other direction, only stopping when they were out of sight of the guard.
"What are you doing?" Jordan gasped, and grunted as Yddris pushed him back against the wall. Something had been off when he'd first arrived, but Jordan was still left reeling by the sea change in mood.
"Who've you squealed to?" Yddris growled.
"Wh...huh?"
Yddris bunched a fist in the front of his cloak and shook him so hard his teeth clicked together. "Who did you tell?"
There was a squeak and a flurry of movement, and Yddris's hand was gone. Jordan gasped, rubbing at his shoulders where they'd hit the wall, and looked up to find his tutor trying to detach Ren's jaws from around his thumb. He tried to pick her off with his other hand and came up against her claws. All at once, his anger seemed to leave him, and he let out a long sigh.
"I deserved that," he muttered, avoiding Jordan's eye, "Get her off me, boy, would you?"
Jordan didn't move. He felt sick. "Not until you tell me what the fuck you're on about."
This, at least, prompted his tutor to look straight at him. "It wasn't you, was it?"
"What wasn't me?" Jordan cried.
"He knows," Yddris said, as Jordan gently coaxed Ren's teeth apart and bundled her onto his shoulder. She squatted there with her fur on end, quietly growling and resisting his efforts to poke her back into his hood. "Someone's told Harkenn you were scouted by a Devil."
If the floor had opened underneath his feet without warning, Jordan's heart couldn't have dropped faster.
"I'm fucked, aren't I?" he said, with a mouth that felt like it was full of cotton wool. Yddris sighed and rubbed the back of his head wearily.
"Not as fucked if you would be if you'd accepted him already," he said, and then sharper, "You haven't accepted him, have you?"
"No," Jordan said quickly. He hesitated, and then blurted out, "But he keeps sending me on errands. I got a note this morning. I don't know what it says, exactly. Something to do with a leg."
"A leg?"
Jordan glanced around and dropped his voice to a whisper, though if anyone was listening, he was already screwed enough. "He took a crossbow bolt through the leg on one of his jobs." Though it was a relief to be able to tell someone, Jordan wasn't sure how good an idea it was to tell him what job. He didn't know what would happen to Marick's dubious protection if he got Arlen arrested.
"Serves him fucking right," Yddris growled. "Whatever it is, you've got bigger things to worry about right now."
"I suppose I have."
Jordan allowed Yddris to lead him to the gate, battling the urge to run. He had no chance of getting very far, and besides, where would he go? He only wanted to disperse the sinking feeling in his gut that he was walking straight into something awful.
"You're absolutely sure you haven't told anyone, boy?" Yddris said once they were past the guards. As usual, no one in the courtyard would draw near enough to hear their conversation, but even so Jordan dropped his volume even lower.
"No. The only people who know are you and a few Devils. And Arlen's brother." Somehow he didn't think Darin would ever admit to knowing the Devils existed, let alone that he had suspicious knowledge of who they were hiring.
"And now Harkenn," Yddris said. "Nice to see we have no leads on who it was. Harkenn won't tell me where he got it from, and I could hardly tell him I already knew."
They were provided no escort to the study. Yddris knocked while Jordan hovered behind, trying to wrestle his nerves under control so he wouldn't be sick the minute he opened his mouth. He was sure he imagined the judgemental looks of the guards posted at either side of the door.
Harkenn paced in front of the fire when they entered, casting restless shadows across the room. Jordan couldn't look at him straight-on. He was definitely imagining that the lord had grown taller, but in that moment it felt like there was nothing else in the room.
"Sit," Lord Harkenn barked, pointing at the chair opposite his at the desk. Jordan sat down. Harkenn didn't join him, but remained standing, glaring at him from the hearth. "The thing to do," he hissed, after allowing Jordan to sweat for the longest five seconds of his life, "when you are approached by a wanted criminal is to report it to me!"
Jordan flinched and squeezed his eyes tight shut. His ears rang, and not just from the lord's volume; to his horror, he realised he was easily in danger of fainting.
