Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Twelve: Laurel

If this Arlen bloke really wanted to be found, Jordan thought, he wouldn't have written his address in squiggles.

He stared at the slip of paper for a moment longer, but the foreign script made no more sense to him than it had when he'd first taken it out of his coat pocket. He almost felt stupid for hiding it. It wasn't any use to him anyway, and he'd unnecessarily made Yddris suspect him of something.

He glanced at the door to the inn's smallest bedroom, the other side of which the Unspoken was waiting for him. He sighed, shoving the paper back into his coat, and turned to the pile of clothes on the bed, which was little more than a straw mattress on the ground. His head brushed the ceiling as he changed into the woollen shirt and leather tunic, and he bumped it twice in the effort to pull up the hide trousers he had also been given, hand-me-downs from the innkeeper's son who was a fair deal taller than Jordan. Though he tightened the belt comically high up his midriff, the leg hems still trailed on the floor.

"I can't go out in public like this," he said a minute later, as the demon catcher knocked gently and let himself inside.

Yddris was silent for a moment, before a light snort escaped from the darkness of his hood.

"It's not funny," Jordan snapped.

"No," Yddris said, "It's hilarious. But yes, you're right." He cocked his head. "You look fucking ridiculous."

"That's not what I said."

Yddris stuck his head out the door. "Killian."

The innkeeper's son appeared in the doorway. Killian was a head taller than Jordan and built like an ox, but his manner was friendly enough. He looked politely concerned at the spectacle in the middle of the room, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

"They're a tad big, aren't they?" he said. Jordan scowled.

"Don't suppose you have anything shorter in the leg?" Yddris said, and then glanced at Jordan again. "Significantly shorter?"

"Maybe," Killian murmured, "I'll have another look."

He shuffled away, leaving Jordan alone with Yddris again. He watched the man with unease from under his hair.

"So," he said, when Killian didn't reappear for a while, "how'd you know the innkeeper?"

"We go back a bit," Yddris replied. Jordan waited for a second, but the man said nothing else. He sighed.

"Just seems a bit weird," he muttered, "that this vacancy was conveniently available for a temporary time and he knows you already."

"Don't miss much, do you?" Yddris said drily. Jordan scowled at him, and after a moment in which they stared each other out, the Unspoken sighed. "Don't worry about it, boy. It's a favour from a friend so Harkenn doesn't string my guts around his turrets for not finding you a placement in decent time."

Jordan grunted, and then said, "So it has absolutely nothing to do with what happened with that Listener thing?"

Yddris didn't answer. Jordan sat down on the bed, heart pounding.

"Just tell me what's..."

"Found some." Killian walked in and stopped, trousers limp in his hand. He glanced at Yddris and then Jordan. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Yddris muttered, "I'll be outside, boy."

The Unspoken swept out, leaving Jordan gaping at his retreating back. Killian cleared his throat.