Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Twenty One: A Talk

Arlen had seen more life in corpses than in Jordan Haverford at that moment.

The boy hadn't bothered changing out of his Unspoken cloak after arriving and Arlen hadn't pushed it. He suspected that anything he suggested doing would meet resistance, so he sat with his apprentice at the table and slowly worked his way down the large bottle of ale Usk had procured for him in the absence of nettle wine.

"Is it weird," Haverford said suddenly, the first thing he'd said that evening that wasn't a one-word answer to a direct question, "that even after almost getting killed by a Listener twice, I find almost being run through by a person harder to deal with?"

Arlen sucked his teeth. "Not gonna lie, kid, that's definitely strange."

"It's probably because it was Harkenn's guard." Jordan picked at something on the table and flicked it away. "If it had been a Devil I don't think I'd have been as surprised."

Arlen shrugged. "You're probably right there. Though if that were to happen, which it won't, you tell me and I'll return the favour."

Despite not seeing Haverford's face, Arlen got the feeling that he hadn't helped matters. He sighed, took another long drink. Jordan had crept in during the early evening, looking more reluctant than ever to be there, to give his report on the job. Arlen had already had an account from Usk, and got the feeling when comparing the two that Haverford was better at hiding his fears than Arlen had given him credit for. The job could never have worked without Usk supervising the boy, though, and a dark mood lowered as he thought about how much further along he might be if only Arlen was teaching him, instead of a cobbled-together rota that required the boy to be out for whole nights at a time.

"Things will change when you get back," he said. "I'm going to find a way of teaching you myself, for one." He ignored the doubtful glance he knew he got from the depths of the cowl. "And we're going to work on the stuff those other clots seem to have missed out. Boy, I've heard through one particular source that Darin knew about this from you."

He lugged his false leg over the edge of the chair, and Haverford flinched as it hit the floor, as good as any verbal admission.

"Of course he was going to find out eventually," he continued, keeping his tone light and conversational, but as far as Haverford seemed concerned he might as well have been yelling. "But I would have preferred it on my terms. It also endangered him, since the person who happened to overhear you was Silas. Kid, you know the little shit's been following you for weeks. What made you think he'd make an exception for that conversation?"

Jordan said nothing.

"It's taken me a little while to get to this, since events somewhat overtook. However." He readjusted himself as his stump began to ache. "If this happens again, there'll be more than just a talk. If you had done this to Marick, he would have had you killed for it. Do you get me?"

A nod.

Arlen considered the boy for a moment, and judged that the point had been sufficiently made. If it hadn't, there were always harsher options. He'd hoped not to have to use them, since Haverford was distant enough as it was; but a nice kid with a rebellious streak could get themselves into a lot of trouble when it came to the Devils and the last thing Arlen needed was to lose his apprentice as well as his leg. Marick would have little reason to keep him around then, at least not in the upper ranks, and demotion was death within the guild.

He also, he grudgingly supposed, liked the boy. Just a little bit. The rebellious streak just needed to work more in his favour and he'd have few complaints.

"How long do you think you'll be away?" he asked. For however long Haverford was away, Arlen was stuck mentoring Silas in exchange for pretending to be Jordan and keeping his silence. It was far too early to tell if the ruse had even worked as well as he hoped, but a deal was a deal and the idea was still making him feel a little sick.