The lord stalked over and threw himself in the chair opposite. "Anything to say for yourself, boy?" When Jordan couldn't force his mouth to work – even if he could remember how to speak – Harkenn barked a bitter laugh. "Should have seen this coming, I suppose. What did they promise you, boy? Money? Freedom? That would be stupid. You have those already."
"It was threats, my Lord," Jordan said, willing his voice not to crack. "Against my sister."
He knew Harkenn would laugh him out of the door if he admitted that Marick had promised him a way home, but he also knew that he would have bailed a long time ago if his sister hadn't been in danger from the whole thing.
Or from Jordan himself.
"I find your dedication to each other most unnerving," Harkenn muttered, but his voice had taken on a thoughtful tone. "I suppose I should have expected as much. You can behave yourself perfectly well until she's involved."
Jordan fidgeted. He sensed Yddris hovering behind them, but couldn't get a read on how his tutor felt. He wasn't going to get any help from that quarter, and he knew he deserved it. It didn't make him feel any less resentful.
"As Unspoken," Harkenn said, inspecting his fingernails, "you are part of a Guild which is contractually beholden to my household. Your first loyalty should be to me. You second should be to your teacher. And yet you've managed to place your sister leagues ahead of either, and it's going to get both of you into a world of trouble. For the first time in a century, we are seeing the loss of Unspoken, but it is not nearly that uncommon for members of your guild to see suspicious losses among family and friends. A careless slip of the tongue, a moment of vulnerability where someone sees your face, and you've put everyone you care for at risk. And that is without involving the Devils."
"You think I shouldn't see her?"
"It's too late for that now," Harkenn's voice sharpened again, "The time for that was when you manifested."
"I was scouted before then. They found me the day you released us." He could tell straight away that Harkenn hadn't known this, and pressed the advantage. "I've never gone to them. They always come to me. I'd rather I'd never met them, my Lord, but I can't get away."
Harkenn's gaze bored into his. "Then they want something from you," he murmured, "and it isn't the Gift that they want. It can't be." His eyes slid past Jordan to settle on Yddris, and something passed between them that Jordan didn't understand. "As far as I see it, we have two options. The first one is to keep you and your sister under lock and key until you take the black. That includes constant surveillance. You will not be allowed out by yourself or left alone for too long. You will even have a guard when you take a shit. You will report to me regularly on everything you have done, and Yddris or a member of the guild will verify whether you're telling the truth. I will also suspend your salary and give you a nice little break from work down in my dungeons for a week or two, or whenever I remember to let you out. Then, when you do take the black, you will not speak to your sister again on pain of her exile."
It sounded like hell. "A-and the other option?"
"We all pretend that nothing has changed and that I do not know about this little arrangement you have. However, that is conditional on accepting their offer and reporting to me on any plans of theirs that you overhear or become privy to."
Jordan blinked. "You want me to spy on them?"
"Yes." Harkenn's smile was bitingly cold. "And then when they have trained you appropriately, your job description may expand. With the appropriate pay packet, of course."
"Expand?" Jordan replied stupidly. "You don't mean..."
"I do mean," Harkenn interrupted. "Those are your options, as I'm sure you understand that the current situation cannot be allowed to continue. Choose wisely. I will be back in a few minutes for your answer. In the meantime, I suggest you consult with the very useful resource standing behind you."
Jordan turned to look, and only found Yddris there. He frowned as Harkenn stalked past them both and slammed the door behind him. For someone who didn't have the Gift, the lord was still very good at matching the atmosphere with his mood.
"It's not as incompatible as it sounds."
Jordan stood up to face his tutor properly. "You spy on the Devils?"
"Used to," Yddris said. The pain in his voice was uncomfortable to listen to. "And served in that capacity for longer than I care to admit. Until I manifested the Gift. It's the only way I escaped from them, but Harkenn continued to hire me for...similar services, until I took the black. A few years later, I took over as the Unspoken for the royal household." He sighed. "It's been a ride, certainly."
"You...." Jordan spluttered, lost for words, "You were a Devil? Before you got the Gift?"
"Not proud of it," Yddris growled. "Worst decision I ever made. But as far as marketable skills go, it was about all I had going for me."
Jordan swallowed, but there was lump the size of a small boulder in his throat. He had no reason to feel this betrayed by a man he clearly had never known at all.
"And you just let me think I was the only one," he said. "This whole time, and you went through the same thing. I thought you just knew about this stuff, you know, from your work or whatever, but you..."
"I tried to steer you right, boy. I gave you as much advice as it felt safe to offer," Yddris snapped. "But just because I've been in your shoes does not mean I have any more power over the problem than you do. Were you not fucking listening? The Gift got me out of it. It's the only reason I'm here. If they find out who I used to be, I'm just as stuck as you."
"Nika doesn't know." Jordan swallowed as he saw his guess hit the mark. "Nobody knows, do they?"
"Then you'll realise I don't say this lightly, boy." Yddris pinched his nose between his fingers. "They'll chase you if you run. You'll never be able to stop looking over your shoulder, always have to sleep with one eye open, because you already know too much to walk away. Taking the black may give you your way out, if you don't spend the next few years giving them a reason to pay you extra attention. Nothing will do that like avoiding them and trailing guards everywhere you go. It may keep you safe for a while, but they'll never leave you unless you don't give them a reason to watch your every move for an opening. Do you understand me?"
"But they know Harkenn's hired me to take your position when you retire."
"Things can be done about that. It's easier than you think to fake a convincing death or a reason for exile. As soon as you don't rely on me anymore, your options get infinitely wider."
"You think I should take the second offer."
"I think that the second option is the price for untangling yourself from this pile of demonshit you're in. Harkenn won't let go of anything he thinks the Devils want. The Devils will feel the same. And Kiel knows I'm sorry for it."
"And Grace? Can I protect her better that way?"
"You can keep her here, and she'll never be safer than she is within these walls. You won't be forbidden from seeing her." A pause. "And of course, you won't have to tell her what's happened."
For the hundredth time that day, Jordan was left utterly baffled. His situation was hardly sinking in; when had this got so bad? He remembered his first meeting with Arlen like it was yesterday. Never could he have imagined it would lead to him standing here and deciding between two terrible options. He wished, suddenly, that he'd tried harder to find a way home. That he'd handed Arlen's note in after all. Surely there was something he could have done to stop it.
Not that it was any good now.
"This isn't fair," he whispered, "It's not my fault. He wouldn't leave me alone."
"Life's a bitch. All it takes is a wrong turn, not saying the right thing soon enough, hesitating for too long. Now you're here, whoever's fault it is. No point whining about it," Yddris said, though not harshly. Jordan glared at him, but was brought up short; Yddris wasn't taking the piss, or even trying to make Jordan feel worse. He was simply stating facts.
"If I do this," Jordan murmured, "Stop pretending you haven't done it too. At least in private."
He thought Yddris understood. His tutor said, "I'll help you when I can, boy. Can't say fairer than that. As long as you do me the same courtesy, and never breathe a word of what I just said to anyone else, or expect me to break my oaths for you."
Jordan held out his arm, and they gripped elbows. It was strange how he suddenly felt closer to Yddris than he ever had before, despite finding out only five minutes earlier that even the limited knowledge he had of his tutor had all been a lie.
"I'm taking that to mean a decision is forthcoming," Harkenn said, stalking back into the room as they parted. Jordan swallowed, his throat suddenly bone dry. He didn't want this; he had never wanted any of this. And then he wondered if the Gift might have saved him a lifetime of being stuck with the Devils as opposed to a few years, and steeled himself.
"I'll accept the Devils' offer," he croaked. "And report to you."
"Excellent." Jordan couldn't help but think Harkenn had been hoping he'd say that. "Then you won't mind signing this contract."