Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Forty Five: Foiled Plans

"She didn't come." Ashe leaned back in her chair and fixed him with a stony look. "I don't know what you're expecting me to say. The girl never showed."

Arlen had braced himself for the possibility that Ashe wouldn't come back with anything he could use, but he hadn't anticipated that Grace Haverford would entirely fail to show up to the meeting he'd hoped to set up. Given her brother's willingness to throw everything over for her sake, he had thought she would at least investigate. If Ashe wasn't lying to him, however – and that was always a possibility with Ashe – she hadn't even sent someone to have a look in her place. There were a few reasons why she might not show up; he couldn't assume she'd immediately sensed something was off. She might not have been able to get out of the castle on time, or had simply not received the note. Akiva had assured him that he'd picked the best messenger he could find that wouldn't raise suspicion, but not raising suspicion sometimes compromised the likelihood of the message being delivered.

He sighed. The part that stung the most was that he still had to pay Ashe for the favour, but now he was only paying her to have sat in a tavern for a few hours. He pulled the remainder of the payment out of his pocket and chucked it across the table. She snatched it up and looked inside.

"Your oh-so-secret job worked out then?" she said. "You didn't have any of these last time you paid me." She pulled out the edge of the Auriel in the pouch.

"Put it away," Arlen growled, glancing round to see if anyone had noticed it. Ashe might be able to duck and weave her way out of any situation, but if any of the wrong sort got the idea that Arlen had more where that came from, he would find himself in a spot of difficulty. While he knew he could get out of it in a pinch, he'd rather not have to in the first place. He'd had enough of ambushes for the time being. His stump still ached from the last time.

He got up, draining off his glass, and left her with the money as he stumped out. So many people to see, so much to do. The one job he had fobbed off on someone else had categorically failed. But he still had time for that one; Jordan wasn't due back for weeks.

"Nothing," he said to Usk, as the brute materialised from an alley outside the tavern. "She didn't even show up."

"You think she caught on?"

"Or the message didn't get there. Or she couldn't get past Harkenn. Or someone else warned her." Arlen scowled. "Anything could have gone wrong."

"You could try again at the witch-man's this time."

"I'm not paying Ashe again. I'd rather lose my other leg." Nict forbid, he added hastily. It would just his luck for his own curse to be carried out on him.

"Try yourself." Usk shrugged at Arlen's incredulous look. "It's not a terrible idea. She visits the other witch-man every three-day and every sixthday. Just wait somewhere along her path home."

"Last resort," Arlen muttered. "I don't want her to know what I look like if I can help it."

"I could do it."

"We're trying to get Haverford on board, not scare his sister into an early grave."

Usk grunted. "You ain't a friendly-looking fucker yourself, Arl."

"At least I don't look like I can carry her off like a sack of potatoes."

Usk was silent for a moment. Then, "I'll give you that one."

"Anyway," Arlen's scowl darkened, "I'm currently preoccupied with whoever's got a hit out on me. Has Akiva got anything out of our guest?"

"A lot of piss, and a lot of blood," Usk replied. "Not much else."