Harkenn didn't call for him that evening. Yddris only dropped back in at the house to tell him as much and then vanished again, and Jordan hadn't asked about it. His tutor's grim voice had said enough.
As soon as the front door closed once more behind the Unspoken, Jordan sighed, got up from the chair by the window and dragged himself and his bag into his bedroom. Nika had already remade the bed with sheets and blankets, and a new set of clothes awaited him on it, lighter than those he had been wearing through the cold months. The quiet generosity only made him feel worse about what he had to do tonight. He set Ren down on the bed and then retrieved his Devil garb from the top of his wardrobe, where he'd concealed it under the otherworld clothes he'd been wearing on arrival in Nictaven. He shook the garments out to free them of dust, and then set his jaw and began to change into them.
He left through his bedroom window, not wanting to risk the busier streets or waking Nika. His strength had improved since his last botched escape, as he only stumbled a little while landing on the other side of the fence. He set off at a brisk walk. It felt strange not to have Ren with him still, after months of not having to leave her behind except for training, but Arlen had no patience for her and Jordan didn't want to risk them in the room together for too long. He left her on his pillow with a bowl full of scrapings from the bottom of the stew pot. She would find her way up to Nika's pallet in the attic if she wanted company.
When he reached the bridge into the dead quarter his legs ached and for the first time he felt he could have slept – just at the one point where he couldn't. He pressed on, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Traversing the city unobtrusively was already becoming more difficult, especially with the guard out in full force. After two weeks of hard walking, the constant crouching and hurrying was exceptionally taxing.
Arlen's rooms had a light in the window through the oilskin covering. Jordan hadn't realised how much he'd been hoping he'd find no one home until he was disappointed. With a sigh, he climbed the crates to the opening. Two of the crates had been replaced with new ones since he was last here, and someone had scored into the surfaces to give them more grip, presumably for Arlen's benefit.
"It's me," he said softly through the covering. Whoever was inside would already know he was there.
Heavy footsteps crossed to the window and Jordan found himself staring into Usk's searching yellow gaze. He met it for as long as he dared, allowing his aura to leak out a little further than he normally would.
The Varthian grinned in response. He probably hadn't registered anything off with Jordan's manner. "Here you go, Arl."
The oilskin came down entirely and Jordan climbed in to the dark space that was quickly becoming as familiar to him as Yddris's, with far less kindly associations. His Devil tutor was sharpening knives at the single table, and something was bubbling in the pot over the fire that Usk now tended to. At the thick smell of blackweed in the room Jordan felt the ghost of a pinching addiction headache begin again behind his eyes. Arlen Blackheart appeared to have at least taken a bath at some point during Jordan's absence.
Though he had intended to put his grievances on the table as soon as he arrived, Jordan sensed that Arlen wouldn't react kindly to it before he made his report. Angry as Jordan was, Arlen was still dangerous. It had always been hard to gage how likely it was that his teacher would hurt him if provoked – and how badly he would do it if he did. Caution was always the better policy. If Jordan played by the rules he was much more likely to get a reasonable, non-violent discussion out of the deal.
"Jordan," Arlen greeted, the first and probably the last time the assassin had greeted him by anything other than 'kid'. He gestured to the second chair at the table with the point of the knife he was polishing. "Got news?"
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Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2
FantastikJordan Haverford is stuck between hunting demons, committing crime, and trying not to die from either. All he wants is to go home, but his chances look bleaker than ever. ...