Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Thirty Eight: A Break in the Storm

The ground had turned to a slush of dead leaves, mud and icy water. It had hailed in the night, keeping Jordan awake for hours after he'd put his head down to sleep and leaving white drifts up the tree trunks and ice at the edge of the puddles. Jordan stalked through the trees, a thin layer of muddy water already sloshing around in the bottom of his boots from a walk through a puddle that had looked shallow before he put his foot in it. It poured with icy rain now, but it was at least gentle enough to walk through without being blown off his feet.

He and Yddris had been forced to shelter at Thirris's while the storm raged for several days straight. If the hail wasn't keeping him awake, the monstrous gale-force winds overhead took its place, cracking against the trees as they changed direction and jolting him from sleep or making him startle. Thirris had a well-stocked larder below ground, so they had at least eaten well, but even in shelter the storm was a miserable thing to ride out.

What had made it worse was his two weeks of hard travel hitting him with a vengeance, and combined with Nadiya's purging herbs he had been bedbound for several days. He had suffered the indignity of the other men coming in to empty a chamber pot for him multiple times. On the second day he had broken into a fever that had burned through his reserves like wildfire and made him imagine demon screams in the howling wind. His muscles had grown so stiff he could barely move, and even now as he trudged through the forest to get back to the town centre his body twinged all over. His stomach was delicately protesting the wedge of plain toasted bread and tea he'd had forced on him that morning, and his foggy thoughts were equally reluctant to engage with the outside world after such a violent illness. He had been up and about for a few days within the confines of the house, but his body seemed resistant to settling.

Irata was the Guild's clerk. The storm had put paid to the original plans to see her days ago, but when the storm let up enough for movement through the forest without danger of being crushed by fallen branches, Yddris had insisted Jordan see her before the storm decided it would have a second wind. There was evidence of the storm's passage all around them; broken branches lay across the path or hung from the trees by splinters. The undergrowth, already scraggly, lay flat and wet against the ground in defeat. There was the faint smell of ozone in the air, a note in the chaos of damp leaf-litter and stirred soil. Ren was a small shivering lump in the back of Jordan's hood to get away from the worst of the rain.

"There'll be clear-up," Yddris said, also surveying the damage they passed. "When it all blows over I expect you'll be well enough to train."

Jordan's knees knocked together as if in denial of that possibility. "Maybe." He frowned. "I thought I was already registered here. What's this paperwork for, exactly?"

"Technically you're not fully registered," Yddris replied. "Harkenn sent word here of your manifestation and your apprenticeship to me, and his official acknowledgement of your Unspoken status. What we're doing today is the Guild paperwork. You're officially Unspoken, but your registration with the Guild needs you present. Registered membership gives you access to all the extra benefits; the right to a plot here if and when you want it, permission to stay or retire here when needed, access to payouts if work dries up, and so on. It also covers any tuition you get from anyone other than me."

"Like Nika?"

"No, boy. He wouldn't accept subsidy anyway. Your first Guildtown visit is usually your best opportunity to pick up a specialism alongside your demon hunting. It's strongly advised you do so, since the light season is a little harsh on the purse otherwise. Koen is a net caster, and there's work for that all year round. Same with Nika's medicine. If Harkenn hadn't already contracted me partly for my handiness with a blade, there are plenty of others who would."