Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Sixty Six: Conversations

"Where'd you get that hole in your sleeve?"

Jordan stopped fiddling with it, chagrined. He had no skill at all with a needle and thread, so while he'd managed to wash the worst of the blood out of the cloak Silas had damaged in his attack, the hole was still there. "Picked it up."

"I'm not stupid, boy," Yddris growled around his pipe. They turned onto another street and fell quiet as they passed a group of labourers heading in the other direction. "I know knife damage when I see it. Where did you get it?"

Jordan glanced longingly at the trail of blackweed smoke drifting from the pipe. He hadn't yet had the heart to admit even to Yddris that he was already back on the stuff. "Do you remember that shifty acolyte who my sister almost got hanged to save, and who's been watching me sleep for months because he thinks the sun shines from Arlen's backside?"

"Ah, right. I know the one." A pause. "He actually attacked you?"

"Of course he did." Jordan sighed. "It was inevitable he'd try. And that he'll try again."

"At home?"

"In the yard, yeah."

Another, more troubled silence followed that. Yddris's moods had been easier for him to read since they'd spent so much time in close proximity at the Guildtown. The fact that Jordan could now tell his tutor was uneasy at this news didn't make him feel better about it.

"Would you object to Nika knowing about this?" Yddris finally asked. "He knows enough else, apparently. He could keep an eye out when I'm not there."

Jordan instinctively cringed from the idea. He hated that Nika knew as much as he did. He hated even more that Grace knew. To her credit, he hadn't noticed much difference in her manner with him since the day she'd found out, but he knew Grace far too well to take that at face value. She was either concealing her true feelings about it, had not considered the true implications of it, or chosen not to believe certain aspects were true. All three spoke of trouble further down the line.

"He, er...mentioned that to you, then."

"Hm. Can you simply mention something in the midst of a blazing row?"

Jordan winced. "Sorry."

"Night take me, boy, it isn't your fault," Yddris grunted. "Worst part of it all is that he has a fucking point. Harkenn shouldn't have allowed you out of his sight and I shouldn't have let him. But if I'd thought for one minute that Blackheart would take a liking to you, of all the scumbags out there..." The Unspoken shook his head. "Didn't think that man had it in him to take a liking to anyone or anything but himself and money."

"Liking might be a bit strong." Jordan shrugged. "I think he likes that I have magic, and that I'm enough of a pushover to do what he says without trying to kiss his feet. Foot." He stifled a hysterical chuckle. "I'm going to the Pit."

"No faster than the rest of us, boy." His tutor glanced at him. "Roll one and light it, will you? You're giving me the shakes just looking at you."

"Damn it." But he got out his pouch with a sigh of relief.

The streets were slowly getting busier as the season progressed; a weight had eased from Jordan at the return of a defined night and day. It didn't feel as oppressive to do night patrols anymore, knowing that he'd still be able to see daylight if he wanted to. It wasn't quite broad sunlight - more a grey haze - but the previous evening the moons had risen for the first time in months. After this patrol they were headed to the Demon's Brew to celebrate. Nika was bringing Grace and Nova by a more discrete route, and Jordan looked forward to seeing Kedrick's face when he realised who had arrived in his taproom. He didn't think going for a pint had been Harkenn's idea of keeping Nova out of the way, but the general consensus seemed to be that she had more than earned it